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Fire was in the air, fed by electricity in the walls. Nick was trying to choke it off, to steal the oxygen the fire craved. Gabriel pulled more power without trying his element was taking over. He had to get it under control before he burned the house down.
But he needed to breathe.
The front porch light exploded. Glass tinkled against the front door.
“No!” Hunter’s voice. He leapt around Michael and hit the switches on the wall, killing most of the flow of electricity to the foyer. “Where’s the breaker box?”
“Got it,” said Chris. He let go of Nick and bolted for the basement door.
Gabriel felt his knees hit the floor. He couldn’t figure out whether things were still exploding or if that was his oxygen-starved brain giving him his own personal light show.
Then Hunter was there in front of him, hands clasping him around the neck.
Like he needed another barrier to breathing.
“Breathe,” said Hunter, and Gabriel felt his power in the space around them, different from his brothers, different from anything he’d ever felt before. “Please. Breathe.”
Gabriel caught a breath but that was it. It was enough to steady his control, to stop feeling like the house would explode at any minute.
He could feel Hunter fighting Nick now, as if contact let him feel the five-pointed star that connected them all.
Gabriel got another breath.
He was so going to beat the shit out of Nick.
He felt the moment Chris threw the master switch on the cir-cuit breaker box. The power to the house just . . . died. His own power searched farther, to the lines on the street, cars on the road.
“Don’t look for it,” said Hunter. He hadn’t let go, and Gabriel could feel his tension through his hands.
And just like flipping that switch, Gabriel could breathe again.
At first that’s all he could do. He jerked free of Hunter’s hands and coughed, sucking in great lungfuls of air, his forehead pressing against the floor.
But after a while, he realized how silent the house was without power. He could hear his heartbeat, still pounding. The soft grit of glass on wood, when someone shifted their weight.
He could hear them waiting.
Finally, he lifted his head. He didn’t want to look at his twin, but he couldn’t help it. He expected to see his brother look smug, to find righteous vindication on his face.
But Nick looked stricken.
Suddenly the house felt too small, too enclosed. Each breath tasted stale. He could smell the faint odor of burned electrical wiring.
Gabriel felt trapped.
“Open the door,” he said, hearing his voice come out hoarse.
No one moved.
So he fought to his feet and grabbed the knob. October night air coursed through the doorway and cooled his face. He ran a hand across his forehead and found it damp with sweat.
“You all right?” said Michael.
Gabriel nodded and didn’t look at him.
“Nick?”
Gabriel didn’t want to hear his brother’s answer. He reached down and grabbed his backpack, slung it over his shoulder, and stepped out onto the porch.
