Spirit (21 page)

B
ill Chandler lived in a little gray rental on the water. Hunter had only been here once, the day Bill had asked him to watch Gabriel, but he remembered the way. The clapboard siding needed a new paint job, and the gutters were coming loose along the left side of the roof, but it was secluded, private, and no one knew he was here.

Exactly what Hunter needed.

A green pickup truck sat out front, the
DEPARTMENT OF NATURAL RESOURCES
logo visible on the side.

Bill was home.

He opened the door when Hunter knocked. “Becca’s not here,” he said.

“Good. I need your help.”

Bill’s gaze sharpened, probably taking in the blood on Hunter’s clothes. “I told you not to bring your mess to me.” He started to close the door.

Hunter put a hand against the wood. “Help me or I’ll tell them all where to find you.” He paused, very aware that Kate could be bleeding to death in the front seat
right now
. “I’ll tell them about Becca.”

“Don’t you threaten me, kid.”

“Damn it!” snapped Hunter. He was ready to pull his gun and shoot this guy. Or himself. “Help me. Please. Just help me.”

If Bill said no, he didn’t know what he’d do.

He was officially in over his head.

“Fine,” said Bill. He gave Hunter a once-over. “You’re hurt?”

“Not me. Kate. Come on.”

“I’ll be right there.”

Then Bill shut the door in his face.

Swearing, Hunter went back to the car. Her eyes were closed, but she made a small sound when he pulled her into his arms. Her breathing was shallow.

She was so pale.

Hunter started for the front door, but Bill reappeared and gestured for him to walk around to the back of the house. They moved past the porch and down the grassy slope to where the terrain turned to sand.

“Put her in the sand,” Bill said, pointing. “Get her close to the water. I’ll get some logs.”

Hunter sat in the sand with her, holding her against him. He was beginning to think this was stupid, that he should have taken her to the ER anyway, but then the wind kicked up to swirl around them and the tide crawled up the shore to lick at Kate’s feet. Heat from the sun poured down, warming his skin and filling the air with power.

Casper rolled in the sand beside him, basking in it.

No, this had been the right decision. Hunter felt it now.

He pulled at the power, begging for more, begging it to heal her, hoping it would be enough.

“Careful,” said Bill behind him. “Don’t try to force it. The elements are willing; let them work.” He dropped some logs in the sand beside them, then some blankets and sleeping bags. “Get her pants off. I’ll start a fire.”

Hunter just stared at him.

Bill was arranging the logs into a pile and tucking dried brush between them. “Do you want me to take her pants off?” He glanced over. “We need to see how deep that wound is. She might need stitches.”

Hunter had to clear his throat. “I—can you lay out a sleeping bag for her?”

“She’ll do better directly on the sand. Come on, kid, you’ve never undressed a girl before?”

Um. No.
Hunter shook himself and laid her down on the sand.

A few hours ago, she’d looked like the hottest thing he’d ever seen.

Now she was so pale, half soaked in blood. The copper scent stung his nose. That stole any hesitation he might have had. He unbuttoned her jeans and undid the zipper.

That hesitation was back. His breathing felt shallow.

God, she was practically dying in front of him, and he couldn’t pull her pants off.

Then Bill was beside him. He had a knife in his hand, and he ripped her jeans straight down from the waistband before Hunter could even think to stop him.

Hunter got a good look at the torn flesh along her hip, and he lost any thoughts of seeing her naked; instead, he almost lost himself to worry.

She’d been right—the bullet had just grazed her, but it had taken a lot of skin with it.

Bill whistled through his teeth. “She’s lucky. Lots of arteries in the leg, but you’d never have made it here if one of those had been hit. Let me get my suture kit.”

“Your suture kit? But—you can’t—”

“Did you want my help or not? There isn’t much difference between stitching up a wild animal and a human being.” He paused. “You can’t leave it all to the elements, Hunter. It’ll take days.”

“Can we use power to heal her?”

“I’m assuming someone is after you?”

“Yeah.”

Bill nodded. “I don’t want a lot of power in the air.”

So Hunter watched while Bill treated the wound, sprayed it with some kind of topical anesthetic, and then began to thread the flesh of her hip back together. For the moment, that’s all his brain could focus on, the steady slip and pull of thread through skin. It should have been horrifying, but he’d been through enough horror in the last week. This was almost hypnotizing, especially with a fire crackling behind them.

“I think you’ve got a lot to tell me,” said Bill.

Hunter shook his head. “I can’t piece it all together.”

“Try me.”

So Hunter talked through the events of the past week, from Silver to the carnival to Calla and Noah Dean and the threats about what would happen Monday. He finished with the Merricks leaving town, how they’d packed up and deserted the house with no notice.

He had a hard time keeping the bitterness out of his voice with that one.

But Bill nodded. “Becca went with them.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

“Right now? Yeah, I’m okay with that.” He tied off the last of the sutures. “Your girl here might not even need those by morning. Leave the stuff out here when you go. I’ll burn it.”

Then he turned toward the house.

“That’s it?” said Hunter, dismayed. “That’s all you have to say?”

“That’s it. Like I said, kid: your mess.”

“Jesus. No wonder Becca hates you.”

Bill whirled and hit him so fast that Hunter didn’t even see it coming. Suddenly, he found himself down in the sand, tasting blood in his mouth. His jaw ached like . . . well, like he’d been slugged in the jaw. Casper was standing over him, growling.

But Bill wasn’t afraid of the dog, and he sure wasn’t afraid of Hunter. He stared down at him. “You don’t know what I’ve done to protect Becca. So don’t talk about things you don’t understand. You get me?”

Hunter made it to his knees and spit blood. “Yeah. Fine. Whatever.”

“This is life or death, Hunter.”

“No shit.”

“Your father made the same sacrifices for you, and instead of living up to his expectations, you’re right in the middle of it all. Well, you’re not dragging it to my doorstep. Not if I can help it.”

Hunter couldn’t decide if his head was spinning or if that really didn’t make any sense. He lifted his eyes to find Bill walking away. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about your dad. You think it’s an accident that no other Guides came after you when your father died?”

Wait.

Wait.

“Come back here,” said Hunter.

“Move your jeep when you can. I don’t want it sitting in front of the house.” Then Bill disappeared through the back door.

And Hunter heard the click of a lock.

Waiting for Kate to wake up was excruciating.

Hunter didn’t want to leave her, and he had no cell phone, no way to contact anyone. He had two sleeping bags and a head full of heavy thoughts.

Every time he heard the bare snap of a twig in the woods, his gun was in his hand.

Around sundown, his stomach alerted him to the fact that he didn’t have any food, either.

Kate was looking better, though. She’d regained some color, and the stitched wound appeared somewhat closed and scabbed over. Her breathing was deeper, more of a true sleep.

Now that the sun was going down, a chill crept out of the water to cling to the air. Hunter stretched out one of the sleeping bags on the sand and carefully lifted Kate onto it, then covered her with the other one.

One part of him wished she’d wake up so they could get moving.

The other part of him hoped she’d keep sleeping since they had nowhere to go.

This sucked.

He’d moved the jeep to the spot where the grass gave way to sand and then played the radio for a while, trying to catch the news, but he didn’t learn anything he didn’t already know. Eventually, he worried he’d run the battery down, so he turned the car off and returned to Kate’s side.

When the door to the house slid open, Hunter sprang to his feet—but it was just Bill carrying two canvas bags, the kind you get at the grocery store.

“I figured you hadn’t eaten in a while.” Bill paused, cleared his throat. “There are some clothes in there, too. Stuff I had around here for Becca, but . . . well . . .”

“Thanks.” Hunter took the bags and set them beside the blanket, though it was taking everything he had not to tear through them looking for food.

Bill reached out a hand and touched Hunter on the chin. Hunter wondered if he had a new bruise to add to the collection.

“Sorry I hit you,” Bill said.

Hunter was sorry about that, too. It had hurt like a bitch and reminded him a little too thoroughly of the fight with his grandfather that had started this mess.

He didn’t say anything.

“I did a lot to make sure Becca wouldn’t have to deal with this kind of disaster,” Bill said. “I know what she thinks of me, but I had my reason for keeping my distance.” He paused. “It’s just not very nice to have that thrown in my face.”

Hunter wondered how much could be resolved if Bill would just say those same words to Becca.

“I’m sorry,” Hunter said. He didn’t entirely mean it, but he felt like he should offer something in exchange for the food and supplies.

“Did you hate your father?”

The words hit Hunter so hard that he felt like he needed to take a step back. “No,” he said, his voice rough. “No, never. He—I just never knew where I stood with him.”

Bill smiled a little at that: a small smile, a sad one. “Really?”

Hunter couldn’t interpret that expression. “Yeah, really.”

“I’d say you stood in pretty high regard. Your dad went to some lengths to keep you a secret.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I knew your dad. And he never breathed a word about you.”

Hunter scowled—but something about this was meshing with what Silver had said when he came after him and Kate at the Merrick house. Or what Calla Dean had said at the carnival.

Had his father kept him a secret?

But . . . why?

His head was overfull with confusion, and he couldn’t take one more thing to second guess. “Maybe it means he just didn’t give a crap.”

“That’s not how being a father works, kid.” Bill gestured to the bags. “There should be enough food for tonight and tomorrow.”

So Bill expected them to sleep out here, on the beach. It was October, and the night air was already growing cold. Hunter glanced at the back door and deliberated for a long moment before swallowing his pride. “Any way we can crash on your floor?”

“Not an option.” Bill’s voice was hard again.

Hunter was too tired to argue. “Fine. We’ll sleep in the sand.” At least they had blankets.

“Sometimes decisions are about picking the lesser evil.”

Hunter rolled his eyes. “That’s really comforting, thanks.”

“Becca never understood what I was doing for her, and she hates me for it. Don’t make the same mistake, okay?”

Hunter just looked back at him, wondering how making two people sleep on the beach was some kind of sacrifice for Bill Chandler.

“Think about it,” said Bill.

“I’m sure I’ll have plenty of time,” said Hunter.

Then he turned his back, dropped to the blanket, and fished through the first bag to find the food.

Only to find he was disappointed when Bill moved away.

Especially since it took everything he had not to turn around and beg for more information.

H
unter woke up to someone moving against him.

He didn’t remember falling asleep, but now he was awake and alert. His eyes opened to meet Kate’s in the near darkness.

Hers were wide. “Where are we?” she whispered.

He heard the worry in her tone. “Safe,” he said. “We’re on the beach behind Becca’s father’s house.”

She shifted under the blankets to look at the sky. Night had fallen completely, and the moon and stars overhead were brilliant. The fire still burned beside them, throwing light across her face, turning her hair gold.

“How do you feel?” he asked.

She made a face. “Both better and worse than I expected. Do you have any water?”

“Yeah.” He secured a bottle from one of the bags and helped her to sit up, though she didn’t really need it. She didn’t even wince. She drained an entire bottle of water, barely pausing for breath.

“Are you hungry?” he asked. “There’s food, too.”

When she nodded, he unwrapped a prepackaged peanut-butter-and-strawberry-jam sandwich. She tore into it.

He knew the feeling. He’d done the same thing to three of them earlier. So had Casper.

Halfway through the sandwich, she paused. “Did you take my pants off?”

“Bill helped.”

“Oh, that’s nice. Did you get a good look?”

Her voice was light, not bitchy. “Watching him put stitches in your thigh kinda stole the allure.”

“Stitches?” Her hand moved under the blanket. “Wow. I slept through
that
?”

“I’m not sure I’d call it
sleeping
.”

Wind tore across the water to make the flames flicker. Hunter shivered. There’d been clean jeans and a T-shirt in the bag Bill had provided, but nothing warmer than that. His fleece pullover was soaked with her blood, rolled up by the fire.

“Cold?” Kate pulled the edge of the sleeping bag back. “There’s plenty of room.”

If she’d said it in a dirty way, he wouldn’t have taken her up on it. But because he
was
cold and her voice was casual, Hunter scooted until his legs were under the top blanket and he was sitting up beside her.

Now that they were close, however, he didn’t know what to say.

Kate’s hand found his under the blanket. “Thanks,” she said. “For saving me.”

He turned his hand and laced his fingers through hers. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

“Silver pointing a gun at us.” She paused. “I didn’t expect to wake up.” Another pause, a longer one. Her voice was heavy. “Your dog . . .”

Hunter whistled. Casper came tearing up the beach from whatever he’d been investigating.

Kate’s face broke into a smile. “He’s okay!”

Hunter rubbed the dog behind his ears until he started the
rawr-rawr-rawr.
“He’s tough.” He stroked a finger down the line of Casper’s muzzle. “He’s the one you should be thanking. He attacked Silver.”

Kate took him up on that and started scratching Casper behind the ears herself.

The dog flopped over in the sand, looking for a belly rub. Kate obliged him.

Then she said, “So what’s the plan?”

“Staying alive? I don’t know.” Hunter pressed his fingers into his eyes. “I don’t have anywhere for us to go.”

“What do we know?”

“Not much.”

“Let’s lay it out and make a plan.”

Hunter looked at her in surprise.

“What?” she said with a spark of irritation in her eyes. “You think you’re going to figure all this out on your own?”

“No—I didn’t—” He stopped to figure out his words before he sounded like a moron. “I just . . . I’ve been on my own for a long time.”

“Me, too.” She stared at him, and he loved the way the fire cast shadows across her features. “We’re together right now.”

“Okay.” He nodded. “Okay.”

“Lay it out. What do we know?”

“Silver killed my phone, and I dropped the files when he shot you. I have half a tank of gas in the jeep and maybe twenty bucks in cash. I don’t remember all the names of the kids who were involved with Calla, and I don’t know where she’s hiding. All I know is what Noah told me: that she’s alive, and they’re planning something for Monday.”

Kate took all that in and nodded. “Do you know where she might be hiding?”

“Noah said something about tunnels. But I don’t know if that means she’s hiding in a tunnel somewhere, or if she’s planning something to do with tunnels . . . I don’t know. She’s a Fire Elemental. Why start a fire in a tunnel? But if that’s just where she’s
hiding
, I don’t get that, either. The only tunnels around here are sewer tunnels—also not conducive to fire. Gabriel spent the night in the water a few weeks ago, and he said he’d never felt more drained.”

“Does Silver know any of that?” said Kate.

“Not from me.” He scowled. “But he probably has my files now, so all those other kids are at risk.”

“At risk? They’re the ones trying to hurt people.”

“Not all of them. Some of them can’t be older than ten or eleven. They probably have no clue what they’re getting into. And they’re just trying to protect themselves.” He paused. “I still don’t know which is the right side, here. I could never be like Silver. But I can’t sit back and watch pure Elementals hurt innocent people, either.”

“Silver sees harming innocent people as a means to an end. Did your dad?”

Hunter thought back. “I don’t think so.” He paused. “Bill told me that my dad made sacrifices to keep me a secret. Silver said I’m living proof of what my dad did wrong. Do you know what that means?”

Kate sighed. “Maybe.”

Hunter waited. More wind blew off the water to trace through his hair. The air had a definite bite to it now, and Kate rubbed at her arms.

She shifted to slide back under the blankets, then propped herself up on one shoulder, scooting back to give him room. “Get under the blankets. I’ll tell you what I know.”

He hesitated, then slid under, too, mirroring her position.

“When Silver and I first got here,” said Kate, “he told me that John and Jay Garrity had died on a trip to destroy the Merricks. Then I met you, and your last name was Garrity, and you were new here . . . well, it was a big coincidence. Too big. When we tried to find out more about
you
, there were no listed numbers under
Garrity
in town, no homes or vehicles registered under that name, no—”

“Because I lived with my grandparents,” said Hunter. “My mom’s parents. And she kept her maiden name, so . . .”

“Right. So that was a mystery. Especially since you knew how to fight—but you’d obviously never been through any kind of training as a Guide. I couldn’t put two-and-two together.”

Hunter frowned. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Hunter, when I was twelve, my mother took me to the Farm. Do you know what that means?”

“You told me about some guy teaching you how to fight.”

“Yeah. There’s this farm in Virginia where a guy named Roland basically beats the sensitivity out of you until you figure out how to put duty before feeling.”

Hunter’s eyes widened, but before he could say anything, Kate added, “
Everyone
goes there, Hunter.
Everyone
. It’s mandatory.”

He was trying to push images of someone beating the crap out of Kate from his mind. “My father used to tell me that he’d send me for training,” he said. “He always told me
one more year
. He said I wasn’t ready.”

Kate’s eyes were vaguely haunted, made more so by the flickering firelight. “No one is ever
ready
for that, Hunter.”

Hunter bit the inside of his cheek, wanting to ask—but not wanting to.

“I think he kept you a secret,” she whispered. She hesitated. “And that’s a big no-no.”

Like Bill had kept Becca a secret.

Hunter rolled back to stare up at the starry night and wonder what that meant.

Not for the first time, he wished his father were here right now. Not just because he’d be able to answer the thousand and one questions fighting for space in Hunter’s brain. But because he’d know what to do.

His father had been all about
duty
—but then he’d kept Hunter a secret?

Hunter thought back to the day before they’d all left to go after the Merricks. His uncle had said something about its being surveillance—that was the only reason Hunter had been allowed to go.

But any time someone talked about that mission, they said that his dad was coming here to
kill
the Merricks.

Had his father’s mission been reconnaissance, in advance of killing the Merricks?

Or had he never intended to kill them at all?

And what did all the folders mean?

And if he’d never meant to kill the Merricks,
what was he planning on doing?

Too many questions. Hunter rubbed at his eyes again.

Kate put a hand on his wrist. “Will Becca’s dad help us?”

Hunter snorted. “This is it. Blankets and food. He wouldn’t even let us come in the house.”

“Weird.”

“Not weird. He’s an asshole.”

“We can’t stay here forever.”

“We can’t just drive around, either. I’m worried the police are looking for me. A white jeep is pretty easy to identify.” His voice turned wry. “The bullet hole in the rear quarter panel isn’t exactly subtle, either.”

“My mom used to say that things look better in the morning.”

Hunter started to say that he didn’t see how that would be possible, but Kate moved closer and laid her head on his shoulder.

It put the line of her body against his.

He kept trying to tell his own body that she was injured, that she was seeking warmth, that this had nothing to do with anything.

His body was replying, DUDE. SHE IS NOT WEARING PANTS.

“I’m glad you took me for a drive this afternoon,” she said.

“You are?” he asked in surprise. “But that’s why the day went to shit.”

“I don’t think so.” She breathed against him for a long moment. “If we hadn’t left, Silver might have come to the Merricks’ house while everyone was still there.”

Hunter froze. He hadn’t considered that.

“You’re a good person, Hunter,” she said. “I know you care about them. I know you see it as a weakness, but it’s not. You’re trying to save them.”

“Kate.” He shifted to try to see her face. “Kate, are you crying?”

“No.” But she was. She’d pressed closer to him, as if that were possible, burying her face in his chest.

He stroked a hand over her hair. “Why?” he said softly. “Why are you crying?”

She didn’t answer him, and he just shifted until he was holding her more fully. She was such a creature of . . . of
strength
, that he wasn’t sure how to respond to this. He kissed her temple, whispering silly assurances.

Finally she stopped, and her breath was warm through his shirt.

Hunter held very still, feeling the tension in her body.

“I didn’t tell you the whole truth about my mother,” she finally said.

He waited, knowing this admission hung on a thin line, not wanting to upset the precarious balance of whether she’d keep talking.

“I knew she was going on an assignment,” said Kate. “I wanted to go. She said I needed to keep training.”

Hunter nodded and kissed her temple again. He knew a story just like this one.

His own.

“I went anyway,” said Kate. “I hacked her computer . . . found out what flights she was taking . . . I booked different flights for myself. I found out what her mission was. I followed her everywhere. She had no idea I was there.” Kate sniffed and swiped at her eyes.

“But then I saw who she was after,” she continued. “It was this little restaurant owner, up at one of the fishing towns in Maine. Tiny diner, right on the water. He was using his powers to draw the best seafood. Silly, right?”

She was still crying, and Hunter wasn’t sure what to say to that.

The bad parts were coming, though. He could feel it.

“I didn’t even think it was a big deal,” said Kate. “I mean—is that any different from having a gift that makes you a better cook? I kept waiting to see if he was hurting people at night, or if there was anything worse than that. Mom was learning his routine, so I learned it, too. She had no idea I was there.”

“And what did you learn?” asked Hunter.

“I learned that he had five kids,” she said. “I learned that he was a good man who gave restaurant leftovers to the homeless people in town. I kept waiting for him to do something
wrong
, and at the same time, I kept waiting for my mother to do the right thing and leave him alone.”

“She didn’t.” Not even a question.

“No. She went after him.”

“And he killed her.”

Kate shook her head fiercely. “She waited until he was alone in the restaurant, and she confronted him.” Now she was crying in earnest. “And you know what he said? He said he understood, and he wouldn’t put up a fight if she promised to leave his family alone. Then he put his hands up and said, ‘Do it.’

“He was willing to sacrifice himself for his family,” she said. “Just like that. He was going to lie down and die to protect them. And my mom was going to take a father away from that family. She was going to kill a
good man
because it was her
duty.
”

Hunter’s brain was spinning, trying to figure out how this man had gone from being ready to sacrifice himself for his family to murdering Kate’s mother.

Kate swiped at her eyes again. “She pulled out her gun and told him she appreciated his willingness to do what was right.” A short, harsh laugh through the tears. “Can you believe that?
His
willingness to do what was
right
.”