Spark by Brigid Kemmerer
He just couldn’t figure it out.
And there wasn’t time to stand here puzzling it through. “Can you two drag him out of here?”
“No!”
A female voice. They all turned.
Calla Dean stepped out from behind a flaming bookcase, easily as comfortable in the middle of all this fire as Gabriel was. “Leave him.”
Hunter lowered the gun. His voice was full of shock. “Calla.”
“You look surprised,” she said.
“He’s not the only one,” said Gabriel.
She reached down and plucked a plume of fire from the carpet, letting it hover in her palm, feeding it power until it started to spiral off her hand. “You’ve been messing with all my pretty fires.”
“You?” said Nick. He glanced between Calla and Ryan. “But . . .”
“Oh, he started all of them. I just helped them along.” She rolled her fingertips through the flame she’d created. “The first one was an accident, I think. He and one of his idiot friends were goofing off at the house next door, putting lighter fluid in water guns. I just fed a little power into it, and the whole place went up like a match.” She snapped her fingers. “He liked that. It got a little addictive. For both of us, I think.”
Then she made a face, similar to the one she made when the broccoli was missing salt. “Though he was kind of a pain to follow around.”
“You killed a fireman,” said Hunter, his voice tight.
“I didn’t kill anyone,” she said. “He did.”
“But you drove the fires,” said Gabriel. “It was your rage I felt—”
“Oh yeah?” Her eyes flashed with the brightness of the flames in the room. She smiled and crushed the fire in her palm. “Prove it.”
“You’re drawing the Guides here,” said Nick. “They were already watching this area, but—”
“That’s the whole point,” she said, and the flames around her grew. “We want them to come. That’s why I drew pentagrams in the houses—”
“You drew them?” said Gabriel. “But why do you want the Guides to come?”
“So we can destroy them.” Her gaze settled on Hunter. “I think you might know about the last two we killed? Convenient rock slide, huh?”
Hunter lifted the gun.
“Go ahead,” she said. “Shoot me. We want a war.”
He cocked the gun.
Then high-pressure water was blasting into them all, knocking them to the ground and soaking their clothes.
And putting out every last inch of flame.
CHAPTER 42
The holding cell was a lot easier to take the second time around.
Because this time Gabriel was sharing space with Nick and Hunter.
They sat against the back wall, their clothes still damp from the fire hoses. Gabriel was freezing, but he couldn’t ask his twin to warm the air. Nick looked exhausted, as if it were a good thing the wall was there to hold him upright.
“You sure Layne will be all right?” Gabriel said.
Nick didn’t even open his eyes. “For the fifteenth time, yes. I’m sure.”
She’d been loaded onto a stretcher while cops were handcuffing them. Gabriel had tried to tell them Nick wasn’t involved, but they’d ignored him. Calla Dean had disappeared.
And what would he say about her anyway?
He glanced at Nick. “I bet an arrest record will help the college search.”
“I’ll use it as my learning experience for the application essays.” Nick looked over, and Gabriel could read the worry in his eyes. “What do you think’s going to happen?”
“You’ll be fine. I think I’m screwed.” Gabriel considered what had happened in the hallway, the way Hunter had pulled a gun on a fireman—though he’d lost the weapon in the water. “I don’t think I’m the only one, either.”
Hunter sat a few feet down the wall, damp hair trailing into his eyes. He hadn’t said a word since they’d been arrested.
“I can say it was me,” said Nick. “We can switch—”
“No,” said Gabriel. “I know what I did. I don’t need you to cover for me anymore. I can take it.”
But he kept thinking about Calla Dean. He should have been worried about other Elementals in town, about her threats of war, her purposeful attempts to draw the Guides near. He should have been worried about how she was the real arsonist, but he’d never be able to prove it.
Instead, he kept thinking about what she’d said to Hunter.
So we can destroy them. I think you might know about the last two we killed.
The last two. Hunter’s father and uncle.
He opened his mouth to say something, but then remembered that Hunter had never been his friend. Not really.
Gabriel shut his mouth and faced forward.
A policeman came to the gate, a ring of keys jingling in his hand. “Hunter Garrity?”
Hunter got to his feet, his expression resigned. “Yeah.”
“You’re out. Your grandfather is here to pick you up.”
Hunter’s eyebrows went up. “I’m what?”
“Turns out the fireman who reported you with a gun changed his story. Said he made a mistake in all the smoke, and since we didn’t find one at the scene . . .” The officer paused. “He also said you helped pull half a dozen kids out of that library.”
Hunter stood there staring at him, like he wasn’t sure if he should trust this stroke of luck.
“Go,” said Gabriel. “Get out while you can.”
But Hunter sat back down against the wall. “I’m not leaving until they do.” He jerked his head toward Gabriel. “I didn’t pull those kids out. He did.”
Gabriel didn’t look at him. He swore under his breath. “Don’t do me any favors.”
“Doesn’t matter,” said the officer. “You’re all out.”
Now Gabriel and Nick snapped their heads up at the same time. “What?”
“Your brother is here to take you home. Seems the librarian heard that Ryan Stacey boy admit the whole thing. Too bad the smoke got to him before he finished his little design.”
The officer didn’t sound like there was anything too bad about that at all.
“He’s dead?” asked Nick.
“He’s in the hospital.” The officer didn’t sound too broken up about that, either. “You kids coming or what? I’ve got real criminals to book.”
Gabriel was ready to face Michael in the waiting room of the police station.
He wasn’t ready for the firefighters.
More than a dozen men, plus Hannah and one other woman. Most of them, including Hannah, were wearing fire pants and suspenders, their faces smudged with soot, though a few just wore T-shirts with the fire house insignia and jeans.
Gabriel stopped short in the doorway and swallowed. He glanced at Michael, standing at the counter and signing a form. No answers there.
Then some of the firemen separated, revealing a guy in a matching T-shirt in a wheelchair, his leg in a Velcroed cast from ankle to thigh. He glanced between Nick and Gabriel. “Which one of you is the kid who pulled me out of the house on Winterbourne?”
Then Gabriel recognized him. This was the guy who’d fallen through the floor. Gabriel didn’t know what to say.
Nick hit him in the shoulder, shoving him forward. “He is.”
The guy held out a hand. “Thank you. I owe you a lot.”
Gabriel couldn’t move.
This time Hunter shoved him in the shoulder. “Shake his hand, you idiot.”
Gabriel reached forward, not feeling like he deserved any thanks at all. He hadn’t been enough. He should have been able to stop the fire.
The man’s hand closed around his. “I heard about today, too. How did you do it?”
Gabriel shrugged. “Just lucky, I guess.” He glanced back at Hunter. “I had help.”
“Luck doesn’t last forever, kid.”
Gabriel snorted. “No kidding.”
The fireman didn’t let go of his hand
“Yeah,” he said, thinking of Calla Dean and her vow to lure the Guides here. He wouldn’t be able to stop if she kept this up. But he lied, because what else could he do? “I promise.” He moved to pull his hand back.
The fireman held fast, surprisingly strong despite the fact that he was stuck in a wheelchair. “I’m serious. You want to walk into fires, go through school and do it for real.”
“You know,” said Hannah, “you can start fire school at sixteen.”
Fire school? He’d never considered making a career out of his abilities. “I’ll think about it,” said Gabriel.
Nick clapped him on the shoulder again. “No, you’ll do it.”
Layne stared at the ceiling in the emergency room and listened to her parents bicker. For the second time in less than a week.
She was wearing a hospital gown, so they knew her scars were gone.
And unfortunately, it had turned into one more point of argument.
“Well, David,” her mother snapped, “obviously you haven’t been paying attention to the children if you weren’t aware—”
“You weren’t aware, either, Charlotte! Don’t try to tell me about . . .”
Layne put the pillow over her face.
She hadn’t known what to say.
Because she didn’t know how it had happened, either.
The doctors had lots of theories, about growth spurts and skin regrowth, and healthy eating.
Really, they were grasping at straws. Layne let them grasp.
What was she going to say? When I almost died in the barn, this guy saved my life . . .
The pillow was pulled away from her face, and her mother’s heavily made up face smiled down at her through a cloud of some expensive perfume. “Oh, Laynie, I wish you’d told me. Once we finish with this mess”—she waved a manicured hand to indicate the treatment room—“we can go to the mall. I saw the cutest dress the other day and thought, If only Layne didn’t have—”
Layne sat up. The oxygen tube strung around her face pulled tight, but she didn’t care. “No.”
Her mother blinked. “No?”
“No. I like the way I dress. And it’s too late to play mom.”
More of the confused stare. “It’s too late to play—”
“You heard me!” Layne snapped. “I get straight As, and you don’t give a crap. I take care of Simon, and you don’t give a crap. I spent the last ten years trying to get your approval, and you didn’t give a crap. Now that I’m perfect, you want to play mom. Well, I’m not playing. I want you to leave.”
“Layne, I am your mother—”
“Too late.” Layne cut a glance at her father. “Can you make her leave?”
“I can’t make your mother do much of anything.”
Her mother folded her arms. “Layne, I am not listening to this—”
“Go,” Layne hissed. “Or I’m asking the nurse to call a social worker. And I’m going to tell them all about how you ran off with some guy from the country club, and how you don’t show up for visitations, and how you—”
“Layne!”
Layne jerked the oxygen tube away from her face. “Go. Or I will. How will that look to all your perfect friends?”
Her mother staggered back, her mouth working but no sound coming out.
Then she turned on her designer heels and walked out of the room.
Layne squinched her eyes shut and told herself not to cry.
She felt her father step in front of her. “I won’t ask if you’re okay,” he said.
She opened her eyes. He was looking right at her, no sign of his iPhone.
“You can ask,” she said, “because I am now.”
Then she leaned forward to give him a hug.
CHAPTER 43
School was closed for the week.
It didn’t stop Gabriel from waking at five the next morning. He wandered into the kitchen and flipped on the dim light over the sink, rinsing the coffee carafe to start a new pot. Then he found a package of chocolate chip cookies in the cabinet and dropped into a chair at the table.
A purse had been left on one of the other chairs, and Gabriel raised his eyebrows. Quinn or Becca had spent the night.
His brothers sure were getting daring.
Or maybe Michael was getting more lax.
It made Gabriel think of Layne.
He missed her.
Light footsteps crept down the hallway, and Gabriel grinned, wondering which girl he was going to catch doing the walk of shame.
When Hannah tiptoed into the kitchen with wet hair and wearing an oversized T-shirt with jeans, he almost choked on a cookie.
“Damn,” she whispered, her cheeks pink, but a rueful smile on her lips. “I knew it was a mistake to leave my purse down here. Nick or Gabriel?”
“Gabriel.” He pushed the cookies across the table. “Have a cookie. Is that my brother’s shirt?”
Her cheeks turned redder and she grabbed her bag. “I think that’s my cue to leave.”
“Nah. Stay.” Gabriel gestured at the counter. “I just made coffee. You want a cup? Where’s Michael?”
She hesitated, then eased into a chair. “He’s in the shower.” She paused. “Look, I don’t want you to get the wrong idea—”
“Don’t worry, I already have.” Gabriel pulled three mugs down from the cabinet. “How do you take it?”
“With an obscene amount of milk and sugar.”
Déjà vu hit him in the chest, and he hesitated before pouring. “Me too.” Then he joined her at the table.
She wrapped her hands around the cup and took a sip, just as Michael came through the doorway. Wet hair, clean shaven.
He stopped short upon seeing Gabriel. “I thought you’d be out for a run.”
“Hey, Mike,” he said innocently. “I thought girls weren’t allowed to spend the night?”
“Watch it.”
“At least you’re not wearing her shirt.”
“I think that’s enough.”
Gabriel opened his mouth to fire back, but then Michael stepped up to the table, ducked his head, and kissed Hannah on the cheek.
With enough tenderness that Gabriel didn’t want to mock it.
Just checking up on the investigation, my ass, he thought.
He looked away. “I’m going out in a bit, so you two can have the house to yourselves.” Then he smiled. “Except for Nick. And Chris.”
“I’ve got to be at work at seven-thirty,” said Hannah. “So I won’t be here long.” Then she jumped and pulled a vibrating cell phone out of her pocket. “It’s my folks, so I’ve got to take this . . .”
But she was already walking down the hallway and stepping out the front door.
Michael turned from the counter with a cup of coffee in hand. “Don’t start,” he said to Gabriel.
“I didn’t say anything. I’m just glad you weren’t jerking her around.” Gabriel paused. “So I guess you don’t have too much baggage after all?”
Michael gave him a look. “Trust me. I do.” He sat down at the table. “She just has enough to match.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means she has a five-year-old son.”
Gabriel went still. “Holy crap.”
“So we’re taking things really slowly.”
“Looks like it.”
This was quite possibly the first time Gabriel had ever seen his older brother blush. “It was late. She slept here. We did not—” Michael broke off. “I don’t really think I need to explain myself to you.”
Gabriel smiled and took a sip of coffee. “No, no, I’m enjoying this.”
Michael ran a hand through his hair. “Not like it matters when I don’t even know what the next few days will hold. You said you think this Calla girl is going to keep setting fires?”
“Yeah. I do.”
The front door opened again, and Hannah whisper-shouted down the hallway. “Gabriel, someone is here to see you.?
Michael raised his eyebrows. “It’s five o’clock in the morning.”
“Don’t look at me.” Gabriel walked down the hallway and out onto the front porch while Hannah walked back inside.
Layne stood there, in black yoga pants and tennis shoes, with a turquoise hoodie and her hair in a ponytail. Her face was flushed, her eyes shining in the porch light, tendrils of hair stuck to her forehead.
“When you said four miles,” she said, “you weren’t freaking kidding.”
“You ran here?” he said. “In the dark?”
“Only the first two miles. Then I was dying.” She shrugged a little. “I walked the rest. I’m sure I’m a mess.”
“No,” he said, feeling a bit dazed at finding her there. “You’re beautiful.”
“I’m sorry I just showed up,” she said, looking shy. “I knew you’d be awake, and I need to ask you—”
“Ask me later,” he said. And he kissed her.
CHAPTER 44
Layne’s legs were ready to give out, but she didn’t mind.
Because Gabriel was walking her home.
“I should have driven you,” he said, shaking his head. “This is nuts.”
“This takes longer.”
“Good point,” he said, catching her waist in his hands and kissing her again.
And her back was against a tree and her fingers were tangled in his hair and she was forgetting what she’d even come to talk about in the first place.
But then his fingers slid under the hoodie.
She caught his wrists, and he drew back, his eyes dark in the early morning light.
“Are you still worried about your scars?” he said gently. “You know I think you’re—”
“Wait.” She blinked up at him in surprise. “You don’t know?”
“I don’t know what?”
She took his hand and slid it under her shirt. “My scars are gone.”
His hand went still against her skin. “How?”
She gave a little laugh. “You tell me. They disappeared after the barn fire.”
His fingers drifted higher, skimming along her rib cage. “All of them?”
“Yes, all of—” She gasped as his thumb went under the edge of her bra, then playfully smacked him. “Hey!”