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“I’m sorry,” he said. “Michael, I’m sorry.”
Michael didn’t even have the strength to answer him. He slid his hand sideways, toward Hunter, knowing it wouldn’t be enough.
But Hunter must have seen, because he took Michael’s hand and held it.
“Sweet,” said the Guide. “Hunter, you’re such a disappointment.”
Michael squeezed his hand. You’re not, he wished he could say. You’re not.
Hunter squeezed back. “No,” he said to his uncle. “You are. You killed so many people. Why? Just to get to the Merricks?”
“Oh, this is bigger than your friends, Hunter. Don’t you see that?”
“No,” said Hunter, desperation in his tone. “I don’t see it. Why?”
“You’re proof. Your father was proof. The Guides have lost focus. Priorities are no longer clear. Did you know your father wanted to help these Elementals? Can you imagine?”
“Yes,” said Hunter. “I can.”
The Guide pointed to the ground, at the cracked earth. “Look at this damage he’s done already.”
“That’s happening because you’re shooting him!” yelled Hunter.
Another gust of wind pulled at Michael’s cheeks. The air seeped into his injuries, and he felt a surge of power.
“Nick,” whispered Hunter.
No, thought Michael, feeling relief and despair battle for dominance in his thoughts. Run. Hide.
But they wouldn’t. He knew they wouldn’t.
“Good!” called the Guide. “Call more power. Try to destroy me.”
“We will,” said Hunter. His hand was tight on Michael’s.
The wind was a solid force now, flinging loose bits of earth through the air. Lightning arced to the ground, and the water surrounding the peninsula surged high against the rocky breakers.
They’d done this once before—called elements with a full circle and sent the power directly into another Guide. With Silver, they’d held back. They hadn’t killed him.
Now, they weren’t holding back. Through his link with Hunter, Michael could feel each element as clearly as his own. His wounds carried no pain now. There was simply earth, air, fire, and water, combined and strengthened through Hunter’s connection to the spirit.
The winds’ force reached hurricane strength. Michael lost track of how much lightning coursed to the ground. Rain spit at his cheeks. He’d never felt this much power. It was choking him, threatening to rip him apart if he and his brothers didn’t give it direction.
“Do it,” said Jay, and his voice was terrible. “You know what we say, Hunter. For the greater good.”
The power stood ready to destroy him. All it needed was Hunter’s direction.
Michael had one clarifying thought: This is too easy.
He remembered Hunter’s lecture about violent combat, how his father preferred hand-to-hand fighting, to be an active participant in someone else’s demise. But his uncle—he preferred to fight from a distance. Jay knew about explosives—he’d already proven that. Hadn’t Hunter said that a Guide could use power to give his weapons an extra kick?
For the greater good. Wasn’t that what all the Guides said? That anyone’s death was worth it, if it led to the destruction of pure Elementals?
Michael squeezed Hunter’s hand, hard. He couldn’t feel his injuries now. He couldn’t hear over the roar of the wind and the rumble of the earth and the thunder. All this power needed to go somewhere.
“A bomb!” he said to Hunter. “He has a bomb!”
Hunter’s eyes shot wide. His hand was tight on Michael’s.
