Brigid Kemmerer

Spark


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voice was full of anxiety. So Nick had been right.

      Chris shifted to look at her. “You all right?”

      She shook her head. “My dad just called. He wants to meet with me. Tonight.”

      No one said anything for a moment, leaving her words floating in the warm confines of the car.

      Her dad was the Elemental Guide who’d been sent to kill them all.

      When they escaped and didn’t hear anything for two days, they’d all started to think he’d run off again, the way he had when Becca was eleven.

      Chris took a breath, and his voice was careful. “Do you want to meet with him?”

      Gabriel glanced at her in the rearview mirror. She was practically hunched against the door, staring out the window. “I want him to get the hell out of here.”

      Chris was still watching her. “He is your father.” He paused. “You sure?”

      “He might have made a ‘contribution,’ but that man is not my father.”

      “I want to see him,” said Gabriel. His shoulders already felt tight.

      She hesitated. “Wait. You’d . . . go with me?”

      “Yeah. I owe him a little payback.”

      “We,” said Nick. There was heat in his voice, too.

      “Did he say why he wanted to meet?” asked Chris.

      “He said he wants to help us. That they’ll send another Guide if he doesn’t report back that you were . . . um . . .”

      “Killed.” Gabriel hit the turn signal at the end of her road.

      She swallowed. “Yeah. Hey, make a left. We need to pick up Quinn.”

      Gabriel glanced at her again. He wasn’t a big fan of Becca’s best friend, so the last thing he wanted to do was pick her up— especially when there was so much left to talk about. “Anyone else?” he said. “Should I pick up Hunter, too?”

      Becca faltered and glanced at Chris. “I’m sorry . . . I should have asked—”

      “It’s fine,” he said, and Gabriel could feel his youngest brother’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “I’m sure he’s not intentionally being a dick.”

      Gabriel ignored him. “What time tonight? Did he say where?”

      “Annapolis Mall. Eight o’clock. Make a right at the stop sign. She’s down at the end of the block.”

      “He wants to meet at the mall?” said Nick.

      “Food court,” said Becca. “I told him it had to be somewhere public.”

      “Great,” said Gabriel. “More people in the line of fire.”

      “Do you think the mall was a mistake?” said Becca.

      Gabriel shrugged. Her father hadn’t hesitated to put normal people in danger last week.

      But really, what difference did it make?

      They were pulling alongside the curb, and Quinn threw open the door and launched herself inside. Blond hair was caught inside her jacket, and her backpack was barely zipped. Notebooks spilled onto the floorboards before she could get the door shut.

      “Jesus, drive,” Quinn said, hitting the back of his seat. “God, I hate my mother.”

      She was just so frigging overdramatic. Gabriel pulled the car away from the curb, deliberately moving as slowly as possible.

      But Nick turned his head to look at her over his shoulder. “Everything all right?”

      Quinn shoved the notebooks back into her bag and yanked the zipper. “I’m stuck living with Satan. When’s the car situation going to improve, Bex? I can’t keep doing this.”

      Nick was still looking into the backseat. “We can keep driving you to school, if you need a ride.”

      Quinn stopped fighting with her things and looked up at him. “Really?”

      “We’d love it,” said Gabriel, making sure his sarcasm carried an edge. “Maybe we can pick up half the junior class.”

      “What is with you?” said Chris.

      “Don’t worry,” said Quinn. “I already know he’s an ass.”

      “Love you, too,” said Gabriel.

      But Nick grinned. “You can tell us apart?”

      “Please. When you’re talking, there’s no challenge.” She punched the back of Gabriel’s seat again.

      He glared at her in the rearview mirror. “What are you, six years old?”

      “Oh, you don’t like that? What about this?” She licked her finger and stuck it in his ear.

      He smacked her hand away. He’d never punched a girl, but she might be the first.

      Becca laughed. “Quinn has two brothers.”

      “I know all the ways to irritate a boy,” Quinn said.

      Gabriel snorted. “I don’t doubt that one bit.”

      CHAPTER 2

      The day started with U.S. History and English, two classes Gabriel couldn’t give a crap about. He kept thinking about Becca’s father, how they were going to sit in the food court and have a conversation with the guy.

      Now her father wanted to help. Yeah, right.

      The Homecoming dance wasn’t the first time the Guide had nearly killed them. Gabriel could still remember the explosion that had taken out the bridge two blocks from school—and almost killed Gabriel. The fire hadn’t hurt him, but concrete didn’t make for a soft landing.

      And then there was the way the Guide had attacked them on the soccer field. The way he’d taken Nick, broken leg and all.

      The way Gabriel hadn’t been able to stop him.

      His pencil snapped in his hand.

      The fluorescent lights flickered and buzzed, making the teacher pause in her lecture and glance up.

      Gabriel took a deep breath. He needed to get a handle on his temper before he set the whole school on fire.

      Chris and Nick were lucky. Chris could carry a bottle of water with him and be close to his element. And Nick—hell, air was everywhere. He’d have a harder time getting away from it. Even Michael spent his days playing in the dirt, perfect for an Earth Elemental.

      Natural energy was all around. But it was weak. Controlled. Filtered sunlight, electrical wiring contained behind layers of rubber and plastic. All it did was make him crave more—and Gabriel couldn’t exactly walk around with a candle.

      Third period: Trigonometry. Gabriel felt his shoulders tighten as he walked through the doorway. Mr. Riley, their wiry teacher, wasn’t at his desk yet, but Gabriel dropped his homework in the basket and made his way to the third seat in his row. He usually spent this hour riding a line of tension to make sure he didn’t get called on. This was a junior-level class, but luckily he sat next to that advanced sophomore chick who raised her hand for just about every question. Gabriel pulled his notebook out of his backpack, but he’d snapped his only pencil in English.

      Not like it mattered. What was he going to do, doodle?

      Taylor Morrissey, another senior stuck in here, sat on the desk in front of him, her feet on the chair. Blond hair swung over her shoulder and perfectly accented her chest. Her skirt was so short it flared around her on the desk and put Gabriel at eye level with just about everything.

      He knew she’d be giving the same show to any guy around, but it was tough to look up from that.