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Finally getting outside helped immensely. The mist could feel his fury and danced on his skin, begging for a target. He pulled as much power as he could from his element. If Hunter was out here, Chris would be ready this time.
He asked the rain for answers. Water didn’t understand things like fear and intimidation.
Danger, he thought. Find me danger.
At first, nothing. The water agreed with his quest, but offered no direction. Then rain began to fall, solid drops.
This way.
Chris headed east, following the front of the building.
He couldn’t let go of what had happened with Hunter. He knew. And he was strong—strong enough to turn Chris’s power against him. Another water Elemental? Chris had never met one, but he’d always thought he’d recognize someone who shared his abilities. This felt subtly ... different.
The Guide?
Chris almost stopped short and ran back to his brothers.
But Hunter had metaphysically punched him in the face and run. The Guide had caused a multi-car pileup and taken out the bridge, then tried to kill them with lightning. The two didn’t seem to match. And Hunter seemed like such a goody-goody; Chris couldn’t see him putting other people in danger.
Jesus Christ, and where was Becca? He’d almost reached the playing fields, acres of grass and darkness. No lights penetrated this far beyond the school. If he wasn’t careful, he’d be getting a face full of steel bleacher supports.
Lightning flashed somewhere in the distance, followed by the low roll of thunder. Chris walked to the middle of the first field and turned in a full circle. There was the school, the gym, the dark baseball fields to the west, the parking lot that you could probably see from space.
Rain hit his cheeks, every drop a message. Danger. Danger. Danger.
“I get it!” he said. “Where?”
And then he heard the scream.
Becca couldn’t see anything. She had no idea how far they’d dragged her from the school; it felt like it took an hour but had probably been fewer than three minutes. She fought the way Hunter had showed her, all elbows and knees, aiming for weak points. But there were too many of them.
At least it felt like there were. It was too dark to count. All she knew was there were enough boys to carry her and keep her arms pinned.
They weren’t so lucky with her legs. She finally got one of them in the crotch with her knee.
It seemed like a good idea. But then they dropped her.
Her back slammed into the ground and she forgot how to breathe for a moment. Grass poked through the material of her dress. Wet grass, damp from the slow drizzle of rain that was now collecting in her hair and sealing the chiffon to her body. Drew had started to tear at it, but his hands were clumsy and she’d gotten in a good yell during her struggles.
Now she was praying the corseted back would hold everything together.
She started to roll, choking on nothing, grabbing fistfuls of grass as if she could somehow drag herself away from them.
They shoved her onto her back. Pinned her wrists. She didn’t even recognize all their voices.
Light. God, she’d give anything for some light. The darkness trapped her as effectively as their hands.
Lightning flashed, a flare of light in the distance that revealed nothing.
The last time, she’d been drunk. She’d gone along far too long, until she didn’t know what she initiated and what they intended. The last time, she’d wanted to be there. They might have taken it too far—way too far—but she’d started it.
She’d put up with all the crap at school because she hadn’t been able to figure out just how much was their fault—and how much was her own.
Now she knew. Now she wanted them to pay. To suffer.
Now she wanted to press charges, even if they stopped, got their hands off her legs, her arms, got their hands out of the top of her dress.
Would anyone believe her?
