Spark

  Gabriel struggled against him. “Let me go, goddamn it.”

  “No.” Michael shook him, hard. “You’re not leaving. Do you understand me? I will tie you up if I have to.”

  Gabriel stared into his brother’s eyes, seeing the same exhaustion and fury he knew were reflected in his own.

  He wanted to fight, but he was just too tired.

  “Fine,” he said. “I’ll go to my room.”

  Michael let him go.

  And Gabriel walked up the stairs.

  Alone.

  CHAPTER 38

  Gabriel had thought people were talking about him when he couldn’t try out for basketball.

  That had nothing on walking through school the Monday morning following an arrest.

  People actually went silent when he passed. Kids he didn’t even know were staring at him.

  “You want me to walk with you to first period?” said Nick.

  “I’m not four,” said Gabriel. He slammed books into his locker, pulling out the ones he needed for morning classes.

  Like it mattered. Like he’d be able to concentrate.

  He hadn’t wanted to come to school, but he’d needed to get the hell out of the house. Michael had practically boarded his bedroom door shut. Trying to escape for a run had turned into a grand inquisition.

  Probably for the best, really. He couldn’t run without thinking of Layne, of the last time he’d tackled the four-mile trek to the horse farm.

  How he’d saved her life.

  How he had no idea if she was okay.

  Nick was still standing there, watching him—the same way he’d been watching him since he’d gotten home from the hospital.

  “Go,” said Gabriel. “You’ll be late, and I know you hate that.”

  His twin didn’t move. Gabriel yanked the zipper closed on his backpack. “Go, Nicky. I’ll be on my best behavior. I promise. I even did all my homework.”

  Because he’d had nothing else to do all weekend. He’d ridden the knife’s edge of tension since getting home, waiting for something to happen. For the police to arrest him again. For the Guides to show up. For more information on the pentagrams.

  Nothing.

  Nick gave him a look. “You’re not going to kill anyone in the hallways, are you?”

  He meant Hunter. Gabriel hadn’t heard from him, either—not like he was waiting around for a call.

  Gabriel shook his head.

  “Really?”

  “Jesus, Nick!” Gabriel gave him a shove. “Go.”

  All the students nearby went absolutely still. He could almost hear the collective gasp, like he was going to whip out a weapon. He wished he knew what stories were floating around. He could imagine, especially with the weekend to let people get really creative.

  Gabriel slung the backpack on his shoulder and turned away from his brother. “Fine, then I’ll go. I’ll see you at lunch.”

  People cleared a path.

  In first period, the teacher looked surprised to see him—and maybe a little afraid, too. Students left the seats surrounding him empty. No one spoke to him, but the focus of their attention fed his nerves like a shot of caffeine. It almost drove him to act, to live up to this violent criminal reputation he’d earned for himself. But he kept hearing Becca’s father’s voice in the kitchen.

  People will die. Everyone in this room.

  He slouched in his seat and pretended to be invisible.

  People already had died—or come close. The pentagrams pointed to Elementals, but he couldn’t reason it out in his head. Layne’s barn had burned down—then Quinn’s house. Were they being targeted somehow? But that didn’t make sense, either. The Elementals in town knew where the Merricks lived—they’d marked the house with paint when Becca’s dad first came to town. If they wanted to attack the Merrick brothers, they could just burn their house down.

  And what about all the innocent people whose houses had been destroyed?

  He watched the clock tick toward second period. Then third.

  When he’d see Layne.

  He still had her note in his backpack, a little damp from his walk in the rain, but still legible.

  Are you afraid of me?

  A little.

  She wasn’t in the math classroom when he got there, but he yanked his homework from his binder and flung it into the basket on his way past Ms. Anderson’s desk.

  The teacher glanced up when he passed, and she was the first one who didn’t look like she expected him to douse her desk in kerosene and flick a match.

  “Mr. Merrick?”

  He stopped, his fingers tight on the strap of his book bag. He didn’t want to look at her, didn’t want anything to interfere with the cord of tension holding him together.

  “Yeah,” he said.

  She picked up the homework he’d tossed into the basket and glanced at it, then back at his face. “I understand you had a challenging weekend.”

  Challenging. Hilarious. He met her eyes, knowing his own were full of don’t-fuck-with-me. “I’ve had better.”

  “Are you okay?”

  The question caught him off guard, especially since her expression seemed genuinely concerned. She was the first person to ask how he was doing since the instant he’d been arrested.

  His familiar defenses were clicking into place, ready to snap, to flip her off, to blame her for everything, because if she hadn’t caught him cheating, he’d be on the basketball team. He never would have needed Layne’s help, and he never would have gotten into that argument with her father. He never would have gone to that first fire.

  And that little girl would be dead. Along with everyone else he’d pulled from a burning building.

  He took a breath, feeling his shoulders drop. “Yeah.”

  Then, before she could say anything else, he pushed past her desk to drop into his seat.

  Taylor Morrissey wasn’t in front of him today, flashing her boobs and flipping her hair. Gabriel looked around—she was across the room, sitting at one of the spare desks, glaring at him like he was a serial killer.

  He wanted to mock her, but he just didn’t have the energy.

  And then Layne walked into the classroom.

  She was wearing jeans and those fuzzy boots girls seemed to like, along with a rich purple turtleneck. No makeup, same glasses.

  Her hair was down, loose and straight and shining.

  Perfectly average, probably, but Gabriel couldn’t look away from her.

  Especially when her eyes met his across the classroom and something inside him uncoiled.

  He could read the relief in her expression, the longing and sadness and desperation he knew were mirrored in his own. He wished he could hold her, could press his lips against her skin and whisper promises that he’d never hurt her, that he’d always protect her, that he didn’t care what anyone thought of him, that he’d do anything for her, always.

  “Hey,” called out Taylor. “Look who decided not to look like a total loser.”

  The girls around her snickered.

  “That’s enough,” said Ms. Anderson.

  Layne was blushing, pushing past the teacher’s desk, her eyes down now. She dropped in the chair beside Gabriel.

  “Hey,” he whispered.

  Her frenetic movement stilled. She peeked at him through the curtain of her hair. “Hey.”

  “Check it out,” said Taylor, her voice loud again. “The burn victim and the pyro. Almost like Romeo and Juliet, right?”

  Gabriel whipped his head around, but before he could get a word out, Layne’s hand latched on to his wrist.

  “Don’t,” she hissed. “Anything you say, they’ll use it against you.”

  He bit back the words and faced forward.

  “Ignore them,” Layne murmured. Her hand softened, and she gave his forearm a gentle squeeze. “Just get out your notebook.”

  Gabriel turned his head to look at her. His entire life was going to shit, but seeing her here was like finding a little glimme
r of light amid all the darkness. “Your hair is down.”

  She blushed a little and moved to pull her hand back.

  He caught her fingers, trapping them beneath his own. “It’s pretty.”

  “Thanks,” she whispered.

  And she left her hand there until Ms. Anderson started talking.

  Gabriel still couldn’t focus on class, but now his mind kept replaying the feel of Layne’s hand on his wrist, instead of all the turmoil of the weekend.

  A note appeared in the middle of his desk.

  I’m glad you’re okay.

  He cast a glance right. Her cheeks were still pink, and he’d bet money that her heart was racing in her chest.

  He wrote back.

  I’m glad you’re okay. Thank you for

  having your dad help me.

  Her blush deepened. He watched her put her pencil to the paper.

  He doesn’t want me to associate with you.

  Like that was a surprise. But Ms. Anderson was looking at the class now instead of writing on the board, and he had to wait before he could write back.

  What do you want?

  Layne’s expression sobered when she unfolded his note. Then she wrote quickly.

  I want to understand how you can do what

  you did.

  He stared at those words for a long time and wondered how much she knew. How much she’d figured out. She was staring at him now; he could feel it.

  Finally, he nodded, then put his pen against the paper.

  Free period? Library?

  She didn’t write back to that one, just unrolled it and nodded, then looked back at her work.

  He’d caught up with the homework, but Gabriel couldn’t understand a word Ms. Anderson was saying. He kept sneaking glances at Layne, fighting to keep his hands still, wanting to reach out and stroke her hair, to touch her arm, to hold her hand and feel her steady presence balance him out.

  Then the bell was ringing and Layne was gathering her things.

  “See you,” she whispered. Her hand barely brushed his as she pushed past his desk.

  “See you,” he said, gathering his things to walk out of the classroom.

  But Ms. Anderson stepped in front of him. “I’m pleased to see your work has improved.”

  “I have a tutor,” he said. When her eyebrows went up, he shrugged and said, “I wanted to get back on the team.”

  Funny how basketball seemed so pointless now.

  “Well,” said Ms. Anderson, “I hope this means you’ll do well on the makeup exam this afternoon.”

  “Wait, that’s—”

  “We agreed on today. You are free fifth period, correct?”

  Christ, like he would have remembered a math test with everything going on. This lady couldn’t cut him some slack? He glanced at the doorway, but Layne was long gone. He wouldn’t even have a way to get a message to her. “I . . . look, I need to—”

  “I want to give you more time,” she said gently. “I know you’re not focused today.”

  He breathed out a sigh. “Yes. More time would be great.”

  “I can’t. I’m already giving you a free pass by letting you make up the test.”

  His hands balled into fists at his sides. “I don’t give a crap about the team anymore.”

  “Do you care about graduating? Because right now you have a zero in the system. And with Friday’s events, the principal asked me about it. I said you were scheduled to take a makeup exam today.”

  Gabriel wanted to hit something.

  “Look,” she said. “Just take the test. I’ve seen your work over the last few days. You’ll do fine. And I can help you recover from a low score. I can’t help you recover from no score.”

  “I can’t,” he said. “I need to be somewhere.”

  “Where?”

  Somehow he didn’t think I need to meet a girl would suffice here.

  Her expression hardened. “I’m telling you that you will fail this class. You will not graduate. I know this might not matter to you right this instant, but I assure you, it will matter in the long run.”

  He snorted. The long run. Considering Bill Chandler’s comments Saturday morning, he didn’t even know if he had any chance of being around for the long run.

  But then he realized he did have one last option.

  Layne’s voice was echoing in his head, the way she’d chastised him for cheating.

  He shook it off. “Fifth period,” he said. “Fine. I’ll be here.”

  Now he just needed to find Nick.

  CHAPTER 39

  Layne sat in the back corner of the library, blocked by the stacks, yet with a crooked view of the entrance. The same table where she always sat. The same table where she’d stood up to Gabriel, two weeks ago. It felt like a lifetime ago.

  The library wasn’t crowded, but no one ever sat back here because the books were old and smelled musty. They must have cleaned the carpets over the weekend, because today it also smelled sweet yet acrid, a chemical scent that was giving her a headache.

  Her palms were sweating, and she swiped them on her jeans, again reveling in the realization that there were no scars under the denim along her left thigh.

  That was the only thing she’d left out of her confession to her father.

  She just wasn’t sure what to say. She was used to dealing with facts and numbers. Her father was used to dealing with truths and untruths. Neither had any experience dealing with the supernatural.

  Because it had to be, right?

  This morning, in math class, Gabriel had reminded her of the way he’d been that first morning on the trail, when she’d compared him to a land mine. Only this time it was more like a hand grenade after the pin had been pulled. It was just a matter of time before he went off.

  “It’s like every time I see you, you’re sitting all by yourself.”

  Layne jerked and almost fell out of her chair. Ryan Stacey was behind her, leaning against the bookcase. He must have come around the side of the stacks.

  “I didn’t expect to find you here,” he said. “But I like it. You will, too, I think.”

  Now her palms were sweating for an entirely new reason. “Go away. You’re lucky I’m not having you arrested for assault.”

  “You kissed me, too, sweetheart.”

  “Don’t call me that.” She threw a glance at the doorway and prayed for Gabriel to appear.

  He didn’t.

  “Besides,” she said, making her voice hard even though her insides felt like jelly, “I’m not the only one you’ve assaulted.”

  “Yeah, like your baby brother is going to earn any friends by being a retard and a tattletale.”

  “Simon is not a retard.”

  “Whatever. I took care of him.” He took a step toward her, and she scrambled out of the chair before she could stop herself. Her back hit a bookcase, and the metal shelves dug into her shoulders.

  A smile lit his face, but not in a good way. “Too bad about the fire at the horse barn. Did that satisfy your little burn fetish? Add a new scar or two?”

  She flinched, but then he looked at her crookedly. “Or is it Merrick who has the burn fetish? I guess you freaks all have to stay together—”

  “Leave her alone.”

  Layne was choking on her breath, on her heartbeat, fear warring with relief. Gabriel was here, looking as fierce as ever. He’d protect her.

  She just didn’t want him to do it at his own expense.

  She moved close to him, letting her hand close over his forearm like she had in class. “Don’t fight,” she said. “Let him say what he wants. It’s not worth it—”

  Gabriel glanced down at her hand, as if surprised to find it there. “I won’t fight him.” Then he made a face. “What is that smell?”

  “Don’t you know?” said Ryan. “I mean, they’re going to find a bottle of it in your locker.”

  The forearm under her hand turned to steel, but Gabriel was absolutely still. “What are you talking abou
t?”

  Layne realized what Ryan had said. “You knew about the fire at the farm. You knew I was there.”

  “Of course I did. You told me where to find you.” His eyes flicked to Gabriel. “Of course, I didn’t realize you were riding more than just horses.”

  “Shut up!” she snapped, feeling tears grab at her throat.

  “It was supposed to be a hay bale. I was just screwing with you,” said Ryan. “I didn’t realize the whole place would go up like that. When the cops found me in the woods, I had to say I was out running and saw who started it.” A wicked smile at Gabriel. “Too bad for you it happened in the middle of an arson spree.”

  “You?” gasped Layne. “You . . . but Gabriel didn’t—”

  “Really, I hadn’t planned on either of you being here, but it’s kind of poetic justice.” Ryan pulled a lighter out of his pocket.

  Gabriel started forward. “It’s you. You’re the one starting the fires.”

  “Nope. You are.” Ryan flicked the igniter.

  And tossed it.

  Layne didn’t see where it went. She was just aware of the blast of heat, the roar of flames, and the feeling of her shoulders hitting the brick wall of the library. Gabriel’s body trapped her there.

  She couldn’t see anything but fire and smoke and the side of Gabriel’s face, all but pressed against hers.

  “Lighter fluid,” he said. “He sprayed the whole area with lighter fluid.”

  And the books were providing plenty of fuel. Layne coughed, her lungs trying to find oxygen through the smoke.

  He pulled her down, against the ground, and suddenly it was easier to breathe.

  “We have to move,” he said.

  She nodded. “But can’t you”—she coughed—“can’t you do something?”

  He pulled her along the wall, to the corner, then swore. All the stacks in this back part of the library were blazing. The school’s fire alarms were blaring now; one was right overhead.