Storm (Elemental 1)

Becca hadn’t heard this part of the story from Chris. Gabriel had been furious at Michael in the woods. She wondered how much of that fury was directed at himself, for starting the fire that had killed his parents.

“Save it,” said Gabriel, his eyes intent on Hunter. “He won’t pull the trigger.”

A muscle in Hunter’s jaw twitched.

“I didn’t know about your father,” said Michael. “I swear.”

“Hunter,” she whispered, wary of spooking him. “Sometimes accidents really do happen.”

For an instant, she felt hesitation in the air. She honestly thought he’d lower the gun.

Then he swung the barrel around to center on Michael. “I don’t believe in accidents.”

“Why?” she said. “Because otherwise it’s your fault?”

Hunter flinched—then caught himself.

“You didn’t make your dad come back for you,” she said. “You didn’t. It was just—freakish timing, or fate, or—”

“Stop.” Hunter had to draw a long, shaky breath. “Becca.”

“This wasn’t your fault,” she said. “I know what it feels like to blame yourself—”

“You don’t,” he said, and his voice almost broke again. “Not like this. You don’t.”

“I do,” said Gabriel.

“I do,” said Michael.

Hunter didn’t move, but Becca could feel his uncertainty. His breath was shaking.

“You don’t want to do this,” she said. “Hunter, you’re not a killer.”

“He is,” he said, his eyes hardening. The barrel touched Michael’s forehead.

“You’re not,” she said, feeling her voice rise in pitch.

“This is bullshit,” said Gabriel.

“Damn it, Gabriel,” said Michael, his voice breathy.

“It is,” Gabriel said. “You didn’t kill that girl. You didn’t start that rock slide. You don’t even know if you could have saved her. You’re not a superhero. You were seventeen years old, and you probably should have gotten a medal for saving the kids who did make it out of that quarry. Seth and Tyler and the others tried to drown you and Chris—Mom and Dad were right to go after their parents. They wanted to kill us that night—it got out of control. All of us—we were out of control.”

Hunter didn’t move, but he was listening. Becca could feel it.

Gabriel took a step closer. “But this—” He paused, looking at Hunter, his expression disgusted. “This is bullshit. Michael is a huge pain in the ass, but he’s the closest thing to a parent I have left. He didn’t want us to go after Seth and Tyler the night they tore up Chris. He refuses to let us use our powers, then bitches about homework and forgets to sleep. He works twenty-four seven. He barely has time to make dinner, much less set a trap for someone. Self-defense, yeah, I’d buy it. But cold-blooded killer? No way.”

Gabriel took another step, until he was almost in Hunter’s face. “You pull the trigger? That, kid, is all on you.”

Hunter swallowed.

“Give me the gun.” Michael put a hand out, his voice soft.

Tension rode on the sunlight as she listened to Hunter’s breathing shake.

“It’s okay,” said Michael. “You don’t want to do this.”

Inch by inch, Hunter lowered the gun into Michael’s palm, finally letting go.