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Hunter yelled and dropped her.
She was dead. Just like that, she was dead.
“Put down your weapons,” said a male voice. “Now.”
Michael turned, lifting his hands as he did so. A man stood at the junction where the trail split off to the parking lot. In the moonlight, Michael could see him clearly, but it didn’t matter. He could have been any man off the street, maybe late thirties, with lighter hair and dark clothing.
And a gun. Something large, like a rifle—with a red laser sight.
He’d snuck up on them. Even with the man this close, Michael couldn’t feel any threat through the ground. He couldn’t feel anything at all.
Hunter’s breathing was shaky, and his eyes were wide. “It’s okay,” he called. He put his gun on the ground and put his hands up. He didn’t sound frightened or angry now. He sounded . . . awed and a little determined. “It’s okay.”
“It is not okay,” hissed Tyler. “We’re f**ked.” His gun didn’t leave his hand.
That red laser sight centered on his chest. “Put the gun down. Now. Three. Two—”
“All right!” Tyler dropped the gun and put his hands up.
“It’s okay!” Hunter yelled again, a little more desperately. “It’s me! You don’t have to shoot them.”
“I know who you are, Hunter.” The man didn’t lower the weapon.
Michael was replaying the last words between Hunter and Calla.
I know you started a rockslide to kill my dad and my uncle.
Yeah. And Jay took that really personally.
Michael remembered the man he’d caught sight of during the restaurant bombing, the victims’ photos where he’d caught the edge of a man’s face, with a flash of sandy blond hair.
Just like Hunter’s.
They’d spent so much time talking about his father’s experiences that Michael almost felt like they should have considered this a possibility.
How would you consider this a possibility? Dead people don’t come back.
“It’s your father,” said Michael. “Isn’t it?”
“No,” said Hunter. “It’s my uncle.”
He looked like a kid greeting a parent after a long business trip. His voice was full of eager longing, so at odds with the specks of blood on his face.
And the fact that his uncle was still pointing a gun in their direction.
“I hate to break it to you,” said Tyler, “but this dude doesn’t seem to care who you are.”
“Quiet,” said the man. He walked toward them, his gun still pointed in their direction.
Hunter stared at him, his eyes widening with each step the man took. “How are you . . . ?” His breath caught. “My dad—is he—?”
“Still dead.” No emotion in that voice.
“But—but I went to your funeral. I saw you—in the casket—they buried you—”
“Yes, they did. It took me a while to get out, and longer to piece together our records. You and your mother were long gone. All our old files were gone.” He stopped about ten feet away. “I honestly didn’t expect this much trouble once I got here.” He glanced between Michael and Tyler. “Or this many Elementals in town. You’ve created quite a little community, haven’t you?”
“Fuck you,” said Tyler.
