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He did. “Better?”

“Much. Thank you.” Then Gibby lifted the lower half of her bandana and vomited on his feet.

“Oh mygod!” he screeched, stumbling back, trying to shake off the string of bile that hung off his boot. “Why?Why?”

“Heights,” Gibby said weakly, grimacing as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “I hate heights so much.”

“That explains all the screaming. My bad, dude. Hold your breath and lower the bandana real quick.” He turned toward the people sitting outside the coffee shop and saluted them. “Citizens,I need water for my friend. Consider it a good deed in service of the city.”

A woman rose from her chair, grabbing her sweating glass of ice water and handing it over, hand shaking. “Thank you,” Guardian said. “I won’t forget this.” He gave it to Gibby, who drank the entire thing in one go. After she finished, she lowered the bandana and handed the glass to Guardian, who set it back down on the table.

“Let’s go,” she said, and they hurried around the corner, down the familiar street. He faltered when he saw people gathering on the opposite side of the street from his house, pointing at something blocked by parked cars and thick trees. Because he could, he jumpedovera car rather than running around it, the spark barely pulsing as he did so. It was easier, now. Somehow, it was easier, his to harness, his to control.

As soon as he jumped across the street, landing on the opposite sidewalk, he saw what everyone was looking at.

People, standing stock-still in front of the Bell home, gathered on the walkway, backs stiff, arms hanging at their sides, eyes clouded over.

Cap. Mary. Bob. Trey. Aysha. Jo. Miles. Chris. Mateo. Jazz.

All of them, watching, waiting without a trace of recognition, blocking the way forward. But where was Dad?

Guardian skidded to a stop, Gibby crossing the street off to his right. She reached him and said, “Why are you—Mom? Dad? What are you doing here? Jazz?”

No response. Dead-eyed, staring forward but unseeing. Trey twitched at the sound of his daughter’s voice, but that was all. Gibby started forward, but Guardian grabbed her by the arm, pulling her back. “No,” he told her. “She’s controlling them. They’re not—”

“What are you—look out!” Gibby shoved him hard as a snarl of electricity ripped through the air, an arc of lightning slamming into the sidewalk where Guardian had been standing, causing it to crack. He hit the ground hard, rolling once, twicebefore he shot back up to his feet in time to see Mateo lowering his hand, electricity crackling around his fingertips.

“No,” they all said as one, their voices lifeless, the sound like wind through a graveyard. “You can’t stop this. It’s already too late.”

Behind them, the windows of the house lit up in a fiery, blinding light, and someone screamed inside as if they were being torn apart. It shook Guardian to his core, because herecognizedthat voice.

Seth. It was Seth screaming. The boy from the swings, the boy who loved Nick despite his faults—and, perhaps, because of them. The most selfless boy, who only wanted to keep people safe.

“You fucked with the wrong family,” Guardian snapped, and as Gibby shouted his name, he ran full tilt toward the house.

Bob was in the front, and he moved stiffly, hands coming up as Guardian rushed toward him. Guardian quickly ducked underneath them. It was as if they were all underwater and he wasn’t. He rose up from his crouch and shot his leg back, foot hitting Bob in the ass, knocking him forward. Without stopping, Guardian dodged Mary Caplan’s fist as it flew toward his head. The momentum spun her around, knocking her off-balance. Guardian dropped his hand to his side and jerked it up, fingers crooked. Mary lifted up off the ground, feet kicking into nothing, one of her sandals falling to the ground.

Someone grabbed his shoulders, and Guardian remembered what Seth had taught him. “Backflip of Chaos!” he bellowed, grabbing the hands and pulling them as hard as he could. He bent over, and Miles Kensington flew over him, crashing into Mary, still suspended in air. They landed in a heap off the walkway, knocking against Chris’s legs, causing him to fall on top of them, but he quickly pushed himself up.

“Behind you!” Gibby shouted.

Guardian turned and saw Jo and Mateo stalking toward him, and he clapped his hands together before spreading them apart.Both Jo and Mateo spun away, almost like they were dancing, spinning so quickly their faces became blurred. Jazz came after him next, and he said, “Please don’t stab me with a fork or your shoe when you remember this.” He brought his hands to his chest before pushing them out toward her. A wave of air slammed against her, hair billowing as she fell back.

A hand closed around his neck, and Guardian twisted around, fist raised.

Rodney Caplan. Cap.

And Guardian hesitated.

“Cap,” he said as the hand wrapped around his throat. “Cap,don’t!”

But Cap was gone, gone, gone, and Guardian’s breath rattled in his throat as the grip around him tightened painfully. Then other hands were on him, so many others, pulling him down, covering him, the sky blotting out as they loomed above him. The edges of his vision began to darken. Slack faces stared down at him, their hands digging into him. Distantly, he heard Gibby screaming, begging for them to let him go. Beyond her, the sound of an overtaxed engine and the screeching of tires.

But the spark was still there in his head, shifting, growing bigger, gaining mass. He reached for it once more, and when his hand closed over it, his body began to thrum.

And then Guardian exploded.

The hands holding him down fell away as everyone in front of the Bell house flew upward, legs and arms flailing. Then theystopped,hanging suspended in air, their shadows crawling along the ground. Guardian rose in time to see Mateo lifting his hand toward him, electricity rolling down his arm, coalescing into a ball of blue light in his hand.