Brigid Kemmerer

Spark


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use her first name. I hope I did you proud.

      Finally, extra special thanks to the Kemmerer boys, Jonathan, Nick, and Sam, for your love and support, especially understanding when I need to just plug in my headphones and write.

      CHAPTER 1

      Gabriel Merrick stared at the dead leaf in his palm and willed it to burn.

      It refused.

      He had a lighter in his pocket, but that always felt like cheating. He should be able to call flame to something this dry. The damn thing had been stuck in the corner of his window screen since last winter. But the leaf only seemed interested in flaking onto his trigonometry textbook.

      He was seriously ready to take the lighter to that.

      A knock sounded on his bedroom wall.

      “Black,” he called. Nicky always slept late, always knocked on his wall to ask what color he was wearing. If he didn’t, they ended up dressing alike.

      Gabriel looked back at the leaf—and it was just that, a dead leaf. No hint of power. Behind the drywall, electricity sang to him. In the lamp on his desk, he could sense the burning filament. Even the weak threads of sunlight that managed to burn through the clouds left some trace of his element. If the power was there, Gabriel could speak to it, ask it to bend to his will.

      If the power wasn’t, he had nothing.

      His door swung open. Nick stood there in a green hoodie and a pair of khaki cargo shorts. A girl on the cheer squad had once asked Gabriel if having a twin was like looking in a mirror all the time. He’d asked her if being a cheerleader was like being an idiot all the time—but really, it was a good question. He and Nick shared the same dark hair, the same blue eyes, the same few freckles across their cheekbones.

      Right now, Nick leaned on a crutch, a knee brace strapped around his left leg, evidence of the only thing they didn’t share: a formerly broken leg.

      Gabriel glanced away from that. “Hey.”

      “What are you doing?”

      Gabriel flicked the leaf into the wastebasket beneath his desk. “Nothing. You ready for school?”

      “Is that your trig book?”

      “Yeah. Just making sure I told you the right assignment.”

      Gabriel always attempted his math homework—and then handed it over for Nick to do it right. Math had turned into a foreign language somewhere around fifth grade. Then, Gabriel had struggled through, managing Cs when his twin brought home As. But in seventh grade, when their parents died, he’d come close to failing. Nick started covering for him, and he’d been doing it ever since.

      Not like it was a big challenge. Math came to Nick like breathing. He was in second-year calculus, earning college credit. Gabriel was stuck in trigonometry with juniors.

      He was pretty frigging sick of it.

      Gabriel flipped the book closed and shoved it into his backpack. His eyes fell on that knee brace again. Two days ago, his twin’s leg had been broken in three places.

      “You’re not going to make me carry your crap all day, are you?” His voice came out sharp, nowhere near the light ribbing he’d intended.

      Nick took it in stride, as usual. “Not if you’re going to cry about it.” He turned toward the stairs, his voice rising to a mocking falsetto. “I’m the school sports hero, but I can’t possibly carry a few extra books—”

      “Keep it up,” Gabriel called, slinging the backpack over his shoulder to follow his brother. “I’ll push you down the stairs.”

      But he hesitated in the doorway, listening to Nick’s hitching steps as he descended the staircase, the creak of the banister as it supported his weight.

      Gabriel knew he should help. He should probably be taking the place of that crutch. That’s what Nick would do for him.

      But he couldn’t force himself through the doorway.

      That broken leg had been his fault. Thank god Nick could pull power from the air, an element in abundance. He probably wouldn’t even need the brace by the end of the week.

      And then Gabriel wouldn’t need to stare at the evidence of his own poor judgment.

      He and his brothers had always been targeted for their Elemental abilities. Being pure Elementals, they should have been put to death as soon as they came into their powers. Luckily, their parents had struck a deal with the weaker Elementals in town.

      A deal that had led to their parents’ deaths.

      Their oldest brother, Michael, had been able to keep the deal in place—until a few weeks ago, when Tyler and Seth, two of the other Elemental kids in town, had attacked Chris. It started a snowball of events that led to an Elemental Guide coming to town to do away with the Merrick brothers for good.

      He’d almost succeeded, too. After the Homecoming dance, they’d been attacked.

      They’d fought back the only way they knew how. But Gabriel had let Nick call storms that were too strong. He’d begged his twin for more power. When Nick fell, the accident had practically shattered his leg—if they weren’t full Elementals, he probably would have needed surgery.

      That night, Gabriel couldn’t keep him safe. The Guide had kidnapped Nick and Chris, had held them prisoner.

      Becca and Hunter had found them. But Gabriel couldn’t do anything. Ineffective and out of control, just like always.

      But now they were safe, and things were back to normal. Nick was his usual self. Life’s good. Move on. No use complaining. He hadn’t even said a word about what had happened on the field.

      As far as Gabriel was concerned, he didn’t need to.

      Just like with math, Nick was used to his twin being a failure.

      Gabriel pulled onto Becca Chandler’s street and glanced in the rearview mirror at his younger brother. Chris was chewing on his thumbnail, leaning against the window.

      “Nervous?” said Gabriel.

      Chris looked away from the window and glared at him. “No.”

      Nick turned in his seat. “Make sure you open the door for her. Girls eat that crap up.”

      “Nah,” said Gabriel. “Play it cool. Make her work for it—”

      “For god’s sake,” Chris snapped. “She just broke up with Hunter, like, yesterday, so it’s not like that. Okay?”

      Jesus. Someone was worked up. Gabriel glanced back again. “But she asked you for a ride.”

      Chris looked back out the window. “I offered.”

      Nick turned his head to look at his twin. “Very nervous,” he whispered.

      Gabriel smiled and turned into Becca’s driveway. “Very.”

      “Would you two shut up?”

      Becca was waiting on the front step, her arms around her knees and her hands drawn up into the sleeves of a fleece pullover, dark hair hanging down her back.

      “She looks upset,” said Nick.

      She did, her eyes dark and shadowed, her shoulders hunched. Or maybe she was just cold. Gabriel wasn’t one for figuring out emotion.

      Her face brightened when she saw them, and she sprinted for the car almost before Chris had time to jump out and hold the door for her.

      She stopped short in front of him, spots of pink on her cheeks. “Hey,” she said, tucking her hair behind her ear.

      “Hey,” Chris said back, his voice soft and low.

      Then they just stood there breathing at each other.

      Gabriel