She hesitated at the door. Maybe she could reason with them. Or at least let them know it wasn’t her grandpa’s fault. He’d never willingly purchase stolen property. He might be gullible. He might deluded. But he wasn’t a criminal. She drew in a breath and approached slowly, apprehension coursing through her. Wrapping her hand around the doorknob, she gingerly pushed it open, peering inside.
The Millennium Chamber was no longer empty.
The boy inside was tall and broad shouldered, around her age, and dressed in a strange jumpsuit of shimmering metallic material—very unlike the men in black she’d seen outside. He had a sharp-angled face, messy brown hair, and serious blue eyes. But what was truly startling was his skin. So pale it was almost translucent.
Closing in on the display case, the boy reached into his bag. With one fluid movement, he pulled out what appeared to be a small pistol, though unlike any Trin had ever seen. She gasped as he raised the weapon and smashed it down on the glass with surprising force.
What the hell was he trying to do?
Chapter Five
“Damn you, blasted thing,” Connor swore under his breath as he slammed his laser pistol against the case a second time. But it was no use; the glass remained intact and the egg inside only gleamed back at him, as if mocking his efforts. He needed something heavier—a bat maybe or some kind of crowbar. The kinds of tools he could have easily acquired had he been given the four months he’d been promised.
He raised the gun again, started to swing—
“Get the hell away from that!”
Startled, he lost his grip. The pistol bounced harmlessly off the case and skittered across the floor to the opposite side of the room. He spun around, his jaw dropping as his eyes fell upon none other than Trinity Foxx herself, standing in the doorway.
Holy shiny dragon scales.
She was younger, of course, than any of the grainy photos or videos he’d seen on his reader. They’d all been taken years later. She was smaller than he’d pictured her too. In the photos, she’d always seemed larger than life. Her hair was darker and longer, tumbling down her back in untamed waves, and her skin was freckled and tanned from a life spent on the Surface Lands.
And yet, he realized, for all those differences, her eyes were exactly the same—midnight black, almost too large for her face, framed with a sweeping curtain of lash. He swallowed hard, heart racing. How many nights had he spent at the academy, under a blanket, reader in hand, studying that face? Wondering how a girl with eyes like that could bring about the end of the world?
Now he finally had a chance to find out. And, more importantly, a chance to stop her.
He bit his lower lip as he turned back to the display. His plan had called for getting her as far away from the egg as possible before the Reckoning took place. That way she’d never be close enough to hear the fiend’s call. But it was too late for that now. And maybe she could help him. With the government agents running through the halls, he didn’t have much time left.
“Look, do you have a key or something?” he asked, gesturing to the case. It felt strange to be addressing someone so notorious, and he wondered if she could hear the slight tremble in his voice. “We need to get this egg out of here. Now!”
She stared at him, disbelief clear on her face. Then her brows furrowed and her frown deepened. Not surprising, he supposed. She had no idea he was the only person who could save the world. And he had no time to explain.
“Are you kidding me? Look, I’ve called the cops. They’re on their way. So I suggest you get out of here now, before it’s too late.” He could hear the thread of hysteria winding through her bold-faced lie as she worked overtime to keep her terror masked from his view. He found himself admiring her tenacity even though it was at odds with his mission.
“You don’t understand,” he tried, his mind whirling, trying to figure out the best way to explain the situation in the shortest amount of time. If only he’d had those four months! “My name is Connor. I’m here to help you. The men breaking into the museum—they’ll do whatever it takes to get this egg. We have to get it out of here before they find it.”
“We?” she repeated, her dark eyes impaling him. “There is no we. Now get the hell away from there.” She reached into her bag and pulled out a strange metal canister from her purse. He squinted at it; was it some kind of weapon? A grenade of some sort? He was really getting sick of all these surprises.
Holding up his hands in surrender, he stepped back from the case, glancing longingly at his pistol, still out of reach on the other side of the room. But maybe it was best this way. Let her unlock the case, then jump in and grab the egg before she could put her hands on it.
“Just don’t touch it,” he warned, as she fumbled with a set of brass keys. He realized her hands were shaking furiously, at odds with her defiant expression. “I’m serious.”
“What, is it going to bite me?” she retorted, finding the proper key and sliding it into the lock. The case popped open. Connor’s eyes zeroed in on the egg.
Now! He made his move, lunging toward the prize. But Trinity was too quick, turning on him and blasting him in the face with a hot stream of liquid from her canister. Connor staggered, blinded, his eyes burning as if on fire. He rubbed them with his fists, trying to clear them, but only managed to increase the sting.
“Please!” he begged. “Whatever you do, don’t touch the egg!”
She didn’t answer. And when his vision finally cleared, she was gone.