“The end of Twilight would have been so much cooler if this had happened in the dance studio, wouldn’t it?”

“Are you seriously joking right now?”

Nick struggled to shift so he could sit up, and his arms found shards of glass. The pain helped his thoughts focus.

God, his head hurt.

“Easy,” said Adam. His voice was still full of mixed emotion, as if panic and wonder battled for space. “Just lie still. Wait for help.”

“I can’t wait,” said Nick, more sure now. “I need to tell—need to warn—”

“We can’t warn anyone. Nothing works,” said Quinn. “It’s like a bomb went off or something.”

“A bomb did go off,” said Nick. “But without the explosion part. Help me up.”

He took Adam’s outstretched hand and pulled himself to sit up.

It wasn’t the best idea. He had to grip hard just to stay upright. His stomach rolled and he worried he’d throw up all over the floor.

He had no idea how much damage his pressure wave had caused, or at what distance. Had he knocked out power to more than this building? What had Quinn said? No cars on the road?

God, he needed his brain to work.

“You’re bleeding,” he said, blinking at Adam.

“Most of it’s yours.”

Nick reached toward his temple. “No, there.”

“Whatever happened knocked me into the wall.” Adam glanced left. “Quinn hit the risers.” He paused. “You were . . . you were out for a long time.”

“It didn’t hurt that asshole,” she said. “He was gone when I woke up.”

Of course. “Does he know I’m still alive?” said Nick.

“We didn’t know you were still alive until about two seconds ago,” said Quinn. “You had no pulse, Nick. You were . . .”

“I’m all right,” he said. “I’m okay.”

But no pulse. If the guy had checked, he would have thought Nick was dead.

Hell, looking at the pool of blood on the floor, Nick might not have checked himself.

Adam touched his face again, as if trying to reassure himself that Nick was really sitting here talking. His breathing was shaking, just the slightest bit, but his expression was full of resolve. “Why didn’t he kill us all?”

“He’s only after us. Me and my brothers.”

Damn it, he needed to call home.

“The office,” he said. “Is there a phone?”

“Dead,” said Quinn. “We already tried.”

Dead.

Chris and Michael were together, but Gabriel was home alone.

Did the Guide know that?

Had he gone there first?

Nick thought of his connection to his twin brother, the way he always seemed to know what Gabriel was thinking, almost before it happened. When Gabriel had rescued Layne from the barn fire, then run home with a broken hand, Nick had known. His twin brother’s panic had woken him from a sound sleep.

God, he needed his head to stop hurting.