Ignited (Ignited Series, #1) Chapters 1-8

Chapter 5

The first clue that there was a problem was the sound of shattering glass downstairs. The second was the angry unfamiliar voices. I ignored the voice in my head that told me to stay put, and was half way down the steps before I realized what I had walked in to.

In the kitchen, to my left, Nathan squared off with the three guys from the parking lot. In front of me, between the kitchen and the living room, Gran held off another two with a butcher knife in one hand, a fire poker in the other. I recognized them as two of the boys who had been with Alec at the party earlier. The ones he had told Callie and me to stay away from.

He must have known something. But what? Who were they? And, more importantly—where was Alec?

A flurry of activity in the kitchen reclaimed my attention. Two of the three that had Nathan cornered rushed him from opposing sides. Backed against the counter, he didn't have many options. I was a heartbeat away from jumping in to help him, though I had no idea how I was going to accomplish that. Fortunately, it didn't take long to realize my intervention was not necessary.

Nathan leaned his arms onto the counter behind him, raised his legs, and landed a kick to the gut of the poor sucker to reach him first. The impact sent the guy feet over head on his way to the floor, where he landed with a resounding thud. Nathan stunned the second one with an uppercut to the jaw, dropped his shoulder, and flipped the guy UFC-style to the floor beside the first one. He kept coming, knife in hand, and speared the third one in the stomach.

My jaw dropped, the scream of horror caught in my throat. Catching a glimpse of me over the man's shoulder, Nathan frantically motioned for me to retreat upstairs.

I only had time to withdraw one step before freak number one clambered to his feet, fixed his eyes on me, and charged. Freak number two followed close behind.

I was vaguely aware of the two in the living room turning to me at around the same time. Distantly, I was aware of one of them falling to the floor, and Gran standing over him with the fire poker. My ears picked up what sounded like Nathan finishing off the one in the kitchen with the knife.

Death all around me. Three of them came at me now. And, boy, were they fast.

Half way up the stairs, icy fingers gripped my ankles and jerked my feet out from under me. My face slammed into the edge of a step, and then was dragged across the coarse carpet as I was hauled back down the stairs. I dug my nails in, reached for anything to hold on to, but came up empty. Three sets of hands were on me, tore at my clothes, pulled my hair, and scratched my skin in their frantic attempt to get to me. My legs flailed wildly, and I thought I connected with someone's face before a pair of hands restrained my legs to prevent me from doing further damage. Another set grabbed my arms and maneuvered them behind my back. I looked over my shoulder at the culprit, just as another body moved into my line of sight behind him.

A formidable Nathan threw himself at the one who had my arms restrained, wrestled him off me. Next, the weight on my legs lifted, leaving me to scrap one on one with the last one.

I wiggled out from under him enough to scramble up two steps. I turned as he lunged for me, kicked, and connected with his nose. It was a hard kick, but his lips merely twisted into an angry snarl as he leveled his gaze on me. His eyes shone a dark shade of gold—empty, with nothing behind them—like tiny portals straight into hell.

Behind him, Nathan impaled the one he had tackled, and twisted the knife into his chest, where his heart should be. I screamed and looked away. Too late. The vision was etched into my mind forever—another one for the nightmares. I pushed through the psychological trauma, pulled it together, and prepared to battle with the golden eyed freak on top of me again.