Lady Renegades (Rebel Belle #3)(64)

“David, please,” I heard myself say in a voice that didn’t sound anything like mine. It was desperate and choked and raspy, and the words seemed to come up from somewhere deep inside me. “Please.”

David’s hands were working almost as fast as my arms, the two of us stalking each other around the cave. “You’ll kill me,” he said, and this time there was less of the echo—less of the Oracle—in his voice, more of just David. “I saw it. I’ve always seen it.”

He threw a particularly strong bolt that had me wincing even as I deflected it, and I was pretty sure I felt something give in my shoulders. I was strong, but not strong enough, not without my powers.

Still, I held my ground. “Not everything you see comes true,” I said to him, sweat and tears stinging my eyes. “David, you know that. You said it yourself, that you see”—I broke off as another jolt reverberated off the sword—“what could happen. This—” Taking a deep breath, I ignored all the pain in my body and said, “It doesn’t have to happen.”

He paused. Not for long, just the space of a heartbeat, and I held my breath, praying.

Blythe was behind me, and while I couldn’t see her, I could sense her presence and could tell when David suddenly remembered she was there, too. But then something in his face changed, and I glanced back to see that Bee had joined Blythe there, both of them staring at me with wide eyes, Blythe’s hands out like she was pleading. “Do it!” she yelled out. “Harper, you have to!”

David lifted his own hand, and there was nothing in his face of the boy I’d loved now. Not one part of him that wasn’t Oracle.

I could feel pressure—magic—building, my ears popping with the force of it, and then David looked right at me with those glowing eyes and said one word: “Choose.”

It was like everything suddenly slowed down. I felt the weight of the sword in my hand, saw the golden light crackling between David’s fingers, and knew that whatever magic he had there, whatever spell he was about to throw at Bee and Blythe, it was strong enough to kill.

So I chose.

It’s harder to drive a sword through someone than you could ever think, and even harder when you love that person. Too hard, almost unbearable, and I felt my own heart shatter as I shoved the blade through his chest.

There was a distant roaring in my ears, and the light faded from David’s eyes, his hands dropping limply to his sides as he hit his knees. When he lifted his head, there was still a lot of golden light in his eyes, but not so much that I couldn’t see some of the blue beneath it. “Harper,” he murmured, and then he slumped to the cave floor, eyes sliding closed.

Everything was still for a moment, and then I felt Bee’s hands on my shoulders, holding me close as Blythe stepped forward, falling to her knees beside David.

Blythe knelt on the rock next to David, his blood staining her yellow dress. The sword in my hands felt like it weighed about a million pounds, and I let it drop with a clatter that echoed through the cave. Tears and sweat were running down my face, and I had never been so tired in all my life. Sinking down, I crouched next to Blythe, and my voice was hoarse when I said, “It’s over. Is that why you came after us? To make sure I’d do it?”

Blythe’s fingers fluttered over David’s wound, and she was shaking her head. “No,” she said, “I mean. Yes. I came to make sure you’d go through with it, that you’d see it was the only way we could . . .”

Trailing off, she looked at David, her own face nearly as pale as his. “This doesn’t feel like we fixed it,” she said at last, and all I could do was nod, biting my lip to keep from sobbing.

“I thought it would,” she said, and her hand finally touched David’s chest, his blood bright against her fingers. “I honestly thought this was the best way.”

Keeping my eyes on the crown of her head rather than David’s body, I took a deep breath and said, “It was, in the end. It was the only way. You were right, Blythe. I’m not sure there was any spell that could’ve saved him.”

And then I felt Blythe’s hand on mine and tried to ignore the heave in my stomach at how warm and sticky her grip felt, her palms still smeared with blood. “I could still try,” she said, and I opened my eyes then, blinking at her.

“Blythe—”

“No, I can,” she said, one hand still on mine, the other on David’s chest. “It isn’t too late, I don’t think. I can try . . .”

I just shook my head. “He’s dead, Blythe.”

But Blythe only turned back to David, hand still pressed to his chest. “Just a little bit,” she replied, like it was the most normal thing in the world. Like someone could be “a little bit dead.”

And then she looked back at me. “Do you trust me, Harper?”

Weirdly enough, in spite of everything, I did. Or maybe because of everything. Blythe had never lied to us. She had earned at least a little trust.

I nodded, and she reached out to clasp my shoulder, leaving a bloody handprint behind.

Turning back to David, she kept her hands on his chest, murmuring low, but nothing seemed to be happening.

She pressed her hands harder, started speaking again, a little louder this time, and I waited.

But there was nothing. No sound, no breath, no sense in my chest of that pull between me and David, and on the third time, I decided I couldn’t just sit there and watch this, couldn’t let myself even start to hope that she was right. It felt easier to get up, to walk out of the cave and into the sunlight.