Scorched (15 page)

“Hey! Fire Kissed! Over here!”

Rashida waved wildly across the food court, attempting to get Trinity’s attention. Trin waved back awkwardly, then headed over. She could feel the stares of the other Potentials as she wove through the tables and tried to acknowledge each of them as she passed, not wanting people to think she was a snob. At school, Trin always tried to avoid being the center of attention, but she realized there was no helping that here.

“This place is like a maze,” she remarked as she slid into her seat. “I got lost three times trying to get here from my room.”

“That’s because you were given a crap tour guide,” the tall, blond boy across from her quipped, playfully poking Rashida, the tour guide in question. She poked him back twice as hard.

“As if you don’t still get lost going to the bathroom,” she retorted, “and you’ve been here half a year.”

“This was the biggest mall in Nevada before they shut it down.” The petite Asian girl on Rashida’s left looked up from the journal she’d been scribbling in. Some kind of poetry, Trin noticed. Or maybe song lyrics? “But I found the original blueprints if you ever want to learn your way around.”

“If you ever want to be a complete nerd,” the boy shot back, but he was smiling at her.

“This is Aiko,” Rashida introduced, ignoring him. “Our very own rock star, straight from Japan. She may look like a tiny little thing out of an anime film, but don’t let her fool you. The girl’s got mad pipes.” Aiko blushed prettily, closing her notebook and reaching out to shake Trin’s hand. Her fingers were dainty but calloused on the tips, assumedly well acquainted with guitar strings.

“And this is Malia,” Rashida continued, gesturing to a broad-shouldered, dark-skinned girl across from Trinity. “She’s from Kenya and serves as our resident gamer girl. Many of the boys have tried to take her down,” she added with dramatic flair. “But the girl somehow manages to frag them all.”

Trinity raised an eyebrow. “You have video games here?” she asked, her heart beating a little faster.

“Of course,” Malia replied shyly. “The Dracken turned the old Apple store into a game room. We have every system and all the best games. A few of us meet up on Friday nights to play. You should join us sometime. We could use more girls on the team.”

“Do you have
Fields
of
Fantasy
?” Trin dared to ask, her breath caught in her throat. “The new expansion pack?” Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to be stuck here after all.

Sadly, Malia shook her head. “Sorry, nothing that requires a Wi-Fi connection,” she told her. “We can play on a closed LAN line with one another, but Darius has strict rules about going online.”

“Which means no satellite TV to watch the matches,” the blond boy added gloomily. “I don’t suppose you know who won the Rugby World Cup this time around? It’s been bloody killing me.”

Trinity shook her head. “Sorry,” she said. The boy sighed loudly, dropping his head onto the table with over-exaggerated despair.

Rashida rolled her eyes. “And last but not least, this is Trevor,” she introduced with an impish smile. “As you can probably tell, he’s from Australia and like most Aussies will never let you forget it.”

“It’s a bloody great country,” he declared, breaking out into what Trin assumed to be some kind of national anthem in a loud, booming, and terribly out-of-tune voice. The girls groaned and threw their napkins at him, which only made him sing louder.

Trin shook her head, watching their antics, surprised at how normal the whole scene felt, as if they weren’t in the middle of an abandoned shopping mall, but rather some kind of European boarding school or something. It was hard to believe, just by looking at them, that these kids weren’t studying for their SATs. They were training to take care of dragons.

“So where do we get the food?” she asked, gesturing to her tablemates’ heaping trays.

Rashida waved an arm around the food court. “Each of the stations has food from a different continent,” she told her, “to make sure all of us get to eat what we’re used to. Well, not all of us,” she added, glancing teasingly at Trevor. “The Dracken come from a long line of animal rights activists, which means no shrimp on the barbie for poor Trevor here.”

“I could skip the shrimp,” the blond boy protested, “if only I could score a nice, juicy T-bone once in a while.” He stabbed a piece of tofu with his fork and stuffed it into his mouth with a miserable look. The girls giggled.

“So how long have you guys been living in this place?” Trin asked curiously. They all seemed so at home here, so comfortable with one another. And their English was impeccable. She could barely detect any accents.

“Malia was one of the first to come here. You’ve been here almost two years, right?” Aiko asked the girl across from Trin, who nodded in agreement. “I’ve been here just over a year myself.”

“I’ve been here a year and a half,” Rashida offered. “Trevor’s the baby of the group. He only arrived six months ago.”

“And yet I’m already beating you in your lessons,” Trevor shot back. Rashida patted him on the back patronizingly.

“Sure you are,” she said.

“Wow,” Trin marveled, looking them over. “That’s a long time to be gone. Do you get, like, spring break or summer vacation to go visit your families?”

The four Potentials exchanged looks. “We don’t have families,” Malia replied quietly.

“What?” Trinity asked, completely thrown by the answer.

“We’re all orphans,” Aiko explained.

“All of you?” Trinity glanced around the bustling food court. There had to be a hundred Potentials eating lunch here alone. Did none of them have parents? Family? People back home?

“My parents died in the tsunami,” Aiko said matter-of-factly. “My entire village was wiped out. I had no family left, no place to go.”

“I was living on the streets of a Mumbai slum,” Rashida added. “I’d spend my entire day just trying to find a place to sleep where I wouldn’t be attacked or robbed.”

“My mother died of AIDS when I was young,” Malia said quietly. “My aunt took me in until the drought hit. Then she had to make a choice—her own children or me.”

“What about you, Trin? What happened to your parents?” Trevor asked pointedly. “If you’re here, you must be an orphan too.” They all turned to look at her. She felt her face heat and she stared down at her hands.

“She doesn’t have to say if she doesn’t want to,” Rashida scolded him. “It’s not any of our business.” She gave her a kind look. But Trin knew they were expecting her to say something. After all, they’d all shared their stories with her—stories that must hurt to talk about just as much.

“I…I never knew my father,” she said at last. “He died before I was born. My mother…well, I guess she was one of us. She had the gift too. But the voices got too loud…” Her own voice cracked on the words and she found she couldn’t continue. In any case, what could she say? That her mom preferred to blow her own head off than spend Christmas Eve with her only child?

The girls looked at one another. Then, without saying a word, they reached out, grabbing Trin’s hands in their own and squeezing them tight. She watched, puzzled, as they closed their eyes in unison and bowed their heads. For a moment she was convinced they were about to break out into prayer. Or at least a rousing round of “Kumbaya.” But no words came from their lips. Instead, suddenly Trin felt an overwhelming sense of comfort pass through her. As if she were being wrapped up in a warm, billowy blanket and hugged tightly.

They’re using their gifts
, she realized, fascinated. Trying to send her comfort. And it was working too. She could actually feel the anger and pain slipping away.
Which
was
cool
, she tried to tell herself. But also massively weird—not to mention invasive. Like, what if she wanted to keep that pain? Hold on to that anger? What if it was a part of her she wasn’t ready to let go of yet? They hadn’t even asked permission. Just dove inside her mind and—

She yanked her hands away.

The girls opened their eyes, gazing at her with pity. She averted her own eyes, staring down at the table in front of her, trying to still her erratic pulse.
They’re only trying to be nice
, she tried to tell herself.
They
aren’t trying to hurt me.

“In any case, that’s when the Dracken came,” Aiko continued, breaking the awkward silence. “They found us and rescued us and brought us back here, where we no longer have to worry about anything. Food, shelter, school—it’s all provided by the Dracken.” She stared off into the distance, a dreamy look on her face. “We owe them our lives.”

“We’re a family,” Rashida declared. “And now you’re our family too.”

They fell silent, as if waiting for her response. She bit her lower lip. She knew what they wanted her to say. The foster families had always wanted the same thing—for her to be thrilled to be a part of it all, for her to consider herself one of them. But try as she might, the words stuck in her throat, just like they had a dozen times before.

I’m not like you,
she wanted to scream.
I
don’t belong here.

And this time it was especially true. After all, these kids had come here willingly, following the pied piper of dragons and his promises of a better life. They’d given up their freedom, their free will—and evidently the chance to wear something other than navy blue sweat pants. And yet they all seemed so happy, perfectly content to live out their lives in this creepy mall without Internet access or TV.

Content?
something inside of her nagged,
or
brainwashed?

Either way, now she was stuck here right alongside them, she realized, as the panic rose inside of her once again. Whether she liked it or not.

Two hours later—or was it three?—Trinity paced the soft-carpeted floor of the most luxurious chamber she’d ever seen, located in a space that had once held a Baby Gap. Draped in lush crimsons and accented in gold, the room had all the luxuries Trinity could have ever imagined and then some, all done up in her favorite colors and styles.

It was almost as if someone had gone into her head and plucked all her secret fantasies from her brain and made them real. From the king-sized canopy bed wrapped in sheer silk curtains to the stylish sitting room with plush upholstery and a glittering chandelier. There was even a gigantic marble bathroom, complete with steam shower and whirlpool tub—and one of those fancy Japanese toilets with all the extra buttons that Trin had always been curious to try.

The other recruits—the Potentials—all lived in dorms, she’d been told, located in the former Sears at the other end of the mall. The boys on the second floor, the girls on the first. But the girl who had founded their organization—the Fire Kissed herself!—was too special to be subjected to those humble accommodations. She deserved only the best.

And only the best it was. The best prison cell ever.

It was the silence that was the worst. When she’d gotten back to her room after lunch, she’d tried to reach Emmy, to restore the connection between them. She’d gotten so used to the dragon babbling and chirping in her head over the last few days, the sudden absence felt deafening. Where had they taken her? Was she okay? She wondered if she’d made a mistake allowing them to make off with the egg in the first place. But Caleb had assured her they would take good care of the dragon. That was the whole reason they’d come back in time to begin with, after all. But still, Trinity couldn’t help but wonder.

A knock sounded on the door. She turned to it reluctantly. “Who’s there?” she asked.

“Caleb.”

Her heart started. Where had he been? She hadn’t seen him since they’d first arrived and she realized, annoyingly, that she’d kind of missed him. Which was stupid, she knew, to miss someone who’d basically kidnapped you and held you against your will. What did they call it? Stockholm syndrome? Ugh. What a total cliché. Just because he’d been kind to her, helped her shut out the voices in her head, held her hand as she cried for Emmy. Big freaking deal. At the end of the day, he was still sardonic and cynical and kind of a douche. Nothing like his brave, heroic brother, Connor, who had honor and dignity and…

…wants you dead
, a voice inside jabbed.

She sighed, stalking to the door and ripping it open. “Where have you been?” she demanded, her voice sounding angrier than she’d meant it to.

“Nice to see you too, princess,” he replied coolly as he stepped into the room. He had changed from his dusty road clothes and was now wearing a plain white T-shirt and slouchy jeans. His hair was still damp, slicked back from his face, and he smelled of Irish Spring soap. She cleared her throat, pretending not to be affected, as she stole a glance at herself in the mirror, wishing she’d taken the time to comb out her curls after her bath, then scolded herself for caring.

She realized he’d come bearing gifts—namely a cart of covered silver platters, linen napkins, fine tableware, and a carafe of what appeared to be coffee and another of soda. Prison room service? She would have laughed if she weren’t so pissed.

“I’m not hungry,” she declared, forcing her eyes away from the cart.

Caleb didn’t reply. Instead, he busied himself with the covers, removing them one by one. Heaping bowls of pasta, steaming platters of rice, pizzas dripping with cheese—it went on and on, the rich, savory smells torturing Trinity until her stomach betrayed her with a feral growl. After her uneasy conversation with the Potentials, she’d been too freaked out to eat and now she was absolutely ravenous. But still. She scowled and turned away, plopping down on her bed, arms crossed over her chest. She would not be bought by something as simple as a mall-cooked meal.

“I don’t want it,” she repeated. “Take it away.”

But Caleb only continued his reveal—mountains of mashed potatoes, buttery rolls fresh from the oven, glistening vegetables, and sugary desserts. Every single dish one of her favorites.

“Are you sure about that?” he asked, giving her a skeptical look. “After all, everything’s been prepared exactly the way you like it according to our records.”

She frowned. According to their records. In other words, the time travelers had studied her life like it was some kind of history project—just like with the bedroom—thinking they could win her over by plying her with her favorite things. It should have felt good, for them to have given so much thought, taken so much care. But instead it felt invasive, an unfair advantage.

“Come on, Trin,” Caleb cajoled. “It’s just food. It’s not like I looked up your bra size.” He gave her a winning smile. She scowled back.

“What, do you want a medal for that?”

“Hey, I think I exhibited tremendous restraint!” He joined her over on the bed, dropping his impish grin and giving her a serious look. “Okay, what’s wrong?” he asked. “I thought you’d be pleased. The Dracken went through a lot of trouble to design all of this for you. We did extensive research into what makes you happy. So why aren’t you happy?”

He made it sound so simple, like a math problem or something. They gave her what she wanted; she’d do what they wanted. But it didn’t work like that.

“How can I be happy?” she demanded, turning to him and meeting his eyes with her own. She realized her hands were shaking and shoved them under her thighs. “I’ve lost everything I ever had. My only family is MIA and I’m trapped in a freaking shopping mall with the children of the corn. Trust me, no amount of pineapple and feta cheese pizza is going to make this any better.”

“Even if it came from Deluca’s?”

She involuntarily glanced over at the pizza sitting on the tray. “
Did
it come from Deluca’s?”

“Sadly, no.” Caleb shrugged. “I was just curious if it would have made a difference.”

She groaned, grabbing a pillow and shoving it into his face. “You’re so not helping.”

“Oh really?” He tapped the side of his head, his eyebrows quirking. “Mind reader, remember? I know for a fact that I’m helping. Helping a lot, actually. You don’t want to admit it, I know. But that doesn’t make it untrue.”

Her face flushed. Rising to her feet, she stalked over to the other side of the room. “That’s so unfair,” she growled.

He laughed. “I know, I know. I’m sorry.” He pranced over and grabbed her hands in his. “But you’ve got to try to relax, princess. You’re going to drive yourself to an early grave. Which, I might selfishly mention, would be catastrophic for the rest of us sorry humans. After all, you’re—”

“The Fire Kissed,” she finished for him in her best over-the-top fantasy-film voice. “The one who will save our world.” She yanked her hands away. “Seriously, if you start telling me there’s one ring to rule them all or that the force will be with me always, I’m going to smack you upside the head.”

“Please,” he scoffed. “You don’t need the force or some silly ring—not when you have a dragon by your side.”

She groaned loudly, pressing a hand to the wall and leaning against it. “I’m going insane. That’s the only explanation for any of this. I’m going insane and the men in white coats will be showing up at any moment to tell me this has all been a psychotic delusion. They’ll take me away and lock me up, and I’ll be free to drool in the corner of my padded cell for the rest of my life without a care in the world.”

“But then you’d never see me again,” Caleb reminded her with a wink.

“Really? Can I get that in writing?”

He gave her a mock offended look, then grabbed her arm, dragging her back over to the bed. He sat her down, taking her hands in his own. She tried not to notice the way her skin warmed under his touch—or the shivers that tripped up her spine as his eyes turned serious.

“Look, I get it, okay?” he said. “I understand how hard it must be for you to be here. And the Dracken can come off as pretty radical—”

“Radical?” Trinity repeated. “Come on, Caleb. If you looked up ‘evil cult out to destroy the world’ in the dictionary, you’d find these guys’ pictures.”

He shook his head vehemently. “You’re getting the wrong idea. I’m telling you. Darius and Mara and the rest of them aren’t like that at all. They’re good people. They believe in what they’re fighting for. They’re trying to save the world. And you’re so important to that mission.
Everything
they’ve worked for their whole lives rests on you—and their ability to keep you safe. Imagine yourself in their shoes. You’d want to keep you under lock and key too, wouldn’t you?”

Trinity bit her lower lip, hating the fact he was making so much sense. She turned to face the wall, feeling his stare burning at her back but refusing to meet his eyes. For a moment he was silent. Then he spoke.

“I was homeless,” he stated flatly, “living on the streets of Strata-D, probably only a few demerits away from a lifetime in the mines. Everyone had dismissed me, the no-good shadow of my hero brother.” He sighed, remembering. “But then Darius came. He plucked me from the streets and offered me hope. Recognized my gift and gave me a job. He told me I could be great if only someone would give me a chance.” His voice cracked. “And then he gave me that chance. So here I am, working every day to prove he wasn’t wrong about me.”

His words were so earnest, so proud. But Trinity could hear the doubt threaded just below the surface. As if he himself wondered if he was worthy of the chance he’d been given.

“He can save you too, Trin,” Caleb said softly. “If only you’ll let him.”

A silence fell over the room as she struggled for a clever reply. But her mind had gone completely blank. The silence stretched, awkward and long. Finally, Caleb let out a long, deep sigh.

“Look,” he said, “do you want to get out of here for a bit?”

She turned, her eyes widening. “Can we?”

“Well, not like you’re probably thinking,” he admitted. “I mean, your physical body has to stay here in the mall. Darius would kill me if I put you at risk. But we could go to the Nether.”

“The Nether?” she repeated doubtfully. “You mean the place with the dragons?”

Caleb nodded. “It’s a place beyond time and space,” he replied, “ruled by the collective unconsciousness of dragons. Before they’re born and after they die, they exist here, in this Nether space. Those with the gift have the ability to travel there, channeling our energies through special gems.” He reached into his pocket, pulling out two glittering rubies, and grinned. “It’s like this big, amazing playground—and it can become anything you make of it.”

“Will Emmy be there?” she asked, intrigued despite herself.

“Absolutely. And my dragon too.”

“You have your own dragon?” The thought had never occurred to her. But she supposed it made sense. “Is it an evil mutant one out to destroy the world?”

Caleb laughed and shook his head. “Sorry to disappoint, but we don’t clone mutants anymore. Our technology is a bit more advanced than yours. My dragon was made from a pure strand of DNA from one of Emmy’s true children. Darius gifted her to me after I passed my Guardian trials. Wait until you see her, Trin. She’s so beautiful—sparkling teal scales, huge golden eyes, a wingspan that could block out the sun.” He smiled dreamily. “First time I laid eyes on her, I fell in love.”

“Cool. What’s her name?”

His smile faltered. “Um…what?”

“Her name?” Trinity repeated. “Your dragon, I mean. Does she have a name?” She glanced over at Caleb curiously, surprised to see he’d gone bright red.

“Oh. Um, yeah. Sure she does. Her name is…Fred.”

Trinity burst out laughing. “Fred?” she repeated incredulously. “Your beautiful, majestic, not to mention female dragon is named Fred?”

“Hey! You’re the one who called your dragon Emmy,” Caleb protested, his face now a peculiar shade of purple. “That’s not exactly High Goth’Or the Great and Terrible either!”

“Okay, okay!” She held up her hands in innocence. “Fred it is. Fred the dragon.” A snort escaped her, despite her best efforts.

“Are you going to laugh at my poor dragon all day or would you actually like to meet her?”

She forced herself to sober. “Explain how this works again?”

“The how is irrelevant,” he assured her. “I mean, you don’t need to know how one of your cars works in order to drive it, right?” He reached out, taking her hands in his, pressing the ruby gems between their palms. “All you have to do is enjoy the ride.”