Scorched (19 page)

The Dracken didn’t reply, simply bowed his head respectfully, then turned to walk away. Trinity watched him go, furious beyond belief, then found herself reaching out again, trying desperately to break through his wall.

And then, just before the Dracken leader slipped into the shadows, she heard it. Escaping his mind like a tendril of smoke, twining its way back to her and her dragon.

What
do
you
care?
it taunted.
It’s not like you have anywhere left to go.

SMOLDER

“Have you seen this girl?”

Connor watched wearily as Trinity’s grandfather approached two teenage girls walking out of the convenience store, flashing the five-by-seven school photo in their faces. “Her name is Trinity. She might have been traveling with a brown-haired boy who looked something like him.” He pointed over at Connor. The girls studied him with interest, giggled, then shook their heads before walking away. Connor sighed. This was beyond useless.

Trinity’s grandfather dropped the photo to his side and rejoined Connor by the car. “I think we’ve hit a dead end,” he admitted mournfully. “I can feel traces of her spark, as if she were here at one point, but no one remembers seeing her.”

Connor clamped a comforting hand on the old man’s arm. He looked beyond exhausted and for good reason. Maybe it had been a mistake to teach him how to glean energy signals from the atmosphere. It was a useful Hunter trick when tracking down dragons and it could work on others with the gift as well. But while Connor had discovered Trinity’s grandpa to be a natural-born Hunter, he was also very old and very weak. Energy gleaning took a lot out of even the hardiest of Hunters and was a technique to be used sparingly. But once Grandpa had learned what he could do, he refused to stop doing it. Every second she was gone, she was in danger, he’d reminded Connor. They’d come this far; they couldn’t give up now.

“It’s as if she’s vanished off the face of the earth,” Grandpa muttered, raking a hand through his thinning gray hair. His whole body was trembling, Connor noticed, and he looked as if he could barely stand.

“Look, why don’t we find a hotel and get some rest,” he suggested kindly. “Once you’ve regained some spark we can try again.” He was pretty drained himself and could use a small break before pressing on.

“No.” Grandpa frowned. “There’s no time for rest.”

Connor gave him a stern look. He was beginning to realize where Trin had gotten her stubbornness from. “You’re dead on your feet. You’ll be no good to her if you collapse and I have to bring you to the hospital.”

Trinity’s grandfather groaned in response but thankfully didn’t try to argue. “Okay, fine,” he said. “But just for a short time. Then we’ll try again.”

“Right. Now wait here and I’ll grab us some supplies.” Connor gestured to the convenience store. “You want anything special?”

Trinity’s grandfather shook his head and Connor headed inside the store to make his purchases. In addition to water, he grabbed a few oranges and energy bars. It was important for a Hunter to properly fuel his body in order to achieve maximum spark. And at this point, they could both use as much spark as they could get.

Once he had paid for his purchases, he headed back outside. “Are you ready to…?” He started to say, but then realized Trin’s grandfather was no longer leaning against his car. In fact, he was nowhere to be seen at all. Connor’s gaze darted from one end of the street to the other, anxiety prickling at his skin. He tried to tell himself that the old man had probably gone to find a bathroom or something—his bladder was beyond useless at his age. But as the minutes ticked away, that idea started to seem more and more unlikely.

Charlie?
He reached out, grimacing at the effort. His spark was so low at this point it wasn’t even funny.
Where’d you go? Are you okay?

I’m fine!
Grandpa’s excited voice shot through Connor’s head a moment later.
I
met
some
guys—they know where she is! They’re going to take me to her!

Connor tensed, warning bells clanging in his head.
No!
he cried.
Wait
for
me. Don’t go anywhere until I get there.

It’s fine, Connor. They’re real nice fellas. They’re going to—

His send stopped abruptly, as if the connection were severed by a knife. Fear throttled Connor as he tried to find the old man with his mind. But it was as if a brick wall had slammed down between them.

Flecking
hell.
What had he been thinking—leaving him alone like that? Trinity had told him her grandpa was gullible, but he didn’t think even
he
would be so stupid as to go off with a bunch of strangers alone. Evidently he underestimated the man’s determination to find his granddaughter at any cost.

Suddenly Connor heard a cry—an old man’s cry of pain—echo through his head. He sprang into action, racing down the street in the direction of the sound. Stomach churning, he pushed past curious bystanders, not bothering to apologize, as his pulse drummed out his fear.

This couldn’t be happening. Not after he’d promised Trinity he’d keep her grandpa safe. If he couldn’t come through with that, how could he expect her to trust him with anything else? And it wasn’t just that, either, he admitted to himself. He’d grown fond of the crotchety old geezer in the last few days. He couldn’t let anything happen to him.

He swung into an alley and stopped short, dropping down behind a trash compactor at the sound of men’s voices. Peering around, he froze as he saw Trinity’s grandpa surrounded by a group of thugs who were glaring at him menacingly. The old man’s face was awash with confusion and fear as he looked back at the men.

“I don’t understand,” he babbled. “I thought you were going to take me to my granddaughter.”

“Oh, we’ll take you to Trinity all right,” one of the men said with a nasty sneer. A scar slashed across his cheek and, from the way the others looked to him, Connor figured him the leader. “You’ll make a good dinner for her dragon.”

Connor stifled a groan. He’d been praying this was just some kind of robbery—a group of street rats taking advantage of an old man. But no, these men knew about Trinity and they knew about her dragon. Which could mean only one thing.

They were sent by the Dracken.

Oh, Trinity,
he thought.
Be
careful
who
you
trust.

Grandpa’s face paled. He made a move to escape, but the men grabbed him, yanking him back. One slammed a foot into the back of his knees, sending him flying forward. The other clubbed him across the face, hot blood splattering as his nose burst open. A third drew his gun, shoving the barrel up against the back of his head, execution style. Connor cringed.

“No!” The leader wrestled the gun away from his buddy, giving him a scolding look. “Darius says we have to make it look like a heart attack.” He peered down into Grandpa’s terrified eyes with a mocking grin. “You’ll be a good old fart and come along quietly, now won’t you?”

“Why are you doing this?” Trinity’s grandpa cried, tears streaming down his wrinkled cheeks, mixing with the blood.

The Dracken mercenary didn’t answer. But Connor didn’t need him too. In fact, it all made perfect sense. Grandpa was Trinity’s only family—the only tie she had left to the outside world. Cut that tie and she’d have nothing left except them and the dragon and their empty promises to save the world. She’d be completely under their control.

It was the perfect plan except for one thing. He wasn’t about to let them get away with it.

His mind raced for a plan. This is what he’d trained for, why they’d sent him here in the first place. But he hadn’t bargained on being so weak—practically out of spark. Group pushes were tricky at best, even at full energy levels, and he was running on empty. But he had to try. He couldn’t take on five armed men by himself. Closing his eyes, he pulled deep within, drawing up all his reserves, not holding anything back.

You’ve got the wrong guy.

He opened his eyes, scanning the group, praying they’d heard him and would obey. But they were busy dragging Grandpa to his feet and shuttling him to a nearby van with blacked-out windows. His push hadn’t affected them at all.

Connor tried again.

The
cops
are
on
their
way. You need to leave. Now!

Icy pain stabbed his skull and he nearly passed out from the effort. But when he opened his eyes, he realized it was all for nothing. The men kept at their tasks, as if nothing had happened.

He gripped his head in his hands, trying to think past the pain. This was not going well. A few more minutes and they’d be gone—Trinity’s grandpa never heard from again. He watched, helpless, as the old man struggled uselessly against his captors. From this close proximity, he could feel Grandpa’s terror and confusion as if it were his own. He certainly was a strong sender. Maybe one of the strongest Connor had ever met, save for Trinity herself.

That’s it! The idea struck him like a lightning bolt. If he could get Grandpa to help him, maybe their combined spark could complete the push. He didn’t know if the old man could focus past his injuries, but he had no other options and they were running out of time.

To
me!
he sent out.
I
need
as
much
spark
as
you
can
spare!

He watched, praying for some reaction, some clue to tell him Grandpa had heard him and would obey. For a split second, he thought he saw something in the man’s eyes, but he couldn’t be sure. Still, he had no time to send again. He had to hope for the best.

Pushing past the pain in his skull, he closed his eyes one more time. Drawing his energy into a tiny, bright white ball and thrusting it as hard as he could.

You’ve got the wrong guy. Walk away now. The cops are almost here.

He fell back, seeing stars, unable, for a moment, to even move. His legs and arms were Jell-O and his stomach swam with nausea. Still he watched, waiting. Praying. They’d almost reached the van. If this hadn’t worked, it was all over. It was too late to try again.

For a moment, he saw no sign. Then one of them looked up.

“I don’t think we have the right guy,” he said.

“What?” the leader lashed at him. “What are you talking about? Of course it’s the right guy.”

“No,” his buddy agreed, looking at Grandpa, his face awash with confusion. “I don’t think it is.”

“Do you hear sirens?” added the third man. “I think the cops are on their way.”

The leader’s face twisted in rage. “You morons. What’s wrong with you? There’re no sirens. And no cops either. Now get him the hell in the van and let’s get out of here.”

But the men had already released Grandpa, the old man collapsing unceremoniously down onto the pavement. They looked at one another, fear clear in their faces, then rushed to the van, jumping in and closing the doors behind them. A moment later the engine roared to life.

“What are you doing?” screamed the leader. “Get back out here! Get him in the van!”

But his cries were for nothing. And the vehicle soon sped away. Connor let out a silent cheer. Now it was one on one. Even in his weakened condition, he liked those odds. Too bad his gun was back in the car—that would have made it almost easy.

“Aw hell,” the leader was growling, watching the van disappear around a corner. Then he turned back to Grandpa. “If you want something done right, you have to do it yourself.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the pistol. “Guess I have no choice now.”

This was it! Connor dove in, throwing himself on top of the man. The gun went off with a loud bang and for a split second Connor thought the guy had missed, that the bullet had rang out into thin air. But then he felt a warmness soak his arm, followed by a stabbing pain. No such luck.

But he had no time to consider the extent of his wound. Instead, using his good arm, he managed to wrestle the gun from the mercenary’s grip, tossing it away. Then he clamped his fingers around the man’s neck, squeezing as hard as he could. The man struggled, kicking and gasping, but Connor had him well pinned.

“This is for Trinity!” he growled, digging his thumbs into the man’s sunken flesh. “This is for my dad!” He dug in harder, finding himself oddly enjoying the terrified bulge in the man’s eyes.

“Connor, stop! You’re going to kill him!”

He felt a hand grab his injured arm and he screamed in agony as the pain exploded all over again. But the jolt was enough to break the spell. He loosened his grip, looking up to see Trinity’s grandfather looming above him, a scared but determined look on his wrinkled face.

“Come on,” he hissed. “We have to get out of here.”

“Wait,” Connor said, his soldier training conquering his raging emotions. “I need to get information from him first.” Ignoring his throbbing head, he plunged into the unconscious man’s mind, gasping at what he found inside.

It was ugly—black and decrepit and rank. Smelling of death and decay. The Dracken had evidently chosen their mercenaries well. There was no pity in this man, no sense of humanity. If he had ever lived and loved and hoped and dreamed, all of that had died out a long time ago.

The ugliness made Connor’s stomach turn, but still he pressed on, crawling through the darkness until he finally reached the small nugget of information he needed. He yanked hard, grabbing it and securing it into his own consciousness. Only then did he allow himself to pull back. Once he was out, his stomach wrenched and he vomited, the ugliness spewing out in black pools onto the pavement.

He looked up, staring blankly at Grandpa, all his energy expended. The old man grabbed his good arm. “Come on,” he pleaded. “I can hear sirens. You’ll be no good to her if they lock you up.”

Connor forced himself to his feet. He glanced at his arm, horrified at the blood soaking through his shirt. Cradling it against his chest, he ran after Grandpa, back toward their car and away from the scene of the crime.

When they reached the outskirts of town, Connor finally allowed himself a much-needed breath. His arm throbbed, his head felt thick and dizzy. He was losing too much blood, he realized vaguely.

“We need to get you to a hospital,” Trinity’s grandfather said, glancing over at him with concerned eyes. He didn’t look in much better shape than Connor felt. His nose had swollen to twice its size and blood had crusted on his unshaven chin. They made quite a pair, he thought grimly.