No. That was stupid. If the bullet had gone into his brain, he wouldn’t be lying here thinking about it, would he?

He felt drunk. He wished he could open his eyes.

He wished he could move.

He smelled oranges and cloves.

Adam.

Oh, and Adam was kissing him. This was nice. Breath rushed across his tongue and filled his lungs. Power flared in his chest, finding his blood and sparking through his body.

Another breath and he could move.

Another breath and he could hear. Quinn’s voice. “Come on, Nick. Come on. Please, Nick.”

She sounded so worried. Didn’t she remember their whole conversation about air pressure?

Another breath. Wait, this kissing was all wrong. Nick brought his hands up and captured Adam’s cheeks.

Adam jerked back and swore.

Nick opened his eyes and found wide, panicked brown ones gazing down at him.

“ ’Sup?” said Nick.

“Holy shit,” Adam whispered.

“Holy shit,” Quinn echoed. Her bright blue eyes appeared next to Adam’s.

“It’s . . . it’s impossible,” said Adam.

“Nuh-uh,” said Nick. He shook his head and the ceiling tilted and spun. “It’s physics.”

“He still needs an ambulance.” Adam turned his head to look at Quinn. “Try your phone again. Can you get a signal yet?”

“I can’t even get the stupid thing to turn on.”

Nick sucked in a deep breath, buying himself further clarity.

It wasn’t working. His brain couldn’t seem to organize.

Adam was still staring down at him. “He shot you. I saw—I saw—there’s blood—”

“Nothing works,” said Quinn. “Whatever that guy did, there’s no cell signal, no electricity, no cars on the road—”

“Me,” said Nick. He winced as reality started to reform, bringing more pain with it. “I did it.”

“What?” said Adam.

“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 ass**le,” 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 re-solve. “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.

Nick pressed his hands to his temples. One came away sticky and wet. He looked at his palm and found a hand covered in blood.

Was he still bleeding?

What had happened to the bullet?

“Help me up,” he said again. “I need—we need—”

“You still need an ambulance,” Adam said, his voice finding that quiet confidence. “Quinn, I’ll run up the road and see if I can find a place with a phone. Keep him still—”