Blythe threw a look at me over her shoulder. “I didn’t pick up on it before. Saylor must have set it up so it could only be sensed if she were dead.”

That made sense. After Saylor died, Blythe had been held by the Ephors until Alexander died, too.

“And another thing,” she added, pressing the doorbell harder than necessary, “I wasn’t sure this was something I wanted to go after on my own. Better two half-ass Paladins than no Paladins at all.”

I would’ve had a retort to that, but I could hear footsteps from inside and a cheerful male voice calling, “Coming!”

My mouth was dry when the door opened and a man with thick silver hair stood there in khaki shorts and a button-down shirt. Shoving his hands deep in his pockets, he looked at the three of us standing there on his doorstep with a bland smile. “Morning, ladies,” he said, his voice as smooth and southern as Saylor’s had been.

“Good morning,” I said, feeling the need to take charge of this situation before Blythe could say anything. “We’re . . . we’re friends of Miss Saylor’s,” I started, and the man’s smile became something actually genuine.

“You don’t say!” And then he leaned out, looking past us to the car in the driveway. “Is she with you?”

He didn’t know.

The knowledge sat so heavily in my stomach I thought I might throw up. When Saylor died, we’d done the best we could covering it up for the rest of Pine Grove, but it had never occurred to me that there were other people waiting to hear from her, wondering what had happened to her.

What was wrong with me that I hadn’t thought of that?

“Unfortunately no,” Blythe said, “but she’d asked us to stop by and say hello.”

Saylor’s brother nodded, clearly disappointed, and then surprised me further by saying, “She said people might be coming by one of these days.”

He stepped back, sweeping one arm. “Why don’t y’all come on in and let’s have a chat.”

Chapter 18

THE INSIDE of the house was . . . interesting.

If this had been Saylor’s childhood home, it was pretty clear her brother had been living here for a while, because the entire decor was straight-up Southern Male Left Alone Too Long. Lots of paintings of ducks, lots of plaid furniture, and way more taxidermied heads than I ever wanted to see.

Bob—that was Saylor’s brother’s name—led us into a living room that sat under the baleful gaze of a giant buck’s head over the fireplace, and once we all had some tea, he sat and faced the three of us. “You girls know Saylor, huh?”

He said it casually, but I saw the look in his eyes. It was hope, and it broke my heart.

I couldn’t do any kind of mind control or anything, but in that moment, I had never wished harder for a power like that because all I could think was, Blythe, you tiny crazy person, if you tell him his sister is dead like this, I am going to kill you right in front of that painting of Baby Jesus.

But Blythe just smiled brightly at Bob and said, “We sure do! She’s a very big part of our hometown.”

Bob made a sound like humph and then sort of sucked at his teeth. There wasn’t much of Saylor in his face, although his hair was a similar shade of silver, and his eyes, like hers, were blue. Saylor’s had been brighter, though, and looking at Bob’s, I suddenly thought of David. His eyes were blue, too, although the last time I’d seen them, they’d been shining with the golden light of the Oracle.

Thinking of that reminded me that we weren’t just here to chat with Bob in front of taxidermied animals, so I sat up a little bit, pushing my glass of iced tea away.

“Mr. Stark,” I said, “you said Miss Saylor said someone might come by to pick up something she’d left here?”

He nodded. “She sure did. I think it was the whole reason she stopped by in the first place.”

I’d assumed Saylor had left something before she left to go be a Mage, but Bob made it sound a lot more recent than that.

“You . . . you’ve talked to Saylor recently?”

Bob gave a chuckle, the ice rattling in his glass. “If you can call a year ago ‘recent,’ I s’pose so. She showed up last summer, first time I’d seen her in ages.” Nodding toward the staircase, he added, “Spent the night in her old room, then left the next morning. Said she’d kept something here for ‘safekeeping,’ and that if a young lady showed up asking for it, I could give it to her.” He snorted and sat his glass down on the table. “Of course, might’ve been helpful to tell me what the damn thing was in the first place—beg pardon—but then Saylor always was secretive.”

Because she was a Mage, I thought to myself, remembering all the secrets I’d have to keep over the years.

Next to me on the sofa, Blythe was strung tighter than a wire but she managed to sound almost nonchalant as she said, “Oh, that’s wonderful! Do you mind if we go fetch it?”

Bob didn’t answer her but instead kept his eyes on me. I fought the urge to squirm in my seat. Was it better for him not to know the truth about Saylor? Every time I’d had to lie to anyone—from my parents to David—I’d told myself that it was because it was for the best.

But was it really? Was it my place to decide that?

Blythe cleared her throat, and Bob looked back at her. “Oh, sure,” he said, gesturing with his glass up the stairs. “Go on. I take it you know what you’re looking for? I figured it was jewelry or something.”

Blythe just made a vague sound of agreement that had me shooting a look at her, one she pointedly ignored.

I glanced over at Bee, who gave me a little nod, and I knew she was agreeing to sit downstairs and make small talk with Bob while we did our searching. Bee was pretty good at the whole “charming adults” thing, maybe even better than me, so it seemed like a safe bet.

“Whatever it is, maybe you’ll have better luck than that boy did finding it,” Bob said on a sigh, and Blythe suddenly sat up a little straighter, the corner of her mouth turning down.

“Boy?” she asked, and he nodded before frowning and rubbing a hand over the back of his neck.

“Yeah, came by . . . oh Lord, I guess it was around November of last year. Said he worked for Saylor’s boss, and that she’d sent him to pick up something for her. Seemed damn odd—pardon, girls, darn odd—but he had a business card, and . . .”

Bob’s words faded away, a puzzled look on his face, and I felt something in my stomach go cold. Whoever this boy was, he’d used magic on Bob, that was for sure. I’d seen that look of confusion on people after Ryan had done his Mage thing on them. It’s what Shelley at the motel had looked like when Blythe had finished with her.

And in Bob’s case, who knew just how much magic had been done on him over the years? There were Saylor’s spells, whoever this boy was—and what had he meant by Saylor’s “boss”? Alexander? Some other Ephor before they’d all been wiped out?

I reminded myself to tell Blythe not to even attempt a mind wipe here. Lord only knew what it might do to Bob after this much magic. I wasn’t even going to risk Ryan’s magic rose lip balm stuff.

“What did this boy look like, if you don’t mind my asking?” Blythe said, sweet as pie, and Bob’s hazy eyes shot to her.