Lady Renegades (Rebel Belle #3)(52)

Except it wasn’t as hard as I could. It was as hard as the me from before could, sure, landing on the girl’s shoulder with enough impact to make her wince, but she didn’t stumble, and she certainly didn’t go flying back like she should have after a punch like that.

I blinked, looking at my hand as if it had betrayed me, and then the girl was on me again, hitting with the kind of force I usually wielded. Which hurt.

Weakness coursed through me the same way adrenaline and power used to, and I felt the same panicked helplessness I’d felt that night at the pool. Only this time, there was no resurgence of my power, no last-minute reprieve.

Bee was closer now, though, grabbing at the girl with both hands, and even though she didn’t have her Paladin powers, she was still a good head taller than the girl.

Not that it mattered. One well-placed punch, and Bee was falling back to the ground again, crying out, one hand flying to her cheekbone.

Anger flared through me. Rage, really, and I went to get up again. No one hurt Bee on my watch, no matter how weak I felt.

Except that rage was no match for Paladin strength. Another kick, some jabs to my back, and I was down again, my breath wheezing in and out.

This girl was kicking my butt, and there was nothing I could do other than cover my face with my hands, still trying to punch and kick—I wasn’t going out easy—but knowing that it was almost totally ineffectual.

I’m not sure what would have happened if Blythe hadn’t come into the tent. Or rather, I’m too sure of what would’ve happened and I didn’t want to think about it.

This time, when Blythe did her mind-wipe thing, I just lay there on the grass, trying to breathe, trying not to let my panic show on my face.

Trying not to let Blythe know that as far as powers went, I was now useless.

? ? ?

Blythe managed to get some ice from one of the soda vendors, and when she handed me a freezing bundle wrapped in a paper towel, I pressed it against my lip. “I am so tired of this,” I mumbled around the swelling. “Just, like, phenomenally over it at this point.”

“Same,” Bee said. There was a bruise purpling her cheekbone, and she was holding her own soaking-wet paper towel of ice to her face.

Blythe looked between us for a moment, then rested her eyes on me. “So you had another vision.” She nodded at Bee. “But she didn’t.”

Shaking my head, I closed my eyes briefly, my stomach still roiling. “It didn’t last long,” I replied, and Blythe snorted.

“Doesn’t matter how long it lasted. What matters is what you saw.”

I sighed and looked up at the hazy blue sky. “It was another cave,” I said, my voice flat. “But it was David, not Alaric, in there. He was . . . he was thinking about home.”

“A cave?” Blythe asked sharply, her brows drawing together. “So we’re too late?”

“Maybe not,” I said, even though I definitely wasn’t sure of that. “He didn’t seem . . . scary, I guess?”

“That has to mean we’re getting close again,” Bee offered. She was still crouched next to me, one hand on my knee, her skin going pink in the sun. “Going after Dante, we lost him for a bit, but now he’s back.”

“And still following in Alaric’s footsteps,” Blythe added. “If he’s already found a cave somewhere, started powering up . . .” Trailing off, she twisted the orange plastic bag in her hands. “It would’ve been better to catch him before all that. Easier.”

“I don’t think any part of this was ever going to be easy,” I muttered, my lip still stinging.

I hadn’t liked the way Blythe’s face clouded over when she thought about David already in a cave, doing whatever it was Alaric had done before he wiped out an entire town. I’d always known there was a clock ticking where David was concerned, but now it seemed a lot louder.

“Let’s go,” I said, rising to my feet, antsy. “We got what we came for, and the sooner we’re on the road, the better.”

Neither of them argued with me about that, and we made our way back toward the parking lot, the ice melting and dripping onto my chest.

We were almost to the exit but had to wind our way through more tables and tents. There was a whole table of weaponry, and even as I wondered why anyone would want any of this stuff unless they were deeply into Game of Thrones, I found myself stopping at the table, staring at the daggers and maces and steel-tipped arrows with something dangerously close to avarice. Becoming a Paladin had certainly given me a better appreciation for these kinds of things, either because I knew just how vital they were to the job, or because I had gotten some kind of passed-down weapons-lust along with all my Paladin powers.

My fingers trailed over the shiny silver hilt of one dagger, and then I moved on to a thin fencing blade, the metal basket decorated with what I guessed were fake jewels, but they were still pretty.

And then I saw the round metal handle sticking out of a box in the back. No, not a handle. A hilt.

Standing there in front of that tent, a bag of ice pressed to my swollen lip, I looked at the top of that sword and felt something thrum deep in my blood. I couldn’t even see the whole thing, but I knew that I needed that sword. More than I needed the Coral Shimmer lip gloss I loved, more than I needed the Homecoming Queen crown.

When I lifted a hand to point at it, I realized I was shaking a little, but that might have been from the adrenaline of the fight. Or it could have been something more, something . . . fated.