“Fuck you,” said Nick, despising that he wasn’t even strong enough to find his brother on his own. “I don’t want your help.”

Gabriel. Gabriel, Gabriel, Gabriel. Where are you?

“He’s not dead,” said Tyler.

“You don’t know that.”

“I do.” Tyler reached down and scooped up a handful of fire, letting it burn from nothing, a rolling ball of flame suspended over his palm.

Nick stared. He’d seen Gabriel do this hundreds of times. It was unsettling to see the same show of power from Tyler.

“Fire likes him,” said Tyler. “It likes me, too. He’s still alive out here. He’s just hiding.” He glanced up at Nick. “If I can follow the flames to find him, so can the Guide. He’s being smart.

Not using his power. Letting the smoke cover him.”

It was covering him and Tyler, too, and Nick could keep the smoke dense around them. But Gabriel was hurt—the air or their twin connection or whatever had told Nick that much.

In a flash, Nick realized that all this panic he was feeling wasn’t just his own. Fear bled through the smoke, riding the very air to find Nick’s senses.

I’ll find you, he thought. I’ll save you.

He remembered playing hide-and-seek with James, and Nick threw power to the wind, opening his senses fully.

Seek.

In his mind, he saw the land as a grid, the atmosphere stretching around him in a circle, locating people like flashing pinpoints on a map. Him and Tyler. Quinn and Adam, running like hell.

The Guide, a flare of power so bright that Nick wondered how the guy had snuck up on them at the dance studio.

And Gabriel, a fading light. Not far. Maybe fifty feet straight ahead.

Nick’s temper flared and the air responded, shifting, moving the smoke. Wind whipped through the trees, bringing debris and flaming sparks to sting his skin.

“This way,” he said to Tyler, and started walking.

Tyler caught his arm. “He has a gun.”

More wind, blowing harder. It ruffled Nick’s hair and fed him power, sending smoke spiraling. “He shot my brother.”

Then he jerked free.

Nick kept his mind focused on the Guide, letting his wind swoop and whirl, remembering his demonstration for Quinn, the way he’d surrounded her with leaves.

This time, he did it with fire.

He did it carefully, the way he’d done for Quinn, slowly at first, enough power that it wouldn’t be noticed right away. But then he sent it spiraling high enough to block forward motion, sending it faster and faster, until he could see it, a near tornado of fire, trapping the Guide inside. At the same time, he drew oxygen into the flames from the inside, choking the man where he stood. Tyler helped, feeding power to the fire, until it was a spinning web of energy and destruction.

For an instant, Nick felt a rush of victory. He’d close this knot, collapse the flames. The Guide might not die, but he’d lose consciousness.

Then he could die from other things.

But then power flared back at him. The tornado began to expand. Nick’s tight cone of power loosened, like a skein of yarn being shaken free.

“Oh, shit,” said Tyler. Nick could feel his struggle to keep the fire where it needed to be—but the air pressure was too strong.

In that instant, Nick knew what was happening. The Guide was gathering power, building the same thing Nick had done in the dance studio: a blast of air pressure that would radiate outward.

This blast would flatten the woods. It would knock out Nick and Tyler, and possibly kill Gabriel, all in one wave of power.

Worse, the outside of this pressure wave would be a wall of fire. Nick had compared the dance studio to a bomb going off—

this really would be like a bomb going off. From the strength behind the force, this would be enough to level the neighborhood.

Reverse it.

Nick’s element kicked in before he’d completed the thought, using every ounce of power he had to collapse the air pressure around the Guide. It pulled the spiraling flames in toward his quarry, and he felt the Guide fighting it, scrambling to send power outward.

Nick wasn’t going to be strong enough. The fire glowed brighter, fed by the oxygen in the air. The circling flames accelerated, ready to pull free of his control.

His knees landed in the underbrush as he struggled. His eyes clenched closed. He begged his element for the upper hand, feeling as though he grasped for nothing more than empty fistfuls of air. The spiral loosened further.

He was going to lose it.

Tyler grabbed his forearms, and his hands were full of burning pain.

Nick gasped, and his eyes snapped open.

“Do it,” Tyler said. “Do it, Nick. You think of every god-damn thing I’ve ever done to you, and you make this happen.”

Nick thought of it. He couldn’t not think of it, the way Tyler’s fingers burned into his skin.

Tyler’s voice grew louder. “You think of how much you hate me. You think of how I know you’re the weakest, most pathetic Merrick.”

Nick gritted his teeth. Tyler’s hands were scalding hot, but the pain didn’t steal Nick’s clarity, it enhanced his focus. Nick swallowed. He gained an inch with the air. Lightning cracked among the spinning flames.

“You know what I thought when Quinn told me you were g*y?” said Tyler, his voice low and insidious. “I thought, well, doesn’t that f**king figure. ”

Another inch. As soon as he killed this Guide, he was going to kill Tyler.