Rebel Belle

“Shhh!” The girls all stared at me, but everyone went quiet. “Look, there’s been a little delay,” I said, trying to keep my voice low. “First of all, has anyone in here had the punch?”



“Do we look stupid?” Mary Beth asked, narrowing her eyes. Her cheeks were nearly as red as her hair. “You and Miss Saylor both practically threatened to kill us if we touched the stuff.”



Breathing a sigh of relief, I pointed at them. “Wait here.”



Dashing down the hall, I ran to the bedroom where I’d left David. He was putting on his jacket when I opened the door. “Am I late?” he asked when he saw me standing there.



Without answering, I grabbed his hand, tugging him out of the room.



When I got back to the girls’ room, I practically threw him inside. “All of you stay in here until I come back,” I instructed. “Don’t let anyone in, and don’t let anyone out.”



“Harper,” Bee said, moving forward, but I stopped her with a hand.



“Not now, Bee.”



“But—”



“Seriously!” I snapped. “I’ll be . . . I’ll be right back.”



Something flickered across her face, but I shut the door before I could put a name to it. I had way more important problems now. Namely that I didn’t know what to do next. I had to keep Blythe from David, but that meant I had to find Blythe. She was obviously here, but where? Should I just stand guard over this door, or should I make my way downstairs, fight it out?



And then the choice was made for me. There was the pounding of feet on the stairs, and suddenly, people were swarming the landing, all headed for me. The knife Saylor had given me rested cold against my thigh, but the first person to leap at me was my Aunt May, and I couldn’t even think about using it.



Aunt May, my sweet Aunt May who taught me how to knit, who bought me a piece of candy every time we went to the store, jabbed a cocktail fork at my eye. I ducked, my back still against the door, and then Mrs. Green, the children’s librarian, reached down and tried to tug at my ankle. I shook her off, but even as I did, someone else was grabbing my hair, and another hand closed on my wrist, and I was fighting and kicking, but there were so many of them, and they had me backed up against the door.



“Harper!” I heard someone cry from inside the room. I thought it was Bee, but I couldn’t be sure. More hands were on me now, and someone had a pie server nearly at my throat.



I shoved it away, trying to close my fingers around that spot that had worked on Miss Annemarie. I had to get to Saylor. I had to find Blythe. I had to get out of this before I was killed with some elaborate cutlery.



“Bee!” I shouted through the door, Dr. Greenbaum’s nose crunching under my elbow. “Is the door locked?”



“Yes!” came her muffled reply. “But Harper—”



I would have to hope it held. One thing I knew for sure was that Blythe wasn’t upstairs. I’d been in all the rooms, and she wasn’t in the crush of people surrounding me. Taking a deep breath and muttering, “I’m really sorry about this,” I pushed both arms out as hard as I could, fists clenched.



The three people nearest to me fell back, stumbling into the people behind them. I heard someone cry out as they tumbled down the stairs, and I prayed with everything in me that it wasn’t one of my aunts. I let every Paladin instinct I had take over as I pushed the crowd back, back, further down the stairs. There were lots of them, but not a one had my powers. I tried not to look at faces as I whirled and kicked, as I flipped people over my shoulder, as I spun and knocked people off of their feet.



Finally, a clear path opened up and I sprinted down the stairs. I heard footsteps behind me, but I didn’t turn around. “Saylor!” I screamed. “SAYLOR!”



I ran through Magnolia House. Somewhere in the fight, my dress had gotten ripped, and I nearly tripped over the hem again as I pushed my way into the kitchen.



Saylor was there, up against the counter. Brandon lay at her feet, and there was a rolling pin in one of her hands. The other lay across her abdomen.



“That young man attacked me,” she said, her face the color of oatmeal.



“It’s the punch,” I told her, locking the door behind me. “She put a mind control potion in the punch, and . . . Saylor, I can’t kill people I know. People who don’t even know what they’re doing.”



She grimaced, disappointed in me, I thought. But then she drew her hand back and I saw that it was slicked with blood. For the first time, I saw the knife at Brandon’s side. “He got in a good blow before I hit him,” she said, her tone surprisingly light for someone discussing being stabbed.



“Saylor—” I said, stepping forward, but she shook me off.



“It’s nothing. I have a potion that can heal this right up. David. Is he all right?”



“For now,” I said as the kitchen door rattled and shook. “I locked him in with the girls. They didn’t drink the punch.”



Saylor’s mouth wobbled. “One valuable piece of advice, it turns out.”



“Can you reverse this?” I asked.



The thumps on the kitchen door were getting louder, but Saylor shook her head. “As long as Blythe is here, they’re under her control.”



Sighing, I ran a shaking hand over my face. “But where is Blythe? I didn’t see her anywhere in the crowd and—”



Pain ricocheted through me, so strong that I felt like I had been stabbed. I bent over, panting, my vision shaking.



No, not my vision. The house. The entire house rumbled and quaked, little bits of plaster falling from the ceiling. “David!” I gasped.



Saylor moved forward, clutching my dress. Her hand left streaks of blood down the skirt. “You said he’s with the girls? All of them?”



I nodded, closing my eyes. I could see the sea of dresses in front of me, see David’s bewildered face as I’d slammed the door.



“Yes,” I said. “All twelve of them.”



“Harper.” Saylor’s eyes were huge with pain and fear, her skin paper white. “There were only eleven other girls.”



Chapter 40



This time, I didn’t look or think. I let my fists and feet fly almost independently as I fought my way back up the stairs. These weren’t people I knew, these were things standing between me and my duty. The only time I hesitated was when Aunt Jewel came at me with the punch ladle. It killed me to do it, but one quick elbow thrust to her temple sent her sliding harmlessly to the floor. Stepping over her prone form, I swore to myself that I’d go visit Aunt Jewel every single day when this was all over, and make her as many cakes as she could ever want.



The house shook as I moved toward the bedroom. I heard a distant crash, and realized it was the chandelier in the main hall falling to the ground. Light was pouring out from underneath the bedroom door, golden and searing, and all I could hear was the pounding of my heart and the constant repetition of Too late, too late.



Throwing my shoulder against the door, I forced it open, and immediately threw my hands up to shade my eyes.



David stood stock still in the middle of the room, bathed in light, glowing with it. It poured from his fingers, filled his eyes, spilled out of his open mouth. The other girls were all huddled together against the far wall, heads down, while Blythe, clad in a white dress, a blond wig crooked on top of her head, stood on the bed. Her eyes were closed, nose still a little swollen from our fight, and she held both hands open at her sides. Words in a language I’d never heard fell from her lips and seemed to fill the room. Both windows shattered, and I heard high, thin screams.



I launched myself at Blythe, knocking her back on the bed. She gave a grunt as the air rushed out of her lungs, and started to shake. At first, I thought she was crying, but as I rose up on my knees, straddling her waist, I realized she was laughing.



“It’s too late!” she yelled as the house continued to shake and sway. “Look at him! He’s beautiful!”



David was still standing there, still covered bright light. He didn’t look beautiful. He looked beautiful in his stupid sweaters and dumb glasses and unfortunate pants. Now he looked terrifying and unnatural and . . . not human.



As I watched, he lifted one glowing hand toward the girls against the wall. I saw Bee lift her face, saw her wide, horrified eyes.



“No!” I heard myself shout, and then a bolt of light flew from David’s fingers, crashing over all of the girls.



The light was blinding, and my blood was churning, and Blythe was still laughing, laughing, laughing in my ear.



Someone grabbed me from behind, yanking me off of Blythe. Even as I struggled, all I could think was, I failed. All that training, all that trying, and I’d locked David in with Blythe. I’d let her turn him into a weapon. And my friends. Abigail, Amanda, even Mary Beth. And Bee. Oh, God, Bee. My attacker had me turned away from the wall, and I was glad for it in a way. I didn’t want to see what that bolt of power had done to them.



I reached back, trying to dig my fingers into eyes, but clawed empty air. And then suddenly, there was a thump and I was landing on the ground, hard.



Whirling around, I saw that it had been Headmaster Dunn holding me, and standing over him, hands on her hips, was Bee.



I said her name, confused and relieved. She was okay? But I’d seen David blast her with that lightning thing, seen waves of power crash over her and all of the girls.



Mrs. Catesby, my old Sunday school teacher, ran into the room, wielding the ladle Aunt Jewel had dropped. I braced myself, but then Blythe grinned and said, “Show her what you’ve got, girls.”



Twisting my head to look at Blythe, confused, I almost missed seeing Mary Beth’s hand shoot out and grab the ladle. With a neat flip, she used the handle to catch Mrs. Catesby’s ankles and the bowl to knock her out. Grinning at her handiwork, Mary Beth brandished the ladle at me. “Hard Fists!” she cried, and I could only shake my head.



Two more people, women I recognized from Junior League, raced in. Abigail and Amanda, working together, clotheslined them before spinning and using the inertia of the women’s bodies to push them back out of the room.