Ignited

by Dantone, Desni

  “Stay down,” he ordered between clenched teeth.

  I swatted at his arms that were pinning me down. “Let me go!”

  “You lost too much blood already. Let me get the glass out of your hand, stop the bleeding and I’ll let you go. Until then...” He shoved my shoulders into the mattress forcefully, and held me there. “Stay still.”

  “I don’t want your help!”

  He looked at me like I was a stranger to him. “What’s wrong with you?”

  I didn’t answer his question, because I didn’t really know what was wrong with me, aside from temporary insanity. Instead, I spit out questions of my own in a fit of rage. “Why didn’t you save them? Huh? Why did you let them die?”

  “Kris—”

  “Why?” I shoved him in the chest with enough force that he rocked back and his weight lifted off my shoulders. I finally sat up, coming face to face with him. “Why did they have to die?” My voice cracked on the last word, and the sound shattered my resolve.

  After watching my world crumble around me little by little, I had reached the point of breaking. After trying to be so strong for so long, I finally gave in.

  As the onslaught of emotion shook my body, Nathan gripped ahold of my shoulders to support me. Even though I was mad at him for his role in my collapse, I let him. He was also all I had left in my pathetic mess of a life. As the tears came, I leaned forward, unable to support my own heavy head, and rested it against his chest.

  After a brief hesitation, his hands slid up and down my bare arms in a comforting motion and, despite the simplicity of the gesture, it did help. The tears slowed, my breathing steadied, and I leaned back. The anger lifted, leaving me with nothing but grief.

  And the knowledge that there was very little covering my body, and parts of it were touching Nathan’s. He must have realized the same thing, because he abruptly pulled away and stood. His eyes avoided mine as he retrieved the blanket from the couch and wrapped it around my shoulders.

  His hands slid down to grip my forearms, and only then did he look at me. “Kris?” He sounded genuinely concerned.

  I hugged the blanket around me, kept my eyes downturned to avoid his. “Why didn’t you save my friends, Nathan?”

  “I couldn’t.”

  I looked up, unable to hide the disbelief, or the resurgence of anger, on my face. “Really couldn’t? Or couldn’t so that your existence would remain a secret?”

  There was a flash of something in his eyes. Something I didn’t recognize. Anger I knew. This was different; almost like...hurt.

  I knew it was unfair of me to accuse him of something that callous, but I was hurting, and maybe I wanted him to know how much I was, and how that day had ripped me apart, and I hadn’t found a way to be whole again. Maybe I wanted him to hurt too.

  “No, Kris. I couldn’t.”

  “Did you even try?” He reacted with that poker-faced non-reaction of his I had grown to hate. “Did you know that Lauren drowned? She was alive when you pulled me out of the car. Did you know that?”

  He shook his head slowly, and the haunted look in his eyes told me he was telling the truth. Actually, he looked down right devastated.

  Good. I could use some company.

  “Lauren,” he repeated softly. “What was the other one’s name?”

  I folded my arms over my chest, refusing to stop being upset with him just because he seemed to be taking this news hard. “Megan.”

  “And she...”

  “She died on impact. Steering wheel to the chest, they said.”

  I had heard her screams, and the way they had abruptly stopped, long before the car flipped into the water. For her, it had been quick. For a long time, I envied her.

  Nathan stared at our feet as he digested what I told him. Part of me wanted to reach out and touch his arm, tell him I was sorry for blaming him, that I didn’t mean it. Not really. The other part of me—the louder, more stubborn part—stuck my ground. I still wanted answers from him. I still wanted to know why.

  “I didn’t want for your friends to die, Kris,” Nathan muttered as he finally looked up at me again. “If I could have done anything, I would have. I hope you know that.”

  “Then why didn’t you?”

  “I told you I couldn’t.”

  “That’s a bullshit answer and we both know it.” He was hiding something. I was at a loss as to what. Or why.

  “I know you don’t understand, and you probably never will...”

  “Make me understand,” I pleaded.

  “It won’t help anything.”

  “How can you say that? It has to help. Nothing could be worse than what I’m already going through.”

  His expression told me he didn’t have the same opinion, though I couldn’t imagine how. He saved me, not them. It was the worst kind of guilt. Nothing could make that any worse. Why couldn’t he give me some explanation? Tell me he did try. Tell me he failed. Tell me something.

  Help me to heal.

  “Please, Nathan?”

  “You’re not going to understand,” he said with a warning tone.

  “Try me.”

  His face twisted into a grimace, and he sighed heavily. “Lie down, let me dig the glass out of your hand, and I’ll tell you what happened.”

  Wordlessly, I lie back on the bed and raised my hand in the air, surrendering it to him. He looked both surprised and relieved, but instead of immediately digging into it, he ran out the door with an, “I’ll be right back.”

  He returned with one of the weapons from the shed. It looked like one of those multifunctional knives, with a ton of gadgets. He produced a set of tweezers from out of nowhere.

  I snatched my hand away before he could touch it. “Not diamond coated, right?”

  He grabbed my wrist and, with his head bent down as he studied the cuts, all I could see of his smile was the dimple in his cheek. “Not diamond coated. I promise.”

  I grimaced as he withdrew a shard of glass. Really, what had I been thinking? Sometimes I didn’t think things through. Punching a mirror probably topped the list in terms of stupidity.

  Yet again, Nathan was here to bail me out.

  He has never let me down. Not even that night. Now that I had calmed down, I was able to appreciate what he had done for me. I would never get over the loss of my friends, but I was wrong in blaming Nathan.

  “I’m sorry,” I mumbled.

  He removed another glass fragment and set it on the bed beside me. His eyes skimmed over mine on their way back to my hand.

  “I don’t blame you,” I added.

  He was concentrating on my hand, but I detected the slight nod of his head. I counted it as a silent acceptance of my apology.

  “It was our fault,” I continued. “We should have never gone out, should have never gone to that party.”

  “You changed your plans,” Nathan said quietly, never taking his focus off his task. He hesitated, like he was deciding on how much, or simply how, to tell me. “The prophet called me, said she saw you in an accident with three other girls, told me where it happened, all the details, all the places you were going to be. I worked out a plan to intercept you—all of you—before you ever got into the car, but something changed. You changed your plans. You never showed up where I was waiting. I barely made it to the crash site in time.”

  “What changed?” A second after I asked, I knew. Callie was supposed to have been the third other girl. Because she wasn’t with us, we never went to Josh’s house before the party, like she had wanted us to. Our plans had changed the moment Callie was caught sneaking out of her window.

  Nathan shrugged. “Whatever it was, it was enough to throw a ripple through the whole night, and change it enough that I couldn’t stop the accident from happening. I wanted to. I tried. I’m sorry I couldn’t.”

  I felt as if I were a balloon being slowly deflated. He was right. Learning the truth didn’t help. If anything, my heart clenched tighter at discovering how close he had come to s
aving them. So many should-haves, could-haves, and what-ifs; so many alternate outcomes; so close to the one that wouldn’t have ruined all of our lives...

  He had tried.

  “Thank you,” I whispered.

  He hooked an eyebrow and glanced at me.

  “For telling me,” I added. “For trying.”

  Though I knew he did, he gave no indication that he heard me. And I thought I was good at avoidance? He excelled in it.

  He gripped my wrist tightly, pulling my hand closer. “This is the last one. It’s deep.”

  The way he put his arm over top of mine, trapping it against his torso, worried me. “This is going to hurt, isn’t it?”

  He finally looked at me, and held my gaze. “You punched a mirror,” he deadpanned. “Of course it’s going to hurt.”

  He was right. It hurt. A lot. Fortunately, I had no tears left to shed.

  * * *

  He had suggested that we take the rest of the day easy, and ride into town tomorrow instead. I had insisted on doing it today. More than anything, I needed to get my mind off of everything I had just learned. Besides, after getting some answers, I was greedy for more. Surely, the Kala had learned something by now.

  Not that I was in a hurry to leave the cabin. Not now. It had grown on me and, even if he was intolerable most of the time, so had Nathan. Times like now, when he wasn’t an unbearable jackass, I even enjoyed his company.

  He sure was easy to mess with, too.

  “Hey, Sensei?”

  We were stopped at the gas station to fill up the tank on the motorcycle. His eyes rolled to mine. “Stop calling me that.”

  I ignored him and extended my hand, palm up. “I’ll go inside to pay for the gas, if you buy me a candy bar.”

  He handed me his hat and a wad of cash. “Get two.”

  I slipped the hat on with a smile and backed away. “As you wish, Sensei.” I didn’t stick around long enough to hear him complain about the nickname. I liked it; it was a keeper.

  I circled the candy aisle a few times before settling on a variety of king-sized chocolate bars. By the time I got to the counter, Nathan had finished pumping, and I paid for the gas and candy all at once. I had taken awhile deciding on the snacks, and was surprised Nathan hadn’t already stormed inside, looking for me. Once the chocolate was safely bagged, I hurried out the door.

  Nathan had parked the motorcycle next to the entrance. He was straddling it, staring intently across the street, and paying no attention to me. From the looks of it, I could have spent all day in the store and he wouldn’t have noticed.

  “What’s up?” I asked, gliding up next to him and following his gaze.

  Across the street was Dee’s—I assumed our next destination, and where I hoped we would be getting lunch. But then, there was something about the look on Nathan’s face that told me that wasn’t going to happen. I had seen that look before.

  “Nathan? What is it?”

  He didn’t move. “See those guys over there?”

  I reexamined Dee’s parking lot. It was full. I assumed that was because it was a Sunday, and Dee’s was a perfect after-church kind of place. I watched a family of five exit the restaurant, the young kids squealing as they raced to their car. A middle-aged man sat on a bench by the front door, reading a newspaper. A young man paced beside a black truck as he talked on his cell. Nothing looked amiss to me.

  “They’re waiting for us,” Nathan said quietly.

  A goose bump producing shiver whipped down my spine at the icy calm in his voice. I zeroed in on the guy on his phone. He seemed the most likely suspect. “How do you know?”

  Nathan tossed me my helmet. “They found us. We have to go.”

  My hands trembled as I put Nathan’s hat and the candy bars into the backpack, and put it and the helmet on. He waited until I was securely seated behind him before starting the engine.

  We shot out of the parking lot onto the road, angling away from Dee’s. I glanced over my shoulder, and saw the man still on his phone, still pacing beside the truck. No one followed.

  As we sped out of town, I realized Nathan had gone slowly all the other times. Now, he pushed the bike so fast I half expected it to sprout wings and fly. I pressed myself to his back, held on tight, and tried to lean into the turns with him.

  We leaned into one so far, I swore my helmet was inches from scrapping blacktop. I squeezed tighter, closed my eyes, and didn’t open them again until we came to a stop in front of the shed. I jumped off the bike, unscathed, but shaking. Nathan’s urgency, on top of the hellish ride, had turned me into a wobbly bundle of nerves.

  He fixed me with his gaze. “Put a few changes of clothes for both of us and some food in the bag.” He was walking backwards toward the shed as he talked, and waved his hand at me dismissively. “Pack whatever you think we might need for a few days and meet me back here.”

  He dashed to the shed, and I ran to the cabin.

  I was terrified, but managed to keep my fear under control long enough to concentrate on what I needed to do. I packed the clothes first, then darted to the kitchen and threw a few rations of food in. I paused to survey the cabin, looking for anything else we might need. Confident I hadn’t missed anything, I turned for the door.

  Nathan was already there, waiting for me.

  “I think I got everything,” I told him as I tossed the bag over my shoulder.

  I had expected to have to run to keep up with him as he sprinted for the motorcycle. Instead, he stepped farther into the cabin, crossing the short distance between us in a few strides.

  I stood, frozen by the odd sensation that something wasn’t right. What, exactly, that was, I couldn’t put a finger on.

  Until Nathan’s hands reached out and closed around my neck.

  CHAPTER 18

  My eyes bulged both from the shock and the pressure on my throat. I gasped for air, got nothing. Blood seeped from his arms where my nails dug in, but his grip never loosened. His lips were tight with exertion as he squeezed. There was no question he was trying to kill me, and would kill me.

  “Everyone wants you dead,” he grunted, his voice ice-cold and alien.

  I didn’t have time to dwell on what was wrong with him or why everyone, including him, wanted me dead. Spots filled my vision as the blackness closed in. This time, Nathan wouldn’t save me.

  Desperation kicked in. I dug my nails deeper, hit him when that didn’t work; kicked his shin and stomped on his feet. His response was to coolly press his thumb into my windpipe so hard I feared it would snap in half.

  There was no use trying any of the self-defense moves he had shown me. He had control now and beat me ninety-nine percent of the time anyway, in practice, when he wasn’t trying. He was trying now.

  I was seconds from unconsciousness and death—at the hands of the one I had come to count on. This time, my life was in my own hands. It was up to me, and there was only one thing I thought might work.

  I packed as much force as I could behind my knee as I drove it up and into his groin. His grip loosened as he doubled over, allowing me to slip from his grasp and take a breath.

  He reached for me, but I dodged him and brought my knee up again. It connected with his face, and sent him stumbling back, blood spurting from his nose. I didn’t stop to admire my accomplishment this time.

  I ran.

  He wouldn’t be down long and, when he recovered, I would need a weapon. My only chance was to make it to the shed. I glanced over my shoulder and saw him coming fast behind me. I put my head down and pumped my arms and legs harder.

  By some miracle, I reached the shed without him catching me, scrambled through the door, and picked up the first weapon I found. I spun around, lifting a pistol, as Nathan appeared in the doorway.

  He cocked his head to the side like he was amused to see me armed, but didn’t come any closer. I backed up, putting as much distance between myself and him as I could, until I bumped into the counter behind me.

  “What’
s wrong with you?” I shouted at him.

  Something had to be wrong. It was like he was possessed.

  He grinned cruelly and took a menacing step forward. His eyes shifted to the counter to his right, to the weapons just out of his reach. Only two swift steps separated him from them.

  “Don’t even think about it,” I warned. I was shaking so hard I was in danger of dropping the gun, but I kept it trained on him. If he lunged for the weapons, I would have to shoot him. Otherwise, I would be dead the moment he had something in his hands.

  It was me or him.

  He took a step to his right.

  I wondered if the gun had coated or regular bullets. If I knew it was loaded with non-coated bullets, I could wound him and buy myself some time to determine what had gotten into him. If they were coated and I was forced to shoot him, I would kill him.

  I wasn’t sure I was prepared to do that. Not to anyone. Especially him.

  “Don’t make me shoot you,” I pleaded.

  He lifted a foot to take the last remaining step, his callous grin daring me to pull the trigger. I had a split second to convince myself to shoot. I pointed the gun at his knee and prayed the bullets weren’t coated.

  A shot rang out. He fell forward, face down, motionless. And then he disappeared.

  “No!” I screamed.

  No, no, no, no.

  I stared in disbelief at the bare spot on the floor where he had fallen. I had adjusted my aim, I knew I had. I didn’t even remember pulling the trigger, but I must have because Nathan was gone. Dead and gone.

  And then he wasn’t.

  He was rounding the corner of the shed frantically, concern etched all over his face. I automatically lifted the gun rattling in my hands and pointed it at him. Again.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa!” he shouted, putting his arms out in front of him, the gun in his hands held out in a nonthreatening way. His eyes raked over me anxiously. “Are you hurt?”

  What? I grimaced at him. I couldn’t have imagined it. My throat was still raw from nearly being strangled to death. “You just tried to kill me.” It came out sounding like a question because, really, I had no idea what was happening.