Spirit (15 page)

When his father had been alive, Hunter had always kept his hair short—not quite the military crew cut, but short enough to be preppy. He’d never had a single piercing.

Then the car had been crushed in the rock slide, and he’d found himself with twenty-six stitches across his hairline, leaving him with white hair to grow back in its place. He’d gone through the funeral, through the packing of their house, through his mother’s withdrawal, without feeling
anything
.

Except when she reminded him how much he looked like his father.

Then he’d felt resentment.

And anger.

And guilt.

He’d gone to the grocery store one day—because his mother couldn’t be bothered with basic needs—and some biker guy with three hundred and some tattoos and piercings had said, “Nice streak, kid. You need some metal and ink to go along with it.”

Then he’d handed him a card for a local tattoo place.

The burn of the needle was the first new thing Hunter had really
felt
in weeks.

So he’d kept asking for more.

He stared into his eyes in the mirror.

Michael was right. Hunter looked nothing like his father anymore.

And instead of feeling good about that, it made him feel like shit.

He ducked and dried his face on the towel.

Hannah was right, too. He couldn’t fix the accident. He knew that.

Could he fix this mess with his mother?

Did he want to? Did she want him to?

The upstairs was still empty, thank god. Hunter went into Nick’s bedroom, where the two boxes from his grandparents’ house were stacked in front of the closet.

He cracked open the first one. The photo of his father and uncle was right on top, just like yesterday. Hunter set that aside and kept going.

Yearbooks, from his high school in Pennsylvania. Old, outdated magazines—
really, Mom?
Old notebooks from school that he’d never need again. His Xbox, with the case of games.

Because he totally felt like gaming with everything else going on.

Some paperbacks he didn’t remember reading, more magazines, more
crap
he’d never need. And then a brown Pendaflex folder with a rubber band wrapped around it. He could see the edges of file folders and wondered if she’d packed up his old school records, too.

The rubber band snapped when he yanked it out of the box, and two folders slipped out. He expected old report cards.

He found records, but not the school kind.

The top folder was about the Merricks. Personal information that he already knew, like their address and phone number. Grainy photos that had to be several years old, because one included their parents. Chris looked about ten.

Pages and pages about their powers, about surveillance, about potential Elemental hazards linked to the family.

His heart was pounding so hard that he couldn’t believe it wasn’t causing a racket all the way downstairs.

He knew the Merricks. He could read theirs later. He flipped to the next folder.

The Morgan family. Tyler, a Fire Elemental. No extreme risk. Emily, an Air Elemental, deceased. No risk. Pictures, but Hunter didn’t need them. He knew their stories.

The Ramsey family. Seth, one of Becca’s attackers. No extreme risk, according to the file, but obviously they were only talking about the Elemental kind.

Hunter didn’t know the next family, but he wondered if the Merricks did.

In the fourth folder, as soon as he opened it, he recognized the kid in the picture.

It was the boy who’d shown up with Calla when they’d been trashing his grandfather’s kitchen. Hunter felt ready to choke on his heartbeat.

Noah Dean. So he was related to Calla.

But there were no pictures of
her
, just this boy.

Well, of course. Calla had only just moved here a few years ago, to live with her aunt when her father was deployed. All these files were ages old.

Hunter checked the birthdate and quickly added. Noah was thirteen. Too young to be in high school.

No
wonder
Hunter hadn’t seen him anywhere around school. He’d been next door to the high school all this time, at the middle school.

Hunter wondered if Noah was among the missing from the carnival. He’d have to check the news.

Then something else occurred to him: had his mother gone through this folder?

He stared at the pages in his hand. The rubber band on the Pendaflex had been old, or else it wouldn’t have snapped so readily. But why would she have given him a stack of files and papers without going through them? His name wasn’t on any of it, and it certainly wasn’t packed up the way he kept his things. He’d never seen these files, so she hadn’t found them in
his
room.

He quickly shoved all the papers back into the Pendaflex, trying to keep them in the order he’d found them. Then he ripped the cover off the other box.

His quilt. His sheets—again,
really, Mom?
Frigging threadbare beach towels that he didn’t even consider
his
.

When he flung them to the side, something heavy clattered free.

Two of his father’s best knives.

The breath left Hunter’s lungs in a rush.

He pulled more towels free, more carefully this time, just in case there were other knives that might not be sheathed.

No more knives.

But between the last two towels, he found his gun, an extra magazine, and a box of bullets.

He picked up the weapon and checked the safety automatically. Just feeling the steel in his hands was as reassuring as if she’d packed his old teddy bear.

She’d packed this folder and these weapons.

His mother knew.

H
unter wasn’t sure how much he needed to keep secret.

The gun, for sure. If nothing else, it was a safety thing. He had too many of his father’s lectures rattling around in his head to leave a loaded firearm lying around—especially if Hannah’s kid was going to be in the house. He didn’t have a lockbox, but he could lock the gun in the glove compartment of his jeep—or he’d keep it on his person.

Considering the events of the past few days, he was ready to sleep with it holstered inside his waistband.

But the folders . . . He just didn’t have a history in this town, so he’d have to tell someone about them, if only to find out who the kids in other folders were. He’d only recognized Noah’s face, but that wasn’t enough.

He needed help. And the Merricks would probably give it to him, if he could play it straight.

They were leaving him alone this afternoon, too, which was nice—though he’d probably earned it by being such a dick that no one wanted to mess with him. When he’d grown up, it had always been three people in the house, with his uncle sometimes thrown in for variety. They lived too far from grandparents for anything more than an occasional visit. Even when he’d moved here with his mom, the dinner table had never been occupied by more than four people.

When he finally ventured downstairs, the Merrick kitchen was practically
packed
.

The four brothers. Becca and Quinn. Layne and her little brother Simon. Hannah and James.

Hunter made eleven. It brought new meaning to the phrase
odd man out.

They had about ten buckets and boxes from KFC. Hannah’s little boy appeared to be eating nothing but macaroni and potato wedges—and half of those were being fed to Casper, who was sitting under the table. The noise and energy in the room was almost enough to send Hunter back up the stairs.

But the smell was holding him
right here
. He’d never eaten lunch.

Becca appeared in front of him, taking his hand, pulling him into the kitchen. “I was worried about you,” she said quietly.

“Careful,” he said. “That’s catching.”

“Did you fall asleep?”

He’d spent the afternoon reading through the folders, but she’d given him the perfect out. “Yeah. I was knocked out.”

“Well, come eat.”

She dragged him toward the table, and Chris glared at the way her hand was still attached to Hunter’s, so he left it there, actually using it to pull her a bit closer and speak low, under the noise in the room.

“Sorry I ignored you earlier. Long day.”

Becca looked up at him. This close, he could catch her scent over the chicken, something with vanilla and almonds. “It’s okay,” she said. “I know you’ve got a lot going on.”

There was true empathy in her eyes, and it softened something inside him. “Thanks for trying to help.” He paused, thinking of all the warnings about trusting the Merricks. Thinking of the folders upstairs. He pushed the hair back from his face and sighed. “Maybe later I could get your opinion on something—”

A hand shoved him back, and Chris said, “Maybe later you could remember that she’s not your girlfriend.”

“Hey,” Becca started. “It’s fine.”

Hunter smiled, but there was nothing friendly about it. Chris’s aggression made his decision about Kate much easier to consider. “Maybe later you could remember that Becca has a mind of her own.”

Chris gave him another shove, a little more violently. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing here—”

“Hey!” said James, his little boy voice carrying over everything else. “Use words, not hands.” Then he glanced at Hannah.

“Right, Mom?”

“Absolutely right,” she said, completely unfazed, pulling another piece of chicken from a bucket.

But Chris backed off.

Hunter smiled more broadly. “Funny. I can think of two words right off.” But Becca was already pulling Chris to the other side of the table.

“Words, not hands,” said Layne. She poked Gabriel with her fork. “I think you need a T-shirt that says that.”

He leaned in close. “Give me five minutes and I bet I can change your mind.”

“Ugh,” said Quinn, spearing a piece of chicken with her fork. “Spare us.”

Michael glanced over at Hannah. “I told you you’d regret staying for dinner.”

“Are you kidding? You should see dinner at the firehouse.”

Hunter grabbed a paper plate and a piece of chicken, then dropped into one of the folding chairs that had been added to make enough seats. He was smashed between Nick and Simon and barely had enough room to put his plate down.

Chris was still glaring at him. “So what did you want to show Becca later?”

Becca was glaring at Chris now. “Leave him alone.”

“No way,” said Chris. “If it was so innocent, he can tell everyone.”

Hunter pulled the skin off his chicken and fed it to Casper, well aware that everyone at the table was looking at him now.

He was spinning his wheels trying to think of something innocuous to say, but he was coming up with nothing. He was tempted to keep everything secret, to hand over the files to Kate to see what they could come up with together.

But he didn’t know who all those people were, and the Merricks might.

The gun was a solid weight at the small of his back, like a heavy steel security blanket.

“I went through the things my mom packed up,” he said slowly, looking at the chicken on his plate. He wasn’t sure how many people at the table
knew
about Elementals, so he chose his words carefully. “She included my dad’s files.”

“
Files
files?” said Gabriel.

Hunter nodded.

“Anything interesting?” said Nick.

“They’re old.” Hunter paused. “But yeah.”

“What kind of files?” said Hannah.

“Later,” said Michael. He gave Hannah a crooked glance. “Maybe when the daughter of the county fire marshal isn’t sitting at the table.”

“Don’t worry,” she said. “I’ll get the secrets out of you later.”

“Trust me,” said Michael. “You don’t want these secrets.”

Hunter kind of agreed with him.

Later, when Hannah and James were gone, and Quinn had driven home with Becca, Hunter brought the files downstairs and dumped them out on the table.

He’d been doubtful about Layne and Simon, but Gabriel said, “They can stay. They’re good at secrets.”

Hunter watched as the Merrick brothers went through their own files first.

Michael blew out a long whistle. “Your dad had a lot of information.”

Layne poked Gabriel’s cheek. “Did you always look surly? How old are you in that picture?”

Gabriel was staring at the grainy reproduced photograph. “Twelve? Thirteen? I don’t know.” He glanced up at Michael.

“There’s notes in here about Mom and Dad. The Guides knew what happened with Tyler’s sister, and Seth’s parents.”

Nick looked at Hunter. “Why didn’t your dad come after us
then
?”

“I don’t know.” He hesitated, remembering his father’s caution when discussing the Merricks a few days before he died. Hunter strongly suspected that the four of them together were more intimidating than they even realized.

It reminded him of the conversation with Kate in the field, about his presence in the house making them more formidable instead of less, no matter which side he was on.

Hunter shoved the thought out of his head and pulled more files from the Pendaflex. “There are notes about Seth and Tyler, too.” He slid them onto the table. “And a bunch of people I don’t know.”

They quickly discarded the files about Seth and Tyler. When they got to the first one Hunter didn’t recognize, Nick said, “Jeff Bluster. He was a year ahead of us. His folks were friends with Tyler’s. They were in on the deal.”

“What happened to them?” said Hunter.

Chris shrugged. “They moved away a few years ago.”

Hunter turned to the next file, on Noah Dean. “This is the kid who was with Calla when they trashed my house. She never said she had a younger brother, but maybe this is her cousin? She lives with her aunt and uncle.” Hunter hesitated, then said more softly, “Lived.”

Simon leaned forward and looked at the picture. He turned to Layne and signed something.

“I remember this kid, too,” said Layne. “He’s in eighth grade, a year behind Simon.” Her younger brother signed some more, and she kept translating. “He wasn’t a troublemaker. Had a lot of friends.” She glanced up. “Probably still does.”

“I don’t know him,” said Michael. “His family wasn’t in on the deal—my parents probably never knew they were Elementals.”

Hunter grabbed the next folder. This one and the rest were labeled
POTENTIAL THREAT. “
How about this girl?”

The Merricks all shook their heads, but Layne leaned over. “Alison Merryman. I know her. She’s a freshman. Quiet. Sweet.”

Next folder. Another seventh grader. And another one. Then an eighth grader.

Simon signed quickly. Layne leaned over. “I know him, too. He’s a
jerk
.” She glanced at Gabriel as Simon kept signing. “He’s one of the ones who was hassling Simon at the carnival.”

“He ran when I showed up,” said Gabriel. “I just thought he was running from a fight.”

Layne’s brother looked pissed at the memory.

Hunter glanced at him. “I could help you with that,” he said.

Simon’s eyes widened in surprise.

Hunter shrugged. He remembered what it felt like to walk through school hallways and wonder when the next idiot was going to slam you into a locker. “If you want,” he said.

Simon nodded.

“No wonder they’re not getting into it with us at school,” said Gabriel.

“They’re all
kids
,” said Nick. “They probably just figured out what they are.”

That meant they weren’t under heavy surveillance—yet. “Were they injured in the fire?” said Hunter. “Is there a list on one of the news websites or anything?”

Michael got his laptop and they checked. None of the names matched the list of the missing.

But Hunter noticed something else: Calla Dean was listed as missing, not one of the confirmed dead.

Did that mean something? He’d seen her fall.

Then he dismissed it. The Guide—Silver—wouldn’t have left her lying in the middle of the carnival.

“Well,” said Gabriel, “no one is stopping us from going over there to see.”

“Going over where?” said Michael.

“The middle school.”

Middle school
. Nick was right—they were all kids. It was a new wrinkle.

Hunter had been ready to hand these files over to Kate, thinking it would be so easy to solve this problem, to redeem himself in his father’s memory.

But they were
kids
.

He thought about Calla in the middle of the fairgrounds. She’d been too young to die, for sure, but she’d known what she was doing.

Had she organized the next group of Elementals into something they weren’t ready for?

He needed to talk to these middle schoolers, to figure out which side they were on.

And he needed to do it without the Merricks.

“Let’s not be stupid about this,” said Michael. “There’s a Guide in town. If we figured out these kids were working with Calla, then
he
will, too. We need to stay the hell away from them.”

“No way,” said Gabriel.

“I agree with Michael,” said Hunter.

They all looked at him in surprise. He shrugged and lied through his teeth. “Well, I think we should give it a few days. Calla was obviously the ring leader. Let’s see if they make another move.”

Hunter glanced at Simon, a kid who was bullied mercilessly. Hunter knew what the Merricks had gone through for years. He wondered if these new Elementals were going through the same thing.

And he wondered if it would have been easy, too easy, for Calla to convince them to rebel.