Chapter 31

“DO Y’ALL need a map?”

The park ranger in front of me was maybe the perkiest person I had ever seen in my life, and seeing as how I had been a cheerleader and in a pageant, that was saying a lot.

“Yes, please,” I said, trying to smile and not shatter into about a billion pieces. Because David was here. I could feel it, and I thought Bee could, too. It was like a constant weight in my chest, a second heartbeat thudding away in there. My Paladin strength and quickness might be gone, but it was clear some thread still connected me to David.

I had to admit he’d chosen a good place, too. The visitor center was a tall, octagonal room with the information desks against one wall, but windows surrounded the rest of the space. They looked out on a wall of green, branches pressing so close to the glass it felt like we were in a tree house. And beyond the trees were the mountains, even though we couldn’t really see them from here. The peaks weren’t especially high, and the heavy forest blocked most of the view. Still, the mountains were there, and in those mountains, there were caves, like the ones the ancient Oracles had lived in in Greece.

Who knew that David Stark of all people could be such a drama queen?

Bee had wandered to the big display in the middle of the room, a low table containing a topographical map of the region, and once I had my own paper map, I joined her. I ran my fingers over the ridges and valleys of the mountain—okay, really, the super big hill—we were about to climb, and wished I’d eaten more this morning. I hadn’t eaten when Bee, Blythe, and I had stopped yesterday at the motel, either, and my stomach had been too jumpy to even think about anything more than a bag of trail mix from a gas station. But now, looking at this hill, I felt like something more substantial had been called for.

Especially if it was going to be my last meal.

Turning away from the model, I took in a deep breath through my nose. I couldn’t think like that, not right now. I was so totally not going to die. David was so totally not going to die. I was going to save David or at least talk him out of going all mega Oracle and destroying Pine Grove . . . somehow, and then we were all going to go home and put this behind us.

I just hadn’t figured out the how yet.

Bee and I left the visitor center, stepping out into the thick heat of late-July Tennessee. Despite the fact that we were technically in the mountains and there was a cover of green over everything, the leaves blocking out almost all of the direct sunlight, this was still summer in the South, which meant I was sweating every place a girl can sweat.

Next to me, Bee shifted her backpack and slid her sunglasses down from the top of her head. “So . . . we’re doing this?” she asked, and I looked up at the trail stretching in front of us. It started just beyond the parking lot, a cheerful brown wooden sign reminding us that we were taking our lives into our own hands, and I nearly laughed at that. Of course, whoever had put up the sign was worried about people falling or possibly getting mauled by black bears, not facing down a supernatural boy in a cave.

I swallowed hard, my mouth dry. “We are,” I said to Bee.

We’d joked about this whole thing being a quest right from the very beginning, like we were knights-errant on an impressive journey, not a group of girls driving through the back roads of the South, eating gas station food and staying in creepy motels. But as Bee and I started climbing up the trail leading into the woods, for the first time, it genuinely felt like a quest. The forest was quiet, and there were no other people on the path, probably because it was hotter than Satan’s armpit. Or maybe they’d felt something. Not as strongly as I felt it, of course, but something nonetheless, a sense of “wrongness,” like Saylor’s brother had described.

I could feel something, too. The higher we climbed, the deeper we got into the woods, the stronger the feeling got. I wasn’t sure how long we hiked, ignoring hunger pangs in my stomach and the scratches of thorns and brambles. I was glad I’d decided to wear jeans even though they were heavy and damp with sweat. But that discomfort was nothing compared to every other sensation. I knew David was close. I couldn’t explain how I knew, exactly. Just that the feeling, almost as though I had two heartbeats, seemed stronger, heavier.

Now instead of making our way through undergrowth, we were on hard-packed dirt, but the way we needed to go was steep, and I felt my thighs and calves protest as I headed up the ridge.

Behind me, Bee gave a little gasp, and I turned to see her stumble, one hand flailing out as pebbles slid from beneath her feet. Without thinking, I reached down to grab her outstretched arm. Bee was about half a foot taller than me, and heavier, plus she had gravity on her side. Our hands locked together, and I gritted my teeth as I caught her and kept her upright.

But the force of my pull sent me stumbling backward so that I fell hard on my butt, wincing as a loose twig scraped the exposed skin of my ankle.

For a moment, we just sat there, breathing hard, in the middle of the trail, me sitting, Bee half sprawled on the ground. My shoulder ached, and my leg stung, and I had knocked the breath out of myself with that hard fall, so I was nearly wheezing.

If ever there was an appropriate moment for swearwords, this was it. We were halfway up a mountain in Tennessee, going after my magical ex-boyfriend, a guy who had sent superpowered assassins after me. We had ditched the one person who could’ve maybe helped us in all of this because I hadn’t wanted her to hurt David, but what if he was going to hurt me?

Lowering my head to my hands, I took a deep breath through my nose. “Bee,” I said, my voice wavering, and to my horror, I could feel stinging at the backs of my eyes, a thickness in my throat. “I effed this up.”

I did not say “effed.” I said the actual word. And it felt so good that I thought maybe I needed to say it again. Lots.

Lifting my head, I looked at Bee and tears spilled down my cheeks. “My effing powers are effing gone, and now I’ve got us into this effed-up situation, and I have no effing clue what the eff I’m going to do once we find David. Not a single. Effing. Idea.”

Bee’s eyes had gone wide, but I wasn’t sure if it was from my confession or the fact that I had just used that word so many times. And honestly, whichever it was, I did not give an eff.

I was openly crying now, and I shook my head. “I don’t think I can do this,” I said, and I wasn’t sure if I meant I couldn’t save David or that I couldn’t bring myself to hurt him if it came to that. Honestly, it could have been both. Earlier today, when we’d left the car, I’d almost left the sword behind. Sure, if there ended up being other Paladins in the cave, I might need it, but there was always the thought at the back of my mind that I might have to use it on David.

Rising to her feet, Bee crossed over to me and took me firmly by the shoulders. “You can,” she said, squeezing for emphasis. “Harper, listen to me. Your powers are great and all, and I’m not going to pretend I don’t really wish they were working about right now, but . . . being a Paladin isn’t what’s going to save David. You can save him because he loves you. Because you love him.”

Sniffling, I rolled my eyes. “That’s very Disney-movie of you, Bee.”

I’d meant to make her smile, but she just gave me another little shake. “I’m serious. Even if your powers had been gone before we started on this whole thing, I would’ve gone with you.”

She said the words so quietly, so simply, that something in my chest seemed to give way. My becoming a Paladin had hurt Bee. It had gotten her kidnapped and superpowered and nearly killed. But she was still looking at me like she believed in me, and that gave me the strength to nod, reaching out to rest my hands on her forearms.

“Okay,” I said. “You’re right. I can do this.”

I repeated the words, almost like a mantra. Satisfied, Bee gave a little smile and stepped back, hoisting her pack.

“So how much farther, do you think?” she asked.

I turned to jerk my chin at the trail winding its way up to a wall of stone and green above us. “Not much farther at all,” I told her, and took a deep breath. “We’re here.”