Ignited

by Desni Dantone

CHAPTER 8

  The only thing worse than walking blindly through the woods at night was walking blindly through the woods at night, while trying to keep up with Nathan. The man was a machine. And me? Well, not so much. I hated the woods under normal circumstances. My throbbing ankle, the mind-numbing cold, and the fact that we were being hunted by guys trying to kill us only made it worse. I would be a wreck if not for Nathan. I would also be very lost.

  From what I knew about him, the man had no limits. He appeared out of thin air and saved my life like it was the sole purpose of his existence, took out a whole bunch of bad guys single-handedly, drove like a stunt driver, and told direction by the stars. He made the impossible look easy. After all I have seen, and all that I knew, I didn’t understand why we were walking through the woods. It seemed like such a regression from what I knew he was capable of.

  “Yo, Nathan, is it just me or does it seem like we’re walking up a lot?”

  Shouldn’t we have been walking down the mountain, toward the road, toward civilization?

  “That’s because we are walking up.”

  Of course. “And why is that?”

  “We’re going out of the way for a little bit. Until things settle down.”

  “We’re hiding out in the mountains?”

  “Yes.” He sounded much more confident about the idea than I was, but who was I to question him? We walked west, or that was what he said when I asked. He wasn’t in a particularly talkative mood, so I didn’t press for details. West and up. That was the most information I had gotten all night.

  We walked for hours, with me struggling to keep up with him. Finally, he stopped, dropped the sac on the ground, and waited for me to catch up.

  “You’re limping,” he observed.

  “I twisted my ankle.” I shrugged like it was no big deal, even though it was killing me.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I didn’t realize it would have mattered,” I returned heatedly.

  Nathan shot me a stormy look that rivaled the one I gave him. He sat on the ground against a tree and motioned for me to do the same. I sat across from him and he pulled my foot into his lap, exposing it to the chilly night air. By contrast, his fingers felt like fire on my skin as he poked and prodded my ankle. I jumped when he touched a sore spot.

  He glanced up at me. “That hurt?”

  I rolled my eyes. “A little.”

  He pushed another spot. “How about here?”

  “Not as bad.”

  He tested the stability, or so he said. In my opinion, he only made it feel worse. When he finished, he declared it a sprain, and didn’t seem to think anything was broken.

  “We’ll rest here for a few minutes,” he said, leaning his head against the tree.

  I scooted to the tree next to his and did the same. I closed my eyes and, for a moment, thought I could have fallen asleep, sitting up. It must have been really late.

  “Hey, can you tell the time from the stars, too?” I opened one eye and turned to him when he didn’t answer. “You don’t like to talk much, do you?”

  “No.”

  “No, you don’t like to talk much or no, you can’t tell the time from the stars?”

  “No, I don’t talk much,” he said drily. “Yes, I could tell the time from the stars. Or I could use my watch.”

  I had forgotten about the watch. I considered asking him the time; decided I didn’t want to know. “So is there a plan other than hiding out in the mountains, because that doesn’t sound like much of a plan to me?”

  He rolled his head toward mine, and met my eyes with a nonverbal plea to shut up. I pretended not to notice.

  “Is it a good time to ask you what’s going on?” I held my breath and waited for an immediate rebuttal. When it didn’t come, I turned to him.

  He looked uncertain. Not like he didn’t want to tell me, but like he didn’t know how to tell me.

  “Let’s start with this…” I turned to face him, my legs crossed in front of me. “Who are you?”

  He didn’t look at me. “I don’t know where to start.”

  “Maybe what are you would be better?” I nibbled on my lip. It was bold of me to go there, but I wasn’t stupid. Something unnatural was going on here. People were vaporizing.

  Even in the dark, I saw his mouth curve into a small grin. He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. “What are you trying to say? I’m not human?”

  I refused to show my nerves. “I don’t believe in comic book characters, but there’s something a little comic book weird-like going on here.”

  “Comic book weird?” I heard the amusement in his voice. He looked away, puckered his lips, and nodded thoughtfully. “Maybe you can handle it.” He opened his mouth hesitantly, and closed it without saying anything.

  “I can ask,” I suggested. “You can confirm or deny.”

  His quiet answer barely reached my ears in the dark. “Okay.”

  “Are you not human?” I held my breath.

  He rolled his head, seemingly amused by that question, yet struggling to answer it. Finally, he shrugged decisively and said, “Ninety-five percent human.” He hesitated a moment before turning his eyes to mine.

  I composed myself well, I thought, and when he looked at me, my reaction was that of indifference. So I was in the company of someone not entirely human? Surprisingly, that fact didn’t freak me out. Well, not that much. But what was the other five percent of him? I couldn’t bring myself to ask. Not yet. “And those other guys?”

  “Not all human either.”

  “But they’re not really like you?”

  He shook his head and spoke slowly. “We’re natural enemies. We’re similar, but not on the same side.”

  “And your side is?” Though I thought I knew the answer, I nibbled on my lip nervously as I awaited his answer.

  He rolled his head to me again. “I’m one of the good guys.”

  I didn’t realize I had been holding my breath until I sighed in relief.

  He raised his eyebrows. “Surprised by that?”

  “Not really,” I mumbled with a bashful shrug. “It’s just, I mean, what about Alec?”

  His eyes hardened before he looked away. “We’re not on the same side.”

  “So he’s one of those bad guys?” I couldn’t help the doubt that crept into my voice. I knew Alec. He wasn’t bad. Not in this sense. And he wasn’t creepy like those other guys. He looked like Nathan and I—like normal. He had told me to stay away from the guys that had been in Gran’s house. Why would he do that if he was one of them?

  But then how did he know them in the first place?

  Nathan’s jaw tightened. “Yes, he is. He was using you. I don’t know why. I don’t know what their interest in you is, but I think he was the one they planted to get close to you.”

  “Maybe they were using him too?”

  Nathan snorted. “No, he is one of them.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because I know.” His tone made it clear that the matter was now closed.

  “What else are you, other than human?” I asked quietly.

  He thought about it, and then shook his head. “Not yet.”

  I refused to get discouraged. He had answered everything else. I looked up at him from under my lashes. “Why do you look the same?”

  He stared at me like he was trying to figure out if I was talking about what he thought I was talking about. “The same as what?” he hedged, watching me closely.

  “The same now as you did the first time I saw you, when I was three. It’s like you haven’t aged at all.”

  He sighed as he thought about his answer. “It’s a perk from being the other five percent of what I am.”

  “Are you immortal?” I guessed.

  “Not quite.” He watched my reaction warily. “We just age slower.”

  I nodded, recalling how the others had vaporized. They had definitely not been immortal. “Wha
t happened to those other guys? Why did they disappear like that?”

  Nathan hesitated, and I feared he would put a stop to the questions. He didn’t, but answered slowly, choosing his words carefully. “That happens when we’re killed with a particular type of weapon. Those certain weapons make it easier to kill us. Otherwise, we’re harder to kill than average humans. Not immortal, but more resilient.”

  “And stronger?”

  “Faster and stronger.” After all he had admitted to, none of it hinted at what he was. He was careful. I wondered what it was he was so concerned about. My reaction?

  “You can tell me what you are,” I said softly.

  His eyes met mine and, for a second, I thought he might tell me. Then he shook his head. “Not yet, Kris.”

  For it being the first I had ever heard him say my name, it felt oddly warm and familiar, like slipping into that over-worn security t-shirt straight out of the dryer. Not to mention, almost everyone had to be told not to call me by my given name. “How did you know my name?”

  He shrugged like the answer was so obvious he didn’t know what to say.

  “You knew to call me Kris, not Kristina,” I prodded.

  A small grin tugged at his lips when the answer came to him. “You strongly suggested it to me once. You had quite a mouth for a three year old.”

  Oh, man, I wished I remembered that conversation.

  His mention of it took me back to the night he had first entered my life. I had seen bad things that night, most of which my subconscious continued to protect me from remembering. Had I seen things then, similar to what I have seen tonight? Have I been living in this world with people that were ninety-five percent human all along?

  For years, I have wanted to ask him what his involvement had been that night, and what his involvement has been in my life ever since. As far as I knew, he only popped into my life when I needed help. What if it were more than that? What if he had been there the whole time, watching and waiting? What if he had been protecting me all along?

  And then, there was the biggest question of all...why?

  “Who are you to me?” I asked. “How is it that you’ve been there to help me all those times?”

  His eyes were fixed straight ahead, and I saw he had no intention of answering. “We better keep moving.” He stood. “Your ankle okay?”

  He helped me up and I tested it. “It’s fine.” Disappointment over my biggest question being left unanswered dripped from my voice.

  The civility that had transpired between us was nothing but a memory once we started moving again. He was distracted and his responses, when he gave one, were brief and uninterested. By the time I gave up asking, all communication from him had regressed to primitive grunts. I decided I would have rather been stuck in the jungle with Tarzan. At least it would have been warm. And he grunted actual words. Nathan just sounded like a caveman.

  Before he had forgotten human language, he informed me of his plan to hike through the night and most of the next day before stopping. He was confident that would put enough distance between us and our followers to rest comfortably. I wasn’t a fan of the idea, but I also didn’t want to have another run-in with the bad guys. So I trudged forward on no sleep, an empty stomach, and a throbbing ankle.

  Only my thoughts kept me company. I thought about Gran, and wondered what had happened to her after we left. I worried about Callie, and wished there was a way to let her know I was okay. I wondered what, if anything, Alec had told her. I wondered if Nathan was right about him. Was he one of them? Had he been using me? I didn’t want to think that everything between us had been a charade. It sure hadn’t felt like it.

  I didn’t know what Nathan knew. I didn’t understand Alec’s role in this mess. All I knew was that I missed him. The void that had been left in my chest following the accident was ripped wide open again in his absence. The pain he had eased was back, only worse. Only my determination to not break down in front of Nathan kept me from crying.

  We took few breaks and spoke only to convey the bare necessities. The night faded, and the rising sun brought much needed warmth to the air. It gave me a boost of energy, but by midday, I was beat and my stomach was protesting loudly.

  I skidded to a stop when I remembered the cracker stash in my book bag. Nathan was all too happy to stop and search for them, and we were each rewarded with a pack. Nathan washed the crackers down with a sip of water, and offered the bottle to me. My hesitation was brief. I was so thirsty I didn’t care that I was practically swapping spit with him. In fact, when I handed the bottle back to him, and he took another swig from it before placing it in the bag, I thought it was kind of hot. It helped that the guy was too attractive for his own good.

  The snack helped, but by late afternoon, I was losing steam fast. Nathan kept a watchful eye on me, glancing over his shoulder repeatedly, and slowed his pace for me. After he caught me practically sleep-walking, he proposed we look for a place to camp for the night. Five minutes later, he dropped the sac to the ground with a thud, and I got the announcement I had been waiting for.

  “I’ll set up the tent,” he said. “Can you gather some firewood?”

  He showed me what kind of timber to collect, and set me off to do it. I desperately wanted rest, but knowing that we were done walking for the evening made the extra few minutes on my feet tolerable.

  I was about to return with an armful when I heard a rustling in the brush behind me. I spun around, half expecting a shiny-golden-eyes beast of a man to come barreling toward me. I saw nothing, but the noise continued. It wasn’t loud and didn’t sound to be getting closer, but after my experience last night, nothing eased the fear that gripped me. I hated the woods and the things that lived in the woods. I really hated bad guys that tried to kill me in the woods.

  With the sun setting, it was getting darker by the second. I had no intention of being out there, by myself, in the dark, with something making noise in the brush. I kept my eyes on the suspicious spot as I retreated in the direction of the tent and Nathan. I doubted it was one of them. If it were, they would have attacked me by now. What if it was a bear, or a wolf? I decided nothing was impossible. Not after all I had seen in the past twenty-four hours.

  I found Nathan putting the sleeping bags inside the tent.

  “Hey, Nathan,” I called.

  He stood and looked at me.

  “I heard something out there.”

  He followed the direction of my gaze. “You see anything?”

  “No.”

  He shrugged dismissively. “Probably a rabbit or a squirrel.”

  I glanced at him. “After all that’s happened, are you really okay with probably?”

  He stared at me a beat, then sighed. “You want me to go check it out?”

  I made a face like I didn’t really care, but hell yeah, I wanted him to. He collected his knife from the holster he had set on the ground and, with a slightly annoyed—and maybe a little amused—glance at me, started in the direction I indicated.

  “Aren’t you going to take a gun?” I asked.

  “I think I’ll be fine.” He had the audacity to sound bored.

  “What if it’s like a pack of wolves?”

  “Then we’re dead anyway,” he muttered without bothering to look at me.

  He had to be joking, but I didn’t laugh. I gaped at his back as he moved into the thick brush, and I lost sight of him. I focused on that spot where he had disappeared as it grew darker and the trees blended into the shadows. After a while, I started to see things.

  And hear things. The forest and all its creatures picked that moment to come to life around me. Hoots, and chirps, and noises that belonged in a scary movie, not my reality, overstimulated my sense of hearing. Something squalled to my right, and I spun my head in that direction. Nothing but darkness greeted me.

  I eyed the guns at my feet and mentally reviewed the crash course Nathan had given me. I really didn’t want to have to use one of those,
and wasn’t sure I could do it if I had to. I already regretted insisting that Nathan check out the noise, and wished he would hurry up and get back.

  And then there he was. I started to sigh in relief…until I saw what he was carrying.

  He lifted up a floppy rabbit as he approached. “Found dinner.” My face dropped as he tossed the poor creature to the ground next to the firewood. He seemed pleased with himself, and I hated to tell him that there was no way in hell I was going to eat that thing.

  After he started the fire, he prepared the rabbit, further grossing me out, but by the time it was thoroughly cooked, I was so hungry I no longer cared what it had once been. I never thought I would happily eat a rabbit, but I graciously accepted the chunk of meat Nathan offered me.

  Afterwards, I slipped inside the tent to change clothes. I was in desperate need of a shower, but settled for a clean t-shirt, jeans and underwear. Nathan’s hoodie was the only thing I had warm enough to curb the chill so, even though it was filthy, I slipped it on over my t-shirt.

  He changed after me and emerged looking refreshed. I hated him for that. He sat next to the fire, leaned his head against the trunk of a tree, and pulled his hat down part way over his eyes, managing to make our set up look as relaxing as a five-star resort. I hated him more for that.

  The fire flicked between us. The parade of lights and shadows danced across his features, and I couldn’t look away. His legs were crossed at the ankles, his arms folded over his chest. He wasn’t necessarily big, at least not in an ugly disproportionate kind of way. He was big in a tall, lean, and solid kind of way. Stubble from a few missed shaves darkened his jaw. Normally, I wasn’t a fan of facial hair, but he made a little scruff look good. He was younger than I had initially thought. While there was an obvious maturity about him that made him seem older, my eyes detected something unmistakably boyish in his features. I guessed early twenties.

  As I took in his appearance, I noticed other details I had previously missed: the broadness of his chest and shoulders, the fullness of his lips, the dimple lines in his cheeks. I wondered if he had dimples when he smiled, assuming he ever smiled. As my gaze drifted up to what I already knew was my favorite feature—his eyes—I jumped when I realized they were open, and he was looking right at me.

  Shit. I looked away quickly, but it was too late. He had totally caught me checking him out. Talk about embarrassing. I wondered how long his eyes had been open.

  How long had I been staring?

  After a few excruciating seconds, I risked a peek at him. His eyes were still on me, and held mine for a beat. He blinked and, when his eyes opened again, they were on the fire. He maintained a perfect poker face the entire time.

  I was beyond mortified and, after a few excruciatingly awkward minutes, sauntered into the tent to hide. As I nestled into my sleeping bag, I tried to forget what had happened. Maybe it wasn’t as bad as I thought. Maybe he had opened his eyes at the exact moment I had looked at them. Maybe he had missed my obvious admiration of him.

  Or maybe he was in as much denial over what had happened as I was.