Dr. DuPont, shoe sticking out of his neck, suddenly flashed through my mind. That had been six weeks ago. Six weeks to completely reorder my entire life.

And possibly end it.

“Hired assassins then maybe? Disguised as cater waiters?”

“That’s a possibility,” Saylor acknowledged with a nod. “Keep an eye on them.”

Crossing over to my dresser, I picked up my lip gloss. I wasn’t forgetting that tonight, at least. “I will,” I said, swiping on a coat of Coral Shimmer.

Saylor watched me in the mirror. “Of course, there’s always the possibility she’ll try to kill you before she starts the ritual. That would probably be the easiest thing to do.”

My heart sank, and the hand holding the lip gloss trembled. “Well, yeah, there’s that.”

Rising from the bed, Saylor came to stand behind me, her hands on my shoulders. “You can do this,” she told me. “I know you can.”

“I have been rocking the training pretty hard,” I admitted, and Saylor tightened her grip.

“I’ve known you since you were a tiny little girl, Harper Jane Price. You are driven, and smart, and sharp, and there’s no other Paladin I’d rather have fighting for David tonight than you.”

It was all I’d ever wanted her to say. Okay, so I hadn’t exactly wanted the Paladin part, but Saylor Stark praising me about anything was good enough for me. Reaching up, I took one of her hands and squeezed it.

“Are you ready?” she asked as the doorbell rang downstairs.

Ryan.

“As I’ll ever be.”

Chapter 37

THE GRAVEL and shells crunched under Ryan’s tires as he pulled the car up to Magnolia House. My heart thumped steadily in my chest as I stared at his headlights. How many times had I looked at this house and thought it was the prettiest place in the world? How many times had I pictured myself living there, sweeping down those wide front stairs in a Scarlett O’Hara gown?

Now staring at it, all I could think was that not only would I never live in Magnolia House, but that I might actually die there. Tonight. I tugged at my gloves. They were damp and wrinkled, and I realized my palms were sweating.

I was so busy fiddling with the row of pearl buttons, trying to get the stupid gloves off, that I didn’t notice Ryan watching me until he reached out and began undoing the buttons himself.

“Here,” he said softly. His fingers were surprisingly gentle as they pulled the buttons through their little loops, and for the first time in a long time, something swelled in my chest as I watched him. It wasn’t love. Or at least, it wasn’t the boyfriend kind of love. But it was warmth and affection and this . . . I don’t know, gratitude.