He didn’t move, but she felt the change. The wind in the clearing died. Leaves spun wildly and fluttered to the ground.

Quinn jammed her hands in her pockets and stood a few feet back from him. Her brain couldn’t wrap itself around this quickly enough. She wasn’t sure she wanted to believe him yet. This was a little too . . . weird. “So . . . what? Your brother blew that girl off a cliff?”

Nick’s eyes widened. “What? No. He’s not—Michael’s not an Air. He’s an Earth.”

Quinn licked her lips. “Do I need a twenty-sided die here, Nick?”

“Would you stop making jokes? I’m trying to explain this to you, and you’re—”

“Freaked out.” She took another step back from him, looking at the leaves that had fluttered to the ground. Nothing abnormal, no sign of any device that could have done . . . that.

Nick studied her. “Do you have your iPod?”

That was like asking if she’d brought her boobs along. Quinn fished it out of her pocket and held it out.

Nick shook his head. “You listen. Dance. Do that one you were doing the night I picked you up at the Y.”

When the hell had Nick Merrick gone insane? “You want me to dance right now?”

He nodded, looking perfectly serious.

“But you won’t hear the music.”

“I want to show you something.”

Quinn hesitated, figured she had nothing to lose, and plugged the buds into her ears. She had to close her eyes to shut out Nick’s searching face, but once the music caught her, he could have been an alien and she wouldn’t have cared.

She didn’t remember all the details of this routine, but Nick wouldn’t know the difference, and she was good at improvisation. Her weeks of studying with Adam had made her stronger, more balanced, and she could feel the difference even in something unpracticed. Her legs carried her through spins and leaps more effortlessly. She spun and dropped and flung her body into the rhythm, every movement punctuated perfectly.

Then she felt it. The air changed, as if the music could suddenly seep into her skin. Her movements had more energy, more control, and each time her feet left the ground, she felt vaguely like a marionette, suspended for just a fraction of a second too long—but effortlessly.

The dance changed against her will, turning from something she was doing with the music into something she was doing because of the music, as if the very song animated her body. Her next leap left her in the air for a moment too long. She almost lost the beat, and spun to find it. One foot, pivot, step, leap.

This time her height, her suspension in the air, was downright inhuman.