“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.