Sacrifice

Clare looked up at him. “Would you let me see them?”

His dad would definitely have a problem with this.

Thank god his dad wasn’t home yet.

Hunter had worried his mom might be home, though she was the polar opposite of her husband: She never interfered in Hunter’s activities. It didn’t matter, anyway. A note hung from a magnet on the refrigerator, something about a trip to her store in town and a snack on the top shelf.

He looked at Clare. He felt jittery now that she was in his house. Somehow the kitchen felt both larger and smaller with her presence. “Are you hungry?”

“Not yet. Your mom has a store? What does she sell?”

Hunter shrugged. “Odds and ends. You know.” His mother really worked for a New Age store in the antique district, but that usually launched a whole line of questions he didn’t feel like answering.

Clare stepped forward and leaned close. His pulse jumped, but she was only reaching out a finger to touch a photo stuck to the refrigerator. “Is this you and your dad?”

“And my uncle. Yeah.” The picture was from a camping trip last fall. They’d gone into the Appalachian Mountains, and it had rained almost the entire time. In the picture they were drenched and smiling.

“You look just like your dad.”

“Everyone says that.”

She touched another picture. “You have a dog?”

“My uncle does. Casper is a police dog. Uncle Jay is a cop.”

Clare looked up at him. “You’re close.”

He shrugged. “You know. Family.”

“Must be nice.”

The tone in her voice reminded him of the uncertainty when she’d talked about her brother. He wondered just how upset her parents must be—and where Clare fit in.

Hunter reached on top of the refrigerator to grab the keys to the gun locker before he could think better of it. “Everything is in the basement. Come on.”

The gun locker wasn’t really a locker at all; it was more of an extra bedroom with a steel door, a dead bolt, and a six-key combination lock.

He wanted to cover his hand while he punched the numbers, but that would look stupid, and what was the difference if she knew how to get in here? She was scared of the very mention of guns; it’s not like she was going to be back later to steal something.

Clare watched him push the buttons until the door clicked and the lock released. “What’s twelve-fourteen-twenty?”

He stopped with his hand on the knob. “Our birthdays. My dad’s is the twelfth, mine is the fourteenth, and my uncle’s is the twentieth.”

“Not your mom’s?”

Hunter had never thought about it. He shrugged. “I guess he ran out of numbers.” He hesitated before pushing the door open. Now that they were down here, he was having second thoughts. Clare put a hand on his arm. “Are you going to get in trouble for showing me?”

Her fingers were warm, and when he turned his head to look at her, her lips were close.

Stop thinking about her mouth.

He had to clear his throat. “No. I mean, I don’t think so.”

Because no one was going to know about this.

Before he could think better of it, he threw the door wide.

“Holy crap,” she whispered.

Hunter tried to see the room with fresh eyes, but it was tough. He’d grown up with this stuff. The hunting rifles in racks along the far wall, the Peg-Board on the right with hooks for the handguns, the military-style guns hanging on the left. Low cabinets lined the sidewalls, the counter space clear. A table sat in the middle of the room, empty, of course. His dad had way too much military training to leave anything out of place.

Clare had sucked back a bit, and Hunter gave her a smile. “They won’t jump out and bite you.”

“Am I being ridiculous?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never showed this room to anyone.”

Ugh. Why did he say that?

“Can I go inside?”

“Sure.” He stood back, then followed her through.

She walked to the wall of military-style weapons first. He couldn’t really blame her; those were definitely the most impressive.

“Do you know how to use all of these?” she asked, her voice hushed.

“I haven’t fired all of them, but most guns work on the same principle.” He took down the AR-15, which looked pretty badass but was really rather simple.

She flinched.

“Relax,” he said, more at ease now that they were in here. With weapons, he knew what he was doing, and it fed his confidence. He did what his dad always did, unclipping the magazine and checking to make sure it wasn’t loaded. Each click was loud, heavy steel sliding into place. When he was sure the gun was safe, he held it out to Clare.

She shook her head quickly.

“No bullets,” he said. “You can hold it.”

She gingerly started to take it from him, just her fingers wrapping around the barrel. Hunter shook his head. “Don’t do it halfway. It’s heavy. Just take it.”

He didn’t let go until her hands were wrapped solidly around the weapon. She held it at a distance from her body, like a poisonous snake.

He had to smile. “Here. Like this.” He positioned her left hand on the front of the gun, supporting the barrel. “Now put your right hand on the pistol grip—”

“I don’t want to shoot anything.”

“Bullets don’t magically appear. Work with me.” He reached around for her right hand.

And then, somehow, her back was against his chest, and he was holding his hands over hers, positioning the rifle against her shoulder.

Her hair smelled like mangoes. Her cheek was right by his face.

Hunter dropped his voice. “What do you think?”

“I think my parents would die if they knew.”

He laughed softly. “What do you think?”

She didn’t say anything for a moment, and when she finally spoke, her voice was soft. “The day after my brother graduated, he went out and bought a gun. My parents don’t know.”

“Does he keep it locked up?”

“I don’t know. He took it with him.” She paused, and her voice almost wavered. “I kept worrying that I’d accidentally find it, or he’d accidentally shoot it, or . . . I don’t know.”

“If you want to learn how to handle them, I could show you.”

She turned her head slightly. “Yeah?”

“Sure. When—”

The basement steps creaked; then heavy footfalls were coming down the stairs. “Hunter?”

Hunter jumped and almost dropped the gun. Thank god it was unloaded, because Clare started to spin with the weapon in her hands.

Hunter got a grip on it before she turned all the way, but it left his arms wrapped around Clare, the gun in their hands, just as his uncle came through the door.

CHAPTER 2

Hunter tried to think of a way out of this. He was coming up short.

“That better be unloaded,” said his uncle. He was still in uniform, and it always made him look taller, more official.

“It is,” said Hunter. He let go of Clare, keeping the barrel pointed downward, trying not to meet his uncle’s eyes.

There was no way his dad wouldn’t find out about this.

“I figured we’d catch you with a girl one day, but this isn’t quite the scenario I imagined.”

Hunter sighed. Humiliation was going to kill him.

“It’s my fault,” said Clare quickly.

“Really?” said Uncle Jay. “You stole the keys and guessed the combination? Was Hunter trying to get the weapon away from you, then?”

He couldn’t be in too much trouble if his uncle was going to stand here and joke about it. “It’s not her fault.”

“Should I give your girlfriend a ride home?”

“Let me guess,” said Hunter. “You mean in your police cruiser?”

“Oh, I can walk,” said Clare. She was already edging toward the door.

Hunter wished he could go with her.

She didn’t look back at him as she dashed for the stairs.

Well, that had been short-lived.

But at the top of the steps, she ducked back to look at him. “I’ll see you tomorrow at school.”

Then she was gone, and the gun room was completely silent.

Hunter held out the gun, stock first. “You want to just shoot me and save Dad the time?”

Jay smiled and took the weapon, checking the magazine before putting it back on the wall. “He’s not going to shoot you.”

“That would be too quick?”

Now Jay laughed, but then he quickly sobered and gave Hunter a look. “We’ve talked to you about girls before.”

“It wasn’t like that.”

“I’m pretty sure I know exactly what it was like.”

Hunter scowled. “I did a presentation on the second amendment at school. She had some questions about firearms.”

“Is that the new lingo for saying you’re her anatomy tutor?”

Jay’s voice was easy, but Hunter knew that the questions behind it were serious. “Look, I said it wasn’t like that. I haven’t even talked to her before today.”

“Hunter, our abilities are a blessing and a curse . . . it’s very easy to get taken advantage of.”

“She wasn’t taking advantage of me! We were just talking!”

“No. This”—Jay gestured at the space between them—“is talking.”

Hunter flushed and looked away.

His uncle straightened and put his hands on Hunter’s shoulders. “You’re a Fifth. While that means you’re connected to all the elements, it also means you’re connected to the people around you.”

Hunter rolled his eyes. He knew this rhetoric better than a nursery rhyme. “And when people are drawn to me, I’ll be drawn to them, and it’s hard to remember my own purpose—”

“Don’t mock it, Hunter.”

Hunter shook Jay’s hands off. “We were just talking. You’re acting like she was trying to—”

“I don’t care what she was trying to do. I’m trying to tell you that it can be hard to distinguish what you want from what others want. You’re going to want to help everyone, and that’s not always a good thing.”

“How is that not a good thing?”

His uncle leaned back against the table. “What if I wanted to help every criminal I had to arrest? What if your dad went on assignment and empathized with the bad guys?”

“Did you really just say ‘bad guys’?”

Now Jay didn’t smile at all. “You need to take this seriously. Your abilities are going to get stronger. That means it’s going to be more difficult instead of less.”

“So I can’t ever have a girlfriend.”

“You’d probably be better off if you had lots of girlfriends. You know what your dad used to tell me when I was your age?”

“What?”

Hunter’s dad spoke from the doorway. Even in khakis and a polo shirt, he looked like he’d stepped right out of a recruitment poster. “He’s too young for that, Jay.”

“If you’d walked in here five minutes ago, you wouldn’t think so.”

Hunter wanted to roll his eyes, but his dad was a lot less tolerant of attitude than his uncle was. He kept his voice mild. “Uncle Jay is overreacting.”

“Is this about the girl I just saw walking down the driveway?”

“Clare.” Hunter couldn’t read his dad’s expression, but the man wasn’t an idiot. He’d probably figured out half of it already. “She’s in my government class. I did a presentation on firearms and she had some questions.”

“Did you answer them?”