Spirit (13 page)

Gabriel’s words on the porch were duking it out with the conversation he’d just overheard.

“Hey.” He looked across the table at Gabriel. “Thanks.”

Gabriel half shrugged and spun his mug between his hands. “I didn’t know what you wanted in it.”

“No—I mean—”

Gabriel met his eyes. “I know what you meant.”

“Did you fix my shoulder, too?”

Another half shrug, like it was nothing. “There was a lot of power in the fire. You were bleeding. It was easy.” But then he looked away. “We had to run. I couldn’t do it all the way. Hannah saw all the blood and was ready to put you on a helicopter.”

Gabriel’s voice was casual, but Hunter could hear the undercurrent of tension. Shadows underscored his eyes, punctuating his worry.

“What happened to the Guide?”

“Don’t know. Chris and Nicky pulled the rain to stop the fires, and we thought for sure he’d find us, but . . . he didn’t.”

“Yet,” Michael said. “He didn’t find us
yet
.”

Gabriel took a sip of coffee but didn’t say anything.

Michael glanced over at Hunter. “You look a lot better than you did last night. You all right?”

No. He felt like his world was collapsing around him. His brain was having trouble reconciling the fact that they’d saved his life with their talk about secretly leaving town, abandoning him to this mess that they were a part of.

He looked into his coffee and nodded.

“I thought about calling your mom,” Michael said. “But I was worried she’d want to come over here, and I didn’t want to put her in the line of fire.”

“It’s fine,” he said. He didn’t want to see her—if she even cared to see him. His grandfather would probably call him names and demand that he pay for the damages to the carnival equipment.

But for a fraction of a second, he wished Gabriel
hadn’t
used power to heal him, that this Hannah woman had put him on a medevac helicopter to shock trauma or wherever. Just so his mom would have to look at
him
for an instant, instead of wallowing in her own mess.

Then again, she’d probably ignore even that. She hadn’t moved a muscle while her father was laying into him.

Michael pushed loose strands of hair back from his face. “I checked the news last night. Seven people are missing. Three are confirmed dead, but the bodies were too badly burned to identify which of the missing people are definitely dead.
Seven
. Most of those were kids. And that doesn’t even count the number of people in the hospital.”

The sudden guilt clogged Hunter’s throat. He remembered the feeling of panic and despair on those carnival grounds. He hadn’t been able to help any of them. He rubbed at his eyes.

Michael was still looking at him. “Calla is on the list of the missing.”

Hunter thought of the way her body had jerked, the way she’d dropped in the middle of the flames.

She’d fallen in the middle of an inferno. She had to be one of the dead.

“At least she can’t hurt anyone else,” said Hunter.

“Jesus,” said Gabriel. “Why do you sound
upset
about that?”

“I’m not upset.”

But he was. Because he’d wanted her to stop, but he hadn’t wanted her
dead
. Because he hadn’t been able to stop her himself, and now more people had lost their lives. Because once again, he wasn’t exactly sure where he fell on this continuum of good and evil, or even which end was
which
.

He wasn’t like Calla. He knew that much.

But if he wasn’t like the Guides, where did that leave his father? Where did it leave the man who’d shot Calla? The same man who’d pointed a gun at Hunter?

Hunter’s first instinct had been to run.

Not to put his hands up and say, “Don’t shoot. I’m one of you.”

And where did it leave Kate, a girl who seemed to have as many secrets as he did himself? She’d climbed down the Ferris wheel more efficiently than he had. She’d called his name when he’d been running from the Guide—causing a hesitation that had probably saved his life. His shoulder wasn’t any great distance from his heart.

She hadn’t been the one with a gun. But what would happen if he told the Merricks that he suspected . . .
something
about her? About this
friend
she was texting all the time? He didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t even pin it down himself, so how was he going to explain it to them? He had no proof of anything, really. And they already didn’t trust him.

He wasn’t sure he trusted them, either, if they were going to leave him here.

His head hurt.

Seven people missing
.

Seven people. All because he couldn’t make himself pull a stupid trigger in the library.

All because he’d made his dad come back for him.

This line of thinking wasn’t going to get him anywhere.

Hunter kept thinking of the kid who’d shown up in his kitchen that night, when Calla had come after him in his bedroom. Where had that guy gone? Why hadn’t Hunter seen him around school?

He needed answers.

We need to talk about last night
.

That statement could be about so many things.

Some were pleasant.

Some were not.

And there was only one way to find out which ones she wanted to talk about.

K
ate was waiting for him.

Hunter didn’t spot her at first: she wore tight gray jeans and a slim-fitting olive-green tank that blended with the tree line at the edge of the carnival grounds. The sky still hung heavy with clouds, but the rain had stopped, leaving the field nothing but a soggy, charred mess. None of the carnival equipment had been removed. All the bodies sure had.

Almost everything was roped off with yellow crime scene tape.

Thank god his jeep had four-wheel drive—even so, he parked before it got too bad. He had to step through muddy tire ruts to get to her.

The place was deserted, but it felt haunted, as if the carnage from last night had left an impact in the very air.

Casper loped along beside him, happy for the adventure.

She wasn’t armed, unless she had something at the small of her back, but it took everything he had not to let his eyes linger on her form. Her eyes were fierce, her shoulders thrown back, her mouth sexy as hell.

He glanced around. “What’s with the cryptic meeting place?”

She ignored him. “What are you doing with the Merricks?”

Wow. As if that wasn’t a loaded question.

But he could play this game, too. “You know what happened with my grandfather. They’re letting me crash there for a while.” He paused. “Why?”

“Don’t play stupid.”

He gave her half a smile. “I’m playing cautious.”

“Why?”

“Probably the same reason you are.” More sure now, he took a step forward.

She didn’t move, but he sensed the sudden tension in her body, could feel the way her eyes tracked his movement.

He
was
out of practice. He should have noticed this when they’d played at fighting last night.

Only now he sensed she wasn’t playing at all.

“You look tense,” he said easily. “I thought you wanted to
talk
.”

“If you’re playing cautious, then you’ll want to stop walking.”

Well, that statement was full of threat, and definitely dictated how this conversation was going to go.

He hesitated for a second, weighing his options. The post-storm humidity spoke of danger, but he needed to take control of this interaction before she did. He kept moving, knowing that however she’d react, she was going to be fast. She wouldn’t waste energy on a strength move, not against him.

She moved half a second before he expected it—and not in the way he expected at all.

She didn’t fight, she
ran.

He took off after her.

She was fast, launching herself through the underbrush in the woods, heading toward the creek, barely making a sound as her feet sprang through dead leaves. She ducked and bolted through narrow passages, until even Casper had a hard time staying on her trail.

And then she vanished.

Hunter drew up short, his lungs pulling for breath. His shoulder ached again, protesting all this motion.

About a hundred feet off, something skittered through a bush.

Casper took off after it. Hunter stared. How had she gotten so far away, so—

Wham.
Kate landed on him from above. It was a lot of weight all at once, and he hit the ground. Kate was on his back.

With a knife at his throat.

She had a fistful of his hair, and the blade was tight under his chin, so sharp that he could swear he was bleeding already.

“Boys are such idiots,” she said.

But he wasn’t listening. His hand was already hooking her wrist from the inside, using his strength to jerk her forward.

And while she was off balance, he rolled her into the dirty leaves. He straddled her waist and pinned her arms—one with his knee, one with a hand—and put the knife against
her
throat.

“Now who’s the idiot?”

Her eyes lit with indignant fury.

“Don’t glare at me,” he said. “You’re the one who left my hands free.” He could still feel wetness at his neck. “That was a good trick, though. You have any more weapons hidden out here?”

Kate didn’t speak, and he eased the knife away from her neck, just an inch. “I didn’t come out here expecting a fight,” he said.

“What were you expecting? Another chance to feel me up?”

That hurt more than it should have, but she didn’t have to know that. “Why? Is that offer on the table?”

“Just kill me or let me go.”

“I don’t like either of those options. You’re another Fifth, aren’t you?”

“Oh, good. You’ve figured that out.”

“You’re working with the guy from last night?”

She kept glaring up at him, and that was answer enough. Hunter glanced around, but the trees were still. Casper was probably off chasing a rabbit or whatever. “Is he going to try to shoot me again?”

“Why did you flip sides?” she demanded.

He looked back down at her. “Who says I flipped sides?”

“You’re living with the Merricks.”

“Yeah, and they
hate
me.”

“You should hate
them
.”

For an instant, Hunter wanted to lift the knife and use it on himself. Her question narrowed his entire internal debate down to one fine point.

“They stopped those fires last night,” he said quietly. “They saved my life after your
boyfriend
shot me.”

“He’s not my boyfriend.” Her face lost some of the righteous fury. “And I know they did.”

“Sounds like you care.”

“About all those people? Of course I care.”

That wasn’t what he’d meant, but he didn’t correct her. It shouldn’t have made a difference, but it loosened something inside him, to hear that she couldn’t disengage her conscience, either. “So what do you want, Kate? What?”

“I want your help.”

“You thought you’d get it with a knife at my neck?”

“When you showed up, you were so . . . so cagey. I knew you’d figured it out. What I am.” Her voice dropped. “I thought you really were on their side. I thought you’d kill me before I could explain myself.”

“Guess I’m not all that predictable.”

She wriggled her wrist under his hand. “Do you mind?”

He raised one eyebrow. “Just talk?”

She nodded. “Just talk.”

So they sat against opposing trees, but he kept her knife, spinning it between his hands. “Maybe you should tell me the whole story. Transferred from Saint Mary’s? I should have figured out
that
was a load of crap on the Ferris wheel.”

She didn’t blush, but her jaw was set. “I thought you’d be suspicious of someone from out of town.”

“Did you know what I was, that first day?”

“I knew John Garrity had died after taking an assignment to eliminate the Merricks. The name was too close to be a coincidence.”

He laughed, but not like anything was funny. “Is your mother even dead? Or was that just something to say to get close to me?”

Now she froze. “She’s dead. She died on an assignment to kill a Water Elemental.”

He told himself not to care. He’d fallen for this more than once already.

His father had once told him he needed to learn to cage his compassion, that others would use it against him, that it would cloud his judgment and hide what
needed
to be done.

But he couldn’t help it. He heard the pain in her voice. No, he
recognized
it.

“What happened?” he said quietly.

“She was stupid. She faced him on the water.”

Her eyes were hard when she said it. The derision in her voice was almost potent. “So you’re here on a vendetta,” he said without judgment. He couldn’t really criticize—he’d come here for the same thing, once.

“No, I’m here because it’s my
job
. I thought you’d understand that.”

Hunter didn’t have anything to say to that.

Her expression turned fierce. “I still don’t understand why you’d be living with
them
. I’ve heard just how badass your father was.”

Hunter went still. “You don’t know anything about my father.”

“I can imagine what he’d think about you living with a pack of Elementals he’d been sent to kill.”

Hunter’s hand tightened on the knife—but she was right. He had to look away.

“Did the Merricks kill him?” she asked. “Did they somehow convince you to—”

“No,” he snapped, feeling his throat tighten. “No. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“So tell me.”

It took him a minute to make sure his voice would remain steady. “When we came after them, the car was crushed in a rock slide. My father and uncle were killed.”

He felt her eyes, and he met them, holding her there, daring her to say . . . anything. He wasn’t sure what would push him over the edge.

Her voice dropped. “Michael Merrick is an Earth Elemental.”

Hunter glared at her, hard. “I
know
. That was my first thought, too. I came here to finish the job.”

“And you couldn’t follow through.”

It was so close to the truth that he flinched. He put a thumb against the edge of the blade, just a bit, letting the pain steady him. “They aren’t the only Elementals in town,” he said. “Their parents made a deal with the others, that they wouldn’t turn them in to the Guides if the Merricks kept out of trouble and didn’t use their abilities. Then the others spent
years
harassing the Merricks in an effort to make them reveal themselves.”

She snorted. “Some
deal.
They used their abilities last night.”

“The deal is over. When my dad couldn’t . . . when he couldn’t finish the job . . .” He had to swallow. “Another Guide came. He almost killed them. He caught Chris and Nick, but . . .”

Hunter stopped. She was going to misunderstand this, too.

“But what?”

He slid his thumb along the edge of her blade, harder now, feeling the sharpness, knowing it could draw blood with a little more pressure. “I helped them escape.”

“Did you help them kill him, too?”

“He’s not dead!” he snapped. “I still don’t understand why you want my help if you think I’m nothing but a traitor.”

She ignored that. “And Calla? You really did beat her up, didn’t you?”

“No. I wish I had, but no. She said that so I’d have to stay away from her.” He frowned. “Now that won’t be a problem.”

“Where does she fit in? Was she after the Merricks, too?”

“No. She wanted to bring the Guides here.” He pointed at her with the knife. “Mission accomplished, huh?”

“Why?”

He punched the ground with his fist. “I
don’t know
why! She kept threatening to keep starting fires if I couldn’t bring more Guides here. I never expected her to blow up the whole carnival.” His voice almost broke. “You think I wanted all those kids to die? I should have stopped her, Kate. I should have stopped her two weeks ago. I should have—”

He dropped her knife and pressed his fists into his eyes.

She could stab him right now and he wouldn’t move a muscle to stop her.

Her hands fell on his shoulders, light and gentle and completely unexpected.

He dropped his fists to look at her, and her face was close. She knelt in the leaves in front of him, her green eyes soft and close.

“You’re a mess,” she said.

He snorted. “No kidding.”

She leaned even closer, sliding her hands up his shoulders.

Her nearness affected him, making him want to pull her closer.

He caught her wrists. “Don’t play with me, Kate.”

“You’re still bleeding.”

“I’ll live.”

She rolled her eyes skyward, then leaned forward, her hands still trapped by his. Her breath eased against his throat, full of power, cool and hot at the same time.

He shivered before he could help it. Her full weight was on his hands. If he let go, she’d be against his chest, practically in his lap.

He pushed her back. “Stop.”

She drew back, but only enough to stare into his eyes. “You have a lot of enemies.”

He didn’t have anything to say to that. She was right.

“Sounds exhausting,” she said softly.

“You have no idea.”

“I don’t think I’m an enemy,” she whispered.

God, he was so tired of fighting with people. He let go of her wrists. “Do what you want.”

Her hands found his shoulders again, and she leaned forward. When her breath touched his skin, he closed his eyes. Power flared in the air to find the blood on his neck. He shivered.

Her voice was low, husky. “My mother used to say that the hardest part of being a Fifth was fighting the urge to help your enemies.”

“My father used to say the same thing.” Then he opened his eyes. “Is that why you’re helping me now?”

“No.” Her thumb stroked along his neck, and it didn’t even sting. “I think that’s why you’re helping the Merricks.”

“They’re really helping
me
.”

“Really? Did they follow you through the fire to stop Calla?”

He froze. No. They hadn’t. Gabriel had pulled him out of the fire—but Hunter had gone to face Calla alone.

“Are they
helping
you,” said Kate, “or are they keeping an enemy close?”

He’d be lying if he hadn’t thought about this already. Hadn’t Gabriel used
those exact words
the other night? Hadn’t Nick demanded to see his text messages? Michael had asked him to help with his landscaping jobs. Was he being
nice
—or was he making sure he knew where Hunter was?

When Hunter and Gabriel had been fighting Calla’s fires, Michael had done the same thing to Gabriel, dragging him all over town under the pretense of being
brotherly
.