The physical labor helped ease some of his rage. His thoughts funneled down to each whack of the hammer. He slammed every nail into the plywood with enough force to crack the window frame behind it. Tyler matched him, nail for nail—though without the rage.

It was funny, but Michael had always thought of Tyler as a do-nothing slacker, but the guy kept pace and worked hard beside him.

Once the windows were covered, Michael picked up another piece of plywood and held it against the door frame. He brushed sweat from his forehead and placed another nail.

“Wait.” Tyler grabbed his arm before he could swing the hammer.

“What?”

“Just wait.”

Michael glanced over, but Tyler was already yanking the plywood out of Michael’s hands and dropping it to the porch.

“What are you—”

“Your house.” Tyler shoved past him, through the door. “It’s on fire.”

CHAPTER 20

The front of the house was dark and untouched, but Michael could smell the smoke as soon as they were through the door. He followed Tyler, who strode through the dining room with clear purpose, stopping short as soon as he entered the kitchen.

The room had quickly filled with smoke, making Michael recoil immediately, but not before he saw the flames licking over the floor.

Tyler, however, was moving forward. “Come on. Your back door is open.”

Flames had already caught the walls and table and were climbing upward, reaching for the ceiling with alarming speed. Either Tyler couldn’t stop it or he didn’t see the point, because he sprinted through the flames and out the back door.

After a moment’s hesitation, Michael followed.

He didn’t realize how intense the heat and smoke were until he stumbled onto the porch, into the cool November air. He coughed, trying to catch his breath.

“Look,” said Tyler, unaffected by the smoke or the heat. He circled the porch. “Do you see anyone? Anything?”

“I don’t need to see anyone.” Michael stepped off the porch and sent his own power into the ground, the way he’d done the first night he’d sensed someone out here.

It wasn’t Chris this time; he knew that much.

The ground offered nothing: no panicked movement, no nearby vehicles, no whisper of danger at all.

But Michael knew that whoever had watched him at Adam’s didn’t have to rely on the ground.

He looked up, at the trees. Many had already shed their leaves, but enough red and gold and evergreen clung to branches to hide one person, even two.

“Come on.” He stepped beyond the tree line, opening his senses fully, reaching out to the trees, asking for any hint of movement.

Nothing.

“He couldn’t have gone too far,” said Tyler.

“He didn’t,” said Michael. “He’s waiting us out.”

“I can be patient.”

Michael glanced at him. “Me too.”

The quiet bothered him, though. He didn’t like that this Guide could evade his senses so effectively. He needed to talk to Hunter, to find out just how strong a Fifth’s powers would be.

His cell phone vibrated against his thigh, and Michael fished it out of his pocket. Another number he didn’t recognize—but this time he had no doubt who was screwing with him. He tapped on the message.

Maybe you want to put that fire out.

“Fuck you,” Michael muttered. He slid his fingers over the screen to reply:

Like it matters at this point.

“Who is that?” said Tyler, standing close enough to read over his shoulder.

“Whoever we’re tracking right now.” Michael looked up, scanning the trees again. His senses remained quiet.

Another message appeared.

Feeling confident, Michael?

He wasn’t. Not at all. But he knew how to fake it.

I’ve got nowhere to be. You’ll have to come down sometime.

That’s funny. I have a question for you.

Michael waited, but nothing else appeared. He hated playing these games—but he had no idea how else to move forward. He sighed tightly and typed back.

What’s your question?

Cold wind blew through the trees, rustling branches and stinging Michael’s cheeks. Leaves fluttered into the air, spinning wildly, obscuring his vision further. He waited, phone in hand, keeping his eyes on his surroundings.

The phone vibrated again.

Right now, who is hunter, and who is prey?

Michael frowned.

“What does that mean?” said Tyler.

Michael looked up—and saw a red laser dot flicker across a tree trunk to land on Tyler’s forehead.

He shoved Tyler to the ground before he’d even thought about what it meant. A bullet cracked into the tree behind them.

“Move!” shouted Michael.

But Tyler was already moving, digging his feet into the underbrush to run. Michael was right behind him.

A loud crack split the air. Then another. Michael thought of gunshots or lightning—but then he felt the power through the ground.

Two trees fell in their path, bringing down smaller saplings as they fell. Michael and Tyler skidded to a stop.

The gun fired again. Another bullet took out half the trunk of a sapling just to Michael’s right. Another bullet, even closer—Michael felt a burn and flare along the outside of his arm. He swore and jerked back.

“Jesus,” said Tyler. “Where is he?”

“I don’t know yet.” Michael’s power flared, almost against his will. Undergrowth thickened between his feet, growing along the tree branches, building a wall to hide them.

“Handy,” said Tyler.

Wind, ice cold, blasted between the branches, stinging his eyes and tasting of winter. For an instant, Michael couldn’t see anything.

Then he heard the crack and split of another tree trunk.

Michael barely had time to drag Tyler out of the way before it crashed through their hideout. His heart slammed against his ribcage. He hadn’t even felt that tree pull loose from the ground.

This guy had a lot of power.

Fury flared. Michael sent more power into the earth, feeling his way through the soil. He picked three at random. The earth loosened and the trees began to fall.

The gun fired a third time.

This time Tyler shoved him sideways. They both crashed to the ground. Undergrowth swelled to offer cover. More trees fell, making the earth shake as they landed. The ground pulsed with power, with potential, and for the first time, Michael felt someone else’s Earth talent fighting against his.

It made him want to level this entire forest.

He pushed his fingers into the soil, stretching his abilities far and wide. He could bring every tree down. Trap anyone moving in undergrowth. Bury them alive if he wanted. Decompose the body before they’d even stopped breathing.

At one time, these thoughts would have terrified him.

Now, they reassured him.

The ground gave a small tremor, waiting for his order.

And then, for the first time, Michael felt malice through the earth. Footsteps. Someone moving toward them.

He told the trees to wait. “He’s on the ground,” he said to Tyler, his voice very soft.

Tyler’s voice was steady, focused. “Where?”

“There.” Michael nodded east. Another icy blast of wind tore through the trees, slicing through the undergrowth to find them. This time it stung his cheeks so violently that Michael could swear the air drew blood. He choked and tried to breathe, but the air hurt his lungs.

“Just one?” said Tyler.

“I don’t know.” The air felt thinner, and Michael gasped for a breath. His leafy barrier thickened, responding to his panic, creating an impenetrable wall.

“Could one Guide be this powerful?” choked Tyler. He wheezed a long breath. The edge of his lips had turned blue.

“I don’t know.” The last Guide to come to town hadn’t been alone. Michael spun in a circle, trying to determine the best direction to go. Power had his chest in a vise grip now, and lack of oxygen was making it tough to think.

Then his natural barrier began to wilt. Leaves and branches dried up and died, crumbling away from the stems. At first, Michael wanted to blame the cold air, but it happened so quickly that he knew they’d been found.

In a heartbeat, all of the undergrowth had wilted down to nothing, giving him a clear view of his surroundings. Michael couldn’t have felt more exposed if his clothes had melted away.

But he didn’t see anyone.

Then he saw the laserbeam again, and the tiny red light hit Tyler’s forehead.

Michael shoved him again. Hard.

Tyler cried out anyway. Blood found the earth.

“Shit,” said Michael. He gasped the word. Lack of oxygen wouldn’t let his thoughts organize. He grabbed Tyler’s arm and pulled. “Run,” he said. He had no idea where Tyler had been hit, but he found his feet. “Run! If you fall, you’re dead.”

Tyler took a few stumbling steps. He was wheezing, too, his face ghost white. Michael half dragged him toward the house, clambering over the trees that had fallen.

And then, suddenly, the leaves underfoot were on fire. Smoke surged from below, surrounding them with heat and darkness.

Michael swore again, looking for new escape.

“It’s me,” Tyler gasped. “My fire. I’ll hide myself.” He stumbled against Michael. His leg must have given out. “Let me go.”

“That’s not how I work, Tyler.” Michael tried to shift Tyler’s weight so he could support more of it, but Tyler went down on one knee. He put a hand against a tree.

The smoke had thickened into a black cloud behind them, but it didn’t offer Michael any confidence—especially when that icy wind sent the smoke scattering.

He felt more of Tyler’s blood hit the earth. Too much, too fast. That didn’t inspire confidence either.

“Where are you hit?” said Michael—but then he saw the wound, a long slice along the outside of Tyler’s thigh.

“I need five minutes,” Tyler said. “The fire will help—”

“If you think we have five minutes, you are out of your head.”

Tyler winced. The fire spread. “Just run, Merrick. I’ll be okay.”

“Would you shut up and try?” Michael got Tyler’s arm across his shoulder, and fought to drag him to his feet. “We need to run. Now.”

Cold steel touched the back of his neck. “No, you need to freeze. Right there.”

Shit. Michael froze. The voice sounded familiar, but—

“Hands on your head. Turn and face me.”

Michael let go of Tyler, who collapsed against a tree, though he managed to get his hands up.

Michael turned, his heart in his throat, certain he was living his last moments right here and now.

But he turned around and found himself face to face with Jack Faulkner. Hannah’s father.

“Are you not speaking to me now?” asked Irish.

Hannah glanced across the short space between them. Outside the fire truck, trees raced by and the sirens screamed the path to their next destination, but in here, it had been dead quiet until he’d spoken.

She hadn’t realized Irish had been reading the silence as tension.

She raised an eyebrow at him. “Not speaking to you?”

He looked at her like he wasn’t sure if she was yanking his chain. “Yeah. Because I stopped you from working the building collapse.”

So much had happened since the restaurant bombing that until now, she hadn’t even thought about how he’d told the chief to make her stay in the truck.

She probably owed him a thank-you, considering that she never would have seen Michael’s texts if she’d been actively working the scene.

“I’m just tired,” she said.

“Just tired? I’m pretty sure that’s the girl equivalent of ‘still pissed.’ ”