Mari Mancusi - Scorched

They stood for a moment. Silent and watchful. Alone yet together. Trinity hyperaware of Connor standing strong and steady behind her, his hand still securely clamped on her shoulder as they waited to see what the men would do.

They didn’t have to wait long. Soon the sounds of crashing and banging and breaking glass assaulted their ears, soundtracking the search-and-destroy going on inside. Trin cringed, glad that she couldn’t see through the walls, couldn’t watch her beloved home being torn apart. She imagined the invaders shredding couch cushions, knocking over the TV, ripping her precious books from their shelves and tossing them away like rubbish. She pictured her Christmas tree toppling over, ornaments shattering, candy canes splitting in two, presents being stomped on and torn to shreds—one present in particular.

“Great. Now I’m never going to get to play the Fields of Fantasy expansion pack,” she muttered. When Connor gave her a questioning look, she sighed. “Yeah, priorities, I know. But still…”

Her only relief was catching sight of her cat fleeing the house unharmed. Baby Puss was a resourceful one. She’d been a stray, just like Trin—one of the reasons they’d bonded from the start. She could rest assured the cat, at least, could take care of herself.

Her grandpa, however, was another story. Where could he be? If only he wasn’t so stubborn about cell phones. She glanced fearfully down the street, half expecting him to be strolling down the lane, straight into their clutches. Would she be able to intercept him before he reached the front door?

But her grandpa didn’t appear. And eventually the soldiers streamed out her broken-down front door and loaded back into the truck. Trinity let out a sigh of relief while Connor continued to watch, eagle-eyed, until they pulled away, disappearing into the night.

“They left one guard inside,” he informed her, and she was grateful he had thought to count them. “We’ll wait here a little longer,” he added. “In case your grandpa comes back, we can grab him before he tries to go inside.”

He said it casually, as if he truly believed that at any moment the elderly man could waltz up the street, oblivious and unaffected by all that had transpired. She appreciated the sentiment, even though she knew he probably didn’t believe it. She was beginning to have her own doubts as well.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice a little choked. “I’m sorry I was being stupid before.”

He cleared his throat. “Not a problem. And understandable under the circumstances.”

“And I’m—I’m sorry I hit you,” she added, hoping he couldn’t catch the blush spreading across her cheeks as she turned to him.

Connor threw her a half smile. “You hit pretty good,” he remarked, reaching up to touch his cheek, which still glowed a faint red in the moonlight. “I’m glad you’re on my side.”

He said it casually, a joke maybe. But the words sent a shiver tripping up her spine all the same. His side . That sounded good somehow—even though she had no idea what side he was really on. She wanted to believe it was with the good guys. But how could she be sure?

“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…