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hey!” She felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to see her grandpa gazing at her with concern in his eyes. “What’s wrong? I thought you’d be excited. I mean, a dragon egg, Trinity! We’re going to be famous.”
    “We’re going to be homeless.”
    “We’ll buy a new house—a hundred houses with the money we make. We’ll go down in history.”
    “Not before we go down in flames.”
    He stared at her, disappointment clear in his watery blue eyes. “You used to love my discoveries,” he said softly. “You used to get so excited. What happened to you, Trin? When did you stop believing?”
    She shrugged her shoulders, the lump in her throat making it impossible to speak. She remembered all the times her grandpa had come home from his many trips overseas with treasures from around the world. Real treasures—the kind scientists and journalists were chomping at the bit to see. But Grandpa would always make them wait—so she could see them first. It had made her feel so special—to spend hours with him, poring over the discoveries, imagining aloud what the creatures must have looked like when they still roamed the earth. Like some kind of magic—shared just between the two of them.
    But then she’d grown up and realized magic didn’t pay the bills. Didn’t keep families together. And certainly didn’t guarantee the happily ever after the storybooks claimed. Which made it, in her opinion, pretty darn useless.
    “Just go home,” she said in a gruff voice, wrestling to control her upset. “I’ll lock up. We’ll figure out what to do with this…this…thing…on Monday.” Maybe the guys who sold it to him had some kind of return policy…
    “Don’t you want me to help—?”
    “I think you’ve done enough,” she snapped.
    Grandpa’s face crumpled, and her heart broke as she caught the hurt in his eyes. But her anger burned too hot for her to back down now. He had to know that what he’d done wasn’t okay. It wasn’t funny or kooky or cute this time. He was supposed to be the adult, the one who took care of her. And like every other adult in her life, he’d let her down.
    “Okay,” he said in a soft, desperate voice. “I’ll pick up the Chinese food on the way home. Extra duck sauce, just as you like it.”
    “Sure. Whatever.” As if she could eat. As if it would taste like anything but cardboard.
    “And maybe you can open up just one present…”
    She scowled, turning away, staring hard at the wall, willing the tears not to fall. She could feel her grandpa’s eyes burning into her back but refused to acknowledge them—refused to let him off the hook that easy.
    After what felt like an eternity, she heard his deep sigh followed by fading footsteps. Only after the door clanked shut did she allow herself to cry, sinking to the floor, head in her hands, violent sobs choking from her throat as tears rained down her cheeks. The kind of ugly cry she only allowed herself to have when she was sure no one was around to see.
    Trinity…
    Her head shot up. Oh God, was someone here?
    Don’t cry, Trinity.
    Her face flushed crimson. Who had caught her in such a mess? But the room was empty. The door remained closed. Had she simply imagined the voice?
    She shook herself, feeling stupid, then rose to her feet, swiping away the tears with her sleeve. She was just stressed. Stressed and exhausted. She needed to lock up and go home and lose herself in a marathon session of Fields of Fantasy —pre-expansion pack. Slay a bunch of virtual dragons and get this real-life nightmare out of her head.
    Why would you want to hurt a dragon?
    What? She stopped in her tracks. “Who’s there?” she demanded angrily, her voice echoing through the chamber. Was this some kind of joke?
    No answer.
    “Grandpa? Is that you?” she tried again. But even as she asked, she knew it couldn’t have been her guardian. The voice was too high-pitched, too plaintive—the voice of a young child, not an old man. Maybe one of the