Spirit (Elemental) - By Brigid Kemmerer Page 0,66

all wrong.”

He swung his head around to look at her. “You would, wouldn’t you? I’m surprised you’re not throwing yourself at me right now, just to end the conversation.”

She snorted. “Like you’d know what to do if I did.”

He recoiled, and she regretted it immediately. But she’d needed to sting him back for everything he’d been saying, as if the only thing she could offer this mission was a little physical distraction wrapped up with a pretty smile.

That was how Silver treated her.

And how her mother had treated her.

Hunter’s shoulders were tight now, and he was peeling the label off his water bottle. He very determinedly was not looking at her.

Mocking him should have felt good. It didn’t. It felt like crap.

“I’m sorry you don’t think you can trust me,” she finally said.

He didn’t say anything. He probably could recite the label by heart he was studying it so hard.

“I don’t trust anyone,” he finally said.

That surprised her. “You trust Silver.”

Hunter looked her way. “Trust isn’t the right word. He’s the first person I’ve met in a long time who brought it back to black-and-white.”

And Hunter respected that. She could hear it in his voice. He might not like Silver, but he respected him, he respected what he was doing here.

“So you’re going to turn on the Merricks.”

“I’m not turning on anyone. They’re not on my side.”

“I watched Gabriel pull you out of the line of fire, after Silver shot you.”

Hunter didn’t say anything. Then he looked over. “Whose side are you on?”

“I’m just making sure you’re not going to stab us in the back, too.”

“I’m not stabbing anyone in the back. They know what I am. God knows they question me about it enough. They’re looking out for themselves, so I need to do the same.”

“What does that mean, they’re looking out for themselves?”

“It means exactly what it sounds like.” But he’d hesitated for a moment.

Before she could question him about it, the school bells rang and the side door was flung open. Middle schoolers came pouring out.

She couldn’t believe how young they looked. Had she ever been this young? She’d been tiny when her mother first took her to that farm in Virginia. She’d been about this age when her bloodied face had been pressed into filthy straw. What was the worst thing these kids had ever encountered? Hangnail? Forgotten homework?

Hunter was trained on the door, watching as each kid came out. The courtyard filled with students, the gray sky dulling the bright jackets and backpacks. Girls laughed and giggled, boys yelled to each other about sports and games, and they were suddenly surrounded.

“We can’t just shoot him, you know,” she said.

Hunter didn’t say anything, but he gave her another look, as if to say, I’m not an idiot.

She didn’t like all these looks. They were keeping her off balance.

She didn’t like being off balance.

“You act like you’re so experienced all of a sudden,” she scoffed. “What’s your plan, then?”

He turned, put a finger to his lips, and shushed her.

Shushed her!

She wanted to cut him to his knees, but Hunter shifted on the bench, straightened a little.

Kate knew exactly who he’d spotted, because as soon as the dark-haired kid laid eyes on Hunter, he bolted.

Then Hunter bolted after him.

Kate swore and took up the chase.

The boy had an advantage. He’d been coming out of the door, so he was able to run along the school wall, while she and Hunter had to fight through a swarm of students to follow him.

The kid was fast, too, lean and lanky with a stride that ate up the grass and gave him early distance. They made it to the soccer fields behind the school, a long stretch of turf that offered no cover. For a terrifying moment, Kate wondered if this boy had cursed himself, because Silver was surely waiting somewhere, watching this whole episode, and he’d already proven he wasn’t afraid to shoot first and ask questions later.

Then she felt power and knew Hunter was pulling energy from the air, from the misting rain, from the ground under their feet. For an instant, jealousy snaked through her mind—she didn’t have anywhere near enough control to borrow so much at once—but then Hunter was surging forward to tackle the kid and bring him to the ground.

They rolled in the grass, but Hunter had him pinned by the time she got to them.

The boy was fighting like hell.

Her senses were wide open, and his fear assaulted Kate, his panic, his rage that

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