“I’ll stay back here,” said Tyler. He cocked his gun and aimed at the shed. “Cover you both.”

Michael nodded and moved forward, asking the ground for silence. He and Hunter circled the shed, looking for any sign of movement. Tyler followed, going wide to keep them in his line of sight.

On the far side of the shed, Michael stopped short. “Jesus,” he whispered.

Calla was on the ground. Her clothes were torn and filthy and streaked with blood. Her skin was mottled with bruises. Blood stained her lips and trailed out of her mouth, dripping onto the ground.

Behind her was a man—what was left of one, anyway. He’d been burned beyond recognition. Clearly dead. Michael could smell the charred flesh.

Hunter knelt beside Calla. He reached out and touched two fingers to her throat. “She’s alive. Barely.”

Michael took a knee beside him. Her blood had touched the earth, and he tried to send power into her. “Calla.” He touched her face and her head moved limply. “Calla.”

“We should get her back to the car,” said Hunter. “She needs a hospital.”

Michael nodded and bent to lift her.

Calla’s eyes opened halfway. “Michael Merrick.” She coughed, and more blood wet her lips. “You came.”

“I did.”

Her eyes rolled, and she blinked as if trying to focus. “And Hunter Garrity. How funny.” She started laughing. More blood came up.

“Why is that funny?” said Hunter.

“She’s out of her mind,” said Michael. “Let’s get her to the truck.”

“I’m perfectly lucid,” she said. “Is he dead?”

Michael glanced at the charred corpse. “Yeah. I thought you said he was unconscious.”

“He was.” Her head lolled as he shifted her into his arms. “You weren’t fast enough. He woke up.”

“And you did that to him?”

“You would have done the same,” she said. Her voice gained strength. “I wasn’t going to give him the chance to trap me again. He’s not the one who really deserves it, though.”

“How many more are there?” said Hunter.

“There were three. I thought they were just going to kill me, but it turns out they were pretty mad at me for causing the accident.”

“What accident?” said Michael. They were never going to get any information from her like this. And she was responsible for so much, he was tempted to leave her dying beside the shed.

“He kept crushing me with rocks,” said Calla. “Over and over again. Then healing me in fire. Said it was poetic justice. Do you understand what that felt like?”

Tyler joined them as they stepped onto the path back to the parking lot. “There were three?” He nodded toward the charred body. “That’s one. The fire marshal killed the other. So there’s one left?”

“Just one. Hunter knows. He remembers.”

Hunter made a disgusted noise. “What the hell are you talking about? I remember that you’re a psychopath who doesn’t mind killing people. I remember how you conned us all into starting a war we wanted no part of. I remember how you said you started a rockslide to kill my dad and my uncle—”

“Yeah, that.” She coughed and it took her a while to catch her breath again. “And let me tell you,” she said—but then she broke off to catch her breath.

“Let me tell you what?” said Michael.

She drew a long breath., “Jay took that rockslide really personally.”

Hunter stopped in the middle of the path. “What did she just say?”

Calla giggled, but it launched a new round of violent coughing. “This—this is why it’s—why it’s funny—”

Hunter jerked her out of Michael’s arms. She stumbled against him and could barely hold herself up. He shook her. “Talk, Calla. What did you just say?”

“I said—”

A gun fired. Calla’s head snapped sideways and blood was spattered all over Hunter’s face and shirt.

Hunter yelled and dropped her.

She was dead. Just like that, she was dead.

“Put down your weapons,” said a male voice. “Now.”

Michael turned, lifting his hands as he did so. A man stood at the junction where the trail split off to the parking lot. In the moonlight, Michael could see him clearly, but it didn’t matter. He could have been any man off the street, maybe late thirties, with lighter hair and dark clothing.

And a gun. Something large, like a rifle—with a red laser sight.

He’d snuck up on them. Even with the man this close, Michael couldn’t feel any threat through the ground. He couldn’t feel anything at all.

Hunter’s breathing was shaky, and his eyes were wide. “It’s okay,” he called. He put his gun on the ground and put his hands up. He didn’t sound frightened or angry now. He sounded . . . awed and a little determined. “It’s okay.”

“It is not okay,” hissed Tyler. “We’re f**ked.” His gun didn’t leave his hand.

That red laser sight centered on his chest. “Put the gun down. Now. Three. Two—”

“All right!” Tyler dropped the gun and put his hands up.

“It’s okay!” Hunter yelled again, a little more desperately. “It’s me! You don’t have to shoot them.”

“I know who you are, Hunter.” The man didn’t lower the weapon.

Michael was replaying the last words between Hunter and Calla.

I know you started a rockslide to kill my dad and my uncle.

Yeah. And Jay took that really personally.

Michael remembered the man he’d caught sight of during the restaurant bombing, the victims’ photos where he’d caught the edge of a man’s face, with a flash of sandy blond hair.

Just like Hunter’s.

They’d spent so much time talking about his father’s experiences that Michael almost felt like they should have considered this a possibility.

How would you consider this a possibility? Dead people don’t come back.

“It’s your father,” said Michael. “Isn’t it?”

“No,” said Hunter. “It’s my uncle.”

He looked like a kid greeting a parent after a long business trip. His voice was full of eager longing, so at odds with the specks of blood on his face.

And the fact that his uncle was still pointing a gun in their direction.

“I hate to break it to you,” said Tyler, “but this dude doesn’t seem to care who you are.”

“Quiet,” said the man. He walked toward them, his gun still pointed in their direction.

Hunter stared at him, his eyes widening with each step the man took. “How are you . . . ?” His breath caught. “My dad—is he—?”

“Still dead.” No emotion in that voice.

“But—but I went to your funeral. I saw you—in the casket—they buried you—”

“Yes, they did. It took me a while to get out, and longer to piece together our records. You and your mother were long gone. All our old files were gone.” He stopped about ten feet away. “I honestly didn’t expect this much trouble once I got here.” He glanced between Michael and Tyler. “Or this many Elementals in town. You’ve created quite a little community, haven’t you?”

“Fuck you,” said Tyler.

The Guide shot him in the shoulder. Tyler went down yelling.

“Stop!” Hunter surged forward. “Stop! I said you don’t need—”

Michael grabbed his arm and jerked him back, physically blocking Hunter when the Guide swung the gun around.

Michael put his hands back up, but he kept Hunter behind him. He took a step back, very aware of how close that gun barrel was. “Easy,” he said. “He’s a kid. He’s your family. Just tell him to get out of here. He doesn’t need to be a part of this.”

“I might have believed that once,” said the Guide. “Before I found him living with the enemy.” He gestured with the weapon. “Move, Hunter. Out where I can see you.”

“You don’t need to do this,” said Hunter. He shifted to the side. “Please. Uncle Jay. Mom said Dad wasn’t coming here to kill them. I know them now. They’re not dangerous.”

“Your dad and I didn’t always agree.” Jay made a sound of disapproval. “John was still trying to talk sense into them when they pulled us out of the wreckage. He honestly thought it was an accident. He didn’t see it for what it was: an execution.”

“Kind of like this one?” said Tyler. His voice was strained. The scent of blood hung in the air.

“Exactly,” said the Guide. He gave Michael a wry glance. “I thought you were going to ‘find me and kill me.’ How’s that working out for you?”

“I’m halfway there,” said Michael.

“They haven’t done anything wrong,” said Hunter, his voice full of resolve. “Uncle Jay, you have to listen to me—”

“Don’t,” said Michael. “He’s not the uncle you remember, Hunter.” Calla’s body was proof enough of that. Even without the bombs and fires.

“Funny how death changes us,” said Jay.

Michael knew that better than anyone. “Let Hunter go,” he said again, his voice low. “Let him go, and you and I can finish this.”

“You and I?” Another wry smile. “I’ll finish it. Don’t you worry.”

“No elements,” said Michael. “Tyler and I won’t fight you. Just let him go.”

“Speak for yourself,” said Tyler.

“I’m not leaving you,” said Hunter.

“Nice offer,” said the Guide. “But I want you to call elements. The bigger, the better. Here, I’ll help you.” Jay pulled the trigger.

The pain was so sharp and immediate, Michael didn’t even know where he’d been shot—just that he was falling. Hunter was shouting, but Michael couldn’t make out a single word. The earth responded to his pain and the quick flare of panic. Deep cracks shot out from where he landed. The ground rumbled and shook and settled. Michael thought he might throw up.

“Stop!” yelled Hunter.

“Oh, we can do better than that,” said Jay.

Michael tried to catch his breath, but his lungs burned with each inhale. “Why?” he gasped. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I need you.” He pulled the trigger again.

Pain exploded in Michael’s left leg. Upper thigh this time. The earth shook harder. Michael wished for clarity, for something useful. He wished for the singular focus he’d found while fighting the Guide in the woods behind his house.

He couldn’t think through the pain.

“Why?” he said again. “Why do you need me?”

“Easy,” said Hunter’s uncle. He pulled the trigger again. “You’re bait.”

CHAPTER 29

Hannah fought Irish, but he was built like a linebacker, and she wasn’t. His arms were wrapped around her rib cage and his hand pressed over her mouth.

She wished his hand were over her eyes. Or her ears. Especially when the man shot Michael a second time.

The earth shook and rumbled beneath them, but Irish had a tight grip. He stumbled, but he didn’t let her go.

“Stop fighting me,” he said, his voice low and close to her ear. “I need you to stop so I can call for help. Okay?”

A sob worked its way up her throat, but she choked it off.

“Come on, Blondie,” Irish whispered. “We aren’t armed. If that guy finds us . . ” He left the rest of the thought unspoken.