Sacrifice

by Brigid Kemmerer

  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.

  “I want the National Guard,” he said back, his fingers dialing.

  Another gunshot. She flinched and slapped a hand over her mouth to keep from crying out. Another earthquake, this time hard enough to send cracks across the pavement and between the small cluster of trees where she hid with Irish. One of the trees gave a loud creak, and she gasped and started shifting backward, ready for it to fall.

  Irish put a hand against the trunk. “It’s okay,” he said. “It’s steady.”

  But nothing was steady. The earth kept shaking, until tiny cracks began to form between Hannah’s fingers. The gun fired again, and the packed dirt and pavement buckled and gave way. She felt herself falling. She scrabbled for purchase.

  Irish grabbed her arm and yanked her sideways. She found herself looking into a ravine—six feet deep and three feet across. It stretched from Michael all the way through the parking lot and out of sight. It wasn’t the only one.

  And the ground hadn’t stopped shaking.

  “Make it stop,” she said.

  “I can’t,” said Irish. “He’s too strong.”

  “He—what?” Wind whipped through her hair, chilling her cheeks, carrying the scent of the water. Another gust picked up grit and debris from the ground, sending it skittering into the ravine. Thunder boomed overhead, an almost deafening roar from the sky. A bolt of lightning hit a tree and branches exploded everywhere.

  “What’s happening?” she cried. The wind picked up, beating her hair against her face.

  “He’s setting a trap,” said Irish.

  Thunder cracked again. This bolt of lightning skipped the trees and raced straight for earth.

  The man with the gun laughed. He turned in a circle. At some point he’d hurt Hunter—now he was the only one standing.

  “Come out, come out, wherever you are,” he called.

  “A trap,” said Hannah. “Who is he trapping?”

  “Us,” said a voice.

  She looked up. There, coming out of the darkness, wearing torn, bloodied clothes and covered in bruises and lacerations, were Michael’s brothers.

  Michael had to be dying. That would explain the sudden wind on his cheeks and the mist in the air.

  At this point, he’d welcome it. He’d lost track of how many times he’d been shot. At some point he’d realized that his brothers couldn’t be dead, if the Guide was using him to lure them here now. He tried stopping his power from reaching into the earth, but his body had taken so many injuries that he had no control left.

  And of course the Guide was strong enough to keep any damage away from himself.

  Tyler had long since gone silent, and Michael suspected one of those bullets had gone into him.

  Hunter was crying.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “Michael, I’m sorry.”

  Michael didn’t even have the strength to answer him. He slid his hand sideways, toward Hunter, knowing it wouldn’t be enough.

  But Hunter must have seen, because he took Michael’s hand and held it.

  “Sweet,” said the Guide. “Hunter, you’re such a disappointment.”

  Michael squeezed his hand. You’re not, he wished he could say. You’re not.

  Hunter squeezed back. “No,” he said to his uncle. “You are. You killed so many people. Why? Just to get to the Merricks?”

  “Oh, this is bigger than your friends, Hunter. Don’t you see that?”

  “No,” said Hunter, desperation in his tone. “I don’t see it. Why?”

  “You’re proof. Your father was proof. The Guides have lost focus. Priorities are no longer clear. Did you know your father wanted to help these Elementals? Can you imagine?”

  “Yes,” said Hunter. “I can.”

  The Guide poi
nted to the ground, at the cracked earth. “Look at this damage he’s done already.”

  “That’s happening because you’re shooting him!” yelled Hunter.

  Another gust of wind pulled at Michael’s cheeks. The air seeped into his injuries, and he felt a surge of power.

  “Nick,” whispered Hunter.

  No, thought Michael, feeling relief and despair battle for dominance in his thoughts. Run. Hide.

  But they wouldn’t. He knew they wouldn’t.

  “Good!” called the Guide. “Call more power. Try to destroy me.”

  “We will,” said Hunter. His hand was tight on Michael’s.

  The wind was a solid force now, flinging loose bits of earth through the air. Lightning arced to the ground, and the water surrounding the peninsula surged high against the rocky breakers.

  They’d done this once before—called elements with a full circle and sent the power directly into another Guide. With Silver, they’d held back. They hadn’t killed him.

  Now, they weren’t holding back. Through his link with Hunter, Michael could feel each element as clearly as his own. His wounds carried no pain now. There was simply earth, air, fire, and water, combined and strengthened through Hunter’s connection to the spirit.

  The winds’ force reached hurricane strength. Michael lost track of how much lightning coursed to the ground. Rain spit at his cheeks. He’d never felt this much power. It was choking him, threatening to rip him apart if he and his brothers didn’t give it direction.

  “Do it,” said Jay, and his voice was terrible. “You know what we say, Hunter. For the greater good.”

  The power stood ready to destroy him. All it needed was Hunter’s direction.

  Michael had one clarifying thought: This is too easy.

  He remembered Hunter’s lecture about violent combat, how his father preferred hand-to-hand fighting, to be an active participant in someone else’s demise. But his uncle—he preferred to fight from a distance. Jay knew about explosives—he’d already proven that. Hadn’t Hunter said that a Guide could use power to give his weapons an extra kick?

  For the greater good. Wasn’t that what all the Guides said? That anyone’s death was worth it, if it led to the destruction of pure Elementals?

  Michael squeezed Hunter’s hand, hard. He couldn’t feel his injuries now. He couldn’t hear over the roar of the wind and the rumble of the earth and the thunder. All this power needed to go somewhere.

  “A bomb!” he said to Hunter. “He has a bomb!”

  Hunter’s eyes shot wide. His hand was tight on Michael’s.

  This much power combined with the outward force of an explosive—it would level the county. Maybe even the state. Hundreds of thousands of people would be killed.

  All for a few Elementals.

  Hunter was trying to dial it back, but there was too much. His skin practically glowed. “You’ll die with us,” he said through clenched teeth.

  “Of course,” said Jay. “I understand sacrifice. I’m doing what’s right.”

  “No,” said Hunter. “I am.”

  He jerked his hand out of Michael’s. The cord of power snapped.

  A burst of white light exploded from Hunter’s body, taking all the wind and rain and lightning. Power surged outward, over everything. Michael felt it strike his body, healing the damage the Guide had caused. It went farther, finding the earth, the air, the water, an explosion of light and warmth spreading across the peninsula.

  For an instant, Michael couldn’t see. He couldn’t feel.

  And then he could.

  Hunter was gone. Gone. Not lying dead at their feet. Simply gone. The power had torn him apart.

  Michael couldn’t breathe. What had Hunter done? What had he done?

  The Guide was on the ground across from Michael, struggling to get to his feet. The guns lay on the ground between them. Michael scrambled for one, hoping he’d be faster.

  But the Guide’s eyes lit with fury, and he started pulling at something in his waistband. “I can still take some of you with me—”

  Michael shot him in the head. The Guide fell.

  Then Michael sat there in the sudden silence and waited for his brothers to find him.

  CHAPTER 30

  Early morning light was breaking across the park. The parking lot was packed with official vehicles: fire trucks, ambulances, police cars, a bomb squad technician—even a van from the FBI.

  Hannah hadn’t been able to see Michael or his brothers yet.

  She wasn’t sure she wanted to. She had too many questions, and she wasn’t sure she was ready for answers.

  She’d seen Michael and Tyler get shot. She’d seen it.

  She’d also seen them get off the ground as if it had all been staged. She’d seen Hunter vanish into a burst of white light and heat. A bomb? But no one else had been injured.

  And then there was the earthquake damage.

  Or the lack thereof.

  She sat on the back of an ambulance and studied the ground, which was slowly going from gray to green as sunlight found blades of grass.

  Every mark from the earthquake was gone. No ravines. No cracks. Nothing. The grass itself looked lush and full.

  “How are you holding up?”

  She looked up to find Irish standing in front of her. “I have no idea how to answer that question.”

  “Your boyfriend and his brothers are fine.”

  “He’s not my boyfriend. I don’t know what he is.”

  “I do.”

  She remembered what he’d said when he was holding her, when she was begging for the earthquake to stop. He’s too strong.

  “How much do you know?” she said warily.

  “Not all of it.” His voice was careful. “I can put together the pieces.”

  “How, then? How do you know?”

  He hesitated, then glanced around. “That’s not really a conversation for here and now.”

  “Were you involved?” she said. “All this time? Were you part of this whole thing?”

  “No.” Irish shook his head. He looked aggrieved. “Though I might have known a little more than I was letting on when I encouraged you to listen to your father.”

  “Then what are you doing here?” she asked.

  “I’ve always told you the truth about that,” he said. He glanced across the grounds, to where Michael was sitting in one ambulance and his brothers were sitting in another. Michael was alone, but his brothers were being checked over.

  Michael was watching their interaction, Hannah realized.

  She couldn’t look at him.

  She looked at Irish instead. “You’ve always told me the truth about bizarre weather events? I don’t think so.”

  “About why I’m here. I came looking for a new opportunity.”

  “What kind of opportunity?”

  He sucked his breath through his teeth. “Again, not a conversation for here and—”

  “Yeah, yeah.” She suddenly realized she was so tired of secrets. “Over coffee, then?”

  His eyes widened. “You want me to tell you—”

  “Everything,” she said. “I want you to tell me everything.”

  Michael sat in the back of an ambulance and watched Hannah’s partner approach.

  He’d rather be watching Hannah approach, but he’d seen her conversation with Irish, and had seen her very deliberately turn away from his gaze. Now, he’d lost her entirely among the crowd of rescue personnel.

  Irish didn’t mince words. He simply climbed into the ambulance and dropped onto the bench in front of Michael. “My secret’s out,” he said.

  Michael kept staring at him. He had Tyler’s gun shoved into the back of his jeans, and he’d bet good money that Irish knew it was there. “My brothers tell me you’re a Guide,” Michael said.

  “A Fifth,” Irish said. “Not a Guide.”

  Too much had happened for Michael to play this any way but aggressively. “Tell me why I shouldn’t shoot you, too.”
/>   Irish took that question at face value. “I’m not like him. I wasn’t here for you.”

  “Then who are you here for?”

  “Myself.” He paused. “I moved here to get away from all that.”

  Michael’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”

  “Because my father was a Guide. I saw what he had to do. I wanted no part of that.” He paused. “I think your Hunter was the same?”

  Your Hunter. Michael had to put a hand over his chest, the ache was so strong and sudden.

  Irish reached out, and Michael jumped. He had the gun pointed before he’d finished a breath.

  Irish put his hands up. “Take it easy. I’m sorry. You’re hurting—”

  “That’s none of your business.”

  “Fine,” Irish said equably. “But I’m not your enemy.”

  “We’ll see.” After a second, Michael put the gun away.

  “There are more of us than you’d think,” Irish said. “The Guides don’t like us much either, for what it’s worth.”

  “Why?” said Michael.

  Irish shrugged. “Younger generation. New way of thinking.” He paused. “A lot of us think it’s time for a change.”

  “Me, too,” said Michael.

  “Maybe we can make that happen together,” said Irish. He held out his hand.

  After a moment, Michael shook it.

  When Irish tried to pull away, Michael held fast. “What’s going on between you and Hannah?”

  “She asked me to tell her everything.”

  Michael felt that like a bullet. He winced. He should be telling her.

  He should have told her.

  But maybe it was better this way. He’d never be safe. Not really.

  “Good,” he said. But he still didn’t let go of Irish’s hand. “You didn’t really answer my question.”

  Irish raised his eyebrows.

  Michael repeated himself. “What’s going on between you and Hannah?”

  Irish smiled. “Ask her.”

  CHAPTER 31

  Michael’s brothers sat in the back of an ambulance, wrapped in blankets. They’d been examined and questioned and told to wait.

  So Michael sat on the tailgate and waited. He didn’t want to move. He felt like if he stayed right here, he could keep his brothers safe.