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.”
Chapter 32
HERE IS A THING you should know about me: I really hate caves. Maybe it’s the damp and the dark, maybe it’s the thought of being underground. Who can say? The point is, I’ve always avoided them, not even going on my class field trip to DeSoto Caverns in the third grade. I’d missed underground mini-golf and a laser show because I hated caves so much.
Which meant that walking into the mouth of that huge fissure in the rock was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. Bee and I made our way up the hill, and even though the air was loud with the sound of buzzing insects, the breeze through the leaves, and our own breathing, it seemed weirdly quiet and still.
The cave was nearly hidden behind a wall of branches and vines, but I pushed those aside, staring into the darkness in front of me. Bee stepped forward, too, shifting her backpack on her shoulder, but I stopped and turned toward her, taking a deep breath.
“I know you’re not going to like this,” I started, and she immediately shook her head, almost glaring at me.