Spirit (16 page)

W
hile they shared a campus, the middle school and high school had different hours. Hunter and the Merricks had to be at school early, the middle schoolers didn’t start until after nine. He couldn’t exactly skip class to stake out seventh and eighth graders—that would probably draw attention.

Instead, he decided to head over at the end of the day, to watch the younger students as they bolted for the buses to go home.

But that meant Hunter had seven hours of class time to kill.

Other students spent that time building locker shrines to the students who’d lost their lives. Hunter spent most of it feeling like he could have stopped the whole thing.

Or like he was betraying the Merricks somehow.

He tried to talk himself out of that feeling. He wasn’t planning to feed Kate information about
them
. And what were they doing for him anyway? Letting him live in their house until they decided to pack up and leave town? Michael had made a comment this morning that he was going to figure out how much money they had to work with. There was talk about leases and walking away from the business and—Hunter had to leave the room, because it all pointed toward leaving him here to deal with this mess.

And even after reading through all the files, he had no idea where his mother stood on everything. She wasn’t a Guide—unless she’d also hidden that from his father. Hunter had run all kinds of scenarios through his head, but he couldn’t make any of them work at
all
. Did she approve of his father’s profession? Of Hunter continuing his mission? If she didn’t, she sure wouldn’t have left him with weapons hidden among his things.

To say nothing of his father’s old files. Did she know about the Merricks? Those files had been held together by an ancient rubber band; he didn’t get the impression anyone had read through them recently.

He wanted to call her, to confront her and demand answers.

But maybe she didn’t have answers. She’d hidden those things when she could have come right out and
given
them to him.

Not to mention that he’d spent
months
grieving for his father and wondering how anyone would ever understand him again. She’d known. All this time—she’d
known
.

His thoughts were spinning out, not finding traction anywhere. Hunter actually looked forward to fourth period, when he could see Kate and tell her what he’d learned, what he’d
planned
.

But Kate didn’t show for fourth period, and his texts went unanswered. Now he felt like a fool, sitting around like an eager puppy expecting a bone.

As usual, he was standing at a crossroads, with no idea which direction was right.

Instead of heading to the cafeteria at lunch, he went out back, to where a few concrete picnic tables were lined up under the pine trees. The weather was still crap, with rain dripping between the branches to soak the ground and seal the chill to his body, but it was
outside
, and deserted, and he could feel the elements and think.

He lay on one of the tables and stared at the sky. The gun dug into the small of his back and the rain seemed to aim straight for his eyes.

He remembered Kate’s words from yesterday.
Don’t you trust anyone?

No. He didn’t. It had been his father’s last lesson, and Hunter had learned it well.

A branch cracked and split somewhere to his left, and he was off the table in a heartbeat.

He landed in a crouch and surveyed the pine trees. Nothing.

His hand found the gun, but he didn’t draw it—the last thing he needed was for some teacher to catch him with a firearm.

The trees were still, aside from slow drops of water rolling from leaf to leaf. The air was full of information, centering on the fact that someone hid nearby.

Yesterday, Kate had dropped out of a tree to tackle him. He glanced up, though all he found overhead was sky.

Then he
felt
motion before he saw anything, and he was moving, spinning, dropping, all before his brain registered the attack.

Everything was too fast—he couldn’t even tell who’d come after him. Sheer size said it was a guy; light hair said it wasn’t one of the Merricks. Then the air dropped ten degrees, turning thin and hard to breathe. Ice formed on his cheeks, stinging his eyes and stealing his vision.

Then a fist caught him in the shoulder. The left one, exactly where he’d been shot.

The sudden pain almost knocked him down. It felt like he’d been shot
again.
No, it felt like his whole arm was dislocating from his body.

His power flared without direction, pulling strength from the ground and the air, and when he swung a fist, he connected
hard
.

But he didn’t stop there. Most people fought to drive an enemy away—not Hunter. He’d been taught to pull an enemy close, to cause the most damage. He blinked frost out of his eyes and threw his joints into retaliation, drawing strength from the ground, connecting, punishing.

He knew the moment when his attacker wanted to get some distance, and Hunter felt the surge of victory as he got the upper hand.

Then a fist snuck inside his guard and jabbed him right in the throat.

Hunter went down. Worse—he couldn’t
breathe
. He was on all fours in the grit and pavement of the school patio, and he was going to choke to death because no one else was stupid enough to be out here in the rain.

He sensed movement, and the gun found his hand.

The movement stopped. “You’re better than I thought you’d be.”

He had an accent, leaving the words clipped.

Hunter coughed and it hurt like a bitch. But it meant air was working its way into his lungs, so he couldn’t complain.

He shoved himself to his feet to face his attacker, keeping the gun pointed. At least his hand was steady.

The man was tall, younger than Hunter expected, with darker skin and ice-blue eyes. He looked military fit, with close-cropped hair and a steady stance. He also looked like he didn’t take any crap—he was here to do a job, and he was going to do it.

Hunter briefly wondered if this was how he would have turned out, if his father hadn’t died.

“Do us both a favor and put the gun away,” said the man.

“You’re Silver,” Hunter said. It sounded like he was talking through a throat full of gravel. “You shot me last night.”

A nod. “You’re lucky I didn’t kill you last night.”

“You’re lucky I’m not killing you right now.”

“I don’t think luck has anything to do with it. Put the gun away.”

Hunter didn’t move, and the man raised an eyebrow. “You were the proverbial sitting duck a few moments ago. Surely you realize I would have already killed you if I meant you harm.”

Hunter rolled that around in his head for a moment. He couldn’t sit here all day holding a gun, either. His father used to say, “Pointing a gun means nothing if you’re not willing to fire it.”

Could he shoot this guy?

No. He couldn’t.

He slid the gun into the holster. “Where’s Kate?”

“I had doubts about her ability to evaluate whether you were a threat.”

Hunter rubbed at his throat. Again, he was reminded of Gabriel’s comment that first night.
Keep your enemies closer.
Or the old saying,
The enemy of my enemy is my friend.
Silver had shot him, had just about kicked his ass right here in the school courtyard, but Hunter didn’t get the impression that the guy was really here to fight with him.

“If you’re here to stop the Elementals who are starting fires, I want the same thing,” said Hunter. “I’m no threat to you.”

A smile. “I’m not worried about you being a threat to
me
.”

God, this guy was cocky. Hunter bristled. “I told Kate I would help her figure out who the others are.”

“I’m curious—why would you agree to turn in some, but not all?”

He had to be talking about the Merricks. “I don’t have to turn in
anyone
. You know who the Merricks are. It doesn’t matter anyway. They aren’t the ones causing trouble.”

A frown. “You know what your father was, do you not?”

Hunter frowned back at him. He wasn’t sure where this conversation was going. “Yes.”

“And you have no problem with the Merricks’ continued existence?”

“I told you—they’re not hurting anyone.”

Silver leaned against the picnic table. “Did Kate tell you about her mother?”

“She told me she was killed by a Water Elemental.”

The man nodded. “Did Kate mention that she went after the same Water Elemental to finish the job?”

They’d talked about vengeance, but they’d never talked about killing anyone.

Then again, he hadn’t known what Kate was. Not then. “No,” he said. “She didn’t.”

“You see, Hunter Garrity, son of John Garrity, your father was a great man. He did what needed to be done, for the good of all. I wasn’t aware he had a son, so you’re a bit of a mystery. I worry that you have missed the mark somewhere.”

Hunter felt fury well up inside, but not at Silver. At himself. He worried about the exact same thing. “I told Kate that I would find the other Elementals.”

“You talk about Elementals as if there are shades of gray. There are not. There are full Elementals, and there are Guides.”

Hunter didn’t say anything.

Silver studied him. “When I finish the job I’ve come here to do, which side will you stand on?”

“What difference does it make?” Hunter snapped.

“It makes a great deal of difference if the five of you can form a full circle. Do you understand what I’m saying to you?”

“Yeah.” Silver was saying he wouldn’t take the chance of Hunter helping the Merricks to fight back.

Hunter wondered if that meant Silver would kill him right now if he gave the wrong answers.

He was so sick of this debate over right and wrong. Silver’s attacking him had been a relief of sorts—he could defend himself from an assault. A fight was clear-cut.

But really, wasn’t this just as clear-cut?

Silver was still watching him. His voice was grave. “I knew your father. I respected him, and I was sorry to hear of his death. I would rather not kill you, but I put duty before emotion. Do you?”

Hunter looked away. Rain snuck inside the collar of his shirt to make him shiver.

“You were negotiating with Calla Dean,” said Silver. “Why?”

“I didn’t want her to hurt anyone else.”

“Why didn’t you kill her when you had the opportunity? From what I’ve read, she’s been hurting people for a while, and many of them.”

“I didn’t know who else she was working with.”

Silver straightened. “I don’t believe that’s a complete answer.”

Hunter scowled. Maybe it was the repeated mentions of his father, but somehow this conversation radiated disappointment, and he felt obligated to prove himself. “I thought she was my friend at first. I thought I understood her. I wanted to find out why she was drawing the Guides here.”

“You don’t think she should have been put to death for the crimes she committed?”

Hunter didn’t have an answer for that, either.

And wasn’t that answer enough?

He kept going back to that conversation with Michael in the truck, about turning off his conscience. Was that the problem here? Had he been going about everything all wrong? Was it really so simple as needing to focus on the goal and forget how he got there?

Kate was full of rage against pure Elementals—and he got it, if they’d killed her mother. He hadn’t been able to kill Michael and Gabriel a few weeks ago. He hadn’t been able to kill Calla.

He hadn’t been able to do the job he’d been
born to do
.

The Merricks were a family. They’d stick together. They’d do whatever they had to do to keep themselves together and safe.

And was working with Silver even a betrayal? They were
leaving
.

With a sudden flash of understanding, he wondered if this was the true reason his mother had hidden those weapons, those files. She thought he was living in enemy territory. She thought the Merricks might be a danger to him.

And they were, in a way: they’d made him a target. A bullet through his shoulder had proven that.

He’d been off track for a while now. But here, talking to Silver, a man who’d tried to kill him, he felt like he’d found the rails.

He squared his shoulders and looked up. “I’m not your enemy,” he said. “Tell me what you want to know.”

K
ate sat with Hunter outside the middle school. He was nursing a bottle of water, twisting it between his hands until she was reminded of Silver with his weapons.

“Nervous?” she said.

“No.”

“Which one are we waiting for?”

“I’ll know when I see them.”

He was different this afternoon, more determined, maybe. It reminded her of the first day in the cafeteria, when she’d seen him so tightly coiled, so full of control. She wondered just what Silver had said to him.

And what it would take to make him snap again.

“Did I miss anything exciting in History?” she said.

He didn’t look over. “Do you really care?”

“I care deeply about the Treaty of Versailles.”

His eyes flicked her way. “Really. Describe it.”

She could call his bluff since she’d read the chapter last night, thinking she’d be in school today. If Silver hadn’t been so damned overbearing, she would have been. “It ended the First World War and made Germany realize they weren’t the badasses they thought they were.”

Hunter sniffed and looked back at the door of the school.

“Look,” she said. “I don’t get what your problem is.”

“I don’t have a problem, Kate.”

“What’s with the attitude?”

“No attitude.” His eyes cut her way again, his gaze sharp as steel. “I’m just done being played.”

“I never played you.”

“Okay.”

“The sarcasm really isn’t attractive.”

“Like I care.”

His tone was a smack to the face.

But what did she expect?

She traced a fingertip over the tattoo on his forearm, something scripty and long. She recognized the symbols as Arabic or Persian or something, but she couldn’t read the language. “What’s this really say?” she said, making her voice provocative. “Something dirty?”

He smacked her hand away, as if she were a troublesome fly.

“So touchy,” she whispered mockingly.

“You don’t need to be here,” he said. “I told Silver I didn’t need you.”

“You and Silver are besties all of a sudden?”

“Let’s just say he didn’t climb in my lap to get his point across.”

Well, that stung. She sat in silence after that, letting the last bits of rain collect in her hair and chill her neck. She didn’t want to be sitting next to him now, but getting up and leaving would let him know he’d gotten to her.

After a minute, Hunter sighed, a breath full of weight, like he was going to apologize.

But he didn’t.

They sat there for the longest time, just breathing the same air, waiting for the end-of-class bell that would send students through the doors.

Maybe she was the one who owed him an apology. Or at least an explanation.

“I was never trying to play you,” she said quietly.

His posture tightened, as if he was going to snap back—but then he didn’t say anything. It gave her courage to continue.

“When I got here,” she said, “I didn’t know who you were. I was just supposed to find the Merricks and figure out how hard they’d be to kill. You were kind of like . . . a wild card.”

He didn’t say anything, but he was listening. She could feel it.

“That first day—you defended me in the school office, but then you had some issue with Calla, and then the fight with Gabriel Merrick—I couldn’t figure you out.” She paused. “I still can’t.”

“I can’t figure you out, either,” he said, his tone sharp. “I mean, you throw yourself at every guy you see—”

“I do not!”

He gave her a
look
.

She sat up straight and gave him one right back.
“What?”

He sighed and turned his attention back to the rear door of the middle school.

Then he abruptly looked back. “What happened to your face?”

She blinked. “What?”

“You have a bruise.”

Kate put a hand to her face, and he shook his head, reaching out to touch her opposite cheek. “Here,” he said.

His hand was warm, and she was surprised how it almost made her breath catch, just that little bit of contact.

If she said something about it, he’d probably mock her. So she brushed his hand away. “Sparring with Silver.”

He made a small sound, a disbelieving sound. “
Sparring
, huh?”

She wanted to hit him. “How did it feel when people didn’t believe you about Calla?”

That got his attention. “This is nothing like that.”

“Really?”

His eyes were intense now, locked on hers. “Yeah. Really.”

She had a retort on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn’t say anything, not with the way he was studying her.

“Did you really kiss Silver?” he asked.

“He kissed me.” It was nothing to blush over, but her cheeks disagreed.

“And when you jumped me on the Ferris wheel, wasn’t that an attempt to shut me up?”

“You don’t have a very high opinion of me, huh?” But her cheeks still felt hot, because his words were absolutely true.

That didn’t mean she hadn’t enjoyed their time on the Ferris wheel.

“See, there’s the difference,” said Hunter. “
I never hit Calla
. The only time I ever laid a hand on her was when she was trying to kill me.”

“I think you’ve got this all wrong.”

He swung his head around to look at her. “You would, wouldn’t you? I’m surprised you’re not throwing yourself at me right now, just to end the conversation.”

She snorted. “Like you’d know what to do if I did.”

He recoiled, and she regretted it immediately. But she’d needed to sting him back for everything he’d been saying, as if the only thing she could offer this mission was a little physical distraction wrapped up with a pretty smile.

That was how Silver treated her.

And how her mother had treated her.

Hunter’s shoulders were tight now, and he was peeling the label off his water bottle. He very determinedly was
not
looking at her.

Mocking him should have felt good. It didn’t. It felt like crap.

“I’m sorry you don’t think you can trust me,” she finally said.

He didn’t say anything. He probably could recite the label by heart he was studying it so hard.

“I don’t trust anyone,” he finally said.

That surprised her. “You trust Silver.”

Hunter looked her way. “Trust isn’t the right word. He’s the first person I’ve met in a long time who brought it back to black-and-white.”

And Hunter respected that. She could hear it in his voice. He might not
like
Silver, but he respected him, he respected what he was doing here.

“So you’re going to turn on the Merricks.”

“I’m not turning on anyone. They’re not on my side.”

“I watched Gabriel pull you out of the line of fire, after Silver shot you.”

Hunter didn’t say anything. Then he looked over. “Whose side are you on?”

“I’m just making sure you’re not going to stab us in the back, too.”

“I’m not stabbing anyone in the back. They know what I am. God knows they question me about it enough. They’re looking out for themselves, so I need to do the same.”

“What does that mean, they’re looking out for themselves?”

“It means exactly what it sounds like.” But he’d hesitated for a moment.

Before she could question him about it, the school bells rang and the side door was flung open. Middle schoolers came pouring out.

She couldn’t believe how
young
they looked. Had she ever been this young? She’d been tiny when her mother first took her to that farm in Virginia. She’d been about this age when her bloodied face had been pressed into filthy straw. What was the worst thing these kids had ever encountered? Hangnail? Forgotten homework?

Hunter was trained on the door, watching as each kid came out. The courtyard filled with students, the gray sky dulling the bright jackets and backpacks. Girls laughed and giggled, boys yelled to each other about sports and games, and they were suddenly surrounded.

“We can’t just shoot him, you know,” she said.

Hunter didn’t say anything, but he gave her another
look
, as if to say,
I’m not an idiot
.

She didn’t like all these
looks
. They were keeping her off balance.

She didn’t like being off balance.

“You act like you’re so experienced all of a sudden,” she scoffed. “What’s your plan, then?”

He turned, put a finger to his lips, and shushed her.

Shushed her!

She wanted to cut him to his knees, but Hunter shifted on the bench, straightened a little.

Kate knew exactly who he’d spotted, because as soon as the dark-haired kid laid eyes on Hunter, he
bolted.

Then Hunter bolted after him.

Kate swore and took up the chase.

The boy had an advantage. He’d been coming out of the door, so he was able to run along the school wall, while she and Hunter had to fight through a swarm of students to follow him.

The kid was fast, too, lean and lanky with a stride that ate up the grass and gave him early distance. They made it to the soccer fields behind the school, a long stretch of turf that offered no cover. For a terrifying moment, Kate wondered if this boy had cursed himself, because Silver was surely waiting somewhere, watching this whole episode, and he’d already proven he wasn’t afraid to shoot first and ask questions later.

Then she felt
power
and knew Hunter was pulling energy from the air, from the misting rain, from the ground under their feet. For an instant, jealousy snaked through her mind—she didn’t have anywhere near enough control to borrow so much at once—but then Hunter was surging forward to tackle the kid and bring him to the ground.

They rolled in the grass, but Hunter had him pinned by the time she got to them.

The boy was fighting like hell.

Her senses were wide open, and his fear assaulted Kate, his panic, his rage that they’d caught him so easily. It hit her so fiercely that she almost grabbed Hunter’s arm to drag him off the boy.

She knew better. She’d learned about
that
the hard way.

“Let me go,” the kid cried. “Let me go. They’ll know you did this. They know—”

“Stop!” said Hunter. “I just want to talk to you—”

The boy spit in his face.

Hunter swore and ducked his head to wipe his cheek on his shoulder. “Seriously?”

“You can’t stop us. There are too many, and we know where to hide.”

“Don’t be stupid,” said Hunter. “You know what happened to Calla.”

“I know Calla is going to
destroy
you.”

Hunter froze. His shock was almost palpable. “What did you just say?”

The boy spit at him again. “Calla is going to kill you all.”

“Calla’s alive?” Kate couldn’t figure out the emotion in Hunter’s voice, as if relief and dismay were fighting to come out on top.

She knew one thing for sure: Silver was going to
shit a brick.
And he was probably going to blame her.

The boy was shaking, but his eyes were full of fury. “Do it. Kill me. If I disappear, you’ll just make it worse for everyone.”

“What does that mean?” said Hunter.

“The carnival was
nothing
. You wait. We’ll show the Guides what we can really do.”

“How many of you are there?” said Kate.

“Where’s Calla?” demanded Hunter.

“Like I’d tell you. What’s the worst you can do—kill me?”

“Break his arm,” she said to Hunter.

She meant it as a threat, as something to throw a little fear into the boy. But Hunter made a movement with his wrist, sharp and quick, and then there was a snap and the kid was screaming bloody murder.

Holy crap.

Kate couldn’t breathe. She must have lost time from the shock of it all, because now the kid was quiet. He’d passed out.

She wouldn’t mind doing the same thing. Hunter had—he’d—it was—

Then people were yelling, just
there
, coming across the soccer field.

A teacher was grabbing Hunter’s arm and dragging him away from the boy on the ground.

And another one grabbed her, too.