Secret (Elemental)

by Brigid Kemmerer

  Adam glanced at where Nick and Tyler were sitting. “I hope you’re right, Quinn. I really hope you’re right.”

  Nick wondered if he could suffocate Tyler right here and get away with it.

  At least it would make this douche bag shut up.

  “Your boyfriend looks pissed,” Tyler whispered, his voice so low that Nick wouldn’t have heard him if the air weren’t so willing to carry the words to his ears. “Think he’s jealous?”

  Nick didn’t respond. The rest of the studio had cleared out, and they had the risers to themselves. Adam and Quinn were dancing now, their movements full of passion and strength. But Tyler was right: Adam did look pissed every time he glanced at where they were sitting.

  He couldn’t possibly be jealous of Tyler. Right?

  But why else would he be pissed off? Had Quinn said something? What?

  Nick hated that this dickhead was sitting here putting thoughts in his head.

  Part of him wanted to leave. He could sit outside, or even take the bus back to Adam’s. Hell, he could take the bus home if he needed to—Adam had explained the line and given him a bus schedule, telling him which spot would drop him off closest to Chautauga if he really needed to help his brothers with a job.

  But he’d finally broken and called home before coming here, hoping he’d get someone other than Gabriel.

  By luck—or his twin’s calculated avoidance, he wasn’t sure which—Michael had answered the phone. Chris had agreed to work for Nick today. Hunter had already been planning on going with Becca to visit her father. Gabriel would be home alone with a pile of textbooks.

  Pretty much a guarantee that Nick wouldn’t be getting on a bus anytime soon.

  Then again, sitting next to Tyler was quite possibly the only thing worse than facing his twin again.

  Tyler shifted closer. “No wonder you could never fight back. I didn’t realize Gabriel Merrick had a twin sister—”

  “Shut up,” Nick said.

  “Or what? You’ll huff and you’ll puff and you’ll blow this place down? Or do you only know how to blow—”

  “Shut up.” Nick glared at him and didn’t bother keeping his voice down. “Fuck you, Tyler. You might have Quinn fooled, but I know what you’ve done. Michael might give you a free pass because you lost your sister and he feels some shred of responsibility for it, but—”

  “Don’t you dare talk about my sister.”

  “You think losing someone gives you a free pass to be a raging asshole? It doesn’t. You’re not the only person who knows loss.”

  He’d hit a nerve. Tyler was breathing heavily now, his fists clenched. “Shut up, Merrick.”

  “No, you shut up. You want to hate us because of what we are? Fine. Hate us. Punch me, burn me, call the Guides, whatever. But I know the truth. I know what you are. I know what you can do.”

  “You don’t know anything.”

  Nick knew Tyler was a breath away from snapping, but he couldn’t stop. Standing up to Gabriel had changed something in him. For the better, for the worse, he had no idea. But just like Adam poking him in the side this morning, demanding to know what Nick wanted, Tyler’s presence was like a constant jab, over and over again.

  And Nick wanted. It. To stop.

  He leaned forward, holding Tyler’s gaze. “I know you’re probably scared to death that the wrong person is going to find out you’re just as cursed as the big, bad Merricks. Guess it’d be pretty hard to cry to Mommy and Daddy, then, huh? Or do you think they’d pull the trigger themselves? God knows they’ve been dying to do it to us for years.”

  “I’ve never killed anyone,” Tyler hissed.

  “How do we know?” said Nick. “It’s not like you don’t spend every waking moment consumed by hate. God, for all we know, you could have been behind the fire at Seth Ramsey’s—” Nick broke off and stopped short. “Holy shit.”

  The fire at Seth Ramsey’s. Five years ago. It had killed Seth’s parents.

  And Nick’s.

  “Shut up!” Tyler yelled. His eyes were wide and panicked, his expression fierce. “Shut the fuck up, Merrick. I didn’t start that fire.”

  Nick almost couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t even identify this emotion. Rage. Bewilderment. Shock. Sorrow, all over again. “It was you. You started it. Not Gabriel.”

  “Wrong,” said Tyler. He was shaking his head fiercely. “Wrong.”

  “I’m not wrong. It was you.”

  “It was both of us,” he cried. “Don’t you get it? Just like last night. It was both.”

  Nick stared at him.

  Tyler climbed down from the risers. He headed for the door.

  Quinn and Adam had gone still in the middle of the dance floor. Nick had no idea how long they’d been watching.

  Quinn glanced between Nick and Tyler, and finally ran after Tyler. The front door to the studio slammed.

  It left Nick reeling, unsure where his emotions wanted to settle.

  He was very aware of Adam’s eyes still on him.

  Nick looked at him. He couldn’t speak. He wasn’t sure what he would say.

  “So,” Adam said. His expression was some amalgamation of curiosity, pity, and resignation. “More secrets, huh?”

  CHAPTER 29

  Quinn caught up to Tyler in the parking lot. There were only two vehicles left: his truck, and a black sedan across the lot that some parent must have left here to come back for later. She grabbed Tyler’s arm before he could jump in his truck and take off.

  She expected him to spin in a rage and shove her away, but he didn’t. He just stopped. He didn’t look at her.

  “Are you okay?” she said softly.

  “No.” His voice sounded thick.

  “Is what he said true?” she said. “The fire that killed his parents—did you—”

  “I don’t know.” He turned to look at her, and where she expected to find rage and fury, his expression only offered torment. “I don’t know, Quinn. I was sixteen years old. My sister was dead. I hated Michael Merrick with everything. I don’t—” His voice broke, but he caught it. “Gabriel Merrick hated us, too. They all did. I don’t know for sure which one of us started it. But I know I wasn’t the only one. I didn’t have that kind of power, the way the whole house went up in a flash. Not then.”

  “But . . . but you’ve called the Guides against the Merricks. You’ve tried to have them killed. You stood in your kitchen and told me you’ve never hurt anyone with your power. What was that about?”

  Now she got the fury. “What was I supposed to do?” he snapped. “My parents wanted to kill them for what they’d done to Emily. Was I supposed to stand up and say, ‘Guess what, guys. I’m one, too! Let’s get cake.’ Do you have any idea what it was like for me, knowing what I was, knowing my parents were calling the Guides to come to town to kill off the true Elementals? Knowing I might have played a part in killing my best friend’s parents? Do you have any idea?”

  “No.” She wet her lips. “I don’t.” She paused. “But you kept hurting them. You kept going after them. You went after Becca! You kept—”

  “Because I had to!” he exploded. “Because that’s what everyone expected! Don’t you get it? They killed my sister. Everyone thought they killed Seth’s parents. I had to hate them.”

  “Or else everyone would have hated you.”

  A cool wind whipped through the parking lot, reminding her of Nick. Tyler’s breathing was heavy.

  “Yeah,” he finally said.

  She couldn’t reconcile this in her head. The sweet things he’d whispered to her this morning, the way he’d helped her with her own insane family, the way he’d gotten in her face and made her confront her own fears about herself.

  And then this . . . this hate borne of nothing but selfish fear.

  “You could stop it,” she said. “You could just . . . stop.”

  “I can’t. Quinn, you don’t—”

  “Didn’t you pin me against your bathroom wall and tell me to stop pushing pe
ople away? That people would help me if I’d give them the chance? The sad, sorry truth is that the Merricks would probably help you if you weren’t so determined to be an asshole.”

  “I don’t want their help, Quinn.”

  “So you’re just going to keep on being ignorant . . . why, exactly?”

  The sarcasm was out before she could stop it. Tyler’s face shut down, chasing away any emotion. “You don’t understand. This isn’t me being ignorant. This is me trying to stay alive.”

  “Just like they are.”

  “I can’t argue this with you, Quinn.” His breathing staggered. “Not now. Not—not now.”

  She took a step back. “Then go.”

  He stared down at her.

  Then he turned and climbed into his vehicle. He started the engine, but didn’t shut the door. He inhaled like he was going to ask her for another chance.

  She took another step back. “Go. I’m not coming with you. Go.”

  A muscle in his jaw twitched. Quinn looked away.

  She expected him to beg her to climb in with him, to make more excuses, to apologize, to break down and give in.

  He didn’t.

  “Fine,” he said.

  Tyler slammed the door and backed out of his parking place, spraying gravel when he turned onto the main road.

  Quinn was still standing there, watching the dust settle, when a dark-haired man climbed out of the black sedan and approached her. He was young, mid to late twenties, maybe, with dark eyes and very average features. He wore a sport coat and khakis. If she saw him on the street, she probably wouldn’t give him a second glance. He looked like every other daddy of a three-year-old in a tutu.

  Maybe he’d seen their argument and he wanted to make sure she was all right.

  He said, “Quinn Briscoe?”

  She frowned. “Yes?”

  Then she kicked herself. What if this guy was a social worker? Or a cop? Wasn’t this how it happened? They cornered you somewhere and made you give your name—

  “I was wondering if you could help me for a moment,” he said.

  Sure. Maybe he was legit, or maybe he was a crazy rapist who would take her back to his commune.

  But at least that didn’t sound like the way a social worker would lead off. “Yeah, what kind of help do you need?”

  “My name is Gareth.” He pulled out a gun and put it right in her face. “And you’re going to help me kill Nick Merrick.”

  Nick felt Quinn’s flare of panic in the air like a bright starburst in his senses, amplified when the door to the studio swung open, sending the chimes ringing through the near empty space.

  He grabbed Adam’s arm and dragged him to the opposite side of the risers.

  Adam inhaled to speak, but Nick got an arm around his neck and slapped a hand over his mouth.

  “Be still,” Nick said, his mouth right against Adam’s ear. “Please. Be still.”

  Adam went still.

  Nick hadn’t had time to tell him much about his family, and he definitely hadn’t gotten to the part where someone might be trying to kill them.

  Quinn was silent, but her fear was a beacon, her shaking breath giving him information with every passing second. Footsteps approached, slow and steady on the wooden floors.

  He could also feel whoever was frightening her. Even breaths, pure confidence. There had to be a weapon of some sort, for Quinn to be this pliant.

  “See?” she said loudly. “They’re gone already.”

  Please, Quinn, Nick thought. Please don’t be stupid. He tried not to think of Michael’s stories of what Silver had done to Hunter’s girlfriend Kate. The torture, the final bullet to the head.

  Was this Silver? Had he escaped from prison?

  He begged the air for answers, stretching his senses far.

  “They’re here,” said a male voice.

  Adam went very still. He held his breath.

  “Come on out,” said the man. No British accent. Not Silver.

  But definitely a Guide.

  Nick didn’t move. There had to be a way out of this.

  Had to be.

  He tried not to think of his brothers. Had this guy gone after them first? Were his brothers dead and he didn’t know it?

  Not likely, if they were all together.

  Then he remembered his conversation with Michael. They were scattered. That could mean anything.

  And not just scattered. Scattered remotely. Gabriel would be home alone—with no Nick to warn of danger approaching. Chris and Michael were working a job, and if they were finishing the one Nick and Michael had skipped last night, it was a massive yard away from any other houses. Sitting ducks.

  Hell, if the Guide took out Nick and Gabriel, he wouldn’t even have to go looking for Chris and Michael. He could just wait for them to come home.

  “You’ve already given me proof,” said the man. “I know this girl is innocent. There is no need for her to die.”

  Think, Nick. God, what the hell use was his GPA if he couldn’t think of a way out of here?

  “Come out now,” said the man. “Three seconds and she dies.” He didn’t hesitate. “Three . . . Two . . .”

  “Nick!” Quinn’s voice, high and panicked.

  “Okay!” Nick shoved Adam down and stood, revealing himself. He didn’t recognize this guy at all.

  But he recognized the danger of a gun pointed at Quinn’s head.

  Nick put his hands up to show he was unarmed. “Okay. I’m here. Let her go.”

  Adam. Stay hidden. Please, Adam.

  “That was easy,” said the Guide.

  Then he pointed the gun straight at Nick’s head and pulled the trigger.

  CHAPTER 30

  The gun fired, and Quinn flew back and hit the wooden floor like someone had given her a hard shove. The studio windows exploded outward, but the sound only came to her distantly, as though she were underwater. The overhead lights burst and glass rained down.

  Time stopped. She felt as if she lay there for a minute. An hour. A day.

  After a while, she realized she could open her eyes. She turned her head.

  Glass everywhere, sparkling in the light.

  She couldn’t see Nick.

  She couldn’t breathe.

  Her ears were ringing and full, and she couldn’t seem to move right yet.

  Where was the man?

  He’d shot Nick. She’d seen the flash, had seen Nick jerk and fall.

  She had to run.

  She had to get to her phone.

  Her brain was racing, but everything else seemed to be moving in slow motion.

  Move!

  She still couldn’t breathe. The pressure was intense, as if an elephant had set up shop right on top of her chest. Her vision was turning spotty.

  Had she been shot? She felt like she’d been dropped into liquid amber, and her world was slowly coming to a crystalline stop.

  What was happening?

  And then, without warning, reality snapped back into place. Wind rushed into the studio, chilling her face and making the glass tinkle and drag across the wood.

  She could move. She could breathe. She could crawl.

  But no. When she rolled over, trying to get to her hands and knees, her body shook and protested the motion. Every joint hurt. Her head swam. Her skin pricked like she’d been sliced open by a hundred tiny knives.

  Oh, look. Her arms were bleeding.

  The lightbulbs. Glass under her palms.

  Nick.

  Nick was crumpled on the floor. Not moving.

  His eyes were closed. Blood had pooled on the hardwood floor, glistening where glass had collected in it.

  She realized she was screaming his name. Glass sliced into her hands and knees as she scrambled toward him.

  Then she caught movement from the corner of her eye and flinched, remembering the man.

  Hide. Hide, Quinn.

  Her brain wasn’t working. Hide where? In the open?

  But no. It wasn
’t the man. She didn’t see Gareth anywhere.

  It was Adam. He was making the same slow crawl across the glass-strewn floor that she was. Blood streaked his forearms. His head was bleeding from the temple—what had happened?

  His face was wet. He was crying.

  She was yelling. She couldn’t move fast enough.

  Nick.

  Nick.

  Nick.

  He didn’t move at all.

  No. No no no no no no.

  Adam got to him first. Rolled him onto his back. Nick’s arm cracked onto the hardwood floor, lifeless.

  Adam was crying his name, too. He was pressing his fingers to Nick’s neck, struggling to find a pulse. Adam’s words came to her in slow motion, and her brain didn’t want to process them.

  He doesn’t have a pulse.

  He’s not breathing.

  Damn it, Nick.

  The side of Nick’s face was soaked in blood. It was already caking in his hair.

  Oh, Nick. Quinn choked on her sobs.

  Adam breathed into Nick’s mouth.

  And again.

  Nothing happened.

  Nick’s voice was echoing in her head, from the night he’d told her their secrets.

  A gun to the head is a surefire way to kill us.

  God, now it sounded like a premonition.

  She’d done this. She should have fought Gareth in the parking lot. She should have screamed a warning. She should have begged Tyler to stay she should have should have should have—

  “Damn it, Quinn!” shouted Adam. “Snap out of it! Can you get to your phone? He’s got a pulse. We need an ambulance.”

  Nick had a headache.

  He couldn’t open his eyes. He kept flashing on waking up in the woods, Gabriel leaning over him.

  Come on, Nicky, you’re scaring me.

  Air swirled around him, fluttering at his skin, full of pride, seeking his attention.

  Yes, yes, he thought. I’m alive. Good job. This just really fucking hurts.

  He knew he’d been shot in the head, but only kind of distantly. Like maybe one day he’d be able to look back on this and say, “Well, the one time I took a bullet to the cerebral cortex . . .”

  No. That was stupid. If the bullet had gone into his brain, he wouldn’t be lying here thinking about it, would he?