“Damn it, Hunter, of course I have an idea! I was there! And you all could have been killed!”

“Easy,” said Adam. He glanced at the door.

Michael sighed and dropped his voice. “It was too dangerous .”

“Fuck dangerous,” said Hunter. “We’ve been through worse. With you. You know that. We could have helped.”

Michael glared back at him. “I’m not apologizing for this. I’m not putting all of you in danger.”

“Too late! You don’t even know where your brothers are, and they have no idea someone could be after them! You didn’t even warn them!”

“I know that! You don’t think I know that?”

“Hey.” Adam got between them, his hands up. “Fighting isn’t going to solve anything.”

Michael didn’t realize he’d swung his legs onto the floor, or that Hunter was on his feet, ready to get into it.

He knew better than this. Michael sat back. “You’re a kid, Hunter. Like it or not, you are. All of you are. I’m not putting you in harm’s way if I can help it.”

“I’m not helpless,” said Hunter, his voice full of acid. “Your brothers aren’t either.”

“I know you’re not—”

“And you’re obviously not doing the greatest job keeping everyone safe, are you?”

Michael flinched.

“Stop,” said Adam. “Both of you. Stop.”

But Hunter’s words lingered in Michael’s head, an arrow of guilt when he least expected it.

Hunter was right. He hadn’t kept them safe. That’s why he’d lost them.

“This isn’t just about you,” Hunter snapped.

“I know that!”

“Fix it,” said Hunter. “Right now. Fix it. Tell us what really happened.”

Michael froze, not wanting to give in. But keeping everything a secret hadn’t kept anyone safe—and in fact, he’d ended up putting more people in danger. With a sigh, he explained everything he knew, from the text messages he’d received while he was sitting on Adam’s porch to the fact that whoever was attacking them had hidden in a tree. He tried to recount the text messages as well as he could, but his phone was still evidence, and he doubted he’d be getting it back anytime soon.

When he was done talking, Hunter still looked pissed—and Adam looked thoughtful.

“How’d he get your number?” said Hunter.

“I have no idea. It’s not like it’s private. I have business cards, a website. . . . He could have gotten it from anywhere.”

“How do you know it’s a he at all?” said Adam.

They booth looked at him, and he shrugged. “Nick said a sixteen-year-old girl was responsible for the last round of arson, right? Could she be responsible now?”

“Yes,” said Michael. “But Calla has fallen off the map again. I tried reaching out to her, but her phone has been disconnected.”

“Was it really a bomb?” said Hunter. “Not a gas line or something?”

“The fire marshal said they’d found fragments,” said Michael. “I don’t have details, but they seem convinced.”

Hunter shrugged. “A bomb would mean some kind of sophistication. I’m not saying a teenager couldn’t have done it, but for the level of damage they showed on the news, especially if it were on some kind of timer or remote control . . ”

“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.

Hannah closed the car door as quietly as she could and eased into the house like she wanted to rob the place.

This is pathetic. You’re pathetic.

She didn’t see her father on the main level, so she quickly loped up the steps, springing silently on the balls of her feet. She could grab some sweats from her dresser and be in the bathroom before he even knew she was home.

Except for the fact that her father was sitting on her bed.

He looked like he’d been up all night, too. The few lines on his face seemed more pronounced, and she could see dark circles under his eyes.

Hannah frowned at him. He hadn’t been in her room in years. “What are you doing?”

“Where were you?” he said.

“I took James to church,” she said.

Something in his expression tightened. “He’s with your mother?”

“Yeah. He’ll ride back with Mom after lunch like they always do. What’s with the look?”

“Where were you earlier?”

She shrugged and began digging through her dresser.

“Hannah.”

She looked at him. “What? I need to take a shower, Dad.”

“I’m not stupid. Did you go back to the hospital?”

“I’m an adult. It’s none of your business. ”

His voice remained level. “I’m not trying to police your behavior. I’m trying to keep you safe.”

“Yeah, okay. Is this more of your procedures nonsense?” She pulled a jersey T-shirt and cutoff sweats from the bottom of the drawer and went to move past him. I’m not trying to police your behavior. That was rich.

“What are you talking about?”

Hannah glared at him. “How could you report Michael to social services? How could you do that?”

He looked incredulous. “How could I not, Hannah? His brothers are minors. You want me to leave them out on the street? You think that’s better?”

“No, I expect you to show a little compassion. He’s not some stranger. He’s not some deadbeat dad who left a toddler home alone. He just lost his home, and you took his family away.”

Her father’s face didn’t change. “Every time you talk like this, I wonder when you’re going to grow up.”

“If that’s what growing up means, I hope I never do. Does Mom have any idea of what you did?”

“Your mom has nothing to do with this.”

“Sure. Because she would have done the right thing. She would have made them meals, or heck, she would have invited them to stay here. She would have treated them with kindness, instead of acting like Michael is some felon.”

“This is an active investigation, Hannah. People are dead. The FBI is involved. Do you understand that? Do you have any idea what a conflict of interest that would be?”

“Yeah, I do. And somehow I still manage to treat people with common decency. You think you’re so smart that you figured out I was at the hospital all night? Clearly you weren’t concerned enough to head over there and find out for sure. You took his family away and you didn’t even wait to see if he was okay. He was alone, Dad.”