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“Yeah,” he said. “I do.”
Hunter lived in an old farmhouse set back from the road, practically in the middle of nowhere. The windows were dark when they pulled up, and stayed that way despite two sets of tires crunching along the gravel driveway. Only an old gas lamp at the end of the front walk threw any light into the yard, revealing a split-board fence stretching back into the darkness.
A dog burst through the doorway when Hunter turned the key, the large German shepherd practically knocking his master down.
Hunter laughed softly and rubbed his dog behind the ears.
“Casper’s pissed I left him home.”
Gabriel picked up on his hushed tone. It seemed early, but the dark house spoke volumes. “Your mom asleep?”
Hunter lost the smile. “Probably.” He gave the dog one last scratch along his neck, then sent Casper out into the yard. “My grandparents definitely are. Come on.”
Gabriel scrubbed his hands and face in the kitchen sink, grateful for the coat and helmet that had kept him a lot cleaner than the last time he’d ventured into a fire. His jeans were sooty from the knees down, but they’d wash. He smacked his shoes against the porch to get out the worst of the soot, then followed Hunter.
The gaming system was in the basement, hooked up to a newish flat screen that looked completely out of place among the wood-paneled walls, the mustard-yellow carpet, and wooden mallards accenting the end tables. Even the sofa was plaid, a red and orange number that had seen better days.
But Hunter’s bedroom was down here, too, and from what Gabriel could see, it was huge.
“Do you really have a refrigerator and a microwave in your room?” he said, peering through the doorway.
Hunter was sliding a disk into the Xbox. “It wasn’t always my bedroom. But yeah.” He glanced up. “My grandparents only come down here to do laundry. It’s like having my own apartment.”
No mention of his mother, making Gabriel wonder about Hunter’s tone in the driveway, when he’d said probably. Even now, he wasn’t bragging. He sounded self-deprecating.
Then he said, “Grab a soda if you want.”
Gabriel did.
And then they were killing pixelated zombies.
It was surreal, sitting here doing something completely mun-dane, when they’d been pulling a body out of a burning house an hour ago.
Especially since Hunter had put a gun in his face last week.
When the game changed landscapes, Gabriel watched him, thinking of the moment in the hallway when Hunter had broken Nick’s hold. “Just how much control do you have?”
A shrug. “Not enough. I couldn’t have gone into that fire alone.”
Gabriel untied the translucent white stone from his wrist and set it on the coffee table. He suspected he wouldn’t have been as effective alone, either. Their powers had a way of improving when combined. “Thanks,” he said. “For dragging me out.”
“Sure.”
“And thanks for . . . whatever you did back at the house.”
Hunter shrugged. “I didn’t really do anything. I just had to block his focus.” He took the stone, twisting the twine between his fingers while they waited for the game to load.
It made Gabriel think of Becca, who used to wear Hunter’s rocks strung along her wrist. “You’re not screwing with my little brother, are you?”
Raised eyebrows. “With Chris?”
“What are you really doing with Becca?”
Hunter shrugged and looked back at the twine, letting the rock untwist itself. “Nothing. She asked for my help. I’m giving it.”
“This help wouldn’t be the na**d kind, would it?”
A smirk. “No. Just talking.” Hunter lost the smile. “I’m not messing with Chris. Or Becca. I wouldn’t. After . . . you know.”
