Scorched s-1

by Mari Mancusi

  “Anyway, I’m the one who should be apologizing,” he added, dropping his hand and giving her a rueful look. “If things had gone to plan, you and your grandpa would be miles away by now. Living happily ever after, the egg all but forgotten.”

  The egg. Her eyes traveled back to the object in question, still cradled under Connor’s arm. Even now she could feel its strange pull, gnawing at her insides, and she had to fight the urge not to reach out and touch it. To take it into her arms, run her hands across its intricate surface. To feel its unearthly warmth under her fingertips.

  “So what’s the deal with the egg, anyway?” she asked, shoving her hands into her pockets instead. “Why is everyone after it?”

  He looked at her curiously. “Didn’t your grandpa tell you?”

  She dropped her gaze, her cheeks burning now as she remembered what her grandpa had claimed.

  “He told you, didn’t he?” Connor pressed. “He told you something about the egg.”

  She paused, her mind racing with lies. But in the end, the truth spilled from her lips. “He said…” she whispered. “He said it was a dragon egg.”

  She waited for the snorts of laughter, the rolling of eyes, the snide comments, and maybe an offer of a bridge in Brooklyn up for sale.

  Instead, Connor gave her a regretful smile. “It’s a dragon egg, all right,” he confirmed. “Trust me, they’re pretty distinctive. No other creature on Earth—now or ever—lays this kind of egg.”

  “Come on,” she protested, hardly believing she was going to have to have this argument for the second time in one day. “Let’s be real. We all know there’s no such thing as dragons outside of movies and video games.”

  “Not anymore,” Connor agreed, “seeing as they all died out in the Ice Age. And since their skeletal structure was made up of a mixture of silica and gelatin, their bones decomposed into sand. That’s why you never find any dragon bones—any proof they ever existed at all.”

  He said it so matter-of-factly. Like he was giving a science lecture. And while one part of her wanted to protest that it was impossible, another part, deep inside, was starting to wonder. Strange things had been uncovered over the years. And she admittedly had never come across anything as strange as this egg. Could her grandpa really have finally stumbled upon something real after all these years? Only to have it ripped away? Guilt gnawed at her insides as she remembered how quickly she’d dismissed his claims without even giving him the benefit of the doubt. When she found him again, she realized, she might just owe him an apology.

  “Those men,” she tried, unable to keep the tremble from her voice as she thought back to the man gripping her by the neck, gun pressed to her temple. “From the museum. Do they think it’s a dragon egg too?”

  Connor shrugged. “From what we understand, someone from Customs tipped off your government, letting them know an unidentified object had crossed the border. But whether they know exactly what it is at this point…” He made a helpless gesture.

  She mulled this over, her brain snagging on the fact he’d used the word “your” when mentioning the government. Was he from another country? That would, at least, explain the strange lilting accent and odd clothing. And possibly the paleness of his skin. But what country? And how had he known about the egg?

  “In any case, they’re the least of our worries,” Connor added in an uncomfortable voice, “now that I know the Dracken are here too. They’re a much greater threat than your government could ever be.”

  “The Dracken?” The term sounded familiar for some reason, though she had no idea why.

  “A group of dragon sympathizers,” he replied, without missing a beat, “like an animal rights group, but for dragons.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Are you for real?”

  “Absolutely,” he shot back, giving her a grim look. “And, unfortunately, so are they. I’m not sure why they’re here. I guess they must have caught wind of my mission somehow—and sent my twin brother, Caleb, to stop me.” He scowled. “Unlike your government, Caleb knows exactly what the egg is. And what it can do.”

  Trinity had no response. Absolutely no response. Dragon animal rights groups, evil twins. She felt as if she had been dropped into the middle of some game without being taught how to play. Half of her wanted to tell Connor to get out all over again, to take his crazy stories and never come back. But at the same time, he’d been right about the men invading her house. And if she hadn’t listened to him…

  “I’m sorry, Trinity,” he added, giving her an apologetic look. “You were never supposed to be involved in any of this. If all had gone to plan, I would have gotten you and your grandpa away from here months ago. Instead, I barely had enough time to get you out of the museum.”

  Trinity finally found her voice. “Connor, you’re not making any sense,” she protested. “No one even knew this egg existed until a few days ago—when researchers dug it from the ice. And according to my grandpa, they shipped it straight to the museum.” She peered at him. “So how could you or the Dracken people know it would be here? Or that the government would try to break in and take it?”

  Connor suddenly looked nervous, as if he’d said too much.

  “Tell me,” she pressed. “What are you leaving out? How did you learn about the egg?”

  He leaned against the wall, staring out the window. At first she thought he wasn’t going to answer. But finally, he opened his mouth to speak.

  “Where I come from, everyone knows the story of the first egg.”

  “Where you come from?” Trinity repeated, a clamminess washing over her. As if somehow, some way, she knew his next words would change her life forever. “And where is it, may I ask, that you come from?”

  He gave her a hard look. “About two hundred years in the future.”

  Chapter Eight

  At first, Trinity wasn’t sure she heard him right. Two hundred years in the future? Was this some sort of joke? “That’s not funny,” she said hoarsely.

  He blinked. “Do you see me laughing?”

  She took a step back, trying to will her brain to think, to cling to some sort of rationality in a conversation gone mad. And to think she almost believed him about the dragon egg. Even though that was completely ridiculous as well. Everyone knew there was no such thing as dragons. And as far as time travel…

  Her confusion veered sharply to anger. How dare he try to play her like this? She needed to get away, call the cops, find out what was really going on. And, most importantly, locate her grandpa and make sure he was okay.

  “I’ve got to go,” she stammered, realizing too late Connor had effectively barricaded the barn’s front door. Would he try to stop her if she pushed past him? And what about the egg? Was she willing to leave it behind?

  What an idiot she’d been! Hiding away from the government agents, allowing them to ransack her house. Maybe they had a good reason to be after the egg. Maybe it was a matter of national security. Or that the thing was contaminated—or carried some nasty disease. Maybe she should have turned it over from the start, instead of aiding and abetting a crazy person to steal it away.

  Connor stepped forward, his expression anguished, beseeching. “Please, Trin,” he begged. “I know it sounds crazy. But I can explain.”

  “Explain?” she sputtered. “Explain what? That you’ve come back from the future to steal a freaking dragon egg?”

  “That’s oversimplifying things a bit. But yes, that’s the idea.”

  “And you’d do that, why?”

  He gave her a sheepish look. “To stop the dragon apocalypse?”

  She narrowed her eyes, fury winding up inside her. She was right to have punched him—she only wished now that she’d hit him harder. Instead, she’d somehow gone and convinced herself that he was some kind of self-sacrificing hero with her best interests at heart. When all along, he’d been playing her like a fool.

  At the end of the day, she was as a gullible as Grandpa.

  What could she do? She
could try to scream, to alert the last guard in the house to her presence. But Connor had a gun. He could shoot her before help could arrive and he’d still have the egg. She bit her lower lip, mind racing. There was no way she could overpower him on her own. And the barn wasn’t exactly a stocked arsenal.

  Then she remembered her cell phone, stuffed in her pocket. Could she reach in and dial 911 without him seeing her? Maybe if she kept him talking…

  “Prove it to me,” she blurted, forcing her voice to stay strong as she slowly inched her hand down to her side.

  Connor nodded tersely, though he looked slightly relieved. He dropped to his knees, ripping open his black bag and rummaging through. She took her opportunity, slipping her hand into her pocket and gripping her phone, seeking the three buttons she needed for help to arrive. Once she’d pressed them, she let out a small sigh of relief. Now she just had to keep him occupied until the cavalry came.

  “You already saw my laser pistol,” he reminded her, looking up from his bag. “Not exactly your everyday handgun.”

  She frowned, thinking back to her captor’s head, exploding in a mass of green goo. Growing up in Texas, she’d seen a lot of guns—but never anything like that. Still, she wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of admitting it.

  “Sorry. I let my Weird Weapons Monthly subscription expire last year,” she retorted, willing herself not to glance down at her jeans. She could hear the tinny “911, what’s your emergency?” coming from the receiver and took a step back, to make sure Connor was out of hearing range. Hopefully when they didn’t receive a reply, they’d track her by GPS and send help.

  “What about the Bouncer, then?” Connor asked, pulling out the strange disc they’d used earlier to escape over the fence. As he held it in his hand, the sphere twisted and turned, hovering an inch above his palm. She turned away, ignoring the niggling at the back of her brain. He really did have a lot of strange stuff. But still!

  “I’m sure they sell those by the dozen at sci-fi cons across the country,” she managed to say, though her voice had definitely lost some of its confidence.

  “Right.” Connor pressed his lips together, then went back into his bag of tricks, this time pulling out a shiny, egg-shaped object, encased in silver. He set the bag aside and rose to his feet, pushing it into her hands. “What about my transcriber then?” he asked, his voice starting to take on a desperate tone. “Tell me this technology exists here.”

  Against her better judgment, she closed her hands around the object, studying it with careful eyes. Her fingers brushed against a small button on one side and, to her surprise, a three-dimensional hologram popped up in her palm. A woman, who looked to be in her late forties, seemed to stare up at her.

  “Connor, on your way home could you pick up—”

  She shrieked, the device tumbling from her hand. Connor caught it midair, running his thumb across the smooth side. The image vanished.

  “My mom’s holomail,” he explained, looking a little wistful. “It’s all I have left of her now.”

  Trinity knew she was gawking, but found she couldn’t help it. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, Connor was right; that thing definitely didn’t belong in her world. In fact, none of it did. Nor did Connor himself, with his strange accent and strange timing, appearing at the exact moment she needed him to help save the egg. She let out a frustrated breath. Why was the most impossible explanation suddenly the one making the most sense?

  “There’s one more thing,” Connor said. “This one I think you’ll recognize.”

  He reached into his bag and, to Trinity’s surprise, pulled out a small, red velvet box. A ring box, she realized.

  “Um, don’t you think you should at least buy me dinner first?”

  Connor sighed, then pulled open the lid. Trinity gasped, her eyes bulging from their sockets as she realized what was nestled inside.

  Her mom’s ring. The one she’d pawned to pay the taxes. The one that inadvertently brought the egg into her life to begin with. She looked at Connor in amazement. He pushed the box in her direction. With trembling fingers, she somehow managed to pull it out and hold it in unsteady hands.

  “How did you get this?” she stammered as she examined the all-too-familiar piece of jewelry, cataloging its beloved imperfections: the scratch on the left side, the missing pave diamond on the top right. It was exactly the same—and yet somehow different too. Older looking, more worn. As if it had been antiqued.

  Like two hundred years antiqued.

  With shaky breath, she turned it over, her eyes searching for the inscription she knew she’d find inside.

  To Emberlyn, my love.

  “Your father gave this ring to your mother,” Connor stated quietly. “He told her to never take it off her finger. After she died, you vowed to do the same. At night, you would twist it around your finger exactly five times while staring up at the ceiling, praying for courage to face the next day.”

  She looked up from the ring, feeling the color drain from her face. “I never told anyone that,” she whispered.

  “Not yet,” he replied smoothly, his blue eyes piercing her own. “But you will.”

  She didn’t know what to say.

  “According to our histories, you wore this ring until the day you died,” Connor continued. “It became a symbol to many people. After your death, the Dracken took it and claimed it as their own. It took a lot of work for us to get it back. Many men died in the effort. But the Council knew they could never convince you to help us unless I could prove I was telling the truth.”

  Trin stared down at the ring. Then she slowly slid it onto her finger. It fit perfectly, of course, and for the first time all week, her hand felt whole again. Oh, Mom. She blinked back the tears, looking up at Connor, a million questions whirling through her brain, each warring to be asked first.

  But before she could speak, car headlights flashed through the window, freezing the words in her throat. She cringed. The cavalry had finally arrived—just in time for her to realize they may not be the men in white hats she’d assumed they’d be.

  Connor caught her guilty face, then glanced out the window. The car had pulled up just outside the barn’s front door and the driver’s side door popped open.

  “Oh, fleck,” he whispered. “Trinity, what have you done?”

  Chapter Nine

  What had she done? Only what she thought was the right thing at the time. But now she wasn’t so sure. She stared down at the ring, her stomach churning. What if Connor was telling the truth? What if he really was from the future—sent to stop the government from stealing the world’s last dragon egg and thus sparking a worldwide apocalypse? Had her 911 call led the bad guys directly to the prize?

  “Trinity? Honey? Where are you? Can you hear me?”

  She let out a sigh of relief as she recognized the voice outside. Not the scary men in black she’d feared—or even Connor’s so-called evil twin. Just good old Sheriff Bob, the portly, senior law man who spent more time out fishing with her grandpa than preventing any crimes. Trinity had known the old sheriff her entire life, and he’d always had a kind word to say and a piece of mint gum to share. There was no way he’d be mixed up in some dragon conspiracy.

  She started for the door. Connor grabbed her arm, yanking her back. “Don’t go out there!” he hissed.

  “It’s okay,” she assured him. “It’s just Sheriff Bob. He’s responding to my call—he probably recognized the cell number. I’ll tell him I’m looking for my grandpa. For all I know maybe he’s been at the police station the whole time, reporting the break-in or something.” Even as she said the words, hope stirred within her. If only it could be true! Everything could still turn out okay.

  The barn door groaned as Sheriff Bob attempted to pry it open. “Trinity? Are you in there?”

  She opened her mouth to reply. But Connor was too quick, grabbing her hands and yanking her hard against him. His eyes found her own, piercing her with their intensity.

>   You can’t trust anyone. Even people you think you know.

  She gasped as his words blazed through her brain, followed by a jolt of terror and urgency. His terror and urgency, she realized with shock.

  Please believe me, Trinity. Everything depends on it.

  She stumbled back, breaking their connection, shaken to the core. She stared at him wildly, finding it impossible to still her erratic pulse. How had he done that? Connected their minds with a simple touch. Magic? Some kind of psychic link? A weird futuristic technology?

  However he’d done it, the effect remained the same. And she knew now, without a shadow of a doubt, that he believed everything he’d told her. The time travel, the dragons, the apocalypse—it was all real. All true. And his fear was now hers as well.

  “What do we do?” she whispered, her voice hoarse. “He’s not going to leave until he knows I’m okay. And there’s no back door to sneak out of.”

  Connor considered this. “I’ll hide in the loft,” he told her. “With the egg. You try to get rid of him as quickly as possible. If you run into trouble, I’ll back you up.” He patted the gun he’d holstered to his side.

  Trinity bit her lower lip, wanting to argue. Sheriff Bob was her grandpa’s best friend. She couldn’t let Connor hurt him, no matter what. But there was no time to come up with another plan.

  “Okay.” She drew in a breath. “But keep your finger off the trigger unless this becomes an epic fail. Upping the body count is not exactly going to help our cause at this point.”

  “Agreed.” Connor saluted her, tucking the egg under his arm and starting his climb. Once he disappeared from view, she approached the front door, pulling it open with shaky hands.

  “Hey, Bob,” she greeted in her most cheerful, unbothered voice. “What are you doing working Christmas Eve—?”

  Her words died in her throat as two men wielding powerful flashlights stepped out from the backseat of the sheriff’s car, where they’d evidently been waiting, purposely out of view. They were dressed identically, in sharp, custom-fitted black suits, their eyes shaded by mirrored sunglasses, even though the sun had set long ago. Trinity’s eyes darted from one to the other, apprehension coursing through her veins. This did not seem good.