Bridges Burned (Going Down in Flames #2)(29)

“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.