Secret

CHAPTER 32

The woods blazed with fire, consuming dead leaves and trees and anything it could find to burn. Nick moved beside Tyler, hating that his mortal enemy was going to be at his side when he found his brother’s body.

Stop thinking like that.

But he couldn’t sense Gabriel now. The flames were too thick, and smoke clouded the sky, blocking what sunlight crept through.

More fire was good, right?

Or did it mean that Gabriel had lost all control, and the fire was raging of its own accord?

Nick stumbled and lost his footing.

Tyler caught his arm and hauled him to his feet.

Nick struggled and wrenched his arm away from him. His head still wasn’t ready for this much movement, and he hit the ground anyway, landing in burning leaves.

“Fine,” said Tyler. He took a step closer to Nick and the fire moved away from him, leaving Nick alone, too. “Do it your way. Face this guy while you can barely stand up.”

“Fuck you,” said Nick, despising that he wasn’t even strong enough to find his brother on his own. “I don’t want your help.”

Gabriel. Gabriel, Gabriel, Gabriel. Where are you?

“He’s not dead,” said Tyler.

“You don’t know that.”

“I do.” Tyler reached down and scooped up a handful of fire, letting it burn from nothing, a rolling ball of flame suspended over his palm.

Nick stared. He’d seen Gabriel do this hundreds of times. It was unsettling to see the same show of power from Tyler.

“Fire likes him,” said Tyler. “It likes me, too. He’s still alive out here. He’s just hiding.” He glanced up at Nick. “If I can follow the flames to find him, so can the Guide. He’s being smart. Not using his power. Letting the smoke cover him.”

It was covering him and Tyler, too, and Nick could keep the smoke dense around them. But Gabriel was hurt—the air or their twin connection or whatever had told Nick that much.

In a flash, Nick realized that all this panic he was feeling wasn’t just his own. Fear bled through the smoke, riding the very air to find Nick’s senses.

I’ll find you, he thought. I’ll save you.

He remembered playing hide-and-seek with James, and Nick threw power to the wind, opening his senses fully.

Seek.

In his mind, he saw the land as a grid, the atmosphere stretching around him in a circle, locating people like flashing pinpoints on a map. Him and Tyler. Quinn and Adam, running like hell.

The Guide, a flare of power so bright that Nick wondered how the guy had snuck up on them at the dance studio.

And Gabriel, a fading light. Not far. Maybe fifty feet straight ahead.

Nick’s temper flared and the air responded, shifting, moving the smoke. Wind whipped through the trees, bringing debris and flaming sparks to sting his skin.

“This way,” he said to Tyler, and started walking.

Tyler caught his arm. “He has a gun.”

More wind, blowing harder. It ruffled Nick’s hair and fed him power, sending smoke spiraling. “He shot my brother.” Then he jerked free.

Nick kept his mind focused on the Guide, letting his wind swoop and whirl, remembering his demonstration for Quinn, the way he’d surrounded her with leaves.

This time, he did it with fire.

He did it carefully, the way he’d done for Quinn, slowly at first, enough power that it wouldn’t be noticed right away. But then he sent it spiraling high enough to block forward motion, sending it faster and faster, until he could see it, a near tornado of fire, trapping the Guide inside. At the same time, he drew oxygen into the flames from the inside, choking the man where he stood. Tyler helped, feeding power to the fire, until it was a spinning web of energy and destruction.

For an instant, Nick felt a rush of victory. He’d close this knot, collapse the flames. The Guide might not die, but he’d lose consciousness.

Then he could die from other things.

But then power flared back at him. The tornado began to expand. Nick’s tight cone of power loosened, like a skein of yarn being shaken free.

“Oh, shit,” said Tyler. Nick could feel his struggle to keep the fire where it needed to be—but the air pressure was too strong.

In that instant, Nick knew what was happening. The Guide was gathering power, building the same thing Nick had done in the dance studio: a blast of air pressure that would radiate outward.

This blast would flatten the woods. It would knock out Nick and Tyler, and possibly kill Gabriel, all in one wave of power.

Worse, the outside of this pressure wave would be a wall of fire. Nick had compared the dance studio to a bomb going off—this really would be like a bomb going off. From the strength behind the force, this would be enough to level the neighborhood.

Reverse it.

Nick’s element kicked in before he’d completed the thought, using every ounce of power he had to collapse the air pressure around the Guide. It pulled the spiraling flames in toward his quarry, and he felt the Guide fighting it, scrambling to send power outward.

Nick wasn’t going to be strong enough. The fire glowed brighter, fed by the oxygen in the air. The circling flames accelerated, ready to pull free of his control.

His knees landed in the underbrush as he struggled. His eyes clenched closed. He begged his element for the upper hand, feeling as though he grasped for nothing more than empty fistfuls of air. The spiral loosened further.

He was going to lose it.

Tyler grabbed his forearms, and his hands were full of burning pain.

Nick gasped, and his eyes snapped open.

“Do it,” Tyler said. “Do it, Nick. You think of every goddamn thing I’ve ever done to you, and you make this happen.”

Nick thought of it. He couldn’t not think of it, the way Tyler’s fingers burned into his skin.

Tyler’s voice grew louder. “You think of how much you hate me. You think of how I know you’re the weakest, most pathetic Merrick.”

Nick gritted his teeth. Tyler’s hands were scalding hot, but the pain didn’t steal Nick’s clarity, it enhanced his focus. Nick swallowed. He gained an inch with the air. Lightning cracked among the spinning flames.

“You know what I thought when Quinn told me you were gay?” said Tyler, his voice low and insidious. “I thought, well, doesn’t that fucking figure.”

Another inch. As soon as he killed this Guide, he was going to kill Tyler.

“At least I got to meet your boyfriend,” Tyler said. “Now I have someone to mess with when I’m waiting for Quinn. He won’t be able to fight me off, but—”

With a scream of rage, Nick threw him back. He felt a snap in the air. Anything not tied down went surging forward, toward the Guide. Fire, leaves, underbrush.

That included him and Tyler. They hit a tree.

Reverse pressure. Nick couldn’t breathe. All the fire died as oxygen was sucked from the air. For an instant, he couldn’t think, as if time were suspended.

Then the pressure gave. Wind exploded from the middle of the woods, blowing leaves and underbrush back out. Twigs and branches caught exposed skin.

Nick hit the ground. Then something wet hit him on the cheek.

And on the arm.

For an instant he couldn’t move. Then his limbs decided to work. Nick swiped at his cheek and came away with fingers full of blood. And something thicker.

Oh, god.

“Holy shit,” said Tyler. “You—you blew him up.”

His voice held the same awed fascination that Nick would expect from his twin.

“We,” said Nick. He needed to find his brother.

Nick ignored the pain in his arms, the speckles of blood decorating his shirt. “Gabriel!” He staggered toward where he’d sensed his brother the first time. “Gabriel!”

Nothing.

But then Nick saw him, lying motionless among charred leaves. He’d been shot, more than once, from the amount of blood soaking his clothes. His face was darkened with soot. Nick could smell the blood once he got close.

But his brother was breathing. He could feel that.

Nick got down close to him. “Gabriel.” His voice was shaking and he didn’t care. “Come on. Gabriel. Open your eyes.”

Then, to his wonder, Gabriel did. “Nicky.” His eyes fell closed again.

“Come on. Open your eyes again.” Nick patted his brother’s pockets, looking for his phone.

Dead. Damn it.

“Guides,” said Gabriel. “I have to find you.”

“You found me,” said Nick. “We got him. You’re okay.”

“Both?” asked Gabriel.

Nick frowned. “What?”

“Hey, douche bag,” Tyler called from twenty feet away. “Didn’t you say you were shot by a guy?”

Nick froze. “Yeah?”

“Well, there’s a hand here, still wrapped around a gun, if you can believe that. And either the dude who shot you liked a nice French manicure, or the Guide you just killed was a woman.”

Quinn’s lungs were burning by the time they made it up the hill to Nick’s house. She’d been inhaling smoke the whole way, but adrenaline was kicking her ass and keeping her going.

So was Adam’s presence beside her.

With every step, she kept seeing Gareth pulling the gun and shooting Nick in the head. It made her want to turn back.

Phone, she thought. Get to a phone.

The landscaping truck was in the driveway.

Quinn almost screamed in relief. Nick’s brothers were here! They could help!

She didn’t even bother knocking, just grabbed the front doorknob and pushed through to the foyer.

Her eyes registered everything at once.

That Gareth guy wasn’t in the woods with Nick and Gabriel. He was here, right here, in the Merrick living room.

Michael and Chris were on their knees. Chris was shaking. She could hear his breathing from here.

She didn’t blame him. Gareth held a gun barrel three inches from his forehead.

“Oh, god,” she whispered.

“Come on in,” Gareth said. “If you’ve come to warn them, you’ll see you’re too late.”

Quinn couldn’t move. She wished she could tell Adam to get the hell away from the house, before he was seen.

“Your friend, too,” said the Guide. His voice sharpened. “Now. Or this one dies. Three . . . two—”

Adam shoved her through the door, keeping a hand on her shoulder. “We’re inside,” he said, his voice very careful. “We’ll do what you want.”

“I want you both to sit down,” Gareth said evenly. “We won’t be here long.”

“Please,” said Quinn. She couldn’t look away from Chris’s terrified eyes. His breathing had kicked up during Gareth’s countdown. The gun didn’t waver.

All she could think was, Becca, I’m going to watch your boyfriend die.

“Please let them go,” she said. “They haven’t hurt anyone.”

“Sit,” said Gareth.

Adam took her hand and dragged her toward the couch. She started to speak again, but he squeezed her hand so tightly that she gasped.

Then they sat in silence, listening to nothing but Chris’s fractured breathing. So long that she wondered what they were waiting for. So long that Chris’s fear began to capture her, too, until tears slipped down her cheeks.

“Hey,” said Adam softly, talking to the Guide. “He’s a kid. Why don’t you let him go and put the gun on someone else?”

“You think he’s just a child? He’s a Water Elemental. I let him go, and suddenly I have blood boiling in my veins or frozen eyeballs or anything else he can come up with. Isn’t that right, Christopher Merrick?”

Chris didn’t speak.

“He doesn’t do that,” said Michael.

“He should do it now,” said Quinn. Her voice was thick with tears, but strong. “If you’re going to go out, Chris, you should do it with a bang.”

Chris shook his head, just a fraction, just enough.

“He knows,” Gareth said, “I’m supposed to witness evidence of destructive abilities before I kill him. Nicholas and Gabriel demonstrated that last night. You two, however . . .”

“Then let us go,” said Michael. “We’re not going to demonstrate anything.”

“I bet I can make you show a little something,” said Gareth. He cocked the hammer and pointed the gun lower.

“No!” she screamed.

She didn’t know what she expected. Maybe some kind of Elemental show. But Michael moved, shoving Chris hard, pushing him to the ground, shielding him with his body. The gun fired.

The bullet missed Chris, but Michael cried out. Blood bloomed on his shirt. A lot.

But at least it wasn’t his head.

The Guide aimed again.

Quinn didn’t think. She flew off the couch. Her hands slammed into Gareth.

For the first time, she was glad she wasn’t one of those stick-thin twigs who lived on lettuce and water. He wasn’t a big guy, and she had the element of surprise. She hit him with the full force of her rage, and he went down.

But damn he was strong. She tried to go for his gun, but he was faster.

Then Adam was there, adding his strength to hers, pinning Gareth’s arm, trying to pry the gun from his fingers.

They were going to get the gun. And she was going to shoot this fucker in the forehead and see how he felt about it.

But she’d forgotten Gareth wasn’t an ordinary human, limited to finite things like strength and leverage.

Suddenly, she couldn’t breathe. At first she kept fighting, trying to get the gun anyway. But black spots danced in her vision. Her muscles started to cramp. Her fingers couldn’t grasp at the steel.

Adam was suffering the same thing.

She had to let go of the gun. The Guide shoved her to the side. He freed himself from their weight and stood. He aimed at Michael.

Quinn needed to move.

She needed to stop this. She needed to stop this.

She couldn’t.

She was going to see two people get shot in the head on the same day.

Only she didn’t think Michael was going to be able to stop this one.

The gun was in Gareth’s hand.

He cocked the hammer.

The sound of the gunfire made her jump. Tears sprang to her eyes again.

But Michael was still staring, still bleeding, still covering his younger brother.

The Guide was on the ground.

Quinn stared. Her brain couldn’t make sense of it.

Gareth was quickly creating his own blossom of red on the beige carpeting of the Merrick living room. He’d been shot in the head.

And Tyler was standing in the doorway, a gun in his hand.

“There,” he said, sounding like he was panting. “Now I don’t owe you anything anymore.”