She just wasn’t sure what to say. She was used to dealing with facts and numbers. Her father was used to dealing with truths and untruths. Neither had any experience dealing with the supernatural.

Because it had to be, right?

This morning, in math class, Gabriel had reminded her of the way he’d been that first morning on the trail, when she’d compared him to a land mine. Only this time it was more like a hand grenade after the pin had been pulled. It was just a matter of time before he went off.

“It’s like every time I see you, you’re sitting all by yourself.”

Layne jerked and almost fell out of her chair. Ryan Stacey was behind her, leaning against the bookcase. He must have come around the side of the stacks.

“I didn’t expect to find you here,” he said. “But I like it. You will, too, I think.”

Now her palms were sweating for an entirely new reason. “Go away. You’re lucky I’m not having you arrested for assault.”

“You kissed me, too, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me that.” She threw a glance at the doorway and prayed for Gabriel to appear.

He didn’t.

“Besides,” she said, making her voice hard even though her insides felt like jelly, “I’m not the only one you’ve assaulted.”

“Yeah, like your baby brother is going to earn any friends by being a retard and a tattletale.”

“Simon is not a retard.”

“Whatever. I took care of him.” He took a step toward her, and she scrambled out of the chair before she could stop herself. Her back hit a bookcase, and the metal shelves dug into her shoulders.

A smile lit his face, but not in a good way. “Too bad about the fire at the horse barn. Did that satisfy your little burn fetish? Add a new scar or two?”

She flinched, but then he looked at her crookedly. “Or is it Merrick who has the burn fetish? I guess you freaks all have to stay together—”

“Leave her alone.”

Layne was choking on her breath, on her heartbeat, fear warring with relief. Gabriel was here, looking as fierce as ever. He’d protect her.

She just didn’t want him to do it at his own expense.

She moved close to him, letting her hand close over his forearm like she had in class. “Don’t fight,” she said. “Let him say what he wants. It’s not worth it—”

Gabriel glanced down at her hand, as if surprised to find it there. “I won’t fight him.” Then he made a face. “What is that smell?”

“Don’t you know?” said Ryan. “I mean, they’re going to find a bottle of it in your locker.”

The forearm under her hand turned to steel, but Gabriel was absolutely still. “What are you talking about?”