Читать книгу Spirit - Brigid Kemmerer - Страница 13

CHAPTER 6

At the end of the school day, Kate burst into the afternoon sunlight with the other students.

Then she got a glimpse of the roadway in front of the school and sighed.

Silver was waiting for her, leaning up against his truck, one hand hooked into a pocket. The sun caught the lighter strands in his hair and turned them gold, and the black T-shirt he wore didn’t leave a whole lot to the imagination.

She wasn’t the only one appreciating it, if the number of giggling girls passing close to the truck were any indication. But Silver was only looking at Kate.

She sighed and pulled her sunglasses from her bag, slipping them onto her face along with a bored expression, before looking both ways to cross the street.

For a moment, she wished she’d asked Nick Merrick for a ride home, just to get under Silver’s skin, but at lunch she’d met Quinn.

“Nick’s girlfriend,” the other girl had emphasized, her voice full of steel daggers.

Kate had picked up one of Nick’s fries—he’d offered—and smiled back sweetly. “Sounds like paradise.”

Then Nick had smiled that wicked way and said, “See? I knew you’d have no trouble making friends.”

Kate crossed the street with a bored expression on her face. “Haven’t you ever seen Sixteen Candles?”

That threw him. Silver tilted his head to the side. “I’m sorry?”

“It’s a classic. All you need is the red sports car. Come on, Jake, I’m hungry.”

But as she moved to walk past him, he caught her around the waist and drew her into his body. She gasped, and he caught her breath, pressing his lips against hers. Despite the shock, he was one hell of a good kisser. She made a small sound, her body softening against his automatically, enjoying the feel of his hands sliding under her leather jacket to warm the skin at her waist.

Her power sparked with his, pulling heat from the sunlight and kicking the air into little whirlwinds around them.

Silver pulled back, lifting a hand to push her sunglasses up onto her forehead.

She stared up at him, feeling a bit dazed, though she didn’t want him to know that. “Missed me, did you?” she said, mocking his accent.

“Not at all.” He kissed the end of her nose. “Just setting a story so we have a reason to be seen together. Get in the car.”

Then he smacked her on the ass and stepped back.

Kate’s hand formed a fist, but before she could get past her shock and move, Silver glanced over. “Hit me and I’ll hit you back.”

He was smiling, but the glint of danger in his eyes said he wasn’t kidding. She couldn’t let him see that he’d gotten to her. She pulled her sunglasses back into place and drew a slim tube of lip gloss from her bag, deliberately moving slowly though her fingers were shaky with adrenaline. “Is that a promise or a threat?”

“Both. Did you mention you were hungry?”

Silver took her to the Pizza Hut near the school, a place with sticky tables, a sticky floor, and sticky toddlers screaming over the ancient jukebox in the corner.

It probably had sticky buttons. She didn’t want to find out.

Kate raised her eyebrows at him when the waitress brought thick plastic cups of soda. “Really. I say I’m hungry and this is where you take me.”

He ignored her. “What did you learn today?”

She took a sip of her soda and cast a glance around the room. Harried mothers, tired servers, bored busboys. Silver looked completely out of place in the red vinyl booth. But then, she probably did, too.

She shrugged and swirled the straw in her glass. “They’re boys. One of them got in a fight right in front of me and was stopped by a teacher.” She rolled her eyes. “We could probably go back and take them out right now.”

“If we take out one, we have to take out all. We can’t risk collateral damage.”

“Say ‘collateral damage’ again. That sounded sexy.”

He didn’t smile. “Are you not taking this seriously, Kathryn?”

His voice was low and dangerous, but she was still smarting from his treatment in the parking lot. It made her long for the easy banter of the text messages she’d exchanged with that boy with the piercings and tattoos. Hunter. How quickly he’d defended her this morning, standing up to those idiots in the school office.

She wondered what kind of kisser he was.

Then she squashed the thought. She had a purpose here. She couldn’t let Silver catch her being distracted.

And that boy, Hunter, had shoved a girl in the cafeteria. He’d picked a fight with Gabriel Merrick. He’d seemed so collected, so controlled.

Then she’d seen it all go to hell in less than a minute.

She pushed Hunter and his text messages out of her mind. “I don’t understand all this caution. They’re not organized. There are only four of them.”

“Every Guide who has come to destroy them has disappeared. That begs caution. Don’t let your age make you impetuous.”

“My age.” She glared at him. “You’re not that much older than me. How did you get assigned to this?”

“I’m twenty-one. And I followed orders.”

“You followed orders.”

He didn’t say anything. Just looked at her.

She narrowed her eyes. “Well, that’s not too impressive.”

“Perhaps not.” He leaned in. “But I do it well.”

His voice was full of the promise of danger, lending more weight to the words than they’d carry on their own. She quickly took a sip of soda and glanced away.

Time to change the topic.

“I sat with Nick and Chris at lunch today. They were nice.”

“Nice?”

It was the wrong thing to say. She could hear the judgment in his voice. What the hell had made her say that?

They were nice? The people they were here to kill?

Was she insane?

She quickly added, “They bought my story. I should be able to work an invite back to their house by the weekend.”

She’d thought Silver would be pleased, but his expression darkened. “I don’t like you going there alone.”

“Jealous?”

“It’s a risk.” A little part of her wondered at the thought of him worrying about her—but then he crushed it. “Surrounded by all of them, you may give yourself away. And if they kill off my decoy, I’ll have to start from square one.”

“Stop it. You’re getting me all hot and bothered.”

“You may be talented, but you aren’t strong enough to take all of them by yourself, Kathryn.”

Just like before, it was an insult and a compliment all rolled into one. She took another sip of her soda. “I can take care of myself.”

Silver regarded her silently for a moment. “Find another way to spend time around them. We’ll figure out a way I can monitor the situation.”

He was making her feel like she was about twelve years old. “What did you learn today?”

“I sat outside the school and read police reports on the recent arson cases.”

“You sat in the truck all day? Why?”

“I didn’t just sit in the truck.” He hadn’t touched his soda, but now he ran a finger around the rim of the glass. “And I wasn’t sure whether you’d need help.”

“They have laws against stalking high school students.”

“No one saw me.” He paused. “They arrested a boy for these arson attacks, and the fires have stopped. But from what I can see, this Ryan Stacey has no connection to Elementals. The police are chalking up the pentagram patterns at the arson locations to simple cult obsession.”

Kate snorted and took another sip of her soda. “Idiots.”

“According to the police reports, Gabriel Merrick was arrested and released. He was never charged with the crimes. In one article, it’s claimed that he and another boy—” Silver checked his phone. “—a Hunter Garrity, rescued students from the fire in the school library—”

Kate choked on her soda.

Silver raised his eyebrows. “Problems?”

“I met him. Today. Hunter Garrity. He’s the one who fought with Gabriel Merrick in the cafeteria.”

“The plot thickens.”

Kate wiped at her mouth with the napkin. “It does? Why?”

“One of the first Guides sent to take care of our friends the Merricks was named John Garrity. He never made it. While I believe in coincidence, that strikes a bit too close to home, does it not?”

Kate froze. She remembered the way the air went still around Hunter in the school office.

“Can you get close to him?” said Silver.

She nodded, thinking of those text messages.

“Find out what really happened to his father.”

“What else?”

“Find out whether he had something to do with it. It concerns me,” said Silver, leaning in, “that there may be more Elementals at play here than we realize.”

“More than you can handle?” said Kate.

“Never.” He laughed, low, under his breath. “I’m worried, my dear, that they’re more than you can handle.”

“I can do this,” she said, losing any trace of humor. “I can.”

“Good,” he said. “Then prove it.”

Hunter found his mother and his grandparents sitting in silence when he walked in.

Then he stopped short.

His gun was on the kitchen table between them. His two knives were laid out beside it. And the spare magazine, plus the box of bullets.

They’d searched his room.

Casper nosed at his hands, begging to be petted, but for the first time, Hunter couldn’t even acknowledge his dog. His emotions were wildly vacillating between fury and fear, and they couldn’t decide where to settle. His heart felt like it was beating a path out of his chest.

His mother looked like she’d been crying—but that seemed to be a daily occurrence, so Hunter didn’t read too much into it. His grandmother looked disappointed, as usual.

And his grandfather looked like he wanted to load the gun and use it.

Hunter was tempted to go for it first.

He cleared his throat, and his voice didn’t want to work. “What’s going on?”

His mother opened her mouth, but his grandmother put a hand over hers and squeezed—hard, it looked like.

His grandfather’s eyes were like steel, solid and unwavering. “You tell us,” he said.

Hunter bristled. “No, you tell me. You searched my room?”

“A good thing, too, considering what we found.”

Hunter glanced at his mother. She wasn’t looking at him now. “Those are Dad’s,” he said, his voice low. “You knew I had them.”

She didn’t answer. His grandfather did: “I don’t care whose they were. Look at me.”

Hunter dragged his eyes back to his grandfather.

The man gestured to the table. “You think it’s appropriate for a fifteen-year-old boy to have access to these kinds of weapons?”

“I’m sixteen.”

“Don’t get smart with me, kid.”

Hunter gritted his teeth. “I’m not getting smart. I drove here, for god’s sake—”

“Cut the attitude.” His grandfather was suddenly on his feet. “You’re this close to being on the street.”

Hunter was so sick of the empty threats. Especially today. He moved to brush past him, to go to his room, to burrow under the covers until he had to wake up and start another day.

His grandfather grabbed his arm. “Don’t you walk out of here. You’ve got friends breaking in here at all hours of the night, you’re in trouble at school for roughing up your girlfriend, and now we find weapons in your bedroom.”

So Vickers had called the house. Great.

Hunter kept his voice even. “Let me go.”

“You’re not walking out of here until you apologize to your mother.”

Hunter looked at his mom again, wondering how she’d turned into this unraveled mess of a woman who had to be held together by her parents.

He didn’t even know what he was supposed to be apologizing for, but she was looking at him for the first time in days, and the disappointment there was more painful than anything his grandfather could say.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

Her eyes filled and she swiped at them quickly.

Hunter swallowed—but then his grandfather shook him. “You’re selfish, putting her through this stress when she’s already going through a difficult time.”

Hunter felt guilty and resentful all at once. He couldn’t look at his mother anymore, but he didn’t want to look at his grandfather, either. “Just let me go.”

“You’re not staying under this roof until you tell us what you’re going to change.”

“Fine. I’ll sleep in the car.”

His grandfather let him go with enough of a shove to make Hunter fall back a step. “Good,” he said. “You’re already packed.”

Whoa.

Wait.

“What are you talking about?”

His grandfather pointed. “Come back with a new attitude.”

Hunter looked. Two duffel bags—his duffel bags—were by the baker’s rack, stuffed full of what looked like clothes.

He couldn’t breathe. It felt like he’d swallowed hot tar.

He glanced at his mother. She wouldn’t look at him now.

“You’re throwing me out?” His voice almost cracked and he didn’t care.

“You’re not going to break the law and live here,” said his grandfather.

“I’m not breaking the law!”

“Something is going on with you, boy, and I’m sick of it. Do you understand me? I don’t know how your father raised you—”

“Don’t.” Hunter had to take a deep breath, and it shook. “Don’t you talk about my father.”

“What do you think he’d say about you hitting women?”

“It’s not like that.”

“What’s it like, then?”

Hunter almost couldn’t speak through the tightness in his chest. “It’s—it’s a misunderstanding.”

“Is this a misunderstanding?” His grandfather hit him.

The blow snapped Hunter’s head to the side. He’d seen it coming, but his brain couldn’t quite believe it, so he didn’t make a move to defend himself.

It hurt.

He’d been hit before, but there was something different about it coming from his grandfather, as if their history—not all of it bad—was loaded into that backhand slap.

Hunter sucked in a breath through his teeth. His mother’s hand was over her mouth, but she hadn’t said a word.

“You want to hit someone,” said his grandfather, “you pick on someone your own size.” His grandfather hit him again, an open hand slap this time. “How’s this feel?”

Hunter forced his hands to stay at his sides, but he couldn’t keep them from curling into fists. “Stop it.”

“Stop it? Can’t take it? Did she ask you to stop?”

Casper barked.

“It wasn’t—I didn’t—” Another hit, and Hunter flung up an arm to protect his face, but it didn’t help. His grandfather wasn’t being gentle. These were full hits with strength behind them.

An adult had never come after him this way. His eyes were burning, more fury than tears. Anger lay coiled in his chest, ready to spring free and slam his grandfather to the ground, but Hunter was having trouble fighting through this layer of bewilderment and disbelief.

His grandfather was hitting him. Hitting him.

And his mother was letting it happen.

Then his grandfather caught him on the cheek, a sharp hit that stung. Hunter shoved him back. His breathing was loud in the sudden silence.

He had to get out of here. Hunter turned, hunching his shoulders, keeping his hands tight at his sides.

His grandfather grabbed his arm, and it was like pulling a trigger. Hunter whirled and struck.

The man wasn’t ready for it—or maybe he just didn’t expect Hunter to hit back. His grandfather hit the counter and fell.

His grandmother cried out. Casper was barking, bouncing on his hind legs, waiting for Hunter to give some direction.

His mother was crying again. “Hunter, stop.”

As if he’d started this.

You made your bed, kid. Now you lie in it.

Maybe he had started this. His breathing was too fast.

His grandfather was struggling to his feet. There was blood and a murderous expression on his face.

Hunter had no idea how to fix this. And all he could think about was his father’s final lesson, how he’d had the opportunity to employ lethal force, and he’d failed.

Just like he’d failed with Calla.

His thoughts were spinning in a dangerous direction, and he couldn’t rein them in. He needed to get out of here, before he did something he couldn’t undo.

You already did something you can’t undo.

Then his grandfather was coming after him again.

Hunter ran. He was through the front door before registering that he’d grabbed one of the bags by the door, and then his jeep tires were spinning gravel from the driveway. Casper was in the back, his head hanging between the seats, his tongue rasping against Hunter’s cheek.

Hunter brushed him away and yanked the wheel to pull onto the main roadway. His heartbeat was a roar in his ears, his lungs grabbing for breath. He needed to slow down. He needed to get hold of himself.

He drove to Quiet Waters, the only county park he knew. He’d come here once before, with Becca. It felt like a lifetime ago.

Kids were attacking the playground equipment, so he drove to the other side of the grounds, stopping his jeep by the pond. The sunlight was dying in the west, but there was still enough to warm his face.

His cheek felt hot and sore where his grandfather had hit him.

Hunter killed the engine and focused on breathing.

In. Out.

His mother had let him go. She’d let her father throw Hunter out of the house.

She’d let his grandfather hit him. He and his own father had scuffled, sure. But his dad had never hauled off and decked him.

But his mother thought he’d hit Calla. She thought he was involved in illegal activities. She hadn’t even asked for his side of things, hadn’t waited for an explanation.

He’d barely been able to get eye contact out of her in months, and now she thought he was—

Stop.

More breaths. He could do this. He could figure it out.

He picked up his cell phone. No messages. His mother hadn’t tried to call. Should he call her?

She’d stood there and watched his grandfather belt him, then told Hunter to stop.

More breaths. He needed to slow down. He rubbed at his eyes.

Finally, he opened the door to let Casper out of the car. He pulled the duffel bag onto the front seat and unzipped it. Clothes, all clothes. Not a lot, but enough for a few days. The only shoes he had were the ones on his feet. It had been windy today so he was still wearing a hoodie under a denim jacket, along with the jeans he’d worn to school. No soap, no razor, but it wasn’t like he had access to anywhere to use those things. He could go to school early and shower there. Maybe things would look different in the morning.

He checked his wallet. Seventeen dollars. He had half a tank of gas in the jeep. He hadn’t eaten dinner, but the rest of his money was in an envelope in the top drawer of his dresser—if his grandfather hadn’t already confiscated it during the “search.” Seventeen dollars wouldn’t last very long, especially if he burned through the rest of his fuel.

All he had to feed Casper was a baggie of milk bones in the glove box.

Suddenly it seemed cruel to have brought the dog.

Hunter swallowed. Wind whipped across the pond to lace through his hair and make him shiver.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said.

He looked at his phone again, wanting to call . . . someone. He just couldn’t think of anyone who wouldn’t hang up on him. Explaining what had just happened—he couldn’t take it. He already felt guilty enough. He didn’t need someone else to add to it. No way he could ring up Becca or the Merricks and say he’d been thrown out of his house.

Gabriel would probably laugh in his face.

It would be dark soon. He could go one night without eating. Hunter fished the milk bones out of the glove box, divided them in half, and tossed them in the grass for Casper.

Then he lay back in the grass and stared at the darkening sky, attempting nothing more challenging than filling his lungs with air, until a park ranger came around and told him to leave.

After writing him a citation for his dog being loose.

Hunter shoved the citation in the glove box and started the ignition. His fingers felt like icicles, and his empty stomach was starting to protest this whole not eating thing.

The headache was back, clawing at his temples.

Hunter didn’t want to drive far, because he didn’t know how long he’d need to make his fuel last. He settled on the parking lot behind the twenty-four-hour Target on Ritchie Highway, parking in a row of other cars that probably belonged to employees. He blasted the heat as high as he could tolerate, until his breath fogged the windshield and even Casper was panting. Then he pulled an extra pair of sweatpants over his jeans and climbed into the backseat, cramming his legs into the small space and resting his head on the duffel bag.

Casper crammed himself onto the bench seat, too, pressing his back against Hunter’s chest and his nose into the space under Hunter’s chin.

He’d be covered in dog hair in the morning, but Hunter didn’t care. Casper would keep him warm.

He checked his phone again. Nothing.

His throat felt tight.

He told himself to knock it off.

He wished he knew how to fix this. All of it.

His breath was catching. Casper lifted his head and licked Hunter’s cheek.

There was no one here to see, but he’d know, and he wouldn’t let himself lose it. Not when he’d been the one to cause this.

But his breath wouldn’t stop hitching, and he buried his face in the scruff of Casper’s neck.

He missed his father so much.

He thought of where he was right now, and how he’d gotten here, and knew exactly how disappointed his father would be.

He’d fix it. Somehow. He’d fix this.

His phone chimed, and Hunter swiped at his eyes. His heart flew with hope. Maybe his mother had reconsidered? Maybe she’d give him a chance to explain?

But it wasn’t his mother’s number on the face of the phone.

What do you stare at when you’re not in school?

Kate.

Hunter lifted his head. For an instant, he thought about turning the phone off and burying it in his pocket—but really, what else did he have to do?

Obviously I stare at text messages from girls with theories.

Her response was lightning quick.

Slow night, huh?

He smiled.

Long night would be more accurate.

A long pause, then:

What’s with you and the girl from the caf?

Hunter frowned. She meant Calla. He remembered the look on Kate’s face when she’d watched, standing there with her hand on Nick’s arm.

Wasn’t it obvious?

No. And don’t get all >:O at me.

How did you know I was >:O?

Please. Your text style screams >:O.

Hunter smiled again, but only briefly.

It’s complicated.

I have a theory about complicated boys.

He smiled. Before he could type anything else, another message appeared.

BTW that was a pretty sweet spinning backfist you used on the guy who flipped your tray. Where did you learn to fight like that?

His smile vanished altogether.

Another sentence appeared before he could say anything.

Though you’re out of practice. You were lucky that teacher stopped him. Your timing needs work.

He stared at the phone, wondering if he should be impressed or insulted. Then he typed.

This is me right now. :-O

I prefer you like this: :-)

He smiled. Another message from Kate appeared.

Seriously. Where’d you learn to fight like that?

Ninja school.

Funny. Why are you having a long night?

He paused, studying the phone. He didn’t know her at all. But somehow this was easier, sending text messages into the ether.

Family stuff.

Mom or dad?

Grandfather and mom. My dad died at the beginning of the summer.

After he hit SEND, he stared at the words. It wasn’t the first time he’d said them, but it was the first time he’d typed them into a text message, and now they were burning themselves into his brain, like they held more power in writing.

He typed something else quickly, just to make the screen scroll.

We live with my grandparents now.

Her message appeared almost instantly.

I’m sorry about your dad.

A long pause, and then another message from Kate.

My mom is dead, too.

Her words held weight, too, as if the screen knew their power. He typed automatically.

I’m sorry.

Then he added,

Don’t you hate when people say that?

Yes. I’m sorry I said it.

Me, too.

This time the pause was really long, as he fought for something to say after that. He wondered if she’d given up on the texting, when a new one appeared.

How did your dad die?

Normally the question would piss him off. But it was different in a text message, from someone else who’d lost a parent.

In a car accident. I was with him. My uncle died, too.

My mom drowned last year.

Hunter flinched. Somehow it seemed worse—but what was the difference?

Another message popped up on the screen.

It wasn’t supposed to happen that way.

It should have seemed like a weird statement—but he got it.

I know exactly what you mean.

Were you and your dad close?

The words hit him like a bullet. Close.

He and his father hadn’t always gotten along, but Hunter had always felt like his father understood him.

He slid his fingers across the screen.

Yeah. Sort of. Sometimes not at all. Bizarre, right?

We’re all pretty bizarre. Some of us are just better at hiding it, that’s all.

He smiled.

Was that a quote from The Breakfast Club?

O_O Most people don’t get that one.

My uncle loved eighties movies. I’ve seen them all.

Nobody puts Baby in the corner.

Wax on, wax off.

I can’t believe I gave my panties to a geek.

He froze. That one sent his thoughts in a dangerous direction. His phone buzzed.

STOP THINKING ABOUT MY PANTIES.

He grinned.

Can’t help it now.

Stare at me tomorrow?

Sure. I’ll be in the caf early.

And that was it. She didn’t respond.

But that was okay. For five minutes, he didn’t feel so alone.

Hunter put his head down against the duffel bag, closed his eyes, and smiled.