Spirit (12 page)

K
ate made it to Silver’s side just in time to see him pull the trigger again.

Too much was going on for her to examine the sudden wrench in her chest. “Stop!” she cried. “He’s not the one who started this!”

“I know.” Silver’s ice-blue eyes flicked her way.

“Because he was negotiating with the one who did. You were with him. Why didn’t you detain him?”

“I was getting the people off the Ferris wheel.”

Wind was snapping at her hair, throwing smoke in her eyes and inciting the flames higher. Silver, by comparison, seemed to stand outside the maelstrom, as if it didn’t dare ruffle him.

“That is not your task here, Kathryn.”

“Isn’t our task to protect people?”

“Have you never heard the saying, the end justifies the means?”

He glanced at the sky, and Kate followed his gaze. The flames were over ten feet high now. At first she’d thought smoke obscured the stars above, but now she realized those were clouds moving in.

Heavy clouds, flickering with lightning. Thunder cracked overhead, and she watched Gabriel Merrick crouch over a very still Hunter.

Silver raised the gun again.

Kate didn’t know if he was pointing at Gabriel or Hunter. Her heart was beating a path into her throat.

She had to think.
Think think think.

Silver cocked the gun.

“Kill them now and you’ll send the rest to ground,” she said.

She kept her voice even, a mere observation in the middle of an inferno fed by a windstorm. Sweat rolled down her back, tracing a line between her shoulder blades, and she ignored it.

Silver hesitated.

Kate shrugged like she didn’t care. “They’ve already outsmarted . . . how many Guides did you say?”

He released the hammer and lowered the weapon.

“Don’t you have a body to get rid of anyway?” Kate asked, thinking of Hunter’s issues with Calla—and wondering how this all fit together.

He’d been
negotiating
with her?

“I’ll make sure the fire takes care of it,” said Silver.

Thunder cracked overhead again. A bolt of lightning struck the carousel. Sparks shot into the air. Kate jumped a mile. She could feel cool air swirl through the grounds, tickling her cheeks despite the fires.

Hunter and Gabriel were gone.

Silver had his gun up again, and he was headed for where they’d been. “I will not stand by while they cause more harm.”

Another bolt of lightning blasted into the dirt ten feet behind them, and this time even Silver jumped, whirling with the gun in hand.

The power stroked along her skin, so she knew Silver had to be feeling it. Part of her wanted to drop her guard and ride the streamers of energy.

She shut down the thought almost before it could form. That would make her like
them
.

If Hunter’s father had been a Guide—what was he doing with the Merricks?

How did they fit with that Calla girl?

The sirens were close now. The wind picked up more fully, swirling sparks and debris from the ground, lashing at her face. The power in the fire pulsed against her skin. It had to have spread farther with the wind—she couldn’t see an end to the flames. For a while she’d felt nothing but pain and suffering, but now she felt nothing.

Had she made a mistake, stopping Silver when he could have stopped the Merricks? Were they working with Calla? Did that explain Hunter’s fight with Gabriel in the cafeteria?

Were they spreading the fire even now?

She had more questions than answers.

“We must find them,” said Silver. “They’re spreading the fire. They’ve already taken enough lives—”

“Wait.” She held out her arm. A drop of water clung to her wrist, but it quickly evaporated.

Another appeared.

And another.

Then rain was pouring down, a full deluge, the kind you usually saw in late summer. Lightning crackled in the clouds overhead, but the rain was heavy, wet, and constant.

And it put out every single lick of flame.

Hunter was drowning in darkness, every now and again breaking the surface of awareness.

The first time, his eyes were pried open, and the light was blinding. He flinched away. He wondered if he’d fallen in among the flames, because his entire body felt like it was burning and freezing at the same time.

A woman’s voice was speaking. “He’s lost a lot of blood. He’s going to need—” But just as he was about to make out the rest of her words, everything went black again.

The second time, he opened his eyes to fire and darkness, and he felt sure they’d left him. He sucked in a huge choking breath, breathing more smoke than oxygen. A hand squeezed his, hard, sending sparks of pain shooting through his shoulder. Gabriel Merrick’s voice. “Come on, Hunter.” Then the sparks took over, and he was out again.

The third time, Hunter woke to whispers.

At first, the sounds were nonsensical, and he couldn’t puzzle them out through the haze in his brain. His eyes didn’t want to open yet. He didn’t sense fire or danger, but rain rattled against windows.

Windows. He was inside.

He just didn’t know
where
.

Now he kept his eyes closed on purpose, trying to assess more before revealing that he was awake, and alert.

Carnival. Ferris wheel. Fire.

Calla.

The way her body jerked.

The way he’d run. The way he’d hit the ground.

He wanted it to be a dream, but the pulsing ache in his shoulder convinced him it wasn’t. None of it was.

Hunter fought to keep his breathing even.

The whispers drew close, but he still couldn’t make sense of the words. Breath brushed his cheek, then a finger stroked across his eyebrow.

Hunter flung out a hand and seized a wrist. He jerked upright and looked at his captive.

A boy, looking just as shocked as Hunter felt. Young and blond and wide-eyed, he couldn’t have been more than five or six. His expression was frozen in that state where crying was a possibility.

Hunter let him go.

Then he winced, as the adrenaline wore off and his body suggested that sudden movement hadn’t been a bright idea.

The little boy hadn’t moved, but at least he didn’t look like he was going to cry anymore. He’d leaned forward. “Why do you have earrings in your
face
?”

What the hell?
Hunter rubbed his eyes. He was sitting on a couch, a comforter thrown over him. The room was dim, pale light breaking through the rain, meaning either early morning or early evening. His shirt was gone, but he still had on his jeans. His shoulder hurt like hell. One of his hands was bandaged across the palm.

Hunter’s brain couldn’t piece it all together.

Wait. He knew this room.

The Merrick house.

But then who was this kid, peering at him curiously, reaching out a hand to touch the piercings in his eyebrow?

Hunter caught his wrist again, but more gently. “Where is everyone?”

“Mommy is working.” His voice dropped to a hushed whisper. “I’m supposed to be sleeping, but I wasn’t tired anymore.”

The house was a well of quiet, insulated by the rain smacking the glass outside. At least that meant it was probably morning.

The boy stretched for a remote control on the coffee table, ignoring Hunter’s hold on his wrist. “Can I turn on cartoons?”

This was . . . surreal. Hunter let him go again. “Sure.” He paused. “Do you know where everyone else is?”

“They’re sleeping.” The boy climbed up on the couch next to him as if he’d known Hunter all his life. Then he clicked on the television.

Hunter sat there for a full minute and wondered what to do.

Unfortunately his brain kept replaying the previous night.

Fire.

Gunshot.

Calla.

The music from the cartoons was like water torture. Hunter rubbed at his eyes again, suddenly worried he was going to be sick.

He needed to find out what had happened, whether they were still in danger.

He stumbled off the couch, leaving the boy there. The front door was locked, but he threw the bolt and stepped onto the porch.

Rain coursed down from the dark gray sky, slapping against the siding and running in rivers down the driveway. It had to be very early, because he didn’t sense motion from any of the houses on the street.

Wait—maybe he still had his phone.

No, his pockets were empty. But blood stained the waistband of his jeans and streaked down one leg.

Hunter stepped onto the front walk, letting the rain hit him. He put a hand out. No power in the drops; just a normal storm.

“I thought the only person crazy enough to stand out in the rain was Chris.”

Hunter turned. Gabriel stood in the doorway, wearing sweatpants and an old T-shirt. His hair was rumpled from sleep. He didn’t look panicked, but he looked tired.

About thirty questions came to mind, but Hunter said, “Who’s the little kid?”

“James. Hannah’s son.”

That meant nothing to Hunter. “Who’s Hannah?”

“Mike’s girlfriend. You’ve seen her; she was one of the firefighters at the police station last week. She stayed at the carnival to help, so Mike brought him here.” Gabriel paused. “You want to come in out of the rain or what?”

Hunter realized he’d just been standing there, feeling rain trail through his hair and run in rivulets down his chest.

But the rain felt good on his shoulder, so he didn’t move. “What happened? How did I get here?”

“Do you remember the carnival?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you remember the fires?”

Was Gabriel kidding? They were permanently etched on the insides of Hunter’s eyelids. “I remember the generators. I had to climb down from the Ferris wheel.”

Gabriel glanced back in the house, then pulled the door shut. “That kid hears everything.” He leaned back against the doorjamb. “Do you remember getting shot?”

Hunter froze. “I got shot?”

“Yeah. In the shoulder.” Gabriel looked out at the gray sky. “And no offense, dude, but you weigh a fucking ton.”

That left Hunter with more questions than answers. His shoulder hurt, but he sure hadn’t missed a bullet hole.

That meant one of them had used power to heal him.

“Go clean up,” said Gabriel. “I’ll make coffee. School’s closed for the day, so . . .”

“Are we in danger?”

Gabriel snorted. “When are we not in danger?” He paused. “I have no idea. Nothing has happened since the fires.”

Hunter snuck into Nick’s room to find clean jeans from his bag, trying to be as silent as possible. He probably didn’t need to bother. Nick was practically unconscious, an arm hanging down over the side of the bed. The entire second floor felt thick with sleep. A quick glance at the clock revealed it wasn’t even six in the morning.

The shower felt even better than the rain had, but questions were burning the inside of his brain, so he rushed.

James was eating Cookie Crisp straight from the box when Hunter walked past the family room. He’d wrapped himself in the comforter.

Hunter wondered what it would be like to feel so comfortable in his surroundings. He couldn’t remember
ever
feeling that way, even around his own family.

He heard hushed voices from the kitchen, and that didn’t mean anything until Michael’s words registered.

“This is the first time I’ve considered leaving town.”

Leaving town.
Hunter hesitated in the hallway.

Gabriel said something in response, but Hunter couldn’t catch the words.

Then Michael said, “I don’t know. What do you think?”

Hunter could feel Gabriel’s surprise from here. Hunter strained to hear him. “I think this is the first time we all have a reason to stay.” He paused. “You’re dating a girl who left her kid with you, Michael.”

“Exactly. I’m putting them at risk.”

“There’s no pentagram on the door.”

“Yet.”

Gabriel paused. “You sound like you’ve been thinking about this for a while.”

“Only all night.” A tapping sound that Hunter couldn’t make sense of. Then a heavy sigh. “Money would be tight for a while, but we could make it work.”

“When?”

“A week if we had to.”

A week! Hunter held his breath.

“Do you know where we’d go?”

Michael’s voice was muffled, as if he was moving away. Hunter only picked out random phrases. “. . . go to the bank. We need . . . quiet so he doesn’t hear us.”

Exclamation points flared in Hunter’s head. He eased forward to hear the rest.

The floor creaked.

The conversation in the kitchen came to an abrupt stop.

But he wasn’t stupid. That vise grip had closed on his chest again. He’d never been welcome here, not really. Expecting anything else was downright lunacy.

Hunter walked into the kitchen easily, as if that creak in the floor was completely innocuous and he hadn’t heard a word. Gabriel and Michael were at the table, and he expected them to look guilty, but they just looked tired. Three mugs of coffee sat on the table. One was untouched, but a carton of half-and-half sat there, along with a bowl of sugar. And Hunter’s cell phone. The light was flashing.

At least it gave him an excuse not to look at them. He wasn’t sure he could keep the feeling of betrayal off his face. Hunter dropped into a chair and glanced at the screen.

Kate.

We need to talk about last night.

That kicked his heart into action. He hit the button to clear the screen and set the phone down in favor of the coffee.