Scorched (27 page)

Just
do
it. Do it now and be done with it.

Connor stared down at Trinity’s limp body, unguarded and completely helpless as she traversed the Nether. He toed her lightly with his boot, but she didn’t move. Whatever was happening in there, she was obviously in deep—so deep she probably wouldn’t even wake up. It would be over in a second. Quick and painless. She’d never know he’d done it. And the world would finally be free.

Come
on, you coward. This is what you trained for!

It was his father’s voice he heard jeering in his head—taunting him, torturing him, reminding him of how far he’d strayed from his mission. He’d come here to save the world, his father reminded him. So why had he just gone and saved the one girl who was destined to destroy it instead?

She’s not like that. She wouldn’t do it. She doesn’t deserve to die.

Are
you
so
sure
about
that?
his father demanded.
Are
you
willing
to
bet
the
world
on
it? ’Cause that’s what you’re doing by allowing her and her dragon to live: risking millions of lives. My life. You already killed me once, Connor. Are you prepared to make that same mistake again?

Connor hung his head as memories of that day swam through his mind—the dragon blasting his father; his father falling to the ground, engulfed in flames; the realization that it was all his fault.

He’d promised Trinity he’d find another way. But that was before he’d seen how easily things could spiral out of control. If he hadn’t gotten there in time today—if he hadn’t been able to rally the troops to raid—Emmy would now be in the hands of the Dracken and Trinity would be dead anyway. And once again, it would be his fault.

He could do it now and no one would know it was him. They’d assume it was one of the Dracken. Or one of the soldiers. And the world would be safe forever.

Sacrifice
one
to
save
the
world.
It had been his mission from the start.

He stared down at Trinity’s unconscious body, her mouth set in a determined frown, as if daring him to do the deed. She was so stubborn. Even at the edge of death she was so damned stubborn and strong—not to mention selfless. Back in the courtyard she could have easily run by the Potentials, left them to their delusions. But she’d tried to help them instead. Tried to get them to see the truth—to save their lives—and it had almost cost her her own life.

But it hadn’t. Because Emmy had come. The violent, rage-filled creature who should have acted on character, letting loose a mighty holocaust across the entire hall, had somehow, some way resisted millions of years of instinct. She’d acted rationally. Peacefully. Almost human in her analysis of the situation. She’d taken what had happened the last time and used it to guide her actions this time around.

Which meant she could be taught. She could be trained.

But was it worth the risk?

“It’s worth it. And she’s worth it too.”

Connor whirled around to find his brother had silently stepped into the room. Caleb didn’t appear armed, but the look on his face told Connor he was ready for a fight. Of course that wouldn’t stop the Hunter from pulling the trigger first. All along he’d known there was the possibility he’d have to give his own life to the cause. That didn’t scare him.

But, he realized, glancing over at the Fire Kissed, a world without Trinity did.

“Don’t worry, I can’t do it,” he said with a long, slow sigh, partially to her, partially to his brother, but mostly to himself. “Even if I wanted to. Even if I knew for sure that the apocalypse would come.” He dropped his gun to the ground, then sank to his knees, scrubbing his face with his hands. “I’m sorry, Dad. Once again I’ve let you down.”

Caleb stared down at the gun, then over at his brother, an unreadable look on his face. He reached for the weapon, wrapping his fingers around the hilt. Connor gritted his teeth, readying himself for the pain that he knew would come. He only prayed his brother would act quickly, cleanly, and not make him suffer.

Instead, his brother stuffed the gun into the waistband of his pants. “Did you ever go back and read the autopsy report?” he asked slowly, surprising Connor with the question. “The one they did on the dragon that killed our father?”

What? What did that have to do with anything? Connor shook his head, puzzled. “No. Uh, why, did you?” What was his brother trying to get at?

“I did. Two years ago. Just before I agreed to go back in time with the Dracken. The Council keeps detailed reports on every kill, you know, and it’s all public record, not that many people bother to check them out.” He paused, then added, “I don’t know why I did it. Maybe I was trying to talk myself out of going. To convince myself that you were doing the right thing by destroying the egg. That dragons actually were evil and that I shouldn’t try to stop you from wiping them out.”

“So what did it say?” Connor asked, curious despite himself. “What could it have possibly said to convince you that dragons were worth saving?”

“That she was pregnant.”

“Wait, what?” Connor shook his head. “No. That’s impossible. If she was pregnant, she would have been nesting. She wouldn’t have been flying over the Strata in the first place.”

“She wasn’t. At least not until Dad drew her out with his Hunter’s song. He was a very powerful Hunter, as you know. He pushed her, convinced her to leave the safety of her nest—all so he could kill her.”

“But that’s illegal,” Connor protested weakly, feeling as if his world was sliding out from under him. His father—his hero father—why would he do such a thing? It was Dragon Hunting 101; you never lured a dragon into a populated area on purpose. It was far too risky. “Why would Dad do that?”

“He needed the silver,” Caleb replied. “Our family was hungry. Mom was sick.”

“So he was trying to protect his children then.”

“Just as the dragon was trying to protect hers,” Caleb concluded. His eyes pierced his brother’s. “So now, Connor, tell me this. Was the dragon who killed our father an evil creature consumed by blood lust? Or a desperate mother, doing whatever she could to save her babies from an evil man who was trying to kill them?”

Connor hung his head. “I don’t know,” he said quietly. “I just don’t know anymore.” He stared down at his hands, thoughts whirling madly.

“In any case,” Caleb declared after a moment, “you can relax. I’m not going to kill you.” He glanced over at Trinity. “For one thing, she wouldn’t want me to.”

Connor looked up. “She should,” he said with a grimace. “She’d be safer if I were gone.”

His twin shrugged. “She sees good in you,” he said simply. “And judging from the fact that you didn’t kill her when you had the chance makes me think she might be right.” He gave his brother a rueful look. “I should have listened to you about the Dracken,” he admitted. “Deep down, I suppose, I always knew they were too good to be true.” He sighed. “I guess I just wanted a chance to be noticed for once. To be a hero.” He rolled his eyes. “What a duffer, right?”

“No.” Connor shook his head. “You fought for what you believed in—risked your life for it, even. And the fact that the people you trusted didn’t prove worthy of that trust doesn’t take away from what you tried to do.” He gave his brother a crooked smile. “I guess in a way we both came back in time on the same mission, you know? To save the world. Sadly, neither one of us had any real idea how to do it.”

Caleb seemed to consider this. “Maybe we’ve been thinking too big,” he declared after a pause. “Maybe instead of saving the world, we should just concentrate on saving one girl. And one dragon, of course.” He grinned. “What do you think? Think we can manage something like that between the two of us?”

Connor laughed despite himself. “Why not?” he said. “I mean, two of us, two of them? How hard could it be?”

Lyria sank to a quiet landing on the side of the cliff, lowering her wing and allowing Trinity to slide off her back and onto the ground. She nodded her head in the direction of a small cave, cut into the side of the cliff.
You
will
find
your
mother
there
, she said in a throaty voice.
I
hope
she
can
give
you
the
answers
you’re looking for.

Trinity reached out, her heart overflowing as she stroked the dragon’s nose. “How can I ever thank you?” she asked. “I never would have made it without you.”

Actually…
Lyria started, then trailed off.
There
is
one
thing…

“What is it? What can I do?”

Let
Emberlyn
know
how
sorry
I
am. And that I hope one day she can forgive me.

The mighty dragon looked down at Trinity with huge baleful eyes, overflowing with sorrow. Trin gave her a rueful smile, then reached out, wrapping her arms around the beast’s thick neck. “I’m sure she will,” she promised the dragon. “Someday you guys will be reunited again. Just like me and my mom.”

Lyria nodded, then nudged Trinity softly with her snout before unfurling her wings and lifting back into the sky. Trinity watched her go, feeling both wistful and hopeful. If Emmy and her mom could find peace, maybe there was hope for her as well. She turned to the cave.

“Here goes nothing.” And she dove in.

The light from outside dimmed and the walls started closing in as Trinity pushed deeper and deeper into the cave. Soon it was so tight she had to drop to her hands and knees and crawl her way through. A horrifying claustrophobia pressed at her chest, but still she pushed forward. She couldn’t stop. Not now. Not when she’d come so far. Instead, she concentrated on her mother’s spark, just up ahead, and crawled on. She was almost there.

After what seemed an eternity, the narrow passageway finally opened up into a clearing, allowing her to straighten to full height. Relieved, she pulled herself to her feet, sucking in a long, hard breath and looking around, her jaw dropping as she recognized where she was.

Home. Not her grandpa’s home but her mother’s home—the house they’d shared just before that fateful Christmas Eve. The same blue shutters. The same red mailbox. The same bushes sparkling with the same Christmas lights.

She was home. Really, truly home.

Unnerved, she forced herself up the steps and through the front door, déjà vu hitting her hard and fast. When she pushed open the door, she half expected to stumble upon the nightmare all over again. A bloodied corpse. A shotgun by its side.

But
that
didn’t really happen
, she reminded herself.
That
wasn’t Mom.

And so she dared to step over the threshold, trying to prepare herself for anything.

“Trinity! You’re home!”

She looked up, her eyes widening as none other than her mother herself stepped out from the kitchen, carrying a plate of freshly baked cookies. She was dressed in a red velvet dress, a checkered apron tied to her waist. Her hair was pulled up into her familiar ponytail and she even wore some makeup on her face. She looked fresh and healthy and happy. And not the least bit insane. As she walked over to her daughter, as if she’d seen her just a few hours before, she held out the plate.

“You must be starving!” she said. “Dinner will be here soon. In the meantime, a few cookies won’t ruin your appetite, right?”

Trinity slowly reached out, feeling half in a daze as she took a cookie from the plate and put it to her lips. It was sweet and buttery, just like a cookie should be, and she bit back a groan of delight.

“Good, right?” her mother asked.

“Amazing,” she concurred. But she wasn’t just talking about the baked goods.

After taking another bite, she looked around the room, trying to sort things through. It was all there, identical to how it had been—the same simple furnishings, the same cheery Christmas tree. The only difference was the presents underneath weren’t stained with blood as they had been the first time around. And there was no body sprawled out in the middle of the floor, no head blown to smithereens.

She turned to her mother. She had a million things she wanted to say. Instead, “I thought you were dead!” was all that came from her lips.

Her mother gave a shrill laugh. “Dead? Please. Can a dead woman dance like this?” She flittered around the room, using the plate of cookies as her dance partner. Trinity watched her, tears misting her eyes as she remembered all the dance parties they’d had over the years. Whirling around the room until they collapsed in dizzy glee.

“Oh, Mom,” she whispered. “I’ve missed you so much.”

Her mother stopped dancing, her eyes twinkling merrily. “If you’re buttering me up for Chinese food, you needn’t bother. I’ve already placed the order and your grandpa’s picking it up on his way over here. Extra duck sauce, just as you like it.” She clapped her hands in excitement, bouncing up and down. “Oh, Trinity, this is going to be the best Christmas ever!”

Just like she’d promised.

This
was
how
it
was
supposed
to
be
, Trinity realized suddenly, things finally sliding into place.
This
was
the
Christmas
Eve
I
was
supposed
to
have.

She sank down onto the couch, watching her mother rummage through the presents under the tree. She realized she’d never unwrapped a single one the first time around—she’d been too traumatized and they had eventually donated everything to Goodwill instead. Meaning she had no idea what her mother had picked out for her.

She was about to find out.

Mom crowed triumphantly as she found the present she’d been looking for. Lifting it from the pile, she set it on Trinity’s lap, her face shining as she looked from the gift to her daughter. “Here you go, honey,” she said. “You can open this one early. Just don’t tell your grandpa. He thinks everyone should wait till Christmas morning.”

Trin drew in a breath, bit her lower lip, then carefully undid the wrapping. She knew she should be hurrying—they were running out of time in the real world—but it was so nice to be here—to finally be allowed to live through that stolen day—she couldn’t help but drag out the moment a little longer. Pulling off the paper, she gasped as she found an ornate golden music box inside. Lifting the lid revealed a small princess, pirouetting to a simple tune.

She looked up. “Oh, Mom, it’s your music box!”

She’d wondered where the box had disappeared to when they’d come back to clean out the house. She never would have guessed her mom had wrapped it and put it under the tree. It must have gone to charity, along with the rest of the presents.

Her mother smiled, her eyes misting with tears. “Your father gave me this,” she told Trinity. “He told me when you were old enough that I should give it to you.”

Her father. Trinity turned to her mother, realizing this might be her one and only opportunity to know. “What happened to my father?” she asked in barely a whisper.

But before her mother could answer, the room started to shake. The walls began to buckle and a long crack ripped down the ceiling. Trinity grabbed on to her mother, her eyes darting around the room, terror gripping her like a vise.

“Mom, we have to go!” she cried. “We can’t be here anymore!” The dream world was collapsing. They didn’t have much time.

“But your grandpa’s coming over,” her mom protested. “We’re about to celebrate Christmas.”

Trinity shook her head. “Mom, this never happened. It’s all in your mind, holding you trapped here. It’s time to wake up so we can escape!”

Her mother’s face crumbled. “No,” she whispered. “I don’t want to go back.”

“Mom, you have to. You can’t stay here! You don’t know what they plan to do!”

Her mom broke away, her face white and her eyes terrified. “Do you think I don’t know?” she whispered hoarsely. “I’ve always known. Your father told me. And I was going to tell you. They took me away before I could!”

Trinity had no idea what her mother was talking about, but it didn’t matter now. The carefully constructed dream world was collapsing out from under them and if they didn’t leave now, they would be trapped here forever.

“Please, Mom!” she begged, tears running down her face. “Come with me!”

But her mother only reached out, swiping away Trin’s tears with careful fingers. She looked at her daughter with fondness in her eyes as she slowly shook her head. “I was waiting to give you your Christmas,” she told her gently. “To keep the promise I made. Now I have. And I’m free to go. Now I can finally say good-bye.” She leaned forward to press a kiss on Trinity’s forehead. “I love you, baby girl. Merry Christmas.”

Trinity closed her eyes, trying to memorize the moment as best she could. A single, perfect moment to relive over and over again for the rest of her life.

“I love you too, Mom,” she whispered. “Merry Christmas at last.”