Like the pentagram, those fires were a message.

He just couldn’t figure it out.

And there wasn’t time to stand here puzzling it through. “Can you two drag him out of here?”

“No!”

A female voice. They all turned.

Calla Dean stepped out from behind a flaming bookcase, easily as comfortable in the middle of all this fire as Gabriel was. “Leave him.”

Hunter lowered the gun. His voice was full of shock. “Calla.”

“You look surprised,” she said.

“He’s not the only one,” said Gabriel.

She reached down and plucked a plume of fire from the carpet, letting it hover in her palm, feeding it power until it started to spiral off her hand. “You’ve been messing with all my pretty fires.”

“You?” said Nick. He glanced between Calla and Ryan. “But . . .”

“Oh, he started all of them. I just helped them along.” She rolled her fingertips through the flame she’d created. “The first one was an accident, I think. He and one of his idiot friends were goofing off at the house next door, putting lighter fluid in water guns. I just fed a little power into it, and the whole place went up like a match.” She snapped her fingers. “He liked that. It got a little addictive. For both of us, I think.”

Then she made a face, similar to the one she made when the broccoli was missing salt. “Though he was kind of a pain to follow around.”

“You killed a fireman,” said Hunter, his voice tight.

“I didn’t kill anyone,” she said. “He did.”

“But you drove the fires,” said Gabriel. “It was your rage I felt—”

“Oh yeah?” Her eyes flashed with the brightness of the flames in the room. She smiled and crushed the fire in her palm. “Prove it.”

“You’re drawing the Guides here,” said Nick. “They were already watching this area, but—”

“That’s the whole point,” she said, and the flames around her grew. “We want them to come. That’s why I drew pentagrams in the houses—”

“You drew them?” said Gabriel. “But why do you want the Guides to come?”

“So we can destroy them.” Her gaze settled on Hunter. “I think you might know about the last two we killed? Convenient rock slide, huh?”

Hunter lifted the gun.

“Go ahead,” she said. “Shoot me. We want a war.”

He cocked the gun.

Then high-pressure water was blasting into them all, knocking them to the ground and soaking their clothes.

And putting out every last inch of flame.

CHAPTER 42

CHAPTER 42

The holding cell was a lot easier to take the second time around.

Because this time Gabriel was sharing space with Nick and Hunter.