Smoked (8 page)

“You're quiet. Is everything okay?”

Connor looked up at Trinity, who was sitting across from him on the picnic blanket, staring at him with worried eyes. She'd changed into a thin, flowered sundress for their date and had let loose her hair so it fell forward, a cascade of dark curls framing her heart-shaped face. She looked so stunning, silhouetted in the moonlight, like a fairy princess from a storybook. But Connor couldn't concentrate on her beauty—not tonight.

He'd planned this romantic picnic for the two of them weeks ago, to commemorate the eight-month anniversary of the two of them being together. But after having sat through the Team Dragon group meeting earlier that day, he no longer felt much like celebrating.

“Sorry,” he said, poking at his uneaten food with his fork. “I'm just…thinking, I guess.”

“About what went down at the meeting?”

He nodded.

“You don't think it's a good idea, do you?” Trin asked, peering at him with concern in her eyes.

“No.” He looked up, surprised she'd even phrase it as a question. “I don't. Of course I don't. How could I? I've told you a thousand times I don't want those Dracken kids involved in any of this. It was bad enough they were along for the rescue, though I understand it was the only way to make it happen. But now…” He shook his head. “You've just basically given them carte blanche to start running the show around here—literally. From now on, they'll be controlling the message. We'll be totally at their mercy.”

“Connor, don't you think you're overstating things a bit?” Trin argued gently. “I mean, they're just trying to help. To get people to see that dragons aren't these evil creatures out to destroy the world.”

“That's exactly my point!” Connor cried. “I don't want people thinking that dragons are just some kind of overgrown lap dogs. Hell, that's what got us in trouble the first time around. And when the dragons did turn on us, we weren't ready.”

“But there are no dragons plural this time,” Trin protested. “There's only Emmy. And even you have to agree that Emmy isn't a threat to anyone.”

“Don't forget—even Emmy has killed her fair share. Though I guess, to her credit, they were mostly the so-called bad guys. She does seem to want to do the right thing. But…” He trailed off but held up his hand to stop her from interjecting. “It would be naive to assume she'll always be the world's last dragon.”

Trinity frowned. “What?”

“Think about it,” Connor said. “She was in that government lab for six months. Plenty of time for them for take DNA samples and whatever else they might need. Sure, they might not have the technology to clone a dragon yet, but we know for a fact that in ten short years, they will.”

He drew in a breath. “For all we know, they're working on it now, as we speak, figuring out a way to clone and breed these weapons of mass destruction. If we go ahead with our ‘Dragons are awesome' PR campaign, everyone will start assuming all dragons are just like Emmy. Next thing you know, we'll have some radical animal rights group breaking into the government lab and setting these hybrid monsters on the world.”

“That's quite a lot of conjecture, Connor.”

“No.” He shook his head angrily. “It's not. Don't you see? It's not conjecture at all. It's history.
My
world's history.” He raked a hand through his hair, frustrated. “God, sometimes I feel like flecking Cassandra from one of those Greek myths. I keep telling you all what's going to happen from my own personal experience, and yet somehow you all continue to exist in this fantasy world where dragons are cuddly puppy dogs, not world-destroying monsters.”

“Connor…” Her eyes were pleading, making his heart ache. He hated to upset her like this. But what choice did he have? Someone here had to speak the uncomfortable truth. And it seemed that he was the only one who could recognize it.

“I'm sorry, Trin,” he tried. “I know you guys are all excited about this plan. And maybe…maybe it'll be fine…”

She sighed. “It's obvious you don't think that.”

He groaned. “Honestly, I don't know. Maybe things have changed enough. But every day, I feel like I'm living in this crazy déjà vu. Every time I turn around, I see these warning signs that things might not be as different as they first appear.” He shrugged. “We've changed the ripples of time, sure. But have we really stopped the tsunami on approach?” He bit his lower lip. “I know you don't want to hear this, but I still believe that as long as dragons are on the earth, there's always going to be a threat.”

“Which is why you're here to stop it,” Trinity reminded him. “Don't you see, Connor? That's the real difference this time around. Back then, when the dragon hybrids rose up, we didn't have any way to stop them.” She gave him a shy smile. “This time we have you to blast those monsters into smithereens.” She mimed locking and loading a pistol, a teasing look in her eyes. “What was that catchphrase again?
Hasta
la
vista, evil dragon spawn
!
”

Anger exploded inside of him. “You think this is funny? That this is all some kind of big joke?” He rose to his feet, looking down at her with furious eyes. “Well, let me tell you, it's not a joke to me. My world was destroyed. My father was killed. And if you think I'm going to just sit around and watch it happen all over again, well, you've all got another thing coming.” He turned on his heel.

“Connor!” she cried, scrambling to her feet. “I'm sorry! I didn't mean—” She made a move to stop him, but he shrugged her off.

“Just leave me alone. Go check on your little web star or something. It's obvious she's all you care about anyway.”

“That's not true.” Trin voice was pleading now. “I care about
you
. I
love
you.”

Connor stiffened, his heart squeezing. He'd been waiting so long to hear those words come from her mouth.

But now, as they spilled from her lips, he couldn't allow himself to believe them.

• • •

From her hiding spot behind the hangar, Scarlet watched as Connor stormed off into the night, leaving Trinity to pick up the remnants of their picnic, her stomach knotted in disappointment and fear. She hadn't been able to hear everything spoken between the two of them, but she was pretty sure she got the idea.

As
long
as
dragons
are
on
the
earth, there's always going to be a threat.

It had taken her all day to climb down from that mountain and walk the baby dragons back to the airfield. When she'd finally arrived, she'd stashed them in a maintenance shed at the far end of the runway, then headed back to camp to score them some dinner. The whole time, she'd been debating in her head whether or not to come clean to Trinity, to break her promise to Emmy for the dragons' sake. But now, after overhearing their argument…

Blast
those
monsters
into
smithereens…

The fury clawed up her throat, threatening to choke her. All this time, she'd tried to give Trinity the benefit of the doubt. They might not have always seen eye to eye, but at least they were on the same team. Or so Scarlet had thought. But now, she realized with sickening dread, Trinity was no better than the rest of them, assuming, without any evidence whatsoever, that any dragons besides her precious Emmy were monsters.

When really it was Emmy herself who was the biggest monster.

With effort, Scarlet pushed down her anger and squared her shoulders, firming her resolve. They could think what they wanted…for now. She would prove them wrong. She would raise these baby dragons out of sight, giving them the love and respect they deserved. And when they were grown, she would show them.

She would show them all.

“Hey, honey, everything okay?”

Trinity shut the door to her father's work shack behind her, then wandered over to the nearby bench, plopping down onto it and scrubbing her face with her hands. Her father set down the piece of metal he'd been welding and walked over, taking a seat beside her. He reached out, giving her a hand a comforting squeeze.

“What happened?” he asked.

She sighed, giving him a brief rundown of her fight with Connor. “What do you think?” she asked when she'd finished. “Do you think the whole social media campaign is a bad idea? Are we setting ourselves up for disaster?”

Her father was silent for a moment. “Honestly, I don't know,” he said at last. “I mean, certainly propaganda campaigns have worked, historically speaking. But they can be tricky beasts. And the public can turn on you just as quickly as they once fell in love with you. If you're going to go through with this, you'll have to keep Emmy on a tight leash and really control the message. If she were to be caught on camera, let's say, doing something she wasn't supposed to—like the time she landed in the football field—well, suddenly you'd have another witch hunt on your hands.”

Trinity sighed. “I don't even know if Emmy will go for any of this. I mean, back in the old days, I'm sure she would have loved the attention, you know? But she's so different now, so scared and depressed. It's almost as if she doesn't even want to be alive.”

“Maybe she doesn't,” her father said gently. “Remember, sweetie, she didn't want to be rescued in the first place. And the only reason she's here now is because you dragged her back against her will.”

Trinity scowled. “What were we supposed to do?” she demanded, rising to her feet, her stomach twisting in angry knots. “Just leave her out there, unprotected and alone?”

“Unprotected. Alone. But free.” He gave her a sympathetic look. “Sweetie, I know you've bent over backward to make this place nice. But to her, well, it might feel like just another cage.”

Trinity fell back to the bench, craning her neck to stare up at the ceiling. She sucked in a breath. As much as she didn't want to admit it, she knew her father had a point. But still, what choice did they have?

“Maybe the group's right,” she said with a sigh. “If we can get the public's approval, maybe we can get Emmy some kind of protected status, so she can finally be free.” She made a face. “It just seems like such a long shot.”

“It
is
a long shot,” her dad agreed. “No doubt about that.”

She groaned. “If only Emmy had just stepped through that stupid time machine you and Virgil made for her when she had the chance. She could be a million years away from the mess, hanging out with other dragons, not a care in the world…”

Her mind flashed back to that fateful day in her father and Virgil's lab. She'd been so sad to say good-bye yet so happy that the dragon would finally find the peace she deserved. One step through the time machine and it would have all been over.

But Emmy had refused to take that step, willingly sacrificing her own happiness to save the boy Trin loved. Trinity had wondered many times since then if Emmy regretted making that decision. In fact, maybe that was the reason she refused to look at Trin now, thinking her a walking, talking reminder of her biggest mistake.

“God, I wish I could just go back to that night when I found her in the egg,” she lamented. “I'd do everything differently.”

Her father was quiet for a moment. Then he spoke. “What if you could?”

“What?” Trinity looked over at him, startled. “What do you mean?” Her pulse quickened. “Have you…figured something out with the machine?”

Since they'd set up shop here at the airfield, her father had been working overtime, trying to piece Virgil's machine back together. But as far as she knew, he hadn't made much progress. Emmy had melted much of the circuitry when she'd attacked Virgil, and the boards had had to be rebuilt from scratch—without the futuristic tools they'd had the first time around.

Sure enough, her father shook his head. “I'm still miles from where we need to be,” he told her. “But I'm not giving up either. If we can get this machine back in operation, it'll give us options. We could go back to the original plan—of sending Emmy back in time. Or…” He paused, then added, “Maybe we could reset the clock.”

“Reset the clock?”

“Connor and Caleb went back in time to stop the apocalypse. What if I could send you back this time instead?” he said slowly. “Perhaps to a certain Christmas Eve to make sure you received the music box I sent this time?”

Trinity stared at him, mouth agape. “Could you really do that?” she whispered.

If she went back in time, she could stop the Dracken from kidnapping her mother. She could get the egg out of the museum before the government showed up. She could save her grandfather's life. She could keep Emmy out of the Dracken's hands.

She could be her Fire Kissed again.

“I don't know,” her father said. “In truth, I may never be able to get this thing working again. But I promise you this, baby girl—I'm going to give it my best try.”

The Surface Lands—Year 190 Post-Scorch

What
a
waste. What a horrible waste.

Caleb grimaced as the 'vator's doors slid open, and he stepped out into the middle of the carnage. The grounds that had once housed a small, experimental garden had now been mutilated into nothing more than a blood-soaked graveyard. The Council had, once again, done its worst, stealing the lives of five magnificent dragons and abandoning their corpses to rot out in the hot sun.

Stomach roiling, he forced himself to pull out his transcriber in order to properly catalog each beast. One of his jobs as a member of the Dracken was to keep a ledger of Council kills. This ledger was then compared to the roster of known dragons some of the other Dracken had been compiling. Ultimately, Darius hoped to complete a sort of dragon census to help him study the habits and family trees of the mighty beasts.

Caleb leaned down to examine the foot of one of the saffron-colored corpses nearby. He groaned as he recognized the Dracken brand, burned into the dragon's right paw. Bastards. He sighed, releasing the leg and then turning back to his transcriber, looking up the dragon's number on his list.

He found it almost immediately. Daisy. It had been Daisy. One of the study dragons and a Pureblood to boot, now nothing more than a black, bloody stain on the landscape. Caleb scowled, now angrier than ever. Killing hybrids he could understand. But this indiscriminate slaughter without even doing a blood check first—this was too much.

He'd always liked Daisy. She was silly, greedy, goofy—like his own dragon, Trinity, had been before she'd needlessly been slaughtered as well. He remembered watching Daisy flip through the sky, as fond of barrel rolls as she was of barrels of food. Darius was not going to be pleased that the Council had gotten one of his own this time.

God, what a flecking waste. It made him sick to his stomach. How could these Dragon Hunters live with themselves? How could everyone laud them as heroes? They were clearly nothing more than mass murderers.

“Better to murder than
be
murdered, don't you think?”

Caleb jerked his head at the sound of the voice. Lost in his revulsion, he hadn't realized someone had come up behind him. No, not just someone. Connor himself. The biggest murderer of them all. Having the nerve to jack into his thoughts without even asking permission.

“Is that your new catchphrase?” he sneered, turning around to take in his brother's crisp Academy uniform, glistening with a multitude of medals. One medal for each murder. He wondered, not for the first time, which shiny pin Connor had received for killing his dragon. His stomach clenched again.

“It's just a fact,” Connor said simply. “The dragons know they're not allowed to come within five miles of the Sector. If we hadn't killed them, who knows the damage they could have done?”

“They were probably coming for the cows,” Caleb protested. “They're starving. There's not a lot left to eat on the Surface.”

“Yeah, well, whose fault is that?” Connor shot back. “They burned all the life off the earth. What did they expect would happen?”

Caleb rolled his eyes.
Here
we
go
again
. “Seriously, Connor, do you ever have even a single original thought in your head?” he demanded. “Or is too stuffed with Council propaganda?”

“I should ask you the same thing about your little Dracken cult,” his twin shot back without missing a beat. “I mean, really, Caleb. Why on earth would anyone want to save these hideous beasts?” He kicked Daisy's helpless corpse with his heavy boot. “They've destroyed our world. They've made us prisoners underground.” He paused, pursing his lips. “They killed our own father, Caleb.”

“Yeah, well, who could blame them?” Caleb ground out, the fury rising inside of him. “They didn't ask to be brought back here. They didn't ask to be genetically manipulated and cloned and made into Frankenstein monster dragons.” He looked down at poor, pitiful Daisy, his heart aching. “Maybe if we had respected them. Maybe if we hadn't been so greedy. Maybe if we had been nice to them—maybe things would have turned out a lot differently.”

Connor sighed. “Look, I know it's a bad situation,” he said. “And hell, if I could go back two hundred years and stop the scientists from creating those first hybrids, I would. But that's impossible. Which means we have no choice but to live in the world as it is. And these dragons? They're violent and cruel. And they're out to destroy mankind.” He looked at Caleb and gave a small shrug. “And if it's kill or be killed? Well, I know what choice I'll make every time.”

Caleb opened his mouth to answer, then sighed, staring down at the ground. As much as he didn't want to admit it, his brother did have a point. The Dracken had been working to try to tame dragons and bring them into the fold for years now. And while the pure-blooded dragons—the ones directly descended from Emberlyn herself—gladly bonded with guardians and accepted man's hospitality, those with genetically altered genes—the hybrids, as they were called—always ended up turning on them by the time they hit puberty. No matter what the Dracken tried to do.

To make matters worse, the hybrids matured faster. They laid more eggs. They grew stronger and larger than their pure dragon brothers and sisters. And according to the Dracken census, if something wasn't done soon, they would rise to dominance. And the true dragons—the ones with the powers to save mankind—would die out all together.

Which would happen even quicker if the Council kept refusing to differentiate when it came to their kill orders. Despite what the Dracken had tried to show with their research studies, the Council—and most of the stupid sheep below—insisted that the only good dragon was a dead dragon.

And now, here were five more dead dragons.

Connor was right about one thing. This couldn't go on much longer. Something had to be done.

But what?