Smoked (19 page)

“Oh, Connor, what have you done?”

Trinity stared at Connor, his silhouette illuminated by the flames raging behind him. Her hands curled into fists as frustration and fury threatened to consume her. It was all she could do not to tackle him to the ground. To punch him in the face.

To break out into tears.

How could he do this? They were supposed to be a team. They were supposed to be working together. How could he just go and act—commit such an atrocity without even consulting her first?

Because
it
was
his
mission
all
along
, a voice inside of her nagged.

“Trinity.” He turned to her, his face a mask of anguish and pain that sucked the breath from her lungs. He looked as devastated as she felt, but she forced down the pity she told herself he didn't deserve. Instead, she squared her shoulders and tightened her fists until her nails cut into her palms, drawing blood. She wouldn't back down. She wouldn't alleviate his guilt or assure him it was okay.

Because it wasn't okay. He'd killed a dragon. He'd killed Emmy's daughter.

“How could you?” she repeated, her voice shrieking. “How could you just go and do something like this? After all we talked about!”

She closed her eyes, unable to even look at him as the feeling of betrayal warred with her grief. They'd been together so long, shared so much. But deep down, she now realized, she'd been lying to herself from the start, telling herself that he had changed. How many times had he told her, after all, that he could never truly rest until dragons were gone? And yet still, she'd held on, all this time, to this vain hope that there would someday come a time when he would abandon his quest for vengeance. When he would set down his weapons and accept what was—and what she believed could be.

What a fool she'd been.

“I don't know why I'm even surprised,” she growled. “After all, it's why you came to our godforsaken world in the first place, right?” She stared at him, her eyes flashing fire. “Well, congratulations, Hunter, mission accomplished. Too bad you can't go back home. They'd probably give you a medal of honor.”

“A pin.”

“What?”

“They give pins,” he said softly, his eyes dull and defeated. “If you kill a dragon, you get a pin.”

Trinity scowled. Oh she'd like to pin him all right—pin him to the ground and punch him in the face. To make him feel even half the pain he had inflicted on her. On Caleb. On Scarlet. On Emmy's poor, poor daughter.

Connor wrung his hands together. “Look, Trin. I think I—”

His words were interrupted as Luke and Nate ran up to them, their faces white with fear. Nate dropped an iPad into Trinity's hands. “Look!” he cried. “This just came in.”

Trinity stared down at the tablet. A news report from a town a few miles away, the one with the Walmart they'd frequented. The Walmart that, according to this report, was now on fire.

After being attacked by a dragon.

“Is this what you wanted?” Trinity roared at Connor, shoving the iPad in his face. “They were penned up. They were calm. They were peaceful. And now we have one dead and the other ready to take down the world in revenge. Was this your big fat plan for saving our world? 'Cause it's pretty crappy if you ask me.”

Connor stared down at the iPad, then back up at her. “Trin…”

She held up her hand to stop him; she didn't need to hear any of his excuses now. None of them could possibly make a difference anyway. Instead, she turned to Nate and Luke, forcing her anguish at bay and summoning all her remaining bravado. She couldn't let her personal feelings stop her from doing what had to be done. Team Dragon was counting on her now more than ever—not to mention the rest of the world. She didn't have time to fall apart.

“We need to do some serious triage. Go set up the studio to do a quick broadcast assuring people we're going to take care of this. In the meantime, Emmy and I will head out to find him. Keep logging every sighting you get; we're going to need them if we want to track him down before he does too much damage.”

Nate and Luke nodded and ran off. Trinity turned back to Connor. He closed his eyes and sighed.

“Look, Trinity,” he said after a heavy pause. “This wasn't a decision I made lightly. Time and time again, I've held back. I've kept my finger off the trigger, even as I saw things getting worse and worse. And you know why?” he asked, looking up at her with cold blue eyes that made her shiver.

“Because of me,” she whispered, feeling her heart squeeze till it hurt. “You did it for me.”

“And this was for you as well,” he said, his voice rising with urgency. “Whether you choose to see it or not.”

“No.” She shook her head. “Don't pin this on me. You did it for your father. You did it for yourself. For your world, maybe—fine. But don't you dare say you did it for me.”

His face crumbled as her words struck him harder than any blow. It killed her to see him look like this, but she forced herself to stay strong. He had to understand. This was unforgivable.

“Fine,” he said at last. “Think what you want. It doesn't change anything anyway.” And with that, he turned his back on her, starting to walk away. Fury rose inside of her, mixed with overwhelming grief.

“Where are you going?” she demanded.

He paused, not turning around. “To finish this once and for all.”

A cold chill spun down her back. “Connor Jacks,” she found herself shouting. “You walk away from me now and you can't come back. You'll no longer be a part of this team. And we'll…we'll…” She trailed off helplessly, unable to make a threat she wasn't sure she could follow through with.

But he didn't need to hear her say it out loud. He knew her heart. Better than anyone, he knew her heart.

He turned back to her slowly, shoulders stiff, head held high. He looked so beautiful—so strong and angry and fierce, it took what remained of her breath away. At that moment, it was all she could do not to throw herself into his arms, soak up his strength as her own as she'd done so many times before. But she couldn't. And she never would—ever again.

“You'll thank me one day,” he told her. “And if you don't, well, at least I'll know you're safe. That's all that matters to me in the end.”

“Emmy!”

Trinity burst into the hangar, her eyes searching until they fell on the dragon. Emmy was awake, pacing back and forth, her ears pricked and her nostrils flared. She turned to look at Trinity with wide, frightened eyes.

What's happening?
she demanded.
I
smell
smoke.

Trinity gave her a grim look. “It's not good. I'll explain on the way. But we have to go, Emmy. Before it's too late.” She made a move to get on the dragon's back.

The dragon gave her a terrified look, backing away before she could mount her.
Something's happened to them. To Zoe and Zavier. Is that right?

Trinity sucked in a breath. “Yes,” she admitted. “I'm sorry, Emmy. But Zoe's dead. And Zavier's on a rampage.” She gave a brief rundown of what had gone down best she knew. “We have to go after him and talk him down, before he does too much damage.”

Emmy moaned, her face mirroring her obvious distress. Trinity wondered what the dragon was thinking—after all, she had been the first to want them dead. Would she refuse to help save Zavier now? Trin waited, breath in her throat.

Finally Emmy seemed to come to a decision. She lowered her wing, nodding for Trinity to climb aboard. Trin did, relief rushing through her as she scrambled up the dragon's back, settling between her neck and shoulders. “Okay,” she said. “Let's go.”

“Wait!”

Emmy paused. Trinity turned to see Caleb burst through the hangar door. He was out of breath and covered in ash. When he reached them, he leaned over, putting his hands on his knees, gasping for breath.

“There you are,” he managed to spit out. “I've been looking everywhere.”

Trin bit her lower lip, waiting for the accusations to spill from his lips, guilt gnawing at her stomach. After all, she was the one who had begged him and Scarlet to wait. To trust that the group would do the right thing.

She still had no idea how it had all happened. When she'd last checked on Connor, he'd been out cold, doped up on painkillers. Not to mention they'd locked his sickroom door, just as a precaution. So how had he managed to wake up? To stroll out a locked door like it was no big thing? Sure, someone else could have broken him out. But he should have been weak, exhausted, barely able to stand, let alone take on two dragons and survive.

She shook her head. In the end, the how made no difference. What they did next was all that mattered.

“Look, Caleb, Emmy and I are going after Zavier. I'll report back in when I have some—”

“I'm coming with you,” he interrupted.

“No, Caleb. I don't think—”

“You don't understand,” he argued, and she could hear the strain in his voice, still raspy from smoke inhalation. “Scarlet's with Zavier. She took off on his back. If my brother finds him… If he shoots Zavier down…” He trailed off, his face a mask of devastation.

He
really
cares
about
her
, Trin thought suddenly.
More
than
he
even
wants
to
admit
to
himself.

“I don't know,” she hedged. “It'll be quicker if I just—”

“Please! I can help you!” Caleb begged. “Zavier and I share a bond thanks to the blood Scarlet gave me. Maybe I can help talk him down—at least talk Scarlet into talking him down.” He gave Trinity a tortured look. “Please, Trin. If anything were to happen to her…”

“Fine,” she relented. What else could she say? Besides, she could admittedly use all the help she could get. “But we have to leave now. Before that dragon of yours proves your brother right.”

Council Lab—Year 190 Post-Scorch

“Intruder. Intruder alert.”

Caleb swore under his breath as his foot accidentally brushed against a thin red beam of light as he made his way into the Council lab, succeeding in tripping the alarm.
Damn
it.
He kicked the wall furiously. He'd almost had it—had almost been through. Now, angry lights flashed above, and a piercing siren scolded his ears. He was busted. Big time.

He rose to his feet. No need to be stealthy anymore. Time to dine and dash. Grab and go. Get what he came here for and get the hell out. Darius was counting on him, after all, and he wasn't about to let the Dracken Master down.

He scanned the lab quickly, looking for some sign of his objective. Darius had told him it would be bright purple, a powder derived from crushing up amethysts. But everything he could see in the vicinity now was dull, muted, gray—a few beakers, still bubbling on their Bunsen burners; a few uncut gems, weighing on a scale; glass jars, stacked from floor to ceiling. Nothing with the telltale purple hue he was looking for. For a moment, he wondered if he was in the right place or if their intelligence had been wrong.

But then…

His eyes locked onto a small, opaque canister behind a wall of glass—the only canister in the place made of metal instead of glass. Why? He squinted at it for a moment, studying every inch of it. Until his eyes caught the faintest smudge of purple around its rim. As if someone had screwed the cover on too quickly and a tiny bit had spilled—so faint that the casual onlooker would have missed it. The scientist who put it away definitely had.

He smirked. Careless fools. Maybe this would work out after all.

Diving for the case, he wondered if he should bother with his lock-picking tools; he'd come here with a full thief's arsenal, and it was almost a shame not to put them to good use. But the sirens kept wailing, and he knew, in his heart, there was no time—or need—to be elegant here. Instead, he pulled out his pistol and slammed the butt end against the case, causing the glass to shatter on impact. Carefully, he reached in, making sure not to cut himself as he retrieved his prize.

With trembling hands, he unscrewed the lid, praying his hunch had been right. He sucked in a breath as the cover fell away, his eyes brightening with excitement.

There it was. Unmistakable. The Council's secret experimental weapon against dragons. Now in his hands.

“Sorry, folks,” he muttered under his breath. “But I think I'll be taking this.”

After screwing the lid back on, careful not to let even a drop spill, he shoved the canister in his satchel and dove out the door. He'd known, even before taking on this mission, that if he were caught, it would be game over for sure. He'd be sent to the mines for good. And his life would all but be over.

But so what? In truth, his life already had been over—before the Dracken had pulled him from his pit of despair. Before they gave him a job and a dragon. Darius had chosen him—the one everyone else had forgotten about—to play a role in saving the world. And Caleb wasn't about to let him down.

He glanced down at the map he'd scribbled on his hand. Just two more turns and he'd be at the exit where his Dracken partner was waiting with the getaway bike. Picking up the pace, he propelled himself forward around corner number one, his feet skidding across the floor. So far so good. He just prayed there was no one manning the doors as he headed for corner number two.

But before he could turn, a lone figure stepped out from behind the corner, his gun raised and ready. Caleb stopped short, digging in his heels as his heart thudded in his chest. He looked up, taking in the crisp Academy uniform. The multiple shiny pins that adorned it.

The face above those pins that mirrored his own.

“Caleb?”

God. It had to be him, didn't it? Of all the people who could have caught him, it had to be his hero brother.
Seriously
, he thought,
when
did
the
world
become
so
unfair?

“What are you doing here?” Connor demanded. “Are you stealing from the Council now? Is that what your little Dracken cult has you doing?”

Caleb felt his face flush involuntarily at his brother's jabs. It was crazy—a moment ago, he'd been so proud of this mission. Proud of who he'd become. But one look at his twin's disappointed face, and suddenly he was no longer a member in good standing in the largest dragon sympathizer group in the world—just a no-good Shanty Town rat, as he'd always been. Still thieving, still running from the law, still nothing and nobody and pathetic as hell.

He scowled, straightening his shoulders and firming his resolve. “Get out of my way, Connor,” he growled. “Or shoot me if that's what you're planning to do. But make it count. I have zero interest in spending the next thirty to fifty in the mines.”

His brother's face flickered with something he couldn't decipher. A moment later, he spoke. “You don't have to do this, you know,” he said, his once-steady voice now taking on a pleading tone. “I can talk to the Council. They owe me a favor. I could get you a reprieve. Maybe even a job. You have information about the Dracken. Maybe we could make some kind of…deal.”

“A deal to rat out the only friends I've ever had?” Caleb barked out a laugh. “Not bloody likely, oh brother of mine. Don't you get it? I don't want your help. I never have and I never will.”

Connor closed his eyes, as if resigning himself to his fate. “Fine,” he said. “But please don't make me kill you. I couldn't do that—not to Mom. Just, please, put down your bag and walk away. I'll pretend I never saw you.”

Caleb hedged, shuffling from foot to foot. It was a tempting offer—certainly more than he deserved. And for a split second, he tried to imagine a life where he and brother actually got along. But then his mind flashed to his dragon. The dragon his brother had killed in cold blood for no reason at all.

No. Caleb would never accept his brother's help. Not when other dragons were now counting on him. He couldn't save his dragon. But the dust in his satchel would save countless more.

Sorry, Connor. No deal.

Slowly, he made a move, as if reaching for his bag. Then, with lightning speed, he turned his gun on his brother, blasting him where he stood. Connor screamed in pain as he fell to the ground, electrical shocks sparking off his skin. For a moment, Caleb just watched, his mouth set in a thin line.

“From now on, stay away from me,” he told him. “Because next time? My gun won't be set to stun.”