Take him. The horse. Gabriel’s fingers closed on the rope automatically, just as the animal reared up, nearly jerking the rope free.

“Just get him through the gate!” Layne cried, pointing behind him.

Like he could do that without getting trampled. The horse had to weigh a thousand pounds, and he was dragging Gabriel in a circle, a snorting, panicked mess of muscle and hooves.

He managed to get to the gate, somehow working the latch before the horse swung around, knocking Gabriel into the fence with his shoulder. Gabriel lost hold of the rope—but before he could panic, the horse bolted through the opening, tearing along the fenceline with a thunder of hooves against turf.

But the animal was trapped in the field. Gabriel latched the gate.

When he turned around, Layne was gone.

He spun full circle. Gone.

Smoke poured from the barn doors now. Horses were still screaming, banging on the walls. Trapped. Layne couldn’t have . . . she wouldn’t—

But he was already running before those thoughts could complete themselves.

He made it to the barn doors just as Layne burst through the wall of smoke, coughing as she ran. She had a rope in each hand, two horses trailing behind her. Her face was streaked with soot already. One of the horses had bits of flaming debris on its back. Both were wide eyed, their steel shoes skidding on the concrete outside the barn.

“Layne!” he said. “Don’t—”

“Take them!”

Then she flung the ropes at him, and he was lost in a rush of surging horseflesh.

And she was back in the barn.

He couldn’t catch the ropes quickly enough. The horses bolted for the path behind the barn, the path where he’d first met Layne, the path that led to the woods and safety.

He had no idea whether she was right about the whole herd animal thing, but the woods were better than the barn. He let them go, then dove into the cloud of smoke after her.

After the sunlight, the darkness of the barn was almost absolute. Sparks dripped from the ceiling, catching at loose straw and wood shavings to create small fires in his path. But most of the fire was overhead, in the hayloft, a pulsing glow that called to him through the smoke.

You’re here! Come play.

“Layne!” he yelled. The roar of the fire was a living thing, muting his voice. Horses were still screaming in the darkness—a sound that had started as panic and now carried mostly pain.

He shouted her name again, dropping to his knees where the smoke was less dense—though it didn’t help. The fire had found something new to burn, and metal cans were bursting somewhere to his left. He could smell chemicals.

Settle, he pleaded.

He hadn’t realized how much Hunter’s presence helped, how much another Elemental let him focus his power.