Mari Mancusi - Scorched

Hope you’re not still afraid of heights, princess .

The silver disc skittered, Connor’s aim perfect, coming in for a landing not two feet in front of her. She grinned, giving the agents a small wave, then hopped onto the disc, flying high into the air, as graceful as a bird—or maybe a dragon—as the agents and operatives watched in dumb disbelief down below. When she’d reached full altitude, she threw herself forward, stretching her arms out to grab the railing looming in front of her. Connor was able to yank her over the balcony before anyone could even think of firing shots in her direction.

She scrambled to her feet. “You, my friend,” she declared, “have impeccable timing.”

He flashed her a grin. “I aim to please. Now come on. My brother tells me you have a mother in need of rescuing.”

“I do indeed,” she agreed. “Let’s go.

They ran through the mall, fast as they could, heading toward the west wing courtyard and the entrance Emmy had made in the wall. Trin hoped no one had discovered the secret passageway behind the tapestry in the last couple of days—the last thing she needed was for it to be blocked up again. After all, it was the only way she knew to get to Mom—and later to freedom.

As they burst into the courtyard, they stopped short, realizing it wasn’t as empty as they’d assumed. In fact, the place was packed full—with dozens of Potentials, some wounded, some huddled in corners, their eyes wide with fright. They must have been trained to regroup here, Trin realized, if any security was breached.

Heart pounding, she scanned the room, taking in all the faces. Had they always looked so young? So innocent? So scared? Her heart lurched. If only there was a way to take them all with her, to free them from this psychotic prison. At the very least, she determined, she could finally tell them the truth.

But Connor had other ideas. “Come on,” he urged, grabbing her arm. “We need to go!”

She shook him off. “Wait,” she said. Then she turned to the Potentials, who were watching her with wary eyes. She drew in a breath. Here went nothing. “Listen to me,” she said, clearing her throat. “The Dracken are not who they say they are. They’re not out to save the world. They’re using dragons to burn it all down and they need your help to do it.” Her gaze darted from one unbelieving face to another. “There’s a door behind this curtain. It leads to a set of stairs and a passageway to a parking garage. You can escape through that. You can all be free.”

“Liar!”

Trinity startled as a girl shot up from the back of the group. Rashida, she realized in dismay. “No,” she forced herself to continue. “The Dracken are the liars, not me. They’ve been lying to you since day one. They—”

“Come on, Trin,” Connor urged, looking more and more worried. “Let’s go.”

But Trin found she couldn’t move.

“Who do you think you are?” Rashida demanded, pushing her way through the frightened crowd. “We welcomed you into our family. We tried to be your friend. And in return you killed our brothers.” Her eyes flashed fire. “And then you invited our enemies into the one place that was supposed to be safe.”

She waved a hand to the other side of the room where a small, bloodied figure lay prostate on the ground. Trinity gasped as she realized it was Malia. Sweet, gamer girl Malia.

“They shot her,” Rashida informed her coldly. “She was trying to run, scared for her life, and your soldiers shot her in the back.”

Oh God.

“Before you came, we were safe. We were cared for. We were protected. Now our world has been torn apart. Our sisters and brothers are dead. You’re the one who deserves to be shot,” she declared. “And a lot worse than that too.”

The room erupted in murmurs of assent, the crowd rising to their feet, their fear now masked with burning hate. Connor grabbed Trinity by the arm.

We have to get out of here, he told her. Now!

Trinity forced a nod, still staring at Malia’s limp frame, tears streaming down her cheeks. This was not how it was supposed to go! She swallowed back the lump in her throat and met Rashida’s eyes. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“Get her!” Rashida commanded the Potentials. “Destroy her!”

The crowd surged, unarmed but frightening in their sheer numbers and rage. Trinity and Connor tried to dash for the hidden door, but the mob blocked their path. Two girls grabbed Trin by her hair, yanking her backward, catching her off balance. As she tumbled to the ground, the mob surrounded her, kicking her and punching her as hard as they could.

Her head swam. Her vision blurred. She fought back best she could, slamming her foot down on one Potential’s ankle while elbowing another in the ribs. At one point, she managed to roll herself over and leap back to her feet, lashing out at any one who came near. But it was only a temporary escape and soon her arms were grabbed and yanked behind her, locking her into submission. A warmth dripped down her face and a copper taste filled her mouth.

Across the room, Connor wasn’t doing much better. They’d pinned him to the ground, a foot securely placed on his throat, preventing any movement. He screamed in rage and fought ferociously, but there were just too many of them to have an effect.

In fact, there was only one thing that could possibly stop them now, she realized.

Emmy! To me!

It was the last thing she wanted to do. They were innocent kids—lied to, deceived, given false hope, with no comprehension of who their leaders really were. But what choice did she have? They would kill her if she didn’t do something soon, leaving the entire world in jeopardy.

Sacrifice one to save the world. It wasn’t at all how she’d imagined it’d go.

“Get out of my way,” she dimly heard a voice at the back of the crowd. She looked up, through blurry eyes, to see Rashida striding toward her. “She’s mine.”

The crowd parted, much as they had that first day at the mall, allowing Rashida through. But this time it wasn’t a friendly hug or a welcome home that the Potential hoped to deliver. Rather a kiss of death. Trin watched as the Indian girl grew closer, her face and hands smeared with blood. Malia’s blood, she realized, her stomach swimming with nausea. And soon hers as well.

Hurry, Emmy.

Rashida stepped up to her, staring at her with eyes filled with venom. “Just tell me one thing,” she hissed, her voice cracking around the edges. “Why?”

“Because,” Trinity croaked, “the world still deserves a chance.”

Rashida slammed her fist into her face, busting Trin’s nose with the impact. Blood splashed onto the Potential’s already bloodied white shirt but she paid it no mind. “That’s for Malia,” she spit out. “And this is for…”

The Potential trailed off, freezing as a shadow crossed over her, hovering just above her head. Slowly, she looked up, finding herself face to face with a small, green, very angry-looking dragon.

“Oh hell,” she muttered.

Trinity squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to see, not wanting to witness what she knew had to come. She knew it was necessary. But she also knew it was awful and terrible and cruel. And if she opened her eyes now, she’d never be able to close them again without seeing fire and death beneath her lids.

And so, she waited, like a coward, eyes shutting out a reality she couldn’t bear to face. The sounds of shouting and scrambling erupted all around her, her hands falling free as her captors fled.

Yet strangely, she heard no fire. Felt no heat. Smelled no smoke.

Open your eyes, Trinity.

And so, heart in her throat, she did. Only to find, to her utter astonishment, the room completely empty, save for Connor and Emmy looking at her impatiently.