In Vendetta House (The Vendetta Series #1)

Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Let me explain a thing. There's no way someone can do a flying leap over thirty or so people in real life.

Trust me, I once tried under supervision and nearly cracked open my skull. There is also no way to single-handedly take down about a hundred more. I do martial arts, not street-fighting.

I wring my hands together and smooth an unnatural piece of tattered green hair out of my vision. I see every face staring ahead; their emotionless, blank gazes of empty voids are creepily terrifying. Each of them are all wearing the same uniform: a white long-sleeved shirt and a pair of white knee-length shorts. They all appear to be in bare feet, and the long-haired girls have their hair tied into a low ponytail with an elastic. I had an eye for detail, what could I say.

I should probably just run for it. They're going to attack soon, I might as well get a head start. I take a step back and pounce into a sprint, but only get about three steps away before my foreheads smacks onto an invisible wall and I whirl backwards.

"Oof!"

My forehead goes whipping back as my body reveberates from the impact, my face bruised. Finding my footing again, I use my hands to feel where the wall is and knock a few times to hear metallic sound. I stay put, not risking a fifth concussion this year.

The heavens suddenly rumble above, the clear skies start to take on an ominous hue. My attention snaps to one girl at the front, as she thrusts a hand towards the gathering gray clouds, fingers splayed wide.

She throws her head back, jaws tense, her curtain of blond hair with blue streaks taking on a steady glow. A light mist of rain begins to shower down. It doesn't bother me too much, the rain feels cool against my perspiring skin, refreshing almost. Another girl steps forward, with fair skin, her golden yellow streaks mixed into dark brown hair glow like jewels and glitter.

As the yellow-streaked girl raises her hand and makes a twisting motion, freakish lightning strikes down nearby. The thunder roars louder than a hundred gun shots, echoing back too close for comfort. As if on cue, every gaze snaps into awareness, focussing onto me. I barely have time to dodge and crash onto my side when balls of fire start shooting at me.

"Bloody hell, a warning would be nice," I mutter, ears ringing.

Realizing the invisible wall is down, I tuck my slightly singed ponytail into my collar and run, moving as fast as I can to clear the bank. They start to take chase, snapping into attention and speeding down the hill. I pick an opening and climb furiously, grabbing tuffs of grass to help while elbowing a few faces and tripping up others. I narrowly duck a few balls of molten fire. It seems only the fire-users are attacking with their powers, the rest are uselessly trying to use hand-to-hand combat on a hill tilted at almost 90 degrees: which I could defend against easily, no matter how many of them there are.

I pick up the pace, but in my hurry, a whoosh of fire grazes my elbow.

"Oooh, that's going to leave a scar," I murmur painfully to no one in particular, heat spreading uncomfortably down my already wounded arm. As I take another step forward, my foot is stopped by something grabbing my ankle. I glance down to see a boy with orange streaks climbing behind me in pursuit, with a hand tightened around my left ankle, slowing starting to warm. I try to tug away from his burning iron grip. I really don't want a hand-shaped burn mark around my ankle.

I shift my weight and shove my right sneaker into the boy's face. His nose gives a sharp crack as it twists to the side and breaks, blood as red as synthetic roses spurting out. Yuck, he was kind of cute too. What a shame. I kick my heel into the side of his face, aiming for the hollow beneath the cheekbones. He falls sideways and goes tumbling down the hill, knocking over some other pursuers.