“At least I got to meet your boyfriend,” Tyler said. “Now I have someone to mess with when I’m waiting for Quinn. He won’t be able to fight me off, but—”

With a scream of rage, Nick threw him back. He felt a snap in the air. Anything not tied down went surging forward, toward the Guide. Fire, leaves, underbrush.

That included him and Tyler. They hit a tree.

Reverse pressure. Nick couldn’t breathe. All the fire died as oxygen was sucked from the air. For an instant, he couldn’t think, as if time were suspended.

Then the pressure gave. Wind exploded from the middle of the woods, blowing leaves and underbrush back out. Twigs and branches caught exposed skin.

Nick hit the ground. Then something wet hit him on the cheek.

And on the arm.

For an instant he couldn’t move. Then his limbs decided to work. Nick swiped at his cheek and came away with fingers full of blood. And something thicker.

Oh, god.

“Holy shit,” said Tyler. “You—you blew him up.”

His voice held the same awed fascination that Nick would expect from his twin.

“We,” said Nick. He needed to find his brother.

Nick ignored the pain in his arms, the speckles of blood dec-orating his shirt. “Gabriel!” He staggered toward where he’d sensed his brother the first time. “Gabriel!”

Nothing.

But then Nick saw him, lying motionless among charred leaves. He’d been shot, more than once, from the amount of blood soaking his clothes. His face was darkened with soot. Nick could smell the blood once he got close.

But his brother was breathing. He could feel that.

Nick got down close to him. “Gabriel.” His voice was shaking and he didn’t care. “Come on. Gabriel. Open your eyes.”

Then, to his wonder, Gabriel did. “Nicky.” His eyes fell closed again.

“Come on. Open your eyes again.” Nick patted his brother’s pockets, looking for his phone.

Dead. Damn it.

“Guides,” said Gabriel. “I have to find you.”

“You found me,” said Nick. “We got him. You’re okay.”

“Both?” asked Gabriel.

Nick frowned. “What?”

“Hey, douche bag,” Tyler called from twenty feet away. “Didn’t you say you were shot by a guy?”

Nick froze. “Yeah?”

“Well, there’s a hand here, still wrapped around a gun, if you can believe that. And either the dude who shot you liked a nice French manicure, or the Guide you just killed was a woman.”

Quinn’s lungs were burning by the time they made it up the hill to Nick’s house. She’d been inhaling smoke the whole way, but adrenaline was kicking her ass and keeping her going.

So was Adam’s presence beside her.

With every step, she kept seeing Gareth pulling the gun and shooting Nick in the head. It made her want to turn back.

Phone, she thought. Get to a phone.

The landscaping truck was in the driveway.

Quinn almost screamed in relief. Nick’s brothers were here!

They could help!

She didn’t even bother knocking, just grabbed the front doorknob and pushed through to the foyer.

Her eyes registered everything at once.

That Gareth guy wasn’t in the woods with Nick and Gabriel.

He was here, right here, in the Merrick living room.

Michael and Chris were on their knees. Chris was shaking.

She could hear his breathing from here.

She didn’t blame him. Gareth held a gun barrel three inches from his forehead.

“Oh, god,” she whispered.

“Come on in,” Gareth said. “If you’ve come to warn them, you’ll see you’re too late.”

Quinn couldn’t move. She wished she could tell Adam to get the hell away from the house, before he was seen.

“Your friend, too,” said the Guide. His voice sharpened.

“Now. Or this one dies. Three . . . two—”

Adam shoved her through the door, keeping a hand on her shoulder. “We’re inside,” he said, his voice very careful. “We’ll do what you want.”

“I want you both to sit down,” Gareth said evenly. “We won’t be here long.”

“Please,” said Quinn. She couldn’t look away from Chris’s terrified eyes. His breathing had kicked up during Gareth’s countdown. The gun didn’t waver.

All she could think was, Becca, I’m going to watch your boyfriend die.

“Please let them go,” she said. “They haven’t hurt anyone.”

“Sit,” said Gareth.

Adam took her hand and dragged her toward the couch. She started to speak again, but he squeezed her hand so tightly that she gasped.

Then they sat in silence, listening to nothing but Chris’s fractured breathing. So long that she wondered what they were waiting for. So long that Chris’s fear began to capture her, too, until tears slipped down her cheeks.

“Hey,” said Adam softly, talking to the Guide. “He’s a kid.

Why don’t you let him go and put the gun on someone else?”

“You think he’s just a child? He’s a Water Elemental. I let him go, and suddenly I have blood boiling in my veins or frozen eye-balls or anything else he can come up with. Isn’t that right, Christopher Merrick?”

Chris didn’t speak.

“He doesn’t do that,” said Michael.