Scorched

back in the real world—and with the promised Nether hangover to boot, ten times worse than she’d imagined it would be.

She looked down, her breath catching in her throat as she found Caleb’s hands still wrapped in her own. The ones that just minutes before had been touching her so desperately. It was all she could do not to grab him all over again. Surrender to the hot blood still coursing through her veins.

But it was wrong. She had to stay strong. She had to focus on the task at hand and not let anything else distract her. This kiss was nothing more than another trap—like the fancy rooms or the delicious food—seeking to wrest her under Dracken control. To make her forget her real life outside these prison walls.

But she would not surrender. She would not lay down and die. She would not kiss him again.

Caleb opened his eyes. For a moment he sat still, looking dazed and confused. Then a shadow crossed his face and he ripped his hands from hers, ruby red dust flying as he stood up and stalked to the other side of the room. She looked down at her empty hands, a sudden aching emptiness throbbing in her fingers. She frowned and shoved them under her thighs.

“Look, Caleb,” she tried. “I’m—”

Her words were interrupted as the bedroom door flew open. Rashida burst into the room, her eyes wide and frightened. “Mara sent me,” she told her in a voice that betrayed her fear. “She said you have to come now.”

“What is it?” Trinity asked, rising to her feet, sudden fear pounding in her chest. She knew somehow, before the Potential even opened her mouth, that it must have something to do with her dragon. “Is Emmy okay?”

“She’s hatching,” Rashida told her in a tight voice. “They tried to stop it—it’s far too early—but they couldn’t.” Her mouth quivered. “The dragon’s coming, Trinity. And the Dracken need your help.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Trinity raced after Rashida, through the mall corridors, past curious Potentials, trying not to puke again as the aftereffects of her Nether trip still thrashed at her insides. Her head pounded, her legs felt like lead, but still she pressed on, only one thing on her mind. One name on her tongue.

Trust me. I’ll never let you fall.

Yet now it was Emmy who was falling, who was failing. Fighting for her life. And Trin was the only one who could help her.

Hang on, Emmy, she sent. I’m on my way.

The birthing chamber had been constructed out of a two-floor Neiman Marcus, repainted entirely in white save for intricate, silver runes etched into the cathedral ceiling. Men and women—presumably other Dracken she hadn’t met yet—bustled about the room, occupied with equipment Trinity couldn’t identify. In the center of the room sat the egg itself, swaddled in a bathtub-sized pool of crystal. From high above, water cascaded down onto the egg, splashing over its shell.

Trinity drew in a breath. She remembered how blown away she’d felt the first time she’d laid eyes on the egg under the glass case in the Millennium Chamber. But that was nothing compared to how she felt now, as she watched the egg trap the chamber’s light and toss it around in a kaleidoscope of color. Emmy was more beautiful than ever—luminous and glowing and ethereal. But it was not her shell’s outer brilliance that brought tears to Trin’s eyes—rather the slight movement, the desperate struggling, just beneath the now translucent surface.

Is that you, Emmy? she whispered, mesmerized by the dark, dragon-shaped shadows. Is that really you?

“Thank God you’re here.” Trin turned to see Mara on approach. The Birth Maiden’s eyes were vivid but frightened.

“What’s wrong with her?” Trinity asked worriedly. Her eyes searched the egg, catching the hairline fracture at the top. She stepped forward, reaching out to trace the crack with a soft finger, warm water sluicing over her hand. But the warmth was short-lived as she felt Emmy’s chill of terror wash over her. Her stomach clenched.

“We don’t know,” Mara confessed, giving her a helpless look. “I’ve assisted in countless dragon births over the years. But the equipment we have to work with here is practically prehistoric—it can’t tell me what I need to know. All that I can tell is that she’s trying to break free of the egg, but she’s not having any luck. Maybe the shell hardened somehow, by being in the ice so long. Maybe its composition changed after so many years. All I know is the baby dragon’s struggling. And her vital signs are weakening. If we don’t get her out now, she’ll likely die before she can ever be born.”

Trinity cringed and pressed her palm flat against the egg, closing her eyes. Somehow she knew it was up to her. That she was the only one who could save the dragon now.

Or you could end it all, a quiet voice tugged at the back of her brain. This is the perfect opportunity—they’d never know it was you.

Her pulse raced as she stole a glance around the room—at the men and women all around her. The dragon sympathizers who had inadvertently sparked an apocalypse once upon a time in another future. Caleb promised that they had the best intentions, that they knew what they were doing this time around—that by saving dragons they would save the world.

Save the world? the voice whispered. Or leave it vulnerable to attack?

Her mind flashed back to Connor and his talk of the Scorch. Of his father, burned alive by dragon’s breath. Of the vision he’d shown her: the screams of agony, the smell of burning flesh, the shadows falling, never to rise again. The entire world all but destroyed because of one single egg.

This one, single egg.

What if the Dracken couldn’t stop history from repeating itself no matter what their intentions? Would keeping Emmy alive be putting the entire human race at risk?

Once she’s born, it’ll be too late, the voice whispered. You’ll be as hunted as she is. Your life forces intertwined. And if anything happens to the world—like it did the first time around—it’ll be your fault.

She pulled her hand away and felt the eyes of the Dracken shift in her direction, watching, waiting to see what she would do. Pressure started to expand inside her chest, building and pushing against her ribs until she felt as if she were going to explode.

She could end this all now and hope for the best. And maybe the Dracken predictions were wrong. Maybe mankind would find a way to survive without the dragons’ gifts. At least they wouldn’t be burned alive. At least the earth would remain intact.

But what about Emmy?

She closed her eyes, remembering her flight through the Nether. The majestic dragon, soaring through the skies, brave and beautiful, her eyes bright and her head held high. She’d carried Trin on her back. She hadn’t let her fall. Didn’t Emmy deserve the same chance now? The chance to live her life? The chance to fly free?

Emmy didn’t start an apocalypse. She didn’t burn the world to the ground. It was man who caged her, tortured her, stole the spark from her eyes. Man who robbed her of her dragon’s dance and created monsters from her DNA. Emmy didn’t bring about the end of the world—man did, with his lust for war and power. And who was to say he needed dragons to do it the next time around?

Trin shook her head. In the end, she realized, this wasn’t a question of whether dragons would save the world or tear it apart. It didn’t matter what destruction they might bring or what gifts they might offer. This was about a life—one single, precious life, struggling to enter the world. Emmy was pure; she’d committed no folly. She had caused no harm. Her life should not be held forfeit to pay for mankind’s sin.

There was no more decision to make. Trin pressed her hand against the egg once again. Are you there, Emmy?

Nothing. She pulled the egg from the basin, out of the water. A few of the Dracken jumped in alarm, but Mara held out a hand. “Let her try,” she told them. They reluctantly stepped back. Trin took Emmy and brought her to the floor, cradling her in her lap.