Ignite

Fourteen || Dead. Wait...Not You

Hello!

I hope you like this chapter, because I liked writing it. Chaos is so much fun. But anyway, on a side note, my PM box has been acting weird, and I can't find some messages and some conversations even though they show up in my notifications, which is beyond annoying. So I apologize if I have been shunning you. It's not on purpose.

Dedication goes to the fabulous frenchowl, because she is 1) awesome, 2) awesome, and 3) an awesome writer. (she also votes and comments and all that jazz but you guys know the drill by now) So, what you should do is go onto her profile, click the "works" button, and then find her lovely story, and if it fancies you (which it should, it's a very nice, descriptive style) you should read it. Savvy?

Savvy.

Okay, so I hope you like this chapter, not much fluff, but come on guys, why have fluff when you can have explosions?

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I'm getting really freaking tired of waking up to screaming.

After jumping out of bed I immediately shriek, "everybody up!" as if they aren't already.

Shouts echo, ones from adults outside, and gunshots ensure that all hell is breaking loose.

"Tide! Soldiers surrounding the house!" Jensen flies past the door, trailing his feathered counterpart.

"Kinda got that impression," I say, scrambling to my feet and racing down the stairs after the two boys.

I leap off the last two steps while Jensen swings around the newel post to turn into the kitchen. "Who's screaming?" he asks.

More gunshots ring out before I can even process the question. My hand reaches out, grabbing Hale's collar and pushing him down to the floor with me. Glass hits my back, though most of it is deflected by feathers. I throw a puzzled glance at Hale, but he's looking at Jensen, who is also under a cover of wings.

Lovesick butterfly.

Not allowing myself to ponder, I push myself into a crouch, wincing as glass cuts into my palm. I leave a bloody handprint on the table as I use it to stand.

The screaming has died out. I can't tell if that's a good or a bad thing.

The front door bursts open. My fists clench, snarl readying on my face. I can't see who it is, there's a flashlight right behind their figure.

"Tide!"

Owen shoulders past the person, ushering the others inside before he rushes over to me.

"What's happening?" he asks, and I shrug in response. The shooting has stopped.

Silence. The air crackles with uncertainty.

"What are they waiting for?" Terra whispers in my ear, crouched on the other side of me. Everyone is finally back, all gathered in the kitchen.

What a reunion.

"Why are you, Audrey and Abram the only ones who got hit?" I ask Owen, quickly surveying everyone's wounds.

He glances at the shred in his jacket, along his arm, where a trickle of blood is soaking the fabric. "I don't...know."

"I can hear them."

I spin as Joseph whispers at me. His eyes are wide - clearly, he's never been in a shootout. I move so I'm next to him.

"What are they saying?"

He tilts his head, squinting behind his glasses. They have a crack in the left lens. Something cracks inside of me as I realize he won't be able to get another pair.