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.
“I’ll be all right,” he assured the older man, reaching into his bag and pulling out his precious burn salve. In addition to soothing burns, it did a good job of closing wounds and preventing infection. He winced as he forced himself to smear the salve over the spot where the bullet had hit him. Thankfully, it appeared to have gone right through. He wouldn’t have to dig it from his skin.
“I’m sorry, Connor,” Grandpa said, watching him with dismay clear on his face. “I should have never taken off on you like that. I was just so hopeful that they really knew where she was.”
“They knew,” Connor replied grimly, relaxing against the back of the seat. The burn salve was doing its job and the pain was thankfully subsiding a bit. “Believe me, they knew. And now, thanks to you, so do we.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
“Are you there, girl?”
Caleb had to duck as he entered the low-ceilinged cave, narrowly missing a hanging stalactite. Blinking, he peered into the darkness, searching for something Fred shaped.
“Come out, come out, wherever you are.”
He took another few cautious steps, careful not to step in a hole. Even here in the Nether, where dragons no longer had to worry about predators, the beasts gravitated toward hard-to-reach places—preferring dark, dank crannies to flower-strewn fields where they could more easily stretch out and worship the sun. Lingering instinct from the old days, perhaps, when they would hoard huge troves of treasure, deep in their lairs, safe from even the cleverest of thieves. Some dragons—the really old ones—still kept the tradition, manifesting shiny gems and glittering gold anytime they had the spark. Fred, on the other hand, preferred treasures of a more edible sort.
A bellowing roar echoed through the cave and a moment later Caleb found himself almost knocked over by a rampaging beast. His rampaging beast. He laughed as a solid snout rammed into his chest, tickling him as it sniffed at his various pockets.
“Hey, hey! Put that thing away!” he protested, playfully shoving the dragon’s nose. “You could hurt someone with that, you know.”
Fred snorted and twin puffs of smoke twined from her nostrils as she gave Caleb an offended look. He rolled his eyes. Dragons. “Don’t you even think about getting huffy with me,” he scolded, wagging his finger at her, “or you won’t get what I brought you.”
Fred’s eyes widened and she stumbled backward so fast it made Caleb laugh out loud. “Thought so,” he said with a nod. As Fred watched him, he closed his eyes, envisioning a large chunk of horsemeat—one of his dragon’s favorite foods. (Not that Fred was all that picky.) At first nothing appeared and he could hear his dragon’s impatient panting beside him.
“Hang on, girl,” he promised, sucking in a breath and pushing again. “Just one more…”
The horsemeat fell from the cave’s ceiling—smaller than he’d aimed for and a bit rotten from the smell, but Fred didn’t seem to mind. She attacked the flesh with gusto, smacking her lips in appreciation between bites. Once it had been completely consumed, she gave Caleb a baleful look, batting her eyes and lolling her giant tongue.
“Are you kidding me?” he scolded, forcing his laughter at bay. “That last manifest nearly killed me. Have some mercy on your poor Guardian. Besides, you keep eating like that and you’re going to get fat.”
It wasn’t strictly true—in the Nether, Fred could look svelte or swollen, depending on her mood—but Caleb had been harassing her about her caloric intake since they’d first met in the real world and old habits died hard.
“Are you ready to fly?” he asked. Flying was the one thing Fred liked better than eating. Or at least she pursued both with equal gusto.
Sure enough, the teal dragon bobbed her head excitedly. Then she glanced behind Caleb, her golden eyes searching.
He looked over his shoulder. “What?”
Did you bring my namesake?
Caleb groaned loudly. Not again. “Are you going to ask me that every time I come visit you?” he admonished. “I’m beginning to get a complex. And she’s not your namesake anymore either. We talked about this. You’re called Fred now, remember?”
Fred is a silly name for a dragon.
“Well, you’re a pretty silly dragon, so it works out just fine,” Caleb retorted, feeling his face heat. He hadn’t been prepared when Trinity had asked him his dragon’s name back at Dracken Headquarters and had blurted out the first thing that came to mind. Because the alternative—to admit whom he’d really named his dragon after—well, that would be beyond embarrassing. “In any case, no, I didn’t bring her. Sorry I’m not enough for you.”
He meant it as a joke, but the words came out more bitterly than he’d intended. Fred seemed to hesitate. You like her. You’re happy when she’s here.
Ugh. Maybe going off the food conversation had been a mistake. He closed his eyes, tried to manifest something else for his dragon to eat, but it was no use. His spark had gone out. And it would be hours, maybe days, before it regenerated. Opening his eyes again, he caught Fred giving him a disapproving look, but brushed her off.
“Look, Trin has more important things going on right now,” he told his dragon. “She and Emmy have a lot of training to get through. You remember how brutal training can be. Trin doesn’t have time to come to the Nether. She’s got things to do in the real world.”
And you do not?
Caleb flinched at Fred’s pointed question. Seriously, for a ridiculous, food-obsessed reptile, his dragon could also be startlingly perceptive at times. But what could he say? That he was hiding out in the Nether to avoid the mess he’d created in real life?
He should have never kissed her. That was his first mistake and probably the stupidest thing he could have done. She was a legend. A leader. The Fire Kissed, for God’s sake! She deserved a match of the highest order. A real man with character and integrity and power.
And what was he? Nothing. Nobody. Just a petty criminal from Strata-D—not even his own family wanted him around. He wasn’t good enough for someone like her. He wasn’t even worthy of licking her boots to clean them.
And yet…
His mind flashed back to her hands, gripping him tightly and pulling him close. Her heart matching the erratic beats of his own. The look in her eyes, the catch of breath at her throat, her soft, silky skin melting against him—he’d lost himself in the fantasy of it all. And as her lips clung to his as if her life depended on it, he’d allowed himself—for one precious moment—to believe she could see beyond what everybody else saw. Just once, he wanted someone to look up to him.