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Authors: Brigid Kemmerer

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BOOK: Fearless
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He looked at Clare. He felt jittery now that she was in his house. Somehow the kitchen felt both larger and smaller with her presence. “Are you hungry?”
“Not yet. Your mom has a store? What does she sell?”
Hunter shrugged. “Odds and ends. You know.” His mother really worked for a New Age store in the antique district, but that usually launched a whole line of questions he didn't feel like answering.
Clare stepped forward and leaned close. His pulse jumped, but she was only reaching out a finger to touch a photo stuck to the refrigerator. “Is this you and your dad?”
“And my uncle. Yeah.” The picture was from a camping trip last fall. They'd gone into the Appalachian Mountains, and it had rained almost the entire time. In the picture they were drenched and smiling.
“You look just like your dad.”
“Everyone says that.”
She touched another picture. “You have a dog?”
“My uncle does. Casper is a police dog. Uncle Jay is a cop.”
Clare looked up at him. “You're close.”
He shrugged. “You know. Family.”
“Must be nice.”
The tone in her voice reminded him of the uncertainty when she'd talked about her brother. He wondered just how upset her parents must be—and where Clare fit in.
Hunter reached on top of the refrigerator to grab the keys to the gun locker before he could think better of it. “Everything is in the basement. Come on.”
The gun locker wasn't really a locker at all; it was more of an extra bedroom with a steel door, a dead bolt, and a six-key combination lock.
He wanted to cover his hand while he punched the numbers, but that would look stupid, and what was the difference if she knew how to get in here? She was scared of the very mention of guns; it's not like she was going to be back later to steal something.
Clare watched him push the buttons until the door clicked and the lock released. “What's twelve-fourteen-twenty?”
He stopped with his hand on the knob. “Our birthdays. My dad's is the twelfth, mine is the fourteenth, and my uncle's is the twentieth.”
“Not your mom's?”
Hunter had never thought about it. He shrugged. “I guess he ran out of numbers.” He hesitated before pushing the door open. Now that they were down here, he was having second thoughts.
Clare put a hand on his arm. “Are you going to get in trouble for showing me?”
Her fingers were warm, and when he turned his head to look at her, her lips were close.
Stop thinking about her mouth.
He had to clear his throat. “No. I mean, I don't think so.”
Because no one was going to know about this.
Before he could think better of it, he threw the door wide.
“Holy crap,” she whispered.
Hunter tried to see the room with fresh eyes, but it was tough. He'd grown up with this stuff. The hunting rifles in racks along the far wall, the Peg-Board on the right with hooks for the handguns, the military-style guns hanging on the left. Low cabinets lined the sidewalls, the counter space clear. A table sat in the middle of the room, empty, of course. His dad had way too much military training to leave anything out of place.
Clare had sucked back a bit, and Hunter gave her a smile. “They won't jump out and bite you.”
“Am I being ridiculous?”
“I don't know. I've never showed this room to anyone.”
Ugh
. Why did he say that?
“Can I go inside?”
“Sure.” He stood back, then followed her through.
She walked to the wall of military-style weapons first. He couldn't really blame her; those were definitely the most impressive.
“Do you know how to use all of these?” she asked, her voice hushed.
“I haven't fired all of them, but most guns work on the same principle.” He took down the AR-15, which looked pretty badass but was really rather simple.
She flinched.
“Relax,” he said, more at ease now that they were in here. With weapons, he knew what he was doing, and it fed his confidence. He did what his dad always did, unclipping the magazine and checking to make sure it wasn't loaded. Each click was loud, heavy steel sliding into place. When he was sure the gun was safe, he held it out to Clare.
She shook her head quickly.
“No bullets,” he said. “You can hold it.”
She gingerly started to take it from him, just her fingers wrapping around the barrel. Hunter shook his head. “Don't do it halfway. It's heavy. Just take it.”
He didn't let go until her hands were wrapped solidly around the weapon. She held it at a distance from her body, like a poisonous snake.
He had to smile. “Here. Like this.” He positioned her left hand on the front of the gun, supporting the barrel. “Now put your right hand on the pistol grip—”
“I don't want to shoot anything.”
“Bullets don't magically appear. Work with me.” He reached around for her right hand.
And then, somehow, her back was against his chest, and he was holding his hands over hers, positioning the rifle against her shoulder.
Her hair smelled like mangoes. Her cheek was right by his face.
Hunter dropped his voice. “What do you think?”
“I think my parents would die if they knew.”
He laughed softly. “What do
you
think?”
She didn't say anything for a moment, and when she finally spoke, her voice was soft. “The day after my brother graduated, he went out and bought a gun. My parents don't know.”
“Does he keep it locked up?”
“I don't know. He took it with him.” She paused, and her voice almost wavered. “I kept worrying that I'd accidentally find it, or he'd accidentally shoot it, or . . . I don't know.”
“If you want to learn how to handle them, I could show you.”
She turned her head slightly. “Yeah?”
“Sure. When—”
The basement steps creaked; then heavy footfalls were coming down the stairs. “Hunter?”
Hunter jumped and almost dropped the gun. Thank god it was unloaded, because Clare started to spin with the weapon in her hands.
Hunter got a grip on it before she turned all the way, but it left his arms wrapped around Clare, the gun in their hands, just as his uncle came through the door.
C
HAPTER
2
Hunter tried to think of a way out of this.
He was coming up short.
“That better be unloaded,” said his uncle. He was still in uniform, and it always made him look taller, more official.
“It is,” said Hunter. He let go of Clare, keeping the barrel pointed downward, trying not to meet his uncle's eyes.
There was no way his dad wouldn't find out about this.
“I figured we'd catch you with a girl one day, but this isn't quite the scenario I imagined.”
Hunter sighed. Humiliation was going to kill him.
“It's my fault,” said Clare quickly.
“Really?” said Uncle Jay. “You stole the keys and guessed the combination? Was Hunter trying to get the weapon away from you, then?”
He couldn't be in
too
much trouble if his uncle was going to stand here and joke about it. “It's not her fault.”
“Should I give your girlfriend a ride home?”
“Let me guess,” said Hunter. “You mean in your police cruiser?”
“Oh, I can walk,” said Clare. She was already edging toward the door.
Hunter wished he could go with her.
She didn't look back at him as she dashed for the stairs.
Well, that had been short-lived.
But at the top of the steps, she ducked back to look at him. “I'll see you tomorrow at school.”
Then she was gone, and the gun room was completely silent.
Hunter held out the gun, stock first. “You want to just shoot me and save Dad the time?”
Jay smiled and took the weapon, checking the magazine before putting it back on the wall. “He's not going to shoot you.”
“That would be too quick?”
Now Jay laughed, but then he quickly sobered and gave Hunter a
look
. “We've talked to you about girls before.”
“It wasn't like that.”
“I'm pretty sure I know exactly what it was like.”
Hunter scowled. “I did a presentation on the second amendment at school. She had some questions about firearms.”
“Is that the new lingo for saying you're her
anatomy tutor?
”
Jay's voice was easy, but Hunter knew that the questions behind it were serious. “Look, I said it wasn't like that. I haven't even talked to her before today.”
“Hunter, our abilities are a blessing and a curse . . . it's very easy to get taken advantage of.”
“She wasn't taking advantage of me! We were just talking!”
“No.
This
”—Jay gestured at the space between them—“is talking.”
Hunter flushed and looked away.
His uncle straightened and put his hands on Hunter's shoulders. “You're a Fifth. While that means you're connected to all the elements, it also means you're connected to the people around you.”
Hunter rolled his eyes. He knew this rhetoric better than a nursery rhyme. “And when people are drawn to me, I'll be drawn to them, and it's hard to remember my own purpose—”
“Don't mock it, Hunter.”
Hunter shook Jay's hands off. “We were just
talking
. You're acting like she was trying to—”
“I don't care what she was trying to do. I'm trying to tell you that it can be hard to distinguish what
you
want from what others want. You're going to want to help everyone, and that's not always a good thing.”
“How is that not a good thing?”
His uncle leaned back against the table. “What if I wanted to help every criminal I had to arrest? What if your dad went on assignment and empathized with the bad guys?”
“Did you really just say ‘bad guys'?”
Now Jay didn't smile at all. “You need to take this seriously. Your abilities are going to get stronger. That means it's going to be
more
difficult instead of less.”
“So I can't ever have a girlfriend.”
“You'd probably be better off if you had
lots
of girlfriends. You know what your dad used to tell me when I was your age?”
“What?”
Hunter's dad spoke from the doorway. Even in khakis and a polo shirt, he looked like he'd stepped right out of a recruitment poster. “He's too young for that, Jay.”
“If you'd walked in here five minutes ago, you wouldn't think so.”
Hunter wanted to roll his eyes, but his dad was a lot less tolerant of attitude than his uncle was. He kept his voice mild. “Uncle Jay is overreacting.”
“Is this about the girl I just saw walking down the driveway?”
“Clare.” Hunter couldn't read his dad's expression, but the man wasn't an idiot. He'd probably figured out half of it already. “She's in my government class. I did a presentation on firearms and she had some questions.”
“Did you answer them?”
Hunter wasn't ready for a question. He was ready for lecturing. “Most of them.”
“Good.” He looked at Jay. “Thanks for coming over. You have time to stay for dinner?”
That was it?
“You're not mad?” said Hunter.
His dad glanced at him. “Not yet.”
Hunter frowned. “Yet?”
“You're about to teach yourself a lesson a lot more effectively than I ever could. I'll be mad if you don't learn it the first time around.”
“I don't understand.”
“You will.” His father looked back at Jay. “The file for this weekend is upstairs if you want to take a look.”
His uncle straightened. “Sure. I have time.”
“File?” Hunter's ears perked up. If Uncle Jay was involved, that meant it was Elemental business. His father worked private security jobs on his own. “You have a job this weekend?”
“Nothing you need to worry about,” said his father.
“Let him listen,” said Jay. “You said it's just surveillance for now, right? He'll be doing it himself soon enough.”
Hunter's dad smiled and smacked his brother on the back of the head good-naturedly—but his eyes were serious. “I said, it's nothing he needs to worry about.”
“You know I can keep a secret,” said Hunter.
Hunter's dad lost the smile. “It's not about keeping secrets. I don't want you in on this stuff any sooner than you need to be.”
“But
why
? You tell me about your private-duty stuff all the time. But
this
is the stuff I should be learning—”
“No,” said his dad, and his eyes were fierce. “It's not a game, Hunter. You're
not ready.
”
Hunter gritted his teeth. He took every lesson seriously. He followed every rule his father laid out. His skills with a rifle could rival real sharpshooters. Any challenge his father set, he could do it. He
had
done it.
“I know it's not a game,” he said.
“Good. Then forget we mentioned it.”
“Is this because I brought a girl home?” Hunter wanted to punch the wall, but he was well practiced in maintaining control, especially when his father was around. He kept his voice even. “You said you weren't mad.”
“I'm not. And this isn't a punishment.”
“What good is all this training if you're never going to let me
use
it?”
“Hunter.”
“Maybe if you would let me have the
chance
—”
“
Hunter
. I said no.”
That tone was final, like throwing up a wall. A point of no return. For a bare instant, Hunter wanted to knock it down, to rebel and throw a fit.
But that would just make his father throw up a new wall, a stronger one.
His father wasn't waiting around for him to make a choice, anyway. He turned and started through the door, saying, “Lock up when you're done in here.”
Like Hunter would sit down here and sulk.
Actually, he would have if his dad hadn't said something.
Now he stood back and waited for his uncle to go through the doorway, then flipped the light switch and locked the door.
But he stopped Jay at the bottom of the stairs.
“Hey,” he said, his voice low, “what
did
Dad tell you about girls?”
His uncle laughed and clapped him on the shoulder, and Hunter thought he was going to brush off the question.
But Jay leaned in and lost the smile. “Use them before they use you.”
Hunter thought about his father's and uncle's warnings all night.
He couldn't line it all up in his head.
If Clare was using him, it was just for information, and that seemed kind of weak. She could learn practically anything about guns from Wikipedia. It didn't seem worthwhile to follow him home from school for something she could find in zero-point-six seconds on Google.
And regardless of whether she was using him, he sure didn't want to use
her
.
Clare's apprehension about guns was real—his abilities were strong enough to sense that. Her concern for her brother felt real, too. Maybe she just craved some kind of
experience,
some way to understand what her brother would be handling.
And she'd hung close to him in the gun locker. She hadn't minded when his arms went around her, when he'd placed his hands over hers and showed her how to grip the weapon.
But still, his father's lessons were never something to be treated lightly. Hunter could feel the seeds of future disappointment taking root already.
I'll be mad if you don't learn it the first time around
.
What did that mean? Did his father expect him to cut Clare off now, before anything else happened?
He could do that. It would be easy enough. They hardly knew each other, and this was the last week of school.
But it felt . . .
wrong
. He was sixteen years old, not six. He didn't have to brush off some girl just because his daddy didn't think they should play together.
Maybe he didn't have to worry about it at all. The way they'd been caught had been plenty embarrassing. Today was his alternate schedule, too, so he didn't have Government. Maybe he'd walk into school and find her giggling about him with her girlfriends. Even better, maybe he'd make it through the whole day without seeing her at all.
No. He found her waiting at his locker after last period.
Sleeveless sundress, brown hair shining, a splash of freckles across her shoulders.
He tried not to think of what it would be like to show her how to hold a weapon while she was wearing
that.
She smiled at him. “I've been worried about you all day. Did you get in trouble because of me?”
He shrugged a little and worked the combination lock. She smelled like mangoes again, and it took effort to keep his eyes on the spinning numbers. “Nah. My dad was actually cool with it.”
“Really? So I can come back?”
“Sure—”
Then a hand smacked him on the back of the head, hard enough to slam his face into the locker.
Stars blossomed in his vision, but Hunter was already spinning automatically, an arm coming up to block, the other swinging a fist.
The other guy barely got out of his way. Garrett Watts, a heavyset junior who usually trailed after Jeremy Rasmussen. His brown eyes were small and beady above doughy cheeks, and the only thing about him that gave Hunter pause was the fact that this guy had to have seventy pounds on him.
BOOK: Fearless
5.26Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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