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.”
CHAPTER 33
For the second time that day, Nick sat with Adam on the concrete step of his patio.
Now, the sun was nearing the horizon, and Quinn was in Adam’s bathroom, taking a shower.
Six inches of space separated Nick from Adam.
It felt like a mile. They’d been sitting in silence for a while.
“Are you okay with everything?” Nick finally asked.
“I’m not sure okay is the right word.” He rubbed at his jaw. “It’s a lot. I watched someone die today.” He paused. “More than once. And very . . .” He shook his head. “Very violently.”
Nick nodded.
“Your brothers. They’ll all heal?” Adam said. “Just like—like you did?”
Another nod.
Adam’s eyes flicked over, dark and shadowed in the moonlight. “Your brother Michael can . . . get rid of the bodies?”
“Yeah.” Nick didn’t correct him to body, singular. He hadn’t told Adam exactly what had happened to the Guide in the woods. He wasn’t quite ready to deal with that himself. Nick still had no idea who she was or where she’d come from.
Or if there were more out there.
Hunter and Becca had brought her dad, Bill Chandler, back to the house when they’d called to tell them what had happened.
Bill had looked at Gareth’s body and had said to Michael, “You all killed Gareth Brody. You might not have wanted a war, kid, but I think you just started one.”
Adam studied Nick in the darkness, his eyes full of wary uncertainty. Nick wondered if this was the wtf coming home to set up shop.
Adam frowned. “And the studio . . . if the police come knocking, you expect me to tell them we left before anything happened? That we had no idea?” His voice was level, even.
Nick shifted on the step to look at him. “I don’t expect you to do anything, Adam. You don’t need to keep my secrets.” He sighed, resigned. “I know what I am. I know what happened. If you want to tell the cops everything, I can’t stop you.”
Adam nodded.
And that could mean anything.
“Okay,” Nick said softly. “I don’t want—” He hesitated. “I’ll leave.”
He waited for Adam to protest. Adam didn’t.
Nick stood and opened the sliding door. His voice was rough now. This was a thousand times worse than when they’d been caught by Hunter. “Thanks for taking care of Quinn,” he said.
Then he didn’t wait for a response. He slid the door closed and walked through the apartment to the front door.
Follow me. Please. Follow me.
Adam didn’t. Nick made it up the steps of the apartment building, through the locked front door, and across the parking lot.
But when he pressed the button on the car door clicker, Adam’s voice stopped him.
“Nick. Stop. Wait.”
Nick turned. Adam was jogging across the stretch of pavement to catch up with him.
Nick wasn’t sure what he expected. A kiss, a plea to stay, a hug, for god’s sake.
But Adam stopped and said, “Why didn’t you tell me the truth about Tyler?”
Nick frowned. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Quinn told me that when you were younger, Tyler used to beat the crap out of you. That Gabriel used to stop him.”
Oh.
Nick leaned against the car and memorized the asphalt. “I didn’t lie to you. Tyler is an asshole.” But he couldn’t say it with the vitriol he usually saved for Tyler Morgan.
Adam didn’t say anything.
Nick glanced up, then quickly away, feeling the weight of Adam’s eyes, knowing he needed to offer more of an answer. “I never told you because I was embarrassed.” Another hesitation. “And because I didn’t want to diminish what had happened to you.”
“I wish I’d known.” Adam hesitated. “And what happens to you doesn’t diminish anything that happens to me.”
“It’s fine. It’s not a big deal.”
Adam moved closer, and Nick froze. “It is a big deal. All of this is a big deal. If you’re in danger—if someone is threatening you—” He broke off and swore. “Damn it, Nick. If this is going to work, you have to trust me to care about
you back.”
If this is going to work. Nick stared at him.
But Adam still looked agitated. “You made it sound like—I thought it was some stupid family rivalry. I yelled at you at the studio, and I would have—I should have told him to get the hell out of there.” He put his hands on Nick’s face, warm and strong and secure.
But then he shook his head. “I’m so pissed that you thought you had to sit there with him.”
Nick put his hands over Adam’s and held them there. “No. I’m glad I had to sit there with him. Because I finally got the chance to tell him off.”
Honestly, now that they’d come to this point, Nick wondered why he hadn’t said something to Tyler years ago.
No, he knew why. Because he’d never met anyone who made him feel like he had a right to what he wanted, not just what everyone else expected.
“Besides,” Nick said. “You were right. People do have different capacities for failure.”
“And triumph,” said Adam. Then he leaned forward and kissed him.
He drew back before too long, but not far. His voice was soft. “Can you stay?”
Nick wanted nothing more.
But he shook his head. “Michael will have a panic attack if I’m not home soon. Too much is up in the air.”
“Are you in danger?”
“We’re always in danger.”
Adam stroked a finger along Nick’s cheek. “Can danger wait five minutes?”
Nick smiled. “Danger can wait ten.”
Darkness had claimed the sky by the time Nick made it home. Michael was waiting for him in the living room, rearranging the furniture to cover a large cut-out portion of carpeting. Nick could hear Chris and Becca and Hunter having a hushed conversation in the kitchen.
“I was about ready to send out a search party,” Michael said.
Nick flung his keys on the side table. The day had been long and terrifying. But now that his family was safe, old worries forced their way back into his head. “I’m fine. They’re fine.” Michael looked like he was going to start picking, and Nick wanted to head that off at the pass. “What happened to Tyler?”
“He helped make sure the woods were clear, offered to help re-carpet the living room, and then he left.”