Spirit

“Boys!” said the secretary.

The girl rolled her eyes, shoved the papers in her messenger bag, and turned for the door.

So that was that.

Like it mattered. He turned back for Vickers’s office. The door was half open, and he pushed it wide, wondering why on earth he’d been called down here.

And then he saw the student in the chair, the girl with a tear-streaked face who was cradling her wrist, and his heart just about stopped.

Calla Dean.

Kate stood in the empty hallway and checked her phone. Already, a message from Silver.

Honestly. She’d been here fifteen minutes.

Surveillance only. Do not engage.

As if he hadn’t told her that enough times this morning. Like she was stupid enough to engage with a bunch of rogue Elementals right here in the middle of school. The caution tape lining some of the hallways was proof enough of their propensity for destruction.

What did Silver think she was going to do? Start a fight in the cafeteria?

Her phone buzzed, the silent feature loud in the empty hallway.

Meet anyone interesting yet?

She snorted at the phone. The secretary had been interesting because she’d misspelled Kate’s name twice—and how hard was it to spell Kate Sullivan? The boys in the office had been interesting because they lived up to every promise about high school, leering at her like she was a pinup poster instead of a real live girl.

Except that boy with the piercings and the white streak in his hair.

He’d been interesting because of the way the air hung quiet around him, as if he walked in a sphere of his own control.

The phone buzzed again.

Status?

God! She was tempted to take a picture of her middle finger and send it back. Her fingers flew across the screen.

Heading to first period. Maybe you can do something more useful than texting me.

As soon as she pressed SEND, she regretted it. Silver stood between her and more missions like this. She started to type a new message that would take the sarcasm out of the first, when one of the classroom doors flew open.

A middle-aged teacher in a tweed sport coat and wire-rimmed glasses stood there. Students in his classroom, seated by twos at lab tables, peered out curiously.

The teacher didn’t look so curious. He gave her a knowing look. “Don’t you have somewhere to be, Miss?”

Kate slid the phone into her bag and flipped blond hair out of her eyes. She could charm anyone. She had a bedroom answer ready, but the way this guy was looking at her told her it wouldn’t be appreciated. She slapped a distressed look on her face and yanked at one of the sheets the secretary had given her.

“It’s my first day,” she said, making her voice plaintive. “The secretary said she’d have someone escort me to my first class, but then she got busy . . .”

The teacher nodded and snapped his fingers at a student in the front row of the classroom. “Nick. Show her where she needs to go, and come right back.”

Kate slid the map back into her bag and laced her words with sugar, touching the teacher on the arm. “Thank you so much. I’ve been so lost.”

He hmphed and stepped back into the room, ignoring her.

Wow. So much for charm.

“Hey. I’m Nick. Where do you need to go?”

She blinked up at the boy who’d appeared in the doorway—and almost dropped her bag.

Not just because he was a looker—though that was part of it. Dark hair, blue eyes, a few freckles across his cheekbones. Taller than she’d expected.

Because she’d seen his picture before. It was in a file on her phone, right now, in fact. She almost wanted to yank it out of her bag to double-check. Nick. Nick Merrick.

Kate locked down any trace of her abilities, though it was a challenge. She wanted to touch him, to see if she could sense his power right here in the hallway.

He sure didn’t look like part of a band of marauding killers.

She’d expected to hate him on sight. She knew what these full Elementals could do—those lessons had been drilled into her head since day one. Hell, she had firsthand evidence: her mother had lost her life trying to destroy one of them.

Right in front of Kate.

But this guy standing in front of her seemed so . . . normal that she was having a hard time dredging up a powerful emotion like hate. He had an easy, engaging smile that made her want to smile back.

But she’d seen the news footage of the recent tornado damage in town. She’d seen photos of the bridge that had been destroyed in an earthquake and the resulting flood.

She’d seen newspaper articles showing the victims of the recent arson attacks—all caused by these Elementals.

She had to stop staring at this guy. She dug through her bag for the blue sheet of paper that had her class schedule.

The teacher cleared his throat. “Is there a problem?”

Kate shook herself. She was better than this. “No. Sorry.” She found the paper and yanked it free triumphantly.

Nick pulled the classroom door shut and took a glance. “This is on the other side of the school. We have to go under the library. I’ll show you.”

She should thank him. Flirt. Try to get close.

She just couldn’t get past the fact that she’d pretty much walked in here and he’d fallen into her lap.

Kate just nodded and walked alongside him. Her nerves were screaming at her.

This boy is a killer! Do something!

Don’t engage don’t engage don’t engage.

“I didn’t get your name,” Nick said.

“Kate.” Finally, her brain decided to work. “Is that guy always such a tool?”

Nick shrugged. “Dr. Cutter? Nah, he’s all right. Anytime someone interrupts a lecture on inclined planes, he gets all flustered.” He caught the door at the top of the stairwell and held it for her.

Holding the door! A gentleman, too!

“Where are you from?” he said.

“Here,” she said. “I just transferred from St. Mary’s in Annapolis.” A complete lie, but Silver had told her that someone from out of town might arouse suspicion—and they couldn’t afford suspicion right now. She’d spent hours in the truck learning landmarks and popular hangouts just so she could pass for a local.

She could almost feel Nick’s power in the air around them, and it took everything she had not to let her guard down.

“Sucks to move in the middle of high school,” he said.

“Not for me. I couldn’t stand those stuffy old nuns.”

He smiled and glanced at her schedule again. “My brother’s a junior, too. Chris.”

God, her brain wasn’t working. She almost said I know. “Nice,” she choked.

“I think he has fourth-period History. If you’re still lost by then, he’d help you out.”

“Thanks,” she said. “I’ll look for him.”

Chris Merrick. Fourth period. Check.

Seriously, this was like shooting fish in a barrel. Silver was going to be stoked.

Nick looked over. “Juniors and seniors have lunch at the same time, so if you need somewhere to sit, feel free to look for me. I could introduce you around.”

And then Nick went and said something like that.

It threw her off balance for a minute.

Then Nick gave her a slightly wicked smile. “Though I don’t think you’ll have any trouble making friends.”

Aha! So there was a little tarnish on his gentlemanly armor. It helped her dial back the bit of conscience niggling at her. She shook hair out of her eyes and looked up at him. “I never do.” She paused. “But I think I’ll take you up on lunch. If you don’t mind.”

“I wouldn’t have offered if I did.” He gave her a breathtaking smile. Nice and handsome.

She almost hated to kill him.

Almost.

CHAPTER 4

Calla was sitting in the cushioned chair in the guidance office, sniffling, cradling her arm. She wouldn’t look at Hunter.

He glared at her and tried to hang on to his temper as the guidance counselor droned on.

“I asked you a question, Hunter,” said Ms. Vickers. “Did you leave those bruises on Calla’s wrist?”

Right this second, he wanted to leave a lot more than bruises. Calla had pretty much just guaranteed he’d have to leave her alone—in school and out. He gritted his teeth and lied right through them. “No.”

Calla sniffed again. “Ms. Vickers, I really don’t feel comfortable being in the room with him.”

“Hunter, we had a talk on your first day here. I said that we wouldn’t be tolerant of any physical altercations with other students. Do you remember this conversation?”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice tight.

“And while I understand that the police found you unarmed during last week’s fire, I do not like the rumors that you have access to a gun.”

“He does,” Calla whispered with a catch in her voice. “He showed it to me. When we were fighting, he said if I didn’t go out with him, he’d—”

“Cut the act,” he snapped.

Calla flinched. She deserved an Academy Award.

Hunter kept his voice even. “I have never threatened you.”

She looked up. There were tears in her eyes. “I liked you, Hunter. I really did. But—”

“Stop it.” He wanted to list everything she’d done. The fires, the break-in, her mission to kill people. But he’d sound like a raving lunatic.

When she was the one who was nuts.

Ms. Vickers rocked back in her chair. She had to be in her forties, with that many gray streaks in her brown hair. Her eyes were tired over sagging cheeks, but she still had a steely gaze. “I’ve asked Calla to come see me every morning,” she said. “I’m going to ask you to give her some space, Hunter.”

“Gladly.”

“We take harassment very seriously.”

“Fine. Whatever. I won’t harass her. I won’t even talk to her. Can I go?”

“No. I’d like Calla to go. I think you and I should talk for a few minutes.”

Calla sniffed a final time and picked up her backpack, grabbing a few tissues from the box on Ms. Vickers’s desk.

Hunter couldn’t look at her when she edged past him. The door closed behind her with a soft click.

He didn’t want to look at Vickers, either.

“Do you want to tell me your side of the story?” she asked.

“There is no story.”

Vickers didn’t say anything.

Hunter could feel her waiting, and he finally looked up. “There’s no story,” he emphasized. “I will completely avoid her.”

“You sound like you feel you’re being victimized.”

Victimized. There was no safe answer to that, so Hunter just looked away again.

“How would your mother feel,” said Vickers, “if she knew why I called you down here today?”

He snorted. “She’d say, ‘Hunter who?’ ”

Ms. Vickers seemed to freeze, and he realized it was the wrong thing to say.

“Should we talk about your mother?” she said quietly.

This was just great. “What, you think I’m not getting attention at home, so I’m roughing up girls?”

“Are you?” said Vickers.

“No. God. No.” Hunter leaned forward and put his hand on the edge of the desk. “I don’t want to have this conversation.” He grabbed his bag and stood to leave.

“Hunter,” she called after him.

He paused in the doorway.

“I want you to steer clear of Calla Dean, do you understand me?”

“Yes.” He grabbed the doorknob.

“No contact.”

“Got it.”

“And I’d like to have a conversation in a few days to see how things are going.”