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Gabriel fought him, wrenching his hands free to strike at his brother, over and over again, driving Michael back through the underbrush. She could hear every hit, could feel him pulling power from the heat in the air to add force to the blows.
“I hate you,” he said with every strike, his voice breaking. “I hate you.”
The violence stole what was left of her breath. She stared, digging her nails into the tree she’d grabbed for support.
Then Michael caught Gabriel by the back of the neck, and she knew Michael was going to knock him out, or throw him down, or retaliate somehow. The fury in the air was electrifying, crackling along her skin, begging for release.
But Michael pulled him close and held him there, too close for Gabriel to get a good swing.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice soft, rough, almost lost in the air. “Let me help you.”
Gabriel went still. His breathing was ragged. There were tears on his cheeks.
Then he was struggling. “Fuck you.”
Michael tightened his grip. “I’m sorry.” His face was close to his younger brother’s. “I’m sorry.”
“Whatever.” Gabriel sniffed and gritted his teeth and looked past him. “I don’t care. You don’t care.”
“Goddamn it, Gabriel!” Michael shook him. “I loved them, too.”
“So what? Mom and Dad would have wanted to fight—they would have kept us safe—they would have—”
“I’m trying!” Michael drew a breath, and his voice sounded strained. “Okay? I’m trying.”
Gabriel said nothing. The air hummed with power and emotion, and Becca clutched tight to her tree, afraid to move, to upset the balance.
Then Gabriel’s shoulders drooped. “It was my fault.” He spoke low, almost too quiet to hear. “It was my fault they broke the deal.”
“They were looking for a reason to break the deal.”
“They sent a Guide. We didn’t tell you—”
“It’s okay. Tell me now.”
“He had Chris, and Nick and I thought—we thought we could take him.” He gave a soft laugh, a broken sound with no humor behind it. “We were wrong. Nick had the wind, but the Guide took control of it. Then Nick was hurt—”
He stopped, his eyes fixed on the ground. His silence said enough.
“You got away?” said Michael.
Gabriel nodded. “Barely. I hid.” He sounded ashamed.
“Where?”
Gabriel’s eyes flicked up, and for the first time, Becca saw the spark of his usual defiance. “The last place he’d look for me.”
“In the water,” she said.
Gabriel lifted his head and looked at her, then shrugged off Michael’s hands.
He’d clearly forgotten she was there—if he’d ever noticed at all.
Then he ran a hand through his wet hair, pushing it off his forehead. “Yeah. In the water. Almost all night.”
“All night?” said Michael, his eyebrows raised.
Gabriel pulled at his wet clothes. “Yeah. All night.”
