Spark

by Brigid Kemmerer

  A woman, her face tear streaked through lines of soot, her clothes damp and filthy. She wasn’t a fireman or an EMT.

  But she was hugging him, her arms around his neck before he knew what she was doing, her slim hands full of a surprising amount of strength.

  “Thank you,” she sobbed into his jacket. “Oh my god, they said they couldn’t get to her—Thank you.”

  He didn’t know how to respond.

  But then the girl was coughing, then crying, then huge racking sobs and cries for her mommy.

  The woman let him go.

  Gabriel stepped out of the crowd and walked off into the night.

  CHAPTER 12

  Hunter was waiting in the woods. Far back, but still within sight of the house. When Gabriel caught up, Hunter didn’t say anything, just turned and fell into step beside him.

  Thank god, because Gabriel didn’t know what to say, either.

  He yanked the fireman’s helmet off his head, dragging a hand through his damp hair. He felt like he couldn’t catch his breath, and only part of it was from the smoke and the exertion.

  A pair of headlights cut through the woods, catching the reflective stripes on the coat. Gabriel swore and shrugged out of it, rolling it up inside out to carry under his arm.

  But the headlights continued on. No one saw them.

  “I can stash those in the jeep,” said Hunter.

  His voice sounded raw. Gabriel stopped at the tree line and looked at him, holding out the helmet and then the coat. Hunter had soot across one cheek, and his hair was every bit as damp as Gabriel’s.

  He took the stuff, but then he didn’t move.

  Gabriel wondered if he also looked this . . . stricken. What was the right thing to say? Thanks? That was terrible? That was awesome? They’d just pulled a girl out of a blazing house. Could he really just climb in his car and drive home?

  Hunter cleared his throat. “So.”

  “Yeah.”

  Hunter shifted the rolled up coat under one arm, hunching his shoulders. “Want to come over and play Xbox?”

  Gabriel stared at him for a minute, wondering if he was serious.

  Then he realized he didn’t care.

  “Yeah,” he said. “I do.”

  Hunter lived in an old farmhouse set back from the road, practically in the middle of nowhere. The windows were dark when they pulled up, and stayed that way despite two sets of tires crunching along the gravel driveway. Only an old gas lamp at the end of the front walk threw any light into the yard, revealing a split-board fence stretching back into the darkness.

  A dog burst through the doorway when Hunter turned the key, the large German shepherd practically knocking his master down.

  Hunter laughed softly and rubbed his dog behind the ears. “Casper’s pissed I left him home.”

  Gabriel picked up on his hushed tone. It seemed early, but the dark house spoke volumes. “Your mom asleep?”

  Hunter lost the smile. “Probably.” He gave the dog one last scratch along his neck, then sent Casper out into the yard. “My grandparents definitely are. Come on.”

  Gabriel scrubbed his hands and face in the kitchen sink, grateful for the coat and helmet that had kept him a lot cleaner than the last time he’d ventured into a fire. His jeans were sooty from the knees down, but they’d wash. He smacked his shoes against the porch to get out the worst of the soot, then followed Hunter.

  The gaming system was in the basement, hooked up to a newish flat screen that looked completely out of place among the wood-paneled walls, the mustard-yellow carpet, and wooden mallards accenting the end tables. Even the sofa was plaid, a red and orange number that had seen better days.

  But Hunter’s bedroom was down here, too, and from what Gabriel could see, it was huge.

  “Do you really have a refrigerator and a microwave in your room?” he said, peering through the doorway.

  Hunter was sliding a disk into the Xbox. “It wasn’t always my bedroom. But yeah.” He glanced up. “My grandparents only come down here to do laundry. It’s like having my own apartment.”

  No mention of his mother, making Gabriel wonder about Hunter’s tone in the driveway, when he’d said probably. Even now, he wasn’t bragging. He sounded self-deprecating.

  Then he said, “Grab a soda if you want.”

  Gabriel did.

  And then they were killing pixelated zombies.

  It was surreal, sitting here doing something completely mundane, when they’d been pulling a body out of a burning house an hour ago.

  Especially since Hunter had put a gun in his face last week.

  When the game changed landscapes, Gabriel watched him, thinking of the moment in the hallway when Hunter had broken Nick’s hold. “Just how much control do you have?”

  A shrug. “Not enough. I couldn’t have gone into that fire alone.”

  Gabriel untied the translucent white stone from his wrist and set it on the coffee table. He suspected he wouldn’t have been as effective alone, either. Their powers had a way of improving when combined. “Thanks,” he said. “For dragging me out.”

  “Sure.”

  “And thanks for . . . whatever you did back at my house.”

  Hunter shrugged. “I didn’t really do anything. I just had to block his focus.” He took the stone, twisting the twine between his fingers while they waited for the game to load.

  It made Gabriel think of Becca, who used to wear Hunter’s rocks strung along her wrist. “You’re not screwing with my little brother, are you?”

  Raised eyebrows. “With Chris?”

  “What are you really doing with Becca?”

  Hunter shrugged and looked back at the twine, letting the rock untwist itself. “Nothing. She asked for my help. I’m giving it.”

  “This help wouldn’t be the naked kind, would it?”

  A smirk. “No. Just talking.” Hunter lost the smile. “I’m not messing with Chris. Or Becca. I wouldn’t. After . . . you know.”

  Gabriel nodded. Then the screen loaded, and they were slaughtering zombies again.

  “You know,” said Hunter, not looking away from the apocalypse on the screen, “I could tie that rock into the coat.”

  “For what?”

  “For next time.”

  Gabriel didn’t look at him, just took another swig of his soda, keeping his eyes on the screen so Hunter wouldn’t kick his ass at Xbox.

  But he kept thinking about those words. Next time.

  There couldn’t be a next time. This time had been all about sheer luck. Luck and power. So much power Gabriel could feel it sparking under his skin, even now.

  He gave a short laugh. “What happened to ‘lying low’?”

  Hunter shrugged. “We don’t have to tell anyone . . .” Gabriel hadn’t been planning on telling anyone, anyway. Accidentally lighting the woods on fire was one thing. Willfully walking into a burning building—Michael would definitely have a problem with that.

  “I have my uncle’s old police radio,” Hunter said. “We could do this again. On purpose.”

  Gabriel gave him a look. “You mean, instead of by accident?”

  “I don’t believe in accidents.”

  His tone caught Gabriel by surprise.

  Hunter shrugged a little, keeping his eyes on the controller in his hands. “I just mean, sometimes things happen for a reason. Think about it.”

  He’d said something similar when he’d been accusing Michael of killing his father and his uncle. Gabriel wondered if Hunter still thought that wasn’t an accident, that maybe there had been more to the car crash than bad weather and poor timing. He opened his mouth to ask.

  But then the zombies attacked, and their focus was back on the screen.

  Gabriel pulled into his driveway well after midnight. The house was dark.

  Then again, he’d destroyed the porch lights.

  He hadn’t wanted to come home, but Hunter’s grandfather had come downstairs and made some bleary-eyed comments about it being a sch
ool night, and maybe it was time for friends to go.

  Michael would probably be sitting in the kitchen, waiting. He’d sent half a dozen texts asking where Gabriel had gone, whether he was all right. He hadn’t shut up until Gabriel texted back that he was at Hunter’s.

  Gabriel steeled his shoulders and let himself into the house.

  But the lower level was dark and silent. Chris’s window had been dark, and Gabriel didn’t see a light under Michael’s door. Maybe his brothers had all gone to sleep.

  Figured.

  But then he saw the line of light under Nick’s door. His twin was still awake.

  Gabriel hesitated in the hallway. He’d fought with Nick before, but this . . . this felt different. He lifted a hand to knock.

  But he heard a girl giggle. Then the creak of a bedspring.

  Gabriel snatched his hand away.

  Holy shit. Quinn was still here.

  His breathing sounded loud in the quiet hallway, so he took a step back.

  Nick had never let a girl spend the night.

  It wasn’t allowed, for one thing, and Nick wasn’t a rule-breaker. Michael always said if he could get them to eighteen without going to jail or getting a girl pregnant, he’d consider it a success.

  For an instant, Gabriel entertained calling Nick on it. Walking in on them, creating enough ruckus to wake the house. He remembered Nick trapping him in the hallway, stealing his breath.

  Humiliating him.

  Stupid.

  Gabriel gritted his teeth. What an asshole.

  But when he reached out to grab the knob, to throw the door wide, he thought of Layne, the intensity in her eyes when she stood up to him.

  Sometimes you cut right to the quick, you know?

  It made him think of the hurt on Nick’s face when he’d laid into Quinn.

  He’d been the one to fuck this up. Not Nick.

  So he turned and locked himself in his room, burying his head under his pillow when he heard Quinn’s giggle through the wall.

  CHAPTER 13

  This frigging substitute had to go. Gabriel hadn’t even done the previous night’s assignment, and now she wanted to start every class with a six-question warm-up that she would collect and grade each day.

  He might as well just kill himself right now.

  It wasn’t like he could wrangle his thoughts into submission, anyway. He kept thinking about the fire.

  Last night had been a fluke. Too many things could have gone wrong. Sure, he’d held the flames for a few minutes—but he could have lost it. He could have killed that kid. Hunter. Himself.

  He’d felt that kind of potential before.

  But this had been different. Working with Hunter was like finding another level of control. It was nothing like calling elements with Nick, who always backed away from risk.

  Gabriel scowled. He didn’t want to think about his twin.

  Because thinking about the fight with Nick just made him think about the fight beforehand, with Layne’s father.

  At least Layne wasn’t here yet. Gabriel wasn’t sure what to say once she showed up.

  Taylor Morrissey swung onto the desk in front of him. Low-slung jeans revealed a solid six inches of tanned midsection despite the fact that temperatures had been in the low fifties every morning. Her hair spilled over one shoulder, but it just felt like such an act.

  He kept his expression uninterested. “Hey, Taylor.”

  She leaned forward, until he could see clear down the V-neck of her top. “Gary Ackerman said he saw you take the bus to school. What’s up with that?”

  What was up with that was Nick being an asshole. He’d taken the car while Gabriel was in the shower.

  He shrugged and looked at the doorway. Still no sign of Layne, so he dragged his eyes back to Taylor. “My brother had to get here early. I didn’t feel like it.”

  He caught movement from the corner of his eye and saw Layne push through the doorway, her head down. Turtleneck, jeans, hair in a braid. She didn’t look at him.

  “Your brother, huh?” said Taylor. She smirked.

  He couldn’t figure out her tone—and he didn’t really care. He frowned at her. “What?”

  Layne slipped into the chair beside him. It took everything he had not to look at her.

  Taylor shrugged one shoulder. “You’re looking kind of, you know, tired today.”

  She was implying something, but he had no idea what. He probably did look tired. It went right along with being tired. “Yeah, well, we can’t all be paragons of perfection like you, Taylor.”

  From the corner of his eye, he saw Layne stiffen beside him. Hadn’t she said something similar last night? But then she was moving again, pulling things from her backpack.

  Taylor leaned in, showing more of what she had to offer. Her voice was almost taunting. “Did you sleep at someone else’s house?”

  Layne suddenly went very still.

  Gabriel wanted to glare at her. Did Layne seriously think he’d leave her house like that, then go find some mindless girl to hook up with?

  “Jesus, Taylor, scope your gossip with someone else. I was home all night.”

  “Whatever you say.” She swung her legs against the desk, not at all bothered. “Did you hear about Alan Hulster?”

  He glanced at the empty seat on the other side of his chair. “What, did someone finally kick his ass?”

  “No, his house burned down.”

  Gabriel snapped his head around. “What?”

  “Yeah, like, to the ground.” Taylor pulled a piece of gum out of her purse and rolled it across her tongue suggestively, as if this news was just a sideline to her flirtation. “His little sister was trapped. They thought she was dead, but some fireman got her out just before the whole place collapsed. That dude is a hero. Isn’t that intense?”

  Gabriel could feel his heart smacking his rib cage. He’d never thought about that house belonging to someone he knew.

  Layne cleared her throat, and her voice came out small. “Is his sister okay?”

  Taylor rolled her eyes and pushed her hair over one shoulder. “I’m sorry, were you a part of this conversation?”

  “God, Taylor.” Gabriel kicked the leg of her chair. It was a miracle his voice wasn’t shaking. “Is his sister okay?”

  “Jeez.” Taylor frowned. “Yeah . . . I think so—”

  Ms. Anderson chose that moment to slide into the room. Taylor swung around and dropped into her chair.

  Gabriel couldn’t think through the six questions on the board—not like it would matter. He scribbled random numbers, his mind spinning through the events of last night.

  That dude is a hero.

  He sure didn’t feel like it.

  He’d gone there to be close to a fire. Not to save someone.

  Thoughts gripped his mind so tightly that he couldn’t say a word to Layne—but she had her head down over her work, anyway.

  He passed his paper forward with everyone else, and he didn’t even care what he got. The substitute was lecturing, but he didn’t hear a word. His ears were full of Hunter’s words from last night.

  We could do this again. Think about it.

  When the bell rang, Layne bolted from her seat without looking at him.

  Gabriel bolted after her, intending to catch her in the hallway.

  But Ms. Anderson’s voice stopped him before he got out of the room. “Mr. Merrick, I’d like to speak with you.”

  Mr. Merrick. He hated when teachers called him that, like he was an old man stopping by to learn a few math tricks.

  He stopped beside her desk and glanced at the door. “Yeah?”

  “You didn’t turn in last night’s homework. Or the day before.”

  He shrugged his backpack higher on his shoulder and looked at the door again. “I forgot it. I’ll bring it tomorrow.”

  “And I was reviewing the quizzes from the other day.”

  That got his attention. “I thought they didn’t count.”

  She lea
ned back in the chair. “They don’t. I was concerned about how you answered the questions.”

  Who gave a crap how he answered the questions? “So?”

  “Some were right, and some were wrong. I’m having a hard time with the fact that nothing was wrong the same way.”

  He could hear his own breathing. “I don’t understand.”

  “I think you do.” She paused. “And in class the other day, when I called you to the board, you struggled with the formula.”

  “Look, could we get to the point?”

  She raised her eyebrows. “My point is that someone with an A average shouldn’t be struggling with anything at this point in the year.”

  “Well, if I’ve got an A average, two homeworks shouldn’t matter too much.”

  “Maybe not.” She leaned forward and looked up at him. In a creepy way, it reminded him of Taylor, though she was hot, and Ms. Anderson was . . . not. “Do I understand that you have a twin brother?”

  God, it was hot in here. “Yeah?”

  She gave him a level look. “He’s in AP Calculus, so he’s presumably taken this class before?”

  Gabriel stared at her. He sure as hell wasn’t going to volunteer anything now.

  “Look,” she said. “I’m not trying to hassle you. But you need a math credit to graduate. And you need to earn it yourself. If you need help, I’ll give it to you. But you can’t expect me to turn a blind eye to blatant cheating. You’ll need to work harder, apply yourself . . .”

  He glanced at the door again. Layne was probably on to her next class by now, and he’d missed the first five minutes of lunch.

  “. . . the coach will let you back on the team,” Ms. Anderson finished.

  Gabriel snapped his head back around. “Wait.” He put a hand on the desk and leaned in. His backpack slid off his shoulder to hit the floor. “What did you just say?”

  She didn’t flinch from his tone. “I said you have a week and a half to prove that you’re doing the work yourself. You can’t play sports if you can’t pass your classes. I’ll let you retake the last unit test that Monday, and if you can show that you’re putting the time in, I’ll speak to the basketball coach, and he’ll let you on the team.”

  His fists clenched. “But that’s bull—”