“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.
She nodded.
She hadn’t known what to expect when she’d gone after Michael.
But she hadn’t expected this.
Irish’s hand eased off her mouth.
“I want my dad,” she whispered.