Scorched

else.”

“You mean someone who could afford it?”

“Yes…I mean, no…I mean…” He gave her a tortured look. “You don’t understand. I’ve waited my entire life for this kind of discovery. Something special. Something extraordinary. Something that will shake up the very foundations of paleontology as we know it! How could I let something like that slip through my fingers?”

How indeed? By habit, she reached to twist her mother’s ring around her own finger, only to be reminded it wasn’t there anymore. Because she’d sold it. To keep her family together. Instead, it had paid for some kind of freakish mythical monster spawn. She wondered if the egg was even real. Had even come from a glacier. She imagined the researchers laughing to themselves as they boxed up some arts and crafts project and wrote out the bill. He’ll buy it, they’d probably sniggered. The gullible fool will buy anything.

She glared at the egg, tears welling in her eyes. It was all she could do not to unlock the case and smash the thing to smithereens. She thought about how hard she’d worked. How tired she was. And how none of it mattered in the end. Her grandpa cared more about his precious exhibits than he did about their family.

“Hey, hey!” She felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to see her grandpa gazing at her with concern in his eyes. “What’s wrong? I thought you’d be excited. I mean, a dragon egg, Trinity! We’re going to be famous.”

“We’re going to be homeless.”

“We’ll buy a new house—a hundred houses with the money we make. We’ll go down in history.”

“Not before we go down in flames.”

He stared at her, disappointment clear in his watery blue eyes. “You used to love my discoveries,” he said softly. “You used to get so excited. What happened to you, Trin? When did you stop believing?”

She shrugged her shoulders, the lump in her throat making it impossible to speak. She remembered all the times her grandpa had come home from his many trips overseas with treasures from around the world. Real treasures—the kind scientists and journalists were chomping at the bit to see. But Grandpa would always make them wait—so she could see them first. It had made her feel so special—to spend hours with him, poring over the discoveries, imagining aloud what the creatures must have looked like when they still roamed the earth. Like some kind of magic—shared just between the two of them.

But then she’d grown up and realized magic didn’t pay the bills. Didn’t keep families together. And certainly didn’t guarantee the happily ever after the storybooks claimed. Which made it, in her opinion, pretty darn useless.

“Just go home,” she said in a gruff voice, wrestling to control her upset. “I’ll lock up. We’ll figure out what to do with this…this…thing…on Monday.” Maybe the guys who sold it to him had some kind of return policy…

“Don’t you want me to help—?”

“I think you’ve done enough,” she snapped.

Grandpa’s face crumpled, and her heart broke as she caught the hurt in his eyes. But her anger burned too hot for her to back down now. He had to know that what he’d done wasn’t okay. It wasn’t funny or kooky or cute this time. He was supposed to be the adult, the one who took care of her. And like every other adult in her life, he’d let her down.

“Okay,” he said in a soft, desperate voice. “I’ll pick up the Chinese food on the way home. Extra duck sauce, just as you like it.”

“Sure. Whatever.” As if she could eat. As if it would taste like anything but cardboard.

“And maybe you can open up just one present…”

She scowled, turning away, staring hard at the wall, willing the tears not to fall. She could feel her grandpa’s eyes burning into her back but refused to acknowledge them—refused to let him off the hook that easy.

After what felt like an eternity, she heard his deep sigh followed by fading footsteps. Only after the door clanked shut did she allow herself to cry, sinking to the floor, head in her hands, violent sobs choking from her throat as tears rained down her cheeks. The kind of ugly cry she only allowed herself to have when she was sure no one was around to see.

Trinity…

Her head shot up. Oh God, was someone here?

Don’t cry, Trinity.

Her face flushed crimson. Who had caught her in such a mess? But the room was empty. The door remained closed. Had she simply imagined the voice?

She shook herself, feeling stupid, then rose to her feet, swiping away the tears with her sleeve. She was just stressed. Stressed and exhausted. She needed to lock up and go home and lose herself in a marathon session of Fields of Fantasy—pre-expansion pack. Slay a bunch of virtual dragons and get this real-life nightmare out of her head.

Why would you want to hurt a dragon?

What? She stopped in her tracks. “Who’s there?” she demanded angrily, her voice echoing through the chamber. Was this some kind of joke?

No answer.

“Grandpa? Is that you?” she tried again. But even as she asked, she knew it couldn’t have been her guardian. The voice was too high-pitched, too plaintive—the voice of a young child, not an old man. Maybe one of the kids from the earlier tour? Her eyes darted around the chamber, searching for some kind of corner or crevice where a child could hide. But she came up empty. The only ones here were her…

…and the egg.

She found herself glancing fearfully at the glass case, heart racing in her chest. But the golden sphere only gleamed back at her, still and silent as the grave. She grimaced. What was she thinking? That the exhibits were coming to life and crying out her name? God, that was the kind of fantasy her mother would have concocted near the end. She reached for her missing ring again, then gave up and started back toward the exit.

Don’t go, Trinity. Don’t leave me here alone.

“Stop it—it isn’t funny!” she cried, fear throttling her now. “Seriously, show yourself or I’m going to call the cops.” But no mysterious child stepped forward to claim the voice. It was almost as if it had come from thin air…

Or from her own head.

Like mother like daughter, something inside of her jeered. She pushed it angrily away.

It’s just this damned place, she tried to assure herself as she stalked out of the room, grabbing her jacket from the office and heading toward the exit, her steps reverberating through the cavernous hall. A glorified graveyard of fossilized ghosts—it would have anyone hearing things. Hell, maybe she could transform it into a haunted house next Halloween. That would be one way to bring in some cash at least.

Because the alternative explanation…

I’m nothing like Mom. Nothing like Mom.

A squeal outside caused her to pause at the front door. It was a welcoming sound—a real sound, existing outside her head. She peered out the front window and, to her surprise, saw a large, black truck idling just beyond the front parking lot, the rear door rolled open. She watched, curious, as a group of men dressed in black and armed with heavy artillery started spilling out the back, heading straight across the parking lot and toward the museum.

“What the…?” she whispered.

On impulse, she clicked the deadbolt into place. As if that was going to stop some kind of impending invasion. The place had never exactly been Fort Knox when it came to security, even when it was holding treasures that might be worth stealing. She glanced out the window again, panic raging through her. Were they really planning to break into the museum?

Well, they’re probably not here for the guided tour.

She decided not to wait to find out. Turning on her heel, she bolted from the door, back into the museum, her mind racing and her pulse pounding out her fear. Should she call Grandpa? The police? Should she try to escape out the back door or would they have the place surrounded? And what would she be escaping from