When she unfolded them, gently smoothing the paper with her hands, I looked down, hoping I’d be able to understand what was written there.
This was another one of Saylor’s weird ciphers, part Greek, part English, part symbols, and it all swam in front of my eyes.
Whatever was on those pages, though, Blythe got it. I actually watched her go pale, saw her eyes widen as she took it in.
“Well?” I asked, louder than I should have, but the suspense had me feeling like something was crawling all over my skin.
“It’s definitely the spell,” she said, and the paper crinkled as she lifted it, turning to look at the back. This time, there was no doubt her hands were shaking.
“Duh,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Will it help? Can you do it?”
To my surprise, Blythe didn’t look all that enthused. This was what she’d been looking for—what we’d brought her along for, after all—and instead of seeming pumped, she looked a little . . . sick, to be honest.
Frowning again, she turned back to the pages. “It’s harder than I thought it would be,” she said, and there it was again, that sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.
“But you can do it,” I pressed, and her head shot up, dark eyes meeting mine.
“You saw how things went with Dante. This kind of magic, it’s . . . it’s really complicated, Harper. It’s unwieldy. This”—she rattled the papers at me—“won’t just take David’s powers, it’ll wipe his mind, too.”
I thought of Dante, sitting in that field, the confusion on his face. “Oh. Right. I . . . forgot that bit.”
A David who was normal but didn’t remember me? Or anything, for that matter? It was worth a shot, surely.
I thought about Bee, asking why they didn’t just kill the Oracle when that was clearly the easiest course of action.
The idea of David looking at me blankly, no idea who I was . . . it sucked. It sucked a lot.
But it was better than the alternative.
“What about the other part?” I asked, and Blythe’s head jerked up.
“What?”
“In the memory,” I reminded her. “Dante said there was another part to that spell, some scary, intense thing he didn’t think people should try.”
Blythe glanced back at the paper. “Not sure,” she said, then looked up, startled, as we heard a noise from outside.
The three of us froze. We heard footsteps, quick and soft, and saw a thin line of light underneath the closed office door.
Blythe turned off her own flashlight, plunging us into near darkness, and as quietly as she could, she slid the book from the desk, shoving it awkwardly in the waistband of her pants.
There was no sign that this was Paladin-related stuff, and we hadn’t been attacked since that first night at the motel, but I was taking no chances. Wordlessly, I held my hand out, and Blythe put the flashlight in my open palm.
The three of us held very still, shrinking back into the shadows as I tried to think of what to do. Was it better to rush out, taking whoever it was out there by surprise, or should we wait, hoping they passed us by?
But then the door swung open, making the choice for me.
My fingers were tight around the handle of the flashlight, ready to swing.
A pair of teenagers came stumbling in, and I was about to leap at them when I realized they were giggling, arms looped around each other.
Not Paladins sent by David. Just . . . kids exploring a deserted building.
The guy was tall, his hair blonder and shaggier than David’s, but there was still enough of a resemblance to make my stomach flutter. The girl in front of him was a little taller than me, but her hair seemed as dark in the dim light, and when she turned to face him, winding her arms around his neck, the gesture seemed familiar.
It was all still so mixed up for me—the Oracle, the boyfriend, the guy I’d known for so long—and I couldn’t sort out how I felt about any of it. Stopping the Oracle might still mean losing David, and while this was still the best way, I wanted . . . something more.
Something easier.
I was so caught up in those thoughts that I didn’t even notice Blythe until she was stepping slightly in front of me, hand raised, murmuring under her breath.
The couple stopped kissing. Or, rather, they froze, lips still touching, and Blythe gave a satisfied sigh. “Okay, that trick lasts like a minute,” she whispered. “Let’s go.”
We hurried past the unmoving couple, making our way out into the silent hallway. Even before we got to the street, Blythe was already pulling the pages out of her waistband, and as soon as we were in the car, she was looking at them again.
“You can do it, right?” I asked, starting the car. Blythe had reached up, turning on the dome light overhead and making it slightly trickier to see the darkened streets in front of me.
For a long time, the only sound was Bee’s breathing in the backseat and the rustle of the pages as Blythe read.
Then she lifted her head, looked at me, and said, “Well, if we’re going to do this spell, we’re going to need some supplies.”
“So you can do it?” I asked, not taking my eyes off the road.
And when Blythe just made a sound low in her throat, I told myself that surely that was a yes.