By the time he got to the last woman, they’d been there for hours. He’d been exhausted, disoriented from inhaling so much smoke. She’d been unconscious, and he’d nearly dropped her in the middle of her flaming living room.

Michael had shown him her picture in the paper the next morning, bandaged and sedated in some generic hospital. Michael’s brown eyes had been rock hard as he demanded answers Gabriel couldn’t give.

“I can’t believe they’re no closer to catching this guy,” said Hunter. “We’re losing time, waiting for the fires to turn up on the police scanner.”

“Mike’s been going out with the fire marshal’s daughter.”

Gabriel still thought it was a dick move. “She says they have no conclusive leads.”

“Except you.”

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well. We both know I’m not the one starting fires.”

“Who’s starting fires?” Calla Dean dropped onto the bench beside Hunter. Actually, she straddled it. The blue streaks in her hair were gone, replaced with fluorescent pink ones. She’d braided a small section and tied off the end with a yellow feather.

“We’re talking about the ones on the news,” Hunter said smoothly.

Calla picked up a piece of Hunter’s broccoli and popped it into her mouth. Hunter watched this with a bemused expression on his face, but didn’t stop her.

“The arson stuff?” she said. “Someone’s got a fire fetish, huh?”

Gabriel reached out and turned her wrist over, exposing the flame tattoos. “Go figure.”

She snorted. “I got those to piss off my aunt. Did you know the first fire was right next door to my house?” Without waiting for an answer, she took another piece of broccoli and made a face. “What, you couldn’t add some butter?”

“I didn’t realize I’d be sharing.”

“Mind if I eat with you?” She took a third piece.

“Looks like you’re already doing that,” said Gabriel.

“I don’t mind,” said Hunter. He pushed the tray her way.

“Ugh. No way. I need salt. I’ll be back.”

Then she unfolded from the bench to weave through the tables toward the lunch line.

Hunter pulled his tray back and sliced another piece of chicken.

Gabriel watched him for a moment. “What the hell was that?

You two have a thing now?”

“No.” Hunter paused. “Maybe. I can’t get a read.”

“A girl doesn’t steal your food if she’s not into you.”

“She’s unusual.”

“Dude, no offense, but you’re unusual.”

Hunter smiled briefly but then sobered. “We talked for a long time Friday night. Her father is serving in Afghanistan, so she lives with her aunt and uncle. I think she’s lonely.”

Gabriel looked for Calla in the lunch line. Punk hair notwithstanding, she had a good six inches on most of the girls around her, and she helped the effect by wearing a shirt that revealed a long stretch of tan midriff. “Calla Dean is the captain of the girls’ volleyball team. She could probably snap her fingers and have guys bringing her lunch on their knees. She is not lonely.”

“I don’t think that’s the kind of attention she’s looking for.”

Gabriel shoveled another mouthful of macaroni into his mouth. “Oh, you mean you didn’t spend the whole evening showing her your Arabic tattoo collection?”

“Farsi. And I don’t have a collection. Just this one.” He pointed to the inside of his elbow.

“What’s it say?”

“Nothing important.” Hunter nodded toward Calla, who must have grabbed something easy, because she was already paying. “What do you want to do about the fires?”

Gabriel scowled. It was easier talking girls. “I don’t know.”

Hunter’s voice was careful. “Do you want to stop?”

“No.” Gabriel glanced across the cafeteria, at where his brothers were sitting. Chris and Becca, Nick and Quinn. He hadn’t spoken to any of them since he’d spent Sunday sleeping off the effects of Saturday’s fire. “For the first time, I feel like I’m doing something right.”

CHAPTER 30

Almost by accident, Layne found her days falling into an easy routine.

It shouldn’t have been easy, what with the catcalls in the hallway at school, the jokes about scars and burn fetishes. The worst was when she didn’t know what they were talking about then it was embarrassing and humiliating.

Then Gabriel would appear at her shoulder and she’d remember she wasn’t alone.

Every day, they spent fifth period in the library, going through the day’s math assignment. Gabriel was getting better. He wasn’t fast, but he was trying. She could see it in the classroom, too. Instead of slouching in his seat, scowling at the board, he was actually paying attention. When he dropped his homework in the basket on Ms. Anderson’s desk, he did it almost defiantly, like throwing down a gauntlet.

He’d be back on the basketball team in no time.

In a way, it made Layne sad. Because now, after the last bell rang, he sat with her on the bleachers and watched Simon’s basketball practice. In a few weeks, he’d be in practice himself, and she’d be sitting here alone.

At first, Gabriel would make little comments to her, about what Simon needed to do to improve. When Simon would glance up at them, Layne would translate Gabriel’s remarks into quick signs.