Scorched (13 page)

SPARK

The Surface Lands—Year 183 Post-Scorch

Dad’s about to slay the dragon, Connor. Come on, come on!

Ten-year-old Connor looked up from his reader just in time to see Caleb come bursting into the crumbling church sanctuary. His brother was bouncing with excitement, his blue eyes shining and his mouth twisting into a gleeful grin.
Could
this
really
be
it?
Connor rose from the pew slowly, setting down his reader, his heart thudding in his chest.

Are
you
sure?
he sent back, using their silent twin language. The one they used when they didn’t want anyone else to hear. He tossed a cautious glance to their mother, who was humming quietly to herself as she stirred soup over a makeshift fire pit at the other end of the church. She didn’t look up.

Of
course
I’m sure. Come on! Before it’s too late!
Caleb turned back to the door.

Scrambling over the pew, Connor dove after his brother, out of the sanctuary, and down the burnt-out hallway. They’d been camped out in the ruins for weeks now, waiting for Dad to draw the dragon near, and they’d been practicing the quickest route to the roof for nearly as long. As they leapt over charred cinderblocks and ducked fallen archways, Connor could barely believe that this time was for real. The last song must have done the trick.

They weren’t supposed to leave the sanctuary, of course. Their father would have had their hides if he’d known they’d traded the safety of four walls and a barricaded door for the fully exposed rooftop of the Pre-Scorch church. But the chance to watch the legendary Dragon Hunter finally down the fiery serpent they’d been chasing for weeks was more than worth risking his wrath.

Connor followed his brother through a caved-in wall, taking the rotted-out wooden steps two at a time. At the top of the steeple, Caleb didn’t pause, dodging the cracked church bell and squirming through the broken window, making his way out onto the steeply sloped roof. He turned back to his brother.

Come
on! Hurry!

A cry cut through the night air. Screeching, inhuman. Connor paused, fear sliding down his back. His eyes fell upon the jagged shards of glass jutting out from the window. The roof outside, slick from recent rain.

I
don’t know…
he hedged. It was different now from when they’d practiced. More real. More dangerous. Outside, the dragon let out another cry, chilling him to the bone.

Caleb gave him a disgusted look through the window.
You
really
want
to
miss
this?

He sighed. Of course he didn’t. Pushing down his rising dread, he forced himself to step through the window slowly, carefully, so as not to cut himself on the glass. Up here on the Surface Lands, even the smallest cut could turn deadly.

Once outside, he cautiously slid down the roof to join Caleb below. It was even slipperier than he’d imagined; the sudden drop in temperature had made it almost icy. When he finally reached his brother, he let out a sigh of relief. Caleb gave him an approving grin, then pointed to the ground below. There, their father readied himself for battle, unaware of his sons watching from above.
This
was
it!

The sky darkened, causing Connor’s heart to stutter all over again. Looking up, he caught a large, dark shadow eclipsing the setting sun. He gasped, fear thrumming through his veins. There she was, in the flesh.

She was huge. The hugest he’d ever seen, with shiny, blue scales sparkling in the fading light. Connor drew in a breath. She must have been old—maybe one of the original fifteen even—and he knew the Council would pay top silver for her head. Enough to keep their mother in medicine, pay their rent down below, and maybe even have a little left over for Caleb’s tuition to the academy. So the first-born twin could carry on the family tradition and become a Hunter himself.

“She’s so beautiful,” Caleb marveled. “It’s almost a shame Dad has to kill her.”

Connor shook his head. He had no idea how his twin could see beauty in the empty-eyed, overgrown lizards with razor-sharp teeth and bulletproof scales, especially considering what these creatures had done to the world. In his opinion, they all deserved to die—as painfully as possible.

Pride flowed through him as he watched his father line up his target with deadly precision. He could almost hear his Hunter’s song as he enticed the beast closer and closer, until she was finally within range.

BANG!

The recoil from the gun-blade echoed through the Surface Lands, shaking the roof of the church. The dragon squawked as the bullet bounced harmlessly off her sapphire scales. Their father swore under his breath. He’d missed the sweet spot. The one soft scale under the left wing that could take down even the mightiest of beasts. His father liked to brag about one-shot kills. But today evidently wasn’t his day.

The creature retaliated immediately, opening her mouth and releasing her flames. Searing the ground mere inches from where their father stood. Connor watched, drenched in sweat from the sudden heat, feeling as if the pounding of his heart would crack his ribs.
Come
on, Dad!
he urged.
Kill
her
already!

The dragon stopped short. She turned slowly, abandoning his father, her beady black eyes scanning the sky until they fell upon Connor. He gasped, shrinking against the roof as the creature met his gaze. Had she heard his thoughts somehow? Had they broken his dad’s spell?

They had to get inside. Now. Before it was too late.

Come
on!
he cried to Caleb, who sat unaware, still mesmerized by the creature.
We’ve got to go!

He grabbed his brother’s hand, trying to drag him to the window. But Caleb wouldn’t budge—he just kept staring into the dragon’s eyes. Connor yanked him again—there was no way he was leaving his twin behind—but the jerky movement only served to throw him off balance. A moment later, Connor found himself sliding down the roof at top speed. He screamed.

“Caleb! Help!”

But Caleb didn’t seem to hear him. And as Connor tumbled from the rooftop onto the ground below, the dragon’s screech reverberated in his ears. He slammed onto the desert floor, a sharp pain shooting up his leg as his ankle crumpled beneath him.

“Connor!” he vaguely heard his father cry. But the dragon was already on him, black smoke billowing from her nostrils, sparks crackling at the back of her throat. Connor tried to scramble away, but his foot dragged uselessly behind him, trapping him where he stood. Unprotected. Exposed.

The deadly beast pulled back her gigantean head, opening her mouth, ready to release her inferno upon him. One more moment and the fire would come. If he was lucky, it’d be over quickly. If not…

Suddenly he was tossed to the side like a sack of potatoes. He hit the ground hard, a few yards away, the pain shooting up his leg all over again. Grasping his ankle, he looked up just in time to see the dragon let loose a stream of fire—hitting his father square in the chest.

“No!” he cried as his father collapsed, engulfed in a sea of flames.

The dragon turned back to Connor, her mouth curling into a sadistic smile.

On instinct, Connor dove for the discarded gun-blade, ignoring the brutal pain in his ankle. Gripping the weapon in both hands, adrenaline pounding through him, he charged the creature full force, putting everything he had into the weapon’s thrust, just as his father had taught him. The blade sung true, sliding into the dragon’s one soft scale like a hot knife through butter.

The beast bellowed in agony, collapsing to the ground and writhing in pain as the steel pierced her unprotected heart. Black blood oozed from the wound and Connor met the creature’s eyes with his own, staring her down with defiant rage. He yanked the blood-soaked blade free, then stabbed the fiend again. And again. And again. And—

“Connor, stop! She’s dead. The dragon’s dead!” He felt his mother’s arms grab him from behind and drag him away. He fell to the ground, still half lost in an adrenaline-induced haze. His mother dropped to her knees, searching his face with her own tear-stained one.

“Dad?” he managed to blurt out, even though he knew in his heart what her answer would be. No one survived a full-on dragon blast—not even the best Hunter in the land.

Mom shook her head. “I’m sorry, Connor,” she said, tears streaming down her cheeks. He buried his face in her shoulder, allowing the grief to consume him. His mother held him close, rocking him gently, soothing him in soft whispers. “But he died a hero. A true Hunter.”

Her words were meant to comfort but only served to wrack Connor with guilt. He’d acted foolishly, disobeyed orders, and now, because of it, a great man was dead. His father was dead. And more would likely follow too—with the people of the strata now left without a trained Hunter to protect them. Who knew how long it would take for the Council to send reinforcements to this forgotten corner of the world? They barely had enough Academy graduates to protect the big cities.

It was up to him now. He had no choice but to shoulder his father’s birthright. It was the only possible way to make himself worthy of his father’s sacrifice. He rose and limped over to the dragon’s corpse. The beast looked smaller now. Shrunken. A shadow of the deadly creature she’d once been. As he stared down at the monster who had stolen his beloved father away, disgust and fury threatened to consume him.

He squeezed his hands into fists, his nails cutting into his palms. “I will hunt your kind until you’ve been wiped off the face of the Earth. No matter what I have to do.”

***

“Dad!”

Connor shot up in bed, a sharp pain drilling through his skull. He was in a small room—two matching beds, simple furniture—smelling slightly of mildew. A radiator in one corner rattled and spit while the TV on the dresser blared an advertisement for soap. Outside the window, a neon sign buzzed and flickered, matching the beats of his throbbing head.

He sank down onto his pillow, sucking in a breath, forcing the nightmare to retreat to the back of his mind. It had been seven long years since his father’s death and yet hardly a night went by when his brain didn’t manage to conjure up a full-color torturous play-by-play of that day.

The day he’d killed his father.

He’d told Trinity he was here to save the world. But that wasn’t the whole truth. He wanted to save his father.

“I’ll do whatever it takes, Dad,” he whispered.

“Whatever
what
takes?”

Connor looked up. The bathroom door at the far end of the room squeaked opened and Trinity’s grandfather stepped out, buckling his belt as he limped back over to the motel television, palming the remote and increasing the already near-deafening volume. He’d been glued to the set since they’d arrived in New Mexico a few hours before—the last location Connor had felt Trinity’s spark before it had sputtered out.

“Nothing,” he said quickly, sitting up in bed. The last thing he wanted to do was talk about his father’s death—or hear the comforting rationalizations that were bound to follow. That it wasn’t his fault, that there was nothing he could have done. It wasn’t true. And it didn’t make him feel any better either.

He sighed. What a mess this all was. If only he’d woken Trinity up when he and her grandfather had first returned to her mother’s house the night of the Reckoning. Everything would be different now. They’d have the egg. They’d be on their way to the volcano to destroy it. Mission practically accomplished.

But he hadn’t. Mainly because she’d looked so exhausted. So dead to the world. And once again, the soft spot he had for her had botched his common sense. And so, instead of waking her and bringing her downstairs where he could keep an eye on her all night, he’d let her sleep alone. It wasn’t until he heard the banging on the rooftop a few hours later that he realized something was wrong. Unfortunately, by the time he’d reached her room, she was already on the back of his brother’s motorcycle, zooming into the night.

God, he’d been such a fool. He’d had the egg. He’d had the girl. His whole mission practically wrapped up in a Christmas bow. And yet he’d screwed it all up, underestimated his brother, and let it all slip through his fingers.

His father would be so disappointed.

I’m sorry, Dad,
he thought.
I
won’t let you down again.

His thoughts were interrupted by the television, blaring some kind of news broadcast at top volume. Trinity’s grandpa, Connor realized, must be going a bit deaf.

“Could you please turn that—” he started to beg, but his mouth snapped closed as his eyes caught the video on the screen: black-and-white surveillance tape of a small convenience store. Two very familiar people walking up to the cash register.

Connor dove off the bed, joining Grandpa in front of the TV. He stared, mouth gaping. Could it really be?

“Suspected terrorist Trinity Foxx was last seen at a Santa Rosa Circle K,” the announcer informed them. “She and her unidentified partner purchased food and drinks, and then took off in a green Ford pickup, according to witnesses. Anyone with information on the pair’s whereabouts should call the Crime Stoppers’ hotline. Police warn not to approach them; they are considered armed and dangerous.”

Connor watched as the tape looped, his stomach swimming with nausea. On the screen, Trinity turned to his brother, poking him playfully in the ribs before setting her snacks down on the counter. The two of them started to laugh.

“What are they doing?” her grandpa cried, furrowing his bushy gray eyebrows. “I thought you said he’d kidnapped her.” He turned to Connor, his eyes filled with accusation.

Connor shrugged helplessly, still staring at the TV in horror. All this time he’d been so sure Trinity must have been tricked, taken against her will. But looking at the video made him wonder. His brother had always been charming—could he have convinced her somehow that he was out for her own best interests? That Connor was the bad guy, not him? Or was it the dragon bond itself? Poisoning her mind against him more and more each day. He shuddered at the thought.