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His knees landed in the underbrush as he struggled. His eyes clenched closed. He begged his element for the upper hand, feeling as though he grasped for nothing more than empty fistfuls of air. The spiral loosened further.
He was going to lose it.
Tyler grabbed his forearms, and his hands were full of burning pain.
Nick gasped, and his eyes snapped open.
“Do it,” Tyler said. “Do it, Nick. You think of every god-damn thing I’ve ever done to you, and you make this happen.”
Nick thought of it. He couldn’t not think of it, the way Tyler’s fingers burned into his skin.
Tyler’s voice grew louder. “You think of how much you hate me. You think of how I know you’re the weakest, most pathetic Merrick.”
Nick gritted his teeth. Tyler’s hands were scalding hot, but the pain didn’t steal Nick’s clarity, it enhanced his focus. Nick swallowed. He gained an inch with the air. Lightning cracked among the spinning flames.
“You know what I thought when Quinn told me you were g*y?” said Tyler, his voice low and insidious. “I thought, well, doesn’t that f**king figure. ”
Another inch. As soon as he killed this Guide, he was going to kill Tyler.
“At least I got to meet your boyfriend,” Tyler said. “Now I have someone to mess with when I’m waiting for Quinn. He won’t be able to fight me off, but—”
With a scream of rage, Nick threw him back. He felt a snap in the air. Anything not tied down went surging forward, toward the Guide. Fire, leaves, underbrush.
That included him and Tyler. They hit a tree.
Reverse pressure. Nick couldn’t breathe. All the fire died as oxygen was sucked from the air. For an instant, he couldn’t think, as if time were suspended.
Then the pressure gave. Wind exploded from the middle of the woods, blowing leaves and underbrush back out. Twigs and branches caught exposed skin.
Nick hit the ground. Then something wet hit him on the cheek.
And on the arm.
For an instant he couldn’t move. Then his limbs decided to work. Nick swiped at his cheek and came away with fingers full of blood. And something thicker.
Oh, god.
“Holy shit,” said Tyler. “You—you blew him up.”
His voice held the same awed fascination that Nick would expect from his twin.
“We,” said Nick. He needed to find his brother.
Nick ignored the pain in his arms, the speckles of blood dec-orating his shirt. “Gabriel!” He staggered toward where he’d sensed his brother the first time. “Gabriel!”
Nothing.
But then Nick saw him, lying motionless among charred leaves. He’d been shot, more than once, from the amount of blood soaking his clothes. His face was darkened with soot. Nick could smell the blood once he got close.
But his brother was breathing. He could feel that.
Nick got down close to him. “Gabriel.” His voice was shaking and he didn’t care. “Come on. Gabriel. Open your eyes.”
Then, to his wonder, Gabriel did. “Nicky.” His eyes fell closed again.
“Come on. Open your eyes again.” Nick patted his brother’s pockets, looking for his phone.
Dead. Damn it.
