Spark

  “Hey.” Layne bristled. “Don’t talk about Simon.”

  Kara shrugged. “You know it’s true.” She ducked into Layne’s bedroom to grab her bag. On the way out, she called, “Take my advice. You might be surprised how it works out.”

  “Maybe,” said Layne.

  But she knew exactly how it would turn out. If she dressed like Kara or Taylor or any of the other girls at school, she’d be even more of an outcast than she was already.

  CHAPTER 4

  Gabriel felt the end of his rope coming up quick. His lighter rolled through his knuckles, making that reassuring click each time it changed direction. Fire at his fingertips—it would be so easy to draw flame from this tiny silver square, to send it straight at Becca’s father and let him burn.

  He just wasn’t entirely sure how that would turn out.

  They’d found a free table near the center of the Annapolis Mall food court: Nick sat to Gabriel’s left, Chris to his right, fingers loosely intertwined with Becca’s. Hunter sat at one end of the table, wearing a denim jacket over a light-colored hoodie, the stones he always strung along his wrist hidden from view. Michael sat at the other end, still sporting the red T-shirt with their last name across the chest that he usually wore on landscaping jobs.

  And on the other long side, completely alone, sat Becca’s father.

  The Guide.

  “Call me Bill,” he’d said.

  Yeah, Gabriel had a few ideas of what to call him.

  He looked completely nondescript: just an average guy in his late thirties. Sandy brown hair, a goatee, gray eyes that matched Becca’s. He hadn’t changed after work, either. He was still wearing a beige button-down with the sleeves rolled up his forearms, patches on each shoulder reading Department of Natural Resources and Wildlife Control Division.

  Not exactly the kind of guy you’d expect to find trying to slaughter a bunch of teenagers.

  The tension in the air seemed to be forming a barrier around the table. No other patrons had even come close to sitting nearby.

  “So, Bill,” said Becca, her eyes hard, “why don’t you start with the reason behind this one-eighty.”

  Her father’s expression didn’t flicker. “One-eighty?”

  “You were trying to kill us all last week. Now you want to help?”

  “I wasn’t trying to kill you.”

  “Funny how you blew up my car—”

  “When you weren’t in it.” While his voice was mild, there was a glint of wicked humor in his eye, something not entirely pleasant. “I even offered to replace it.”

  Becca leaned in against the table. “You could have killed innocent people,” she hissed.

  “Could have. Didn’t.” He looked across the table to meet Gabriel’s eyes. “I didn’t kill anyone, innocent or not. Right?”

  Gabriel let the lid of his lighter fall open, flicking the igniter while it rolled.

  Nick reached out and snapped it closed before a flame could fully form. He held fast, and Gabriel could almost read his thoughts. Don’t. You’ll start a fight we can’t win.

  And that . . . that made Gabriel look away.

  He jerked free of his twin, shoved the lighter into his pocket, and scowled.

  “Why didn’t you kill us?” said Chris. “Why go to all that trouble with the walk-in freezer, and setting Nick’s leg—”

  “Ever go fishing?” said Bill.

  “Sure.”

  “I only had two of you. In my experience, live bait works better.”

  “You’re avoiding the question,” said Becca. Her voice was full of challenge, but her fingers looked like they had a death grip on Chris’s. “Why do you want to help us now?”

  “I’m not avoiding the question.” Bill leaned back in the chair and shrugged. “I don’t necessarily want to help, but the stakes have changed.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Meaning what?”

  Her father hesitated.

  Michael jumped on it. “Meaning, Becca,” he said. “We’re not the only ones hiding anymore. I’m willing to bet that the only people who know Becca’s a Fifth are sitting at this very table.” He turned dark eyes to Bill. “Am I right?”

  A nod. “Yes.”

  Michael leaned in against the table. “And I’m guessing the other Guides wouldn’t be too happy to find out you kept her a secret.”

  “Probably not.”

  “So you’re protecting yourself,” said Becca. She snorted. “Typical.”

  Her father turned to look at her. “Just what do you think they’d do, Becca? Slap me on the wrist and forget you exist?”

  She stared back at him, and Gabriel could see the battle in her expression, that she wanted to know what they’d do—but she was afraid of the answer.

  “They’d make you kill her,” said Hunter, his voice low. “To prove your loyalty.” He was watching Bill, too, his expression shadowed.

  Becca’s father didn’t say anything—and that was obviously answer enough. Her face paled a shade, and she glanced at Hunter. “How did you know that?”

  He shrugged a little. “My father used to tell me stories. Of how the Guides wouldn’t allow their goals to be compromised. One death is nothing compared to the greater good, right?”

  “Yeah?” said Chris, his tone unfriendly. “And where do you fit into that?”

  Hunter met his eyes and didn’t back down. “I’m sitting here, aren’t I?”

  “Stop,” said Becca. “Don’t fight.”

  Michael cleared his throat. “So what are you proposing?”

  “I’m proposing that you lie low. Don’t draw attention to yourselves. They’ll send another Guide if I don’t check in with progress—but I can hold them off for a while. Let them know I’m still investigating. If there aren’t continued reports of problems in this area, they’ll stay away.”

  “What about Seth and Tyler?” said Nick. “You know it’s not usually us causing the problems.”

  “I don’t think we need to worry too much about them for the time being,” said Chris, and for the first time, his voice carried a little satisfaction.

  “Yeah,” said Becca. “We just came from the police station. Turns out assault and attempted rape are pretty serious charges.”

  Now Bill looked at her. “Attempted rape?”

  Becca’s eyes were hard. “Don’t even look at me like that. I don’t want your concern. You don’t get to care. Do you understand me? As far as I’m concerned, you’re—”

  “Easy,” said Chris, his voice soft. “Take it easy.”

  “I want to help you,” said Bill, his voice gentler. “You need to let me—”

  “We need to lie low,” said Becca. “Got it.”

  Gabriel kept his mouth shut, but this guy was crazy if he thought he had a shot in hell at her trust. Not to mention the rest of them.

  “And while we’re waiting around,” said Nick, “what are you going to be doing?”

  Bill glanced at his daughter. “I’ll be showing Becca how to protect herself.”

  Becca sat up straight. “No. No way.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “You’d rather run on sheer adrenaline and luck? As much as you don’t want to believe it, I am doing this with the end goal of keeping you safe. You don’t even have a clue what you’re dealing with.”

  “I do,” said Hunter.

  Chris glared at him, but Becca smiled. “Good. Hunter can tell me everything I need to know.” She gave her father a dismissive look. “You can go back to ignoring me since it’s worked so great for the last five years.”

  “I haven’t been ignoring you, Becca.” He glanced at Hunter. “And regardless of who you learn from, I definitely won’t be ignoring you now.”

  “So that’s it,” said Michael. “You don’t turn us in, we don’t turn you in.”

  Bill spread his hands. “For now, that’s it.”

  Gabriel waited for his brothers to scoff, to refuse, to flip this frigging table and start the fight of the century. The Guide was right
here, like a sitting duck. They could take him down in a heartbeat.

  Probably.

  Unfortunately, everyone else was nodding, acting like it was a good idea to wait and see.

  Gabriel wanted to punch his twin in the shoulder and ask what was wrong with him.

  Why the hell are you nodding? he wanted to say. Don’t you remember the way your leg shattered when he attacked us?

  He’d thought they were coming here to finish things, to fight.

  Not to be placated and reassured.

  Gabriel wound his fingers around his lighter again. The potential for fire was right there, pulsing under his fingertips.

  Mocking him.

  “And what about you, Gabe?”

  He snapped his head up, the lighter slick against his palm. He hated being called Gabe, but correcting this guy for something like that seemed like criticizing a mass murderer for littering.

  “What about me?” he said.

  Becca’s father spread his hands, looking far too patient. Gabriel wanted to hit him.

  Unfortunately, everyone else looked like they were on his side.

  Her father was still looking at him. “Any thoughts?”

  Oh, he had plenty.

  “Yeah,” he said, leaning in, putting a hand against the table. “I don’t buy it. What if we just save time and take you out to the parking lot to kill you.”

  “Jesus, Gabriel,” said Michael, rubbing at his eyes. “We don’t have a lot of choice—”

  “I’m in,” said Becca.

  “No.” Nick put both hands flat on the table. “Bill’s plan makes sense. For now. Just—”

  “It doesn’t make sense.” Gabriel kept his eyes firmly locked on Becca’s father.

  Bill didn’t make a move, but he very clearly wasn’t backing down, either. “Don’t push me, kid.”

  The lighter sat tucked between Gabriel’s knuckles. It would take nothing to have fire in the air. He could almost taste smoke on his tongue.

  But he kept thinking of the fight on the field, how they’d lost control.

  No, how he’d lost control.

  You’ll start a fight we can’t win.

  He shoved the table away and got to his feet. “Fuck you.”

  He didn’t realize he’d bolted from the mall until cold air slapped him across the face. At least he was outside.

  Nick had the car keys, so Gabriel walked along the side of the mall. There weren’t many cars out here anyway, in this space between the food court and the nearest department store. He flipped the lighter open and ran fire through his fingers, snapping the flame off the wick to cradle it in his palm.

  Dead leaves were caught against the curb here, and Gabriel scooped a few into his palm, feeding them to the fire one by one, the way you’d sneak scraps to a dog under the table. Each sent sparks curling into the night air.

  He felt calmer already.

  “Got a light?”

  Gabriel whirled, feeling the flame blaze between his fingers—just not with his own power. Hunter stood there, close enough to touch, as still as the night was dark.

  “Go away.” Gabriel crushed the flame to nothing and shook the ash from his palm. He turned to walk toward the far corner of the mall, where all the delivery bays were. “Shouldn’t you be back there macking on Becca, anyway?”

  Hunter followed him. “You don’t want to provoke him.”

  “Actually, that’s exactly what I want to do.”

  “He’ll kill you,” Hunter said. “He’s trying to play nice, to help because of Becca, but if you push him to it, he’ll—”

  “Oh, how do you know?” Gabriel rounded on him, his breath clouding in the air. “You don’t know shit, Hunter. You don’t know—”

  “I knew my father.” Hunter’s voice was low. It felt colder suddenly, and Gabriel wondered if Hunter was responsible. The change felt different, subtler than when Nick affected the air.

  “Don’t cry to me about Daddy. I’m not in the mood.”

  Hunter moved closer. “Becca’s father is stronger than you are. If you push him, he’ll retaliate.”

  Gabriel craved that, a knock-down, drag-out rematch. It was almost enough to send him back into the mall, throw caution to the wind, and fight.

  Almost.

  He ducked his head and started walking. “Go away.”

  “I don’t know why I was worried,” Hunter said from behind him. “Considering you only seem to know how to run and hide.”

  Gabriel swung around and hit him.

  Or he tried to. Hunter had some serious military training, and he deflected the blow easily.

  But Gabriel was no stranger to fighting dirty. He caught Hunter with a solid punch to the stomach.

  Hunter got him in the jaw.

  And then they were fighting in earnest.

  Christ, it felt fantastic to drive his fist into something. Especially when Hunter fought back with enough force to really make it worth it. Enough force that Gabriel started to wonder if this would turn into a test of endurance.

  Enough force that Gabriel started to wonder if he could win.

  His back slammed into the concrete wall of the mall. Breath rushed out of his lungs. He braced against the wall to throw Hunter off, getting enough leverage to shove the other boy to the ground. He followed him down to pin him there.

  “Whoa, hold up,” Hunter said, breathless. He made his hands into a T. “If I tear my clothes, my grandmother will shit a brick.”

  Gabriel stared down at him, unsure whether to let him go. Then he caught the glint of light on steel under Hunter’s jacket. “You are one crazy bastard. You really did come armed.”

  “Sure.”

  “You had a gun and you still fought me like that?”

  Hunter grinned. “Wait—you were fighting for real?”

  Yeah, he had been—but suddenly it didn’t seem so important. Gabriel let him go.

  Hunter rolled to his feet and dusted bits of grass from his hair. “You want a ride home?”

  His brothers were still here. Gabriel could see their red SUV across the parking lot. But getting a ride home with his brothers meant going back into the mall and facing the Guide.

  “Yeah,” he said. “I do.”

  The fight had loosened something in him. Not permanently—Gabriel was too smart for that. But something about it felt good. Reassuring. Steadying, in a way.

  It had been so long that Gabriel almost didn’t recognize it for what it was, until after they’d driven home, not talking, just listening to the music pouring from Hunter’s radio. Until after he’d let himself into an empty house, a luxury he didn’t experience very often.

  It felt like the beginning of friendship.

  CHAPTER 5

  Math class.

  Hell.

  Ms. Anderson was ten times more annoying than old Riley. If Gabriel had to put up with her asking students to come up to the whiteboard and struggle through problems in front of the class, at least she should have legs to write home about.

  He worried about getting called, but she seemed to be going in alphabetical order and the class was almost over. Merrick was safely stationed in the second half of the alphabet.

  He glanced to his right. Layne looked equally bored. Then again, she could probably do these equations in her head.

  And what was with her and the old turtlenecks?

  Gabriel watched her a moment too long, hoping she’d feel the weight of his eyes and turn her head. But she didn’t, and he finally felt like a freak and turned back to the front of the class with a sigh.

  Taylor Morrissey turned around in her seat and flicked a piece of paper his way.

  He caught it and unfolded it under his notebook.

  Pink gel pen, scripty letters.

  Why are you staring at lesbo?

  Because Layne had helped him. Because he was intrigued. Because he’d learned when his parents died that it wasn’t human nature to help, not really. It was human nature to seek out vulnerability and squash
it.

  That’s why he didn’t buy this bullshit with the Guide.

  Taylor glanced over her shoulder, hair and lip gloss equally shiny.

  Gabriel gave her a confused look and shrugged, like he didn’t know what she was talking about.

  “Gabriel Merrick.”

  Oh, shit.

  He snapped his eyes forward, surprised at how fast his palms went damp. “What?”

  Ms. Anderson gestured to the board. “Do you care to tackle the next problem?”

  He gave her half a smile. “Not really, no.”

  Three girls near him giggled. Ms. Anderson didn’t even crack a smile. “Humor me.”

  He stared at the board. There was a triangle there, numbers written along two of the three sides, another number tucked into one of the angles.

  “Solve for the missing side,” said Ms. Anderson. “We’ve been doing this the whole period.”

  That didn’t mean he’d been listening for the whole period.

  “Just look at the previous one,” Layne hissed under her breath. “It’s the exact same formula.”

  He glanced at the problem to the left. Jake Bryerly had found the answer. A completely different triangle, with lengthy equations laid out in rows beneath it.

  He’d never be able to do this.

  “Mr. Merrick?”

  Gabriel slid from behind his desk and approached the board.

  He wished he had his lighter.

  Instead, he picked up a dry-erase marker and stared at the triangle. He’d never known a simple shape could be so intimidating.

  Alan Hulster snorted from the middle of the classroom. “I think reading a scoreboard is about the most advanced math Merrick is capable of.”

  Half the class laughed. Gabriel looked back at him. “Keep it up and you’ll find out what else I’m capable of.”

  Now the class did that ooooh sound that predicated a fight or a trip to the principal’s office. Hulster laughed again, but it sounded a little strangled. He didn’t hold Gabriel’s eyes. “Whatever, man.”

  “That’s enough.” Ms. Anderson gestured back to the board, her expression patient. “Go ahead.”