Spark by Brigid Kemmerer

“So, what, you’re just going to make sure I get locked up? I didn’t start those fires.”

  That vicious smile again. “It doesn’t really matter if you did or not.”

  “It sure seems to matter to everyone else.”

  “Not to me. I help people who ‘didn’t do it’ all the time.”

  Wait a minute. “Are you saying you’re here to help me?”

  “I’m going to try.”

  Gabriel didn’t trust him. “Maybe I don’t want your help.”

  “They have several fires, a dead firefighter, and an eyewitness. Not to mention motive, a prior record, and a bedroom full of lighters. You want my help.”

  Gabriel frowned and looked away.

  Mr. Forrest leaned back in his chair, spinning the pen between his fingers. “Did you really help Simon get a starting position on the basketball team?”

  Gabriel couldn’t get the fire marshal’s threats out of his head, to say nothing of this mystery with the pentagrams, and Layne’s dad wanted to talk basketball? “You want to talk about this now? Seriously?”

  “If you want my help, yes. I want to talk about this now.”

  Gabriel glanced at the door. “Don’t we have a time limit or something?”

  “No.”

  “Fine. I gave Simon a few pointers. The coach made the decision. It wasn’t a big deal.”

  “He came home with a black eye last night.”

  “Look, I didn’t do that—”

  “I know you didn’t. He told me what happened.” A pause. “Layne told me about the party, too.”

  “She did?” Layne had stood up for him? After everything that had happened? Then Gabriel felt his anger swell. “Why aren’t you on that guy’s case?”

  “I will be. Don’t worry.” Mr. Forrest hesitated, and for the first time, his arrogance faltered. “She also told me you pulled her out of the barn yesterday morning.”

  Gabriel stared back at him. Talking about the fires felt like a trap.

  “Anything you say to me is confidential. They can’t use it against you.”

  Gabriel glanced at the corners of the room and dropped his voice. “What if they’re recording what I tell you?”

  “I hope they are. It’s against the law, and then they’d never get a conviction.”

  Gabriel had to clear his throat. “I thought maybe Layne was the one to turn me in.”

  “No. From what I could find out, someone reported seeing you at the scene of the barn fire. Since you were already on their radar, they pulled you in.” Mr. Forrest steepled his fingers. “Layne was ready to march down here and tell every officer she saw that you didn’t start that fire. She said she was with you when it started. Is that not true?”

  “It’s true.”

  “She doesn’t believe you started those other fires, either.”

  “I didn’t.”

  Mr. Forrest nodded at the doorway. “They think you did. What have you told them?”

  “Nothing.” Gabriel paused. “Can they really keep me here overnight?”

  “They can keep you a lot longer than that.”

  With every passing minute, the room seemed to feel smaller. Gabriel swallowed. “The guy told me I could go to jail for thirty years.”

  “He’s right. Maybe longer if they can pin the dead firefighter on you.”

  Gabriel rubbed at his eyes. “Gee, I’m so glad you showed up.”

  “He’s trying to scare you,” Mr. Forrest said. “I’m going to work on it. If they’re going to charge you, you’ll get a bail hearing within twenty-four hours. Since it’s a Friday night, it’ll probably be tomorrow morning, and I imagine they’ll set bail rather high.”

  The more this guy talked, the more it seemed like this was a hole Gabriel would never dig himself out of. “Fantastic.”

  “I’m going to see if we can avoid charges altogether.”

  “How the hell are you going to do that?”

  “It sounds like they have a lot, but really, they don’t have a thing on you. The lighters are suspicious, I’ll grant, but no one actually saw you start a fire. No other incendiary devices have been found in your home. You have no record of starting fires. You’re not a model student, but according to Layne, you’re not a troublemaker around school, either. They can’t even get you for impersonating a firefighter unless you did it to get money.”

  “They have an eyewitness.”

  “Sure they do. And you have a twin brother. Any eyewitness testimony is dead in the water.”

  Holy crap. Gabriel didn’t have anything to say to that.

  Mr. Forrest leaned in. “Layne says I was wrong about you.”

  Gabriel didn’t know what to say to that, either.

  “She has a whole timeline written out. She showed me some newspaper articles. Thinks you were the one to save the Hulster girl. Is that true?”

  A timeline. That was so . . . so Layne. If he weren’t knee-deep in drama, he’d smile. Instead, he just shrugged and looked away. “The little girl went down the laundry chute. They didn’t think to check in the basement first.”

  “And the fireman who went through the floor?”

  Another shrug.

  “Are you crazy?”

  Gabriel met his eyes. “Probably.”

  “They’re going to want to question you some more. Think you can handle it if I stay?”

  Gabriel narrowed his eyes. “Why would you do that for me?”

  “You saved my daughter’s life and protected my son. Why wouldn’t I do that for you?” Mr. Forrest didn’t wait for an answer, just glanced at his watch. “Let me make a few calls.”

  Before he was through the door, Gabriel said, “Do you really think they’ll let me go?”

  “I’ll be honest. An hour ago, I wasn’t too sure.”

  “So what’s different now?”

  Mr. Forrest gave him a grim look. “There’s been another fire.”

  CHAPTER 37

  Gabriel got to leave.

  At five o’clock in the morning.

  He hadn’t eaten anything in almost twenty-four hours, and he sure as hell hadn’t slept. Mr. Forrest was driving him home, the radio in his BMW playing some kind of light rock. The streets were deserted this early on a Saturday, especially with a cold front moving in, bringing rain to spit at the windshield.

  Layne’s father had stayed all night.

  Gabriel cleared his throat. “Thanks.” It felt woefully inadequate, but he wasn’t sure what else to say.

  “I don’t mind driving you. Your brother has been dealing with the cops all night, too. No sense making him come out.”

  Michael was probably fit to be tied. “No . . . I meant, for all of it.”

  Mr. Forrest glanced over. “You know, they could still arrest you again. If you give them just cause.”

  Gabriel ran his finger along a seam in the leather upholstery and stared out at the darkness. “You’re telling me to stay out of trouble.”

  “I’m telling you to stay away from fires. Don’t even go out and buy a new lighter.”

  The cops had kept the ones they’d confiscated at school—and they’d probably taken all the ones in his bedroom, too. Gabriel felt like he was missing a limb.

  And he was already wondering about the fire he’d missed tonight.

  “I’m serious,” said Mr. Forrest. The car rolled to a stop at a traffic light, and he looked over. “I’m not a miracle worker. If they catch you at another fire, especially now, you’ll be charged for sure.”

  Gabriel nodded. “I know.” He wished he could text Hunter to let him know what was going on, but they’d kept his phone too. Thank god he’d been careful about deleting all the text messages relating to the fires.

  “Look, I know I said it doesn’t matter what you’re doing, but I need to know. Is Layne doing this with you? She’s been having a hard time since her mother left—”

  “No.” Gabriel shifted in his seat to look at him. “Layne’s not . . . she’s not doing anything wrong.”

>   “I read once that children who’ve been injured by fire may experiment—”

  “No! She’s not. Experimenting.” This felt more awkward than if Layne’s father had asked if they were having sex. “She had nothing to do with this. I didn’t even know about the scars until the party. No one did.”

  “What about the pentagrams? In there, you said you didn’t know anything, but if she’s wrapped up in some kind of cult—”

  “Jesus, there’s no cult, okay? I don’t even know what the pentagrams mean.”

  And once he’d had a lawyer by his side, he hadn’t been able to get any more information from the fire marshal.

  Mr. Forrest glanced over. “What exactly are you doing?”

  Gabriel stared out the window. How could he ever explain all of it?

  The mist in the air turned to rain, forcing Mr. Forrest to switch on the wipers. “I said I’d help you, but I’m going to protect my daughter, too.”

  “From me. You think Layne needs protection from me.”

  “You tell me.”

  Gabriel gritted his teeth. “What happened to all that talk about saving your daughter and helping your son?”

  “I’ll help you stay out of prison. That doesn’t mean I’m going to help you lead Layne into danger.” He glanced over again. “You’ll forgive me if I’d rather she date someone who isn’t wanted by the police.”

  Gabriel reached into the backseat and grabbed his backpack, yanking it into his lap. “Let me out.”

  To his surprise, Mr. Forrest pulled over, right there on the side of Ritchie Highway. He hit the button to unlock the doors.

  Gabriel stared at him. “I’d never hurt Layne.”

  “I’d like to keep it that way.”

  “So that’s it?”

  Mr. Forrest looked over. “Were you bluffing about getting out?”

  Gabriel grabbed the door handle. When he was standing in the grit and rubble of the shoulder, feeling rain trail down his collar, he hesitated before closing the door. “You know I don’t even have a phone.”

  “Would now be a bad time for a joke about smoke signals?”

  “Fuck you.” Gabriel slammed the door.

  The BMW pulled back into traffic. Gabriel watched him drive, waiting for brake lights or some signal that this was just a bluff. Like his had been, really.

  But then the car was cresting the hill, disappearing from sight.

  Leaving Gabriel alone.

  He pulled the hood of his sweatshirt up and shivered. He was only about a mile from home, but exhaustion added weight to his back while hunger clawed at his insides. The rain and darkness made him want to curl up here, by the side of the road, to wait for sunrise.

  He forced his legs to move.

  Again, he wished for a lighter, for flame to roll between his fingertips.

  His foot kicked at a pile of roadside debris, sending dead leaves and twigs and trash scattering across the dampening pavement.

  He ducked and scooped a larger twig into his palm. The bark along the outside was dampened from the rain, but he snapped it in half easily. The inside was dry and jagged, a pale patch of exposed wood, barely identifiable in the darkness.

  “Burn,” he whispered.

  At first, nothing.

  But then, with a spark and a flicker, it flared to life.

  He crushed the flame in his palm almost immediately, his heart pounding against his rib cage.

  Control. He’d done it.

  Another couple hundred feet down the road, he did it again, cradling the flame in his hands to protect it from the rain, breathing power into the fire until headlights appeared over the hill and he killed it.

  Only to do it again once he was alone with the darkness.

  This time, he let the fuel burn away until he held nothing but a lick of flame suspended between his palms.

  It died quickly when a drop of rain slipped between his fingers, but Gabriel was more sure now. Another twig, another spark, another flame.

  This one lasted until he made the turn onto his street, when he sent the fire slithering into smoke between his fingers.

  After his night in the police station, after the argument with Layne’s father, after his sheer inability to protect Layne or save Simon or identify an arsonist, this new control fed him some pride.

  It made him long for the next fire, to test his abilities.

  As soon as he had the thought, Gabriel smashed it as quickly as he’d crushed the fire in his hands. There couldn’t be any more fires. He had to stop.

  But there’d been a fire tonight. He should have been there. He could have helped.

  By the time he reached his driveway, the misting rain had soaked through his hoodie and had probably done a number on the books in his backpack. Michael would be ready to raise hell, but Gabriel was so relieved to be home that he didn’t care. He’d listen to whatever his brother wanted to dish out and then some. The lights on the lower level were on, and there was an unfamiliar car in the driveway. It didn’t look like an unmarked police car, but anxiety grabbed Gabriel by the throat anyway.

  He found the front door unlocked, and angry voices echoed from the back of the house. Michael was arguing with someone, loudly enough that he probably hadn’t even heard the door opening. Tension was riding high in here, an almost tangible field Gabriel had to cross just to make it through the doorway. From what he could see, the house wasn’t trashed—maybe the cops had just searched his room. He dropped his things in the foyer and headed for the kitchen.

  The arguing stopped when he appeared in the doorway.

  Michael was standing by the cooking island, his eyes furious—though his expression softened to something like relief when he saw Gabriel. Becca hunched close to Chris at one end of the table, their expressions tired and drawn. Hunter sat near them, his expression full of guilt and relief all at once.

  And at the other end of the table stood the source of the arguing, Bill Chandler, Becca’s father.

  Michael ran a hand back through his hair. “Thank god. Mr. Forrest called and said you got out of the car—”

  “Because he was being an ass.” Gabriel cast another glance around the room, as if he could have missed his identical twin on the first pass. “Where’s Nick?”

  Bill took a step forward, pointing a finger at Gabriel though he was still arguing with Michael. “Just because he came home now doesn’t mean there won’t be more complications. I told you to lie low. I told you I would only be able to protect you for so long—”

  “Where’s Nick?”

  “When the cops showed up, I told Nick and Chris not to come home,” said Michael.

  “But there was another fire,” said Hunter. His voice was small.

  It had almost been a relief, another fire occurring while Gabriel had a rock-solid alibi. But if Nick was involved—that feeling of anxiety turned into a noose. He couldn’t breathe around it. Had Layne’s father known? “Where is he?”

  “In the hospital,” said Chris.

  “He was with Quinn,” said Becca. “The fire was set at her house.”

  “Nick’s okay,” said Michael. “They wanted to keep him overnight for observation, and they won’t let him leave without someone to sign him out. I asked Layne’s father not to tell you.”

  “Quinn’s okay, too,” said Becca. “Nick got her out, then went back in for her little brother.”

  Gabriel remembered telling Nick about the fires, and his twin’s comment about not being strong enough to go along.

  Had Nick taken a risk just to prove himself?

  Gabriel stared across at his older brother, feeling guilt and contempt steal some of the anxiety—but choking him just the same. “And you just left him in the hospital. Alone.”

  “What the hell did you want me to do?” Michael suddenly looked like he wanted to hit something, and his words slammed into Gabriel like a fist. “You were at the police station and Nick was in the hospital—and I couldn’t help either of you, because the police were here a
ll night, searching the house. I’ve spent weeks trying to help you, and you won’t tell me the truth about what you’re doing. Layne’s father keeps you out of jail, and instead of trying to figure out how to repay him, you tell him off on the side of the road. We’re all in danger here, and you’re bringing it right to our doorstep. And you’re going to get pissed at me?”

  Gabriel flinched.

  “I told you,” Bill snapped. “I told you this would happen if you didn’t keep your abilities in check—”

  “We didn’t start those fires,” said Hunter. “We helped. People would have died otherwise.” For the first time, Gabriel thought he understood the guilt in his expression.

  It loosened something in Gabriel’s chest, to know he wasn’t alone here, that someone could carry the guilt along with him.

  Then Becca’s father said, “People will die. Everyone in this room. When the Guides find out—”

  “They might already know,” said Gabriel.

  When everyone turned to him, he said, “When the police questioned me, they asked me about the pentagrams in the burned houses.”

  Hunter’s eyebrows went up. “Pentagrams? You never said you saw—”

  “I didn’t.”

  Bill turned to face Hunter, his expression fierce. “You told me you wanted to honor your father’s position. You told me you wanted to know what to do.”

  Gabriel glanced at Hunter. His friend had never mentioned Becca’s father, had never mentioned any discussion following their meeting in the food court.

  Bill continued. “You wanted to prove yourself—am I right? And I said watch Gabriel Merrick, and you—”

  Hunter was out of his chair. “That’s exactly what I was doing!”

  “What did you just say?” said Gabriel. A new feeling was coiling in his chest, something bitter and frightening.

  But the room had fallen into a stricken silence.

  Gabriel stared at Hunter. “That’s why you were following me that night.”

  “Nice,” said Becca. She was glaring at Hunter, too. “So you misled everyone around you, huh?”

  Hunter shook his head. “No, it’s not—it wasn’t—”

  But Gabriel was already storming back down the hallway, heading for the front door.

  Michael caught him, grabbing him by the arm and shoving him up against the door before he could open it. “You are not leaving.”