Paladin.

No, that wasn’t her name; it’s what she was.

The money tumbled from his hands, bills falling to the grubby carpet, change clattering against the desk. He was on his knees, and the pain in his head was a hurricane.

Yellow dress. Blood. Green eyes. Green eyes filled with tears, and a word booming around loud as thunder.

Choose.

The girl behind the desk was next to him now, crouching down. She smelled like strawberries, and her hair brushed his shoulder. It was brown hair, not black, but he could still swear it was that other girl next to him. The one whose name had slipped through his fingers like sand.

The last time the light poured out of him, he’d said he was sorry. He’d felt sorry.

He didn’t feel sorry now.

Chapter 14

I WONDERED HOW long it would take Blythe to notice that I wasn’t driving toward the address she’d given me. I had banked on her not being all that familiar with this area—we had no idea where she was from, but Blythe was a Yankee name if I’d ever heard one—so I figured it would take a while.

As it turned out, we were nearly to my destination before Blythe suddenly twisted in her seat and said, “Wait, why aren’t we on the interstate yet?”

“Because we’re not getting on the interstate,” I answered calmly, signaling to turn right onto a long four-lane highway bracketed with palm trees. We were farther south now, which meant the landscape was slowly sliding into beachy territory, white sand appearing between clumps of dark green grass.

Blythe turned to face me, frowning. “What’s going on?”

“A mutiny,” Bee said cheerfully from the backseat, and I gave an unapologetic shrug. “What she said.”

I was willing to concede that Blythe had something we needed, namely a bunch of magic Ryan didn’t know, plus what appeared to be a genuine desire to fix this mess with a specific spell. But that didn’t mean that I was giving her total control of this mission, no matter what she might think. We could follow her plan when the time came, but for now, there was a stop I wanted to make.

We passed a big wooden “Welcome to Piedmont” sign, and Blythe settled back in her seat with a huff, crossing her arms over her chest. “We’re going to see the girl who attacked you,” she said, and I nodded.

“The night she went after me, she was totally set to kill me until she wasn’t. I know from experience that Paladin fights don’t work like that. You fight—”

“Until you’re dead,” Blythe finished. “Yeah, I’m familiar with all that.”

Ignoring her snotty tone, I turned into the wide parking lot of a strip mall. There was one just like it in every town in Alabama, seemed like, and I could see that was true of Mississippi, too. A nail salon, a Chinese buffet, one of those places where you trade your car title for cash . . .

The store I was looking for was on the very end of the row, a knockoff card and gift boutique with lots of brightly colored quilted bags prominently displayed in the window.

According to the research I’d done (by which I mean I used Google for about twenty minutes), this was where Annie Jameson worked. It had been a real find, discovering her job, tucked into a little article about her when she’d been the Piedmont High Star Student Athlete. Rocking a 4.0 GPA and captaining her volleyball team, Annie also worked afternoons at her family’s boutique, according to the paper. I had no idea if she’d be there today, of course, but I figured it was easier to try to talk to her at her work than going to her house.

You should always plan the approach that will bring you the most success. I read that in an ACT prep book, but it seemed applicable here, too.

“So what are we going to do?” Blythe asked as we got out of the car. “Just walk up there, be like, ‘Hi, my crazy ex-boyfriend gave you superpowers, and I’d like to ask you some questions about that’?”

The sun was beating down, and I could feel sweat popping out on my forehead, but I shrugged. “More or less, yeah.”

Shaking her head, Blythe slammed the car door way harder than was necessary. “And you didn’t tell me about this why?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” I said, adjusting my purse on my shoulder. “Maybe because you haven’t exactly been forthcoming, yourself?”

Blythe started to say something to that, but I cut her off with a raised hand. “No. I need you, but you need me, too, or you wouldn’t have come to me in the first place. So we’ll work together, but if you’re going to work your agenda, I’m going to work mine, too.”

A muscle in Blythe’s jaw twitched, and her lips clamped tight together, but after a moment, she shrugged, sliding her sunglasses down her nose. “Fair enough.”

That settled, I turned to start walking to the store, Bee right beside me. “What are you going to say to her?” she asked, her voice pitched low. “Is she even going to know who you are?”

“I don’t know,” I replied, answering both questions.

The paper had mentioned her being confused, having only vague memories of what had happened, so for all I knew, she was going to stare at us blankly and this entire detour would be pointless.

I wasn’t sure what bugged me more, the idea of not getting answers from her or the thought of how smug Blythe would be if it didn’t work out.

And sure enough, from behind me, Blythe piped up, “She’s probably not even here. She was just in the hospital.”

That was true and a good point. I had no reason to assume that Annie would be at the store today, but that Star Student Athlete piece made me think that Annie might be a kindred spirit in overachieving . . . and if it were me . . . Yeah, I’d be back at my parents’ boutique, trying to get back to normal as quickly as possible.

Pushing open the door to the boutique, I put on my brightest smile and prepared to do my best Polite Southern Girl to whoever might be behind the counter, whether it was Annie Jameson or not.

But it turned out my gamble was right on because, sure enough, Annie stood right inside the door. She wasn’t behind the counter, but was instead next to a display of pretty, brightly colored glass bottles.

She turned to us, a smile already in place, and then I got a definitive answer as to whether or not she remembered me.

Barely missing a beat, Annie grabbed the nearest glass bottle and chucked it at my head.

I ducked fast and dimly heard the glass explode somewhere behind me, but Annie was already running, and so was I. She headed around the counter, and without thinking, I placed one hand on it, vaulting over easily and catching her arm just as she tried to slam the door to the stockroom.

We fell to the floor hard, and I tried my best to keep a firm grip without hurting her. Whatever Paladin powers she’d had that night at the pool, I could sense that they were gone now. Even though I wanted answers, I wasn’t about to go all Paladin on someone who couldn’t fight back.

“I’m sorry!” she was saying—nearly sobbing it, actually. “It wasn’t my fault, I didn’t mean to—”

I’d managed to get her pinned underneath me, being careful not to sit on her or hold her arms too hard. “Annie,” I said, trying to make her listen, but her big blue eyes were wild, rolling from side to side, clearly looking for someone to help her.