“I agree,” said Michael. “And I think I saw the person who shot me.”

Adam’s eyebrows went up. “Did you tell the police? Maybe they could hook you up with a sketch artist or something.”

“No. It was too fast. I might have seen the side of his face.” Michael closed his eyes and tried to remember, but nothing was clear. It was as bad as when he’d been questioned by the fire marshal. No details. “I haven’t seen him before.”

“But he had a bomb,” said Hunter. He leaned back in his chair and looked at the ceiling. “And he had a gun, too. A Guide? Any pentagrams?”

“None,” said Michael. “At least none that I’ve seen yet.” He paused. “Your father was a Guide. Would he have set a bomb to trap an Elemental?”

Hunter thought it over. “According to my mother, he wasn’t in the business of trapping Elementals at all. He was more hands-on, anyway. A bomb wouldn’t have been his style. He used to tell me that guns made killing too impersonal, but they were a necessary evil. He said that even from a distance, a death should mean something. I can’t imagine him setting a bomb and walking away.” He shrugged, rolling his shoulders, thinking about it. “That said, he would have known where to find someone who could do it. He and my uncle were in the Marines together. Special forces. They had contacts—and that’s not uncommon among Fifths. Just because my dad wouldn’t have done it doesn’t mean there’s not someone out there who would. If I pull a trigger, I know where the bullet is going to end up—but not everyone is the same way. Some people don’t care about collateral damage. My dad used to talk about Elementals who could use their power to enhance a weapon, making them more dangerous. An Air Elemental could guide a missile, or spread an airborne agent, right? A Guide could use his power the same way. There’s a reason the Guides say the ends justify the means.”

Adam was staring at him, his eyes a little wide.

“What?” said Hunter.

“Nothing.”

Hunter gave him half a smile. “Gonna sleep with one eye open tonight?”

“Maybe both.”

Michael glanced between the two of them. “You didn’t go home?” he asked Hunter.

“No.” He sobered. “If this guy hasn’t connected me to my mother, I don’t want to put her in danger. My grandparents, either. Their farmhouse is too remote—I’d never be able to control the perimeter, or escape quickly, if I needed to. Adam is right in town. I could disappear in a heartbeat if necessary.”

“Thanks,” said Adam.

Hunter grinned. “We. We could disappear in a heartbeat.”

“I’d rather we not disappear at all,” said Adam.

“Actually, that brings up an interesting point,” said Hunter.

“Disappearing?” said Michael.

“Yeah,” said Hunter. “Whoever did this destroyed the neighborhood on Thursday and blew up the bar on Friday. Today is Sunday. Where’d he go?”

“I don’t know,” said Michael.

“I have a better question,” said Adam.

They both looked at him.

“Where’s he going to strike next?”

CHAPTER 18

Sunday mornings were usually the only time Hannah had to herself: Sunday school for James, volunteer time at the church for her mother, and paperwork in the office for her father.

The whole family had gone to church every Sunday when she was growing up. Hannah and her mother had participated in every potluck or holiday bazaar. Hannah had helped in the nursery school and sung Christmas carols with the children’s choir. When her father wasn’t on duty, he’d joined them.

Then Hannah had gotten pregnant. It shouldn’t have been a massive scandal—but it had been, Suddenly, she hadn’t been welcome in the nursery school. When she’d tried to serve food at the pancake breakfast, she couldn’t miss the whispers. The judgmental looks. The comments behind her back.

And to her face.

Her mother had been supportive, but Hannah couldn’t take it. She’d stopped going. As soon as she’d stopped, her father had, too.

So much for the perfect family.

When James had grown old enough for Sunday school, Hannah’s mother had insisted, and since he had friends in the class, Hannah didn’t object. Luckily, he wasn’t a target of open mockery and shame. She usually used the time to catch up on classwork for the college courses she was taking—especially since she was already behind this week.

But by the time she dropped James off at church, Hannah was ready to drop. She couldn’t remember if she’d missed one night or two nights of sleep, but whatever, she was going to take a shower and crash into bed for a few hours before heading to the firehouse.

Her father’s car was waiting in the driveway when she got home.

Hannah sighed. She didn’t want to get out of the car.

His presence shouldn’t have left her with a sense of foreboding. They lived in the same house, for goodness sake—though they rarely did more than pass like ships in the night. Her father had spoken more to her at recent crime scenes than he’d said in weeks.

Maybe she could just walk inside and go up to her room.

She didn’t understand why every time she had to face him, it was as if the last five years vanished and she was seventeen again, walking around with shame riding on her shoulders.

Well, if she sat out here in the car long enough, he’d definitely come to investigate.