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Chris felt his brother’s fury. His own responded, sending the rain on a path of destruction he’d never attempted before. He didn’t care if he lost control; he didn’t care if his power brought every Guide to their door.
Wind spun, dragging the rain and the clouds into a spiral. Roof tiles began to tear loose and fly.
“Oh my god,” said Becca. “You’re making a tornado.”
He was. They were. He’d never felt this strength, but it was all funneled in one direction.
Lightning struck the bridge, ten feet in front of them. They jerked back.
Chris poured more power into the rain. He urged every drop to find the Guide, to destroy. Becca’s hand was clenched on his.
Their enemy was having trouble keeping his feet. Chris could see it.
“More,” he called to Nick. “Stronger.”
“Can you control it?” said Becca. “You told me—”
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.
Nick caught his shoulder and kept his face from meeting the center vents.
Then Chris heard a crash ahead, and he shoved himself upright.
One of those new jeeps was creaming a tiny hatchback, plowing the smaller car across the road and into the side of the bridge.
Both vehicles missed them by inches.
“Holy shit,” breathed Gabriel. His knuckles were white on the steering wheel.
“Nice driving, bro,” said Nick.
Gabriel shifted in the seat and began to turn the wheel to get them around the crash. “I’ll get us home. Just keep it together.”
Then Chris saw the curl of flame race along the edge of the jeep’s hood.
Gabriel hit the brakes.
“Drive,” said Chris. He knew he sounded panicked and he didn’t care. “Drive, Gabriel.”
Nick punched his twin in the shoulder. “Go!”
The fire grew despite the rain. Gabriel’s nostrils flared as if he could smell the smoke, even with the windows and the vents closed. “He’s going to blow up the cars.”
Nick punched him again. “Then get us the f**k off the bridge.”
Horns started blaring. They were only half a mile from school—students sat in the cars around them. People would die.
They would die, if they didn’t move.
Then Chris heard the second crash.
They all watched. A car up ahead skidded along the guardrail and stalled on the bridge.
Tires screamed into the storm. Becca’s car crashed right into it.
And caught on fire.
