Scorched

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…

“I’m sorry, Trinity,” he added, giving her an apologetic look. “You were never supposed to be involved in any of this. If all had gone to plan, I would have gotten you and your grandpa away from here months ago. Instead, I barely had enough time to get you out of the museum.”

Trinity finally found her voice. “Connor, you’re not making any sense,” she protested. “No one even knew this egg existed until a few days ago—when researchers dug it from the ice. And according to my grandpa, they shipped it straight to the museum.” She peered at him. “So how could you or the Dracken people know it would be here? Or that the government would try to break in and take it?”

Connor suddenly looked nervous, as if he’d said too much.

“Tell me,” she pressed. “What are you leaving out? How did you learn about the egg?”

He leaned against the wall, staring out the window. At first she thought he wasn’t going to answer. But finally, he opened his mouth to speak.

“Where I come from, everyone knows the story of the first egg.”

“Where you come from?” Trinity repeated, a clamminess washing over her. As if somehow, some way, she knew his next words would change her life forever. “And where is it, may I ask, that you come from?”

He gave her a hard look. “About two hundred years in the future.”

Chapter Eight

At first, Trinity wasn’t sure she heard him right. Two hundred years in the future? Was this some sort of joke? “That’s not funny,” she said hoarsely.

He blinked. “Do you see me laughing?”

She took a step back, trying to will her brain to think, to cling to some sort of rationality in a conversation gone mad. And to think she almost believed him about the dragon egg. Even though that was completely ridiculous as well. Everyone knew there was no such thing as dragons. And as far as time travel…

Her confusion veered sharply to anger. How dare he try to play her like this? She needed to get away, call the cops, find out what was really going on. And, most importantly, locate her grandpa and make sure he was okay.

“I’ve got to go,” she stammered, realizing too late Connor had effectively barricaded the barn’s front door. Would he try to stop her if she pushed past him? And what about the egg? Was she willing to leave it behind?