Secret. Brigid Kemmerer

      PROLOGUE

      Gareth Brody sat in a chipped plastic chair in the prison waiting room, listening for the guard to call his name. He drummed his fingers on his briefcase, casting a dark look at the guard booth every so often, playing the role of an impatient young attorney.

      In truth, the cinder block walls and barred doorways left him feeling claustrophobic. The air felt stale, the lighting artificial and too bright. Outdoors, the prison yard was barely more than a lengthy stretch of concrete, broken only by steel poles supporting basketball nets, all enclosed by chain-link fencing and barbed wire.

      Silver must be going nuts in here.

      Gareth would remedy that soon enough.

      A loud buzz echoed in the small room, and the barred door swung open. “Mr. Brody? Your client is available now.”

      Gareth followed the guard through the doorway, mentally calculating how quickly he could disable the man. Three seconds? Maybe four? This wasn’t a high-security facility, and this officer barely looked capable of guarding a box of donuts.

      Two hallways, four turns, and three locked doors brought them into a small chamber. Gareth memorized the path, remembering which doors required a slide from the guard’s key, and which required a pin code on a pad mounted on the wall.

      This would almost be too easy. Perhaps he could ask Officer Incompetent to leave the key on the table.

      “Have a seat here,” said the guard.

      Gareth dropped into the plastic chair—which sported a cracked seat—and plopped his briefcase on the table. The locks snapped open with a loud click.

      Usually, he did this without files. But today he had several.

      He and Silver had things to discuss.

      He pulled a pen out of the briefcase and spun it through his fingers. He could eviscerate two people in less than five minutes with nothing more than this pen. Idiots hadn’t even checked his belongings. Typical. Flash a business card and a little hair gel, and they assume you’re legit. He should have just walked in here with a gun.

      It was a miracle they’d been able to keep Silver here this long, honestly.

      But then the opposite door clicked open, and another guard led Gareth’s client into the room.

      The last time he’d seen Silver, the younger Guide had been in his late teens. Blond hair, too-dark-to-be-tan skin, slightly slanted eyes all topped off with a British accent and a talent for being ruthless. Silver had achieved control of the elements far younger than any other Guide—including Gareth himself.

      Silver had no family, no attachments. He’d been given assignments early. Some had said he was too young, that he’d fail or crumble in the line of duty. That he’d abandon his task of killing pure Elementals.

      Silver proved them all wrong. He’d killed without mercy, completing each mission without complaint or unnecessary mess.

      He’d done well.

      But now he was in an orange jumpsuit, wrists and ankles shackled to a chain that trailed from his waist. His right hand was mangled and scarred, but whatever injury had caused it had left enough wrist to keep him restrained. He was thin, too thin, and Gareth almost wished he’d thought to bring a sandwich.

      If Silver was surprised to see Gareth, he didn’t let it show. He dropped into the chair when the guard gave him a shove.

      Gareth glanced up, realizing he needed to keep up appearances, at least for a little while longer. He half rose from his seat, smoothing his tie as he addressed the officers. “Thank you, gentlemen. We won’t be too long.”

      One of the guards gave him a mocking courtly bow on his way out. “By all means, take your time, your highness.” The other laughed.

      Then the door slammed.

      Silver’s eyes lifted from the table. He cut a glance at the door and kept his voice down. “Gareth. It’s been a long time. You’re looking well.”

      “I wish I could say the same.”

      Silver glanced at his wrist, his eyes darkening. The chains jingled as he moved. “I let them get too close. It won’t happen again.” He paused. “I began to wonder whether they’d send someone.”

      “Of course.” Gareth smiled. “We would never leave one of our own sitting in a cell.”

      “Do we have a plan?”

      So very like Silver. Right down to business.

      Gareth opened one of his file folders. “We have to keep up appearances, if only for a little while.” He tapped his pen against the table. “I thought maybe we could review what you know of your last assignment.”

      Silver’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”

      “If I’m going to help you, I’d rather not go in blind.”

      Gareth watched the emotion in Silver’s eyes: wounded pride warring with resignation over the fact that he was sitting here with barely more dignity than a caged animal. Proof of his failure.

      Gareth waited. He would not rub salt in the wound, but he wouldn’t coddle the man, either.

      Silver gritted his teeth. “I know there are pure Elementals in town, enough to form a full circle. Proven dangers.”

      Gareth raised his eyebrows. “All proven?”

      Silver nodded. “All.” He paused. “We can proceed with eliminating them immediately.”

      “I think I’d still like to observe, to be certain.”

      Silver’s expression tightened. He was insulted.

      Gareth didn’t care. He would not destroy children based on hearsay.

      The Guides had few rules, but this one separated them from the Elementals who were driven by nothing but power.

      Observe first. Then destroy.

      Silver cleared his throat. “There are numerous young Elementals as well, though few have demonstrated the level of their power yet.” He nodded at the papers in front of Gareth. “Show me what you have. I’ll fill in your blanks.”

      Gareth slid a piece of paper off the top of the stack. “Michael Merrick?”

      “Earth Elemental. Twenty-three. Runs a landscaping business out of his garage.