Bridges Burned (Entangled Teen) (Going Down in Flames) (8 page)

Chapter Twelve

“You know I—” Half a dozen students came around the corner of the building, and Zavien snapped his mouth shut.

Oh no he didn’t.
“What? Now you won’t talk to me in public?”

Zavien met her gaze, turned away and entered the dorm.

He would not leave her hanging like this. Damn it. She lurched forward to grab his arm. Valmont’s hand anchored her to the sidewalk. “You don’t want to do that.”

“Why not?”

“He needs to be the one chasing after you, not the other way around.”

A low growl escaped her throat. Her knight made sense, but that didn’t mean she had to like it.

…

Over the next several days, Bryn caught fleeting glances of Zavien. Whenever she came near, he stormed in the other direction. To take her mind off the cowardly jackass, she decided to start on one of her papers for history class. She could write the papers about anything she wanted, so why not research the time before the Directorate took over? There had to be other hybrids back then. If the folktales she heard were true, the whole point of the arranged marriages was to force dragons to marry within Clans to keep certain powers from coming to light.

If there was even one hybrid who had married and had kids and their kids had kids, then there must be some hybrids still walking around somewhere. Right? According to the folktales she’d heard, Wraith Nightshade had been the most powerful hybrid. He had wielded some sort of mind control or super-charisma. Countless kingdoms had fallen to his charm or his sword. Eventually, his wife had betrayed him and his reign had ended. Why did she do that? If Wraith had been like Ferrin, that would explain it.

After spending several hours in the library, all she had was a bunch of theories and no proof. If there were any records that Wraith had truly existed, they must be kept behind locked doors.

…

By Friday evening, Bryn’s anger toward Zavien had transformed into a slow, boiling fury.

Armed with a plate piled high with chicken fingers and fries, she joined Clint and Ivy at their usual table in the dining hall.

Ivy snagged a french fry from her plate. “You look like a volcano ready to blow.”

Fair description. “So far I’ve come up with six ways to kill Zavien and make it look like an accident.”

Clint reached across the table and confiscated her butter knife. “Rather than commit murder, why don’t you talk to him?”

He could keep the knife. At this point she could kill Zavien with her bare hands. “I’ve tried. The coward keeps running away.”

“We could help you corner him somewhere,” Ivy said.

“When you say corner him, it sounds like you’re saying kidnap him and tie him to a chair,” Clint said.

“Do you have a problem with that?” Ivy asked.

“No.” Clint shook his head. “Just making sure we’re all on the same page.”

Valmont’s advice echoed in her head. “Zavien should be the one chasing after me. What if he decides I’m too much trouble? What if he doesn’t care enough to make the effort?”

Ivy reached across the table and squeezed Bryn’s hand. “Then he’s an idiot.”

The ache that had taken up a permanent place in her chest throbbed for a moment. “I wish I could erase him from my head.”

“Try thinking about something else,” Clint said.

Right. Like it was that easy.

After dinner, back in her room, she searched for something to distract her from the sucky state of her love life. Jaxon’s question from the dance popped into her mind. How had Alec known the layout of her grandparents’ estate? Blueprints must be available somewhere. Either that or someone familiar with the layout had fed Alec information.

If Alec had murdered Jaxon, Lillith, and her, who would benefit? Alec would achieve his revenge, but who else would profit from his actions? The Directorate would crack down on the entire dragon community. Some dragons would rebel. If the Directorate went too far, it might lead to mutiny or civil war.

The Black dragons who lived in the forest had little love for the Directorate. The Orange dragons believed their decrease in numbers was somehow the governing body’s fault. Had the Directorate done something to keep the Orange Clan’s population low? The sonic wave Octavius produced in class was impressive. If hundreds of Orange dragons worked together they could probably take out a building or an army.

This was a cheery line of thought. Maybe if she thought of it as a puzzle, she could figure something out. And since she was looking for blueprints, documents that she knew existed, this search should turn out better than her quest for hybrids. And she knew just who to ask for help.

…

The next afternoon, Miss Enid led Bryn down a hallway and into a small room lined with file cabinets. “Any building the Directorate approved for construction will be filed here under the owner’s name.”

Bryn flipped through the alphabetized folders. The folder with her grandparents’ surname, Sinclair, was empty. “Is there supposed to be something in here?”

“That is disturbing.” Miss Enid rifled through the surrounding files. “I don’t know how this could’ve happened. Blueprints are not to be removed from the library. They’re lent out on an hourly basis but must be kept in the building.”

“Is there any way to find out who looked at the blueprints last?”

“It should be listed in my computer.” Miss Enid exited the room and walked to the front desk. She pulled up a file on her computer and frowned. “The last person to look at the blueprints was Nola.”

Nola? Would Nola have given Alec the blueprints? He was her brother. Would she have known of her brother’s plans? Did she want Bryn out of the picture so she could have Zavien to herself?

“She knows better than to remove them.” The older woman frowned in disapproval.

“What do you mean?”

“Nola studies blueprints all the time. It helps her design the sets for Stagecraft.”

That poked a nice big hole in her conspiracy theory. “How long has Nola been doing that?”

Miss Enid’s fingers were a blur on the keyboard. “Let’s see. Here it is. She started about two years ago.”

Too bad. Nola in prison would make reconciling with Zavien much easier. Evil as the idea was, it made her smile. Back to the mystery at hand.

“Is there anyone who could take the blueprints from the library without checking them out?”

Miss Enid pursed her lips. “I suppose a Directorate member could.”

Fabulous. Someone on the Directorate might have given Alec the blueprints. Ferrin’s name came to mind first. As much as she despised him, he’d never do anything to endanger Jaxon.

“Thanks for your help.”

“I’ll let you know if the file turns up.”

Okay. Now what? Bryn scanned the area for a friendly, or at least not hostile, face. Rhianna studied at one of the long wooden rectangular tables. She’d probably know where Jaxon was. Why should she try to figure this puzzle out on her own?

Rhianna glanced up at Bryn’s approach and smiled. “Hello.”

“Hi. I wanted to ask Jaxon a question about the Directorate. Is he here with you?”

Rhianna pointed to the midnight-blue book bag hanging on the back of the chair next to her. “He went to look for a book.”

“Know which way he went?” Searching for someone in the monstrous library could take all night, and there was no guarantee of success.

“Up to the second floor, I believe.”

Which meant he could be anywhere. “I’ll ask him another time.”

“Thank you,” Rhianna said.

“For what?”

“You came to me rather than searching him out on your own. We just quashed those strange rumors about you two, and I’d hate for them to start again.”

“How can people be so stupid?” Bryn plopped down in Jaxon’s seat. “I’d never sneak around with Jaxon for two reasons: one, because I like you, and two, because he annoys the hell out of me on a regular basis.”

Rhianna covered her mouth with her hand as she giggled. “I envy your ability to say what you’re feeling.”

“You should try it sometime.”

“This is a frightening development.” Jaxon came toward them carrying a thick leather-bound book.

“Afraid I’ll be a bad influence?” Bryn asked.

“Yes. If you could remove yourself from my seat and stay away from my future wife, I’d appreciate it.”

Bryn leaned forward, placing her elbows on the table. “Now I’ll have to become best friends with Rhianna to spite you.”

Jaxon waved her away from his chair. “Go corrupt someone else. We have homework to finish.”

“She wanted to ask you a question.” Rhianna stood. “I’ll visit with Miss Enid and give you two a moment.”

“You can stay,” Bryn said.

“Thank you, but I’d like people to witness that I trust you together.” Rhianna walked toward Miss Enid’s desk.

Bryn told him about the missing blueprints and Nola’s habit of checking them out. “Patrons aren’t allowed to take blueprints out of the library. Someone did and there’s no record of the transaction. Miss Enid believes only a Directorate member could pull that off.”

Jaxon frowned. “The Directorate is…political. Another Blue might try to outmaneuver my father in a business deal, but a plot to kill my father’s family must’ve come from outside the Clan.”

“That doesn’t narrow the field much.” There had to be a clue they were missing. “If Alec had succeeded, if he’d killed us, who would’ve benefited?”

Jaxon leaned against the table and stared off into space. “I’m not sure. Alec was probably in league with the group that’s been burning down Directorate members’ houses for the past six months.”

“We still don’t know who the arsonists are.” Time to drop the problem in his lap. “Why don’t you think about it and let me know if you come up with anything.”

…

Dry leaves crunched under Bryn’s feet on the walk back to her dorm. Normally she liked fall. Tonight, the dried brown leaves littering the ground seemed discarded and sad. The overcast autumn sky didn’t improve her mood. Happy couples walking by holding hands made her heart ache.

It was Saturday. What was she supposed to do tonight? Ivy and Clint had invited her to join them in Dragon’s Bluff for dinner. As great as they were about having her around as a third wheel, they deserved some time alone, so she had declined.

A chilly breeze brushed against her neck. Goose bumps broke out on her arms. She needed a scarf. Maybe she should learn how to knit and make her own scarf. Since she was destined to be alone, she might as well start a solitary hobby.

Stupid Zavien.

She kicked a rock and watched it skip across the sidewalk. Her future would consist of knitting and adopting a bunch of cats. Life with cats wouldn’t be bad. Maybe she’d knit clothes for the cats and start an upscale cat boutique. Women like Lillith would pay big bucks to outfit their pets in the latest fashion. There, she had a plan.

The sidewalk pitched.

What the hell? Heart racing, Bryn fought to maintain her footing. Zigzag cracks appeared in the cement. A fissure ripped open beneath her feet. Acting on instinct, she shifted to dragon form and took to the air.

Where she’d stood moments before, there was now a gaping trench. What was going on?

A rumbling roar filled the air. Grassy areas rolled and heaved. Trees toppled or sank into fissures. Sidewalks were swallowed whole. Anyone on the ground shifted and took flight.

Was this an earthquake? The other students seemed as confused as she was.

A siren wailed. The piercing noise grated on her frazzled nerves. Did they think that noise helped? Flapping her wings, she flew higher to escape the sound.

From this vantage point, she noticed something strange. None of the buildings were affected. How was that possible? No, wait. There, below her, several fissures raced toward the history building like someone was directing them.

Blue dragons converged in the sky and flocked toward the history building. They positioned themselves in front of the building and exhaled frozen flames at the ground, driving spears of ice deep into the earth, like they were trying to create a dam of ice. What good would that do?

The oncoming fissures closed in and hit the subterranean ice wall with a resounding crack. Shards of ice and dirt shot high into the sky, but the fissures slowed and then stopped a dozen feet from the building.

And then there was silence. Bryn checked the ground. No new fissures appeared. The sidewalks stopped their strange gyrations. Was it over?

Time to find someone with answers. Bryn settled on the ground, where she shifted and searched for a familiar face. Jaxon’s friend Quentin stood near the history building.

“Was that an earthquake?”

He shook his head.

“Then what was it?”

Eyes narrowed, he scanned the sky. “It was an attack.”

The only dragons capable of attacking in this manner were the Orange Clan, but that made no sense. Neither Octavius nor Vivian could be involved in this. “How did you know what would stop it?”

“We’re taught how to defend ourselves against the other Clans.” Quentin frowned. “I imagined fighting another male over some offense. I never expected anything like this.”

Bryn surveyed the destruction. It looked like someone had taken a giant knife and slashed gaping raw-edged wounds into the grounds. Clumps of dirt and grass were flung all about. Trees lay broken and twisted, or submerged in rifts. Some of the sidewalks disappeared completely. Others were broken into rubble.

It made no sense.

“Why would someone do this?” Bryn asked. “I know the radical Revisionists hate the Directorate, but I thought they were all Black dragons, unless they started recruiting outside their Clan.”

Quentin flicked a bit of dirt off his sleeve. “Whoever did this purposely attacked on a weekend evening. Imagine what would’ve happened if they’d attacked in the middle of a school day. Hundreds of students would’ve been on the grounds. Many would’ve been injured. This was a warning. “

Bryn hugged her arms across her chest to ward off a sudden chill. “I don’t understand. Why attack the campus?”

“The institute stands for everything the Directorate believes in.”

“That means none of us is safe,” Bryn said.