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“No shit,” said Gabriel. “Keep it together.”
Chris sat in the back, clutching his own door handle. He could feel the rain striking the car. This rain meant harm with every drop—the kind of storm that sought to form tornadoes, to destroy.
The storm itself didn’t scare him. He wanted to be part of it.
That scared him.
Chris pressed his forehead against the window and shut his eyes. Wind rocked the car. He heard Nick suck a breath through his teeth.
“I’m just going to drive us through it,” said Gabriel. “Okay? I’ll get us past this.”
He didn’t sound frightened—he sounded determined. And this storm carried no lightning. No fire, no natural burst of energy to draw Gabriel’s own abilities.
Maybe he could drive them through it. Chris lifted his head.
Bad idea. Rain sheeted across the roadway, every drop an invitation. The creek sat ahead, swollen with rainwater, raging with the strength of the storm. Chris could stand in that water, let it wrap around his body until he was drunk on power.
“Hey.” Gabriel smacked him in the forehead.
Chris jerked back—and almost fell down.
He didn’t remember unbuckling his seat belt, but he must have. He’d been leaning between the two front seats, kneeling on the floor there.
Nick had his hands over the vents.
“Stop it.” Gabriel turned dials until the vents were closed, blocking the moisture of the storm. The air in the car almost immediately went stale. Brake lights winked ahead of them. Gabriel punched the steering wheel. “Jesus Christ, could these people drive?”
A gust shook the car again. Nick shut his eyes. “There’s going to be a tornado.”
“Yeah, well, you’re not going to be a part of it. Think of something else.”
“Yeah, right,” Chris muttered.
Nick gave his twin a look. “Like what?”
“First-round draft picks. Holly Sater’s ass. I don’t know.” Gabriel ran a hand through his hair, then grabbed the wheel as an oncoming vehicle swerved toward them. “Something.”
Becca, thought Chris.
“Hey,” said Gabriel, pointing. “Isn’t that your girlfriend’s car?”
There, a few cars ahead, just moving onto the bridge, was Becca’s little brown Honda. Chris recognized the small dent in the frame.
Her car shuddered in the wind. She must have been struggling to keep it straight.
“Get your hand off the door!” Gabriel snapped.
Chris let go of the handle. He’d been ready to go out in the rain, to pull her out of this downpour, to let his power protect her.
You’re crazy. Now he felt like a stalker.
“Look,” said Nick. “On the hill.”
“Fucker,” said Gabriel.
Chris could see the dark figure, but he couldn’t make out features. The swell of power from that direction was unmistakable.
Gabriel punched the brakes and Chris stumbled and grabbed for something to keep him upright. But he’d been half kneeling in the space between the seats, and he crashed into the center console, killing the radio and almost throwing the car out of gear.
