Jennifer Scales and the Messenger of Light (15 page)

“Six someones, in this case.” Elizabeth spoke with clear distaste. “But more likely run out of town than executed. The Winoka city council—which is really a group of beaststalker elders—has called upon some of the town’s new residents to answer some questions tonight. Apparently, they are learning about Evangelos, too. A dark shape fitting his description has been seen multiple times, lurking about the fringes of town. They see him as a threat to the town, and they’re suspicious of anyone who just got here.”

“Hmmph.” Jennifer swallowed her mouthful of food. “So much for protecting innocent people, eh?” She turned to her father. Jonathan Scales was uncharacteristically quiet as he ate. “What’s wrong, Dad?”

“The Stowes.” He ravaged his salad. “You remember Martin? His grandson goes to your school?”

“Sure.”

“They’re among the suspects.” He let some of his exterior calm slip. “Of all the…! He can’t see well enough to walk down the street without hanging on to Gerry! And there are others.” Her father spat. “There are always others, when beaststalkers are involved. Always suspects. Always someone to distrust, intimidate, push around. This is what it comes to, with these people.”

“You mean people like Xavier?” It was out before Jennifer could stop herself. But she was still sore about her treatment before the Blaze in Crescent Valley.

Jonathan sighed. “You’re right, of course. Some weredragons are no better. We need more people who can reach out to other beings. Your mother. You.”

“And Skip?”

He sighed again, a gusty wheeze. “I hope so. Did he share anything more about his mother or Evangelos with you? I didn’t want to press him up at the cabin, but I was hoping for information more recent than twenty years ago. Where did Dianna Wilson look for her son? Did she say anything about what he was like, what he might be capable of?”

“Sorry, Dad. He hasn’t said much. I guess I haven’t pressed him too hard.”

Elizabeth sighed impatiently and tapped her fork on her plate. “Well, you’ll have to start!”

Jennifer fumed. She really doesn’t like him. Why? Was it because of what his father did last year?

“Elizabeth…”

“Fine, Jonathan. Jennifer, I’m sorry. I know this boy means something to you. But you have to realize he may be in danger, too. The more information we share, the better off we’ll be.”

“Information like: You and I are beaststalkers?”

She slammed her silverware down again. “I don’t see how that will get us anywhere, Jennifer, other than to alienate Skip and his family.”

“Darling, the flatware…”

“We have to tell them eventually,” Jennifer interrupted, slamming her own fork down. “He deserves to know how his father died!”

“This is not the best time, honey.” Jonathan’s voice was steady, but wary. “Maybe after we’ve taken care of Evangelos—”

“After we’ve taken care of Evangelos! Sure, and then the next creep will come along, and we’ll need Skip’s help again, so we’ll keep waiting. Then maybe his aunt will go nutty, and we’ll have to kill her—so whatever we do, let’s not tell Skip again. Then maybe—”

“Please, Jennifer!” Her father was suddenly close to tears, which shocked her. “I know how the boy feels. I’ve lost my father, too. And I’ve lost my friend, and I might just lose my wife and daughter if I can’t get them to cooperate with me, and each other!”

With that, he kicked his chair back from the dinner table and stormed out of the room. Phoebe, who had been lying in wait for scraps, scrambled to get out of his path.

The two of them sat in silence for a few moments. Then Elizabeth reached out and put her hand over Jennifer’s. “Honey…”

“I know, Mom. That was stupid. I’ll go apologize.”

“No, not that. Though that’s a good idea. I’m actually glad the two of us are alone for a moment. I want to talk to you about something.”

“Now? On top of everything else? You have something new to share?”

“Well, it’s about the trial, actually. I have to go there tonight.”

For a moment, worry about herself was obliterated in the horror she felt for her mother’s safety. “What, they suspect you, too?”

“No, that’s not it. I’m going because I want to. I can’t stand this anymore. You see, Jennifer, I keep holding out hope. Hope that we will stop this ridiculous conflict. Hope that beaststalkers will turn to pursuits like medicine and science, focus our energies on killing diseases and healing people. For a while, it seemed like Winoka had settled down, maybe even begun to raise a generation that wouldn’t remember the old ways.

“But Evangelos has reawakened something awful. The possibility that something that blends weredragon and werachnid is out there—it’s a frightening threat to some, a compelling hunt to others, and a flat-out abomination to everyone else. But just about every beaststalker in this town agrees it must die at any cost.”

“So what does this have to do with you and the trial?”

Elizabeth straightened. “I have to try to persuade my order to stop the witch hunt. I have to try to convince them there’s a better way to find and stop Evangelos. I must give them hope again.”

Jennifer could see there was no arguing with the woman. “What does this have to do with me?”

“Well, your father’s expecting to change with the crescent moon tonight, and he’ll be on his way to the farm. You could go with him if you want, but I’d rather you stayed with me.”

“Why?”

Her mother cocked her head. “Why, to help me, of course. In case things get ugly.”

Jennifer sighed. “Mom, tell me this. Has there ever been a beaststalker trial that didn’t get ugly?”

“Probably not.”

“Fabulous. Thanks for the heritage, Mom.”

“You’re welcome. Wear something nice.”

CHAPTER 9
The Beaststalker Trial

«
^
»

“You know what I hate?” Jennifer hissed to her mother. They were at the Winoka city hall, a beautiful domed, historical landmark made of red brick with white brick accents. The council chambers were expansive, with intricate mahogany woodwork adorning the doorways, ceiling, and corners. More than a hundred people—all presumably beaststalkers—filled the room from wall to wall. In retrospect, Jennifer was glad her mother made her change into a fabulous crimson and navy wool sweater-skirt combination. It would make reaching her daggers much easier. “I hate meetings. Honestly, who goes to these things, Mom? Dragons have their stupid Blazes, beaststalkers have their stupid councils. I’ll bet somewhere right now there’s a dozen or so big old spiders spinning webs together in a musty cave, talking and talking and talking…” She flapped her hands at each other like fake mouths to demonstrate.

“Hush,” her mother said simply.

“Fine.” Jennifer crossed her arms and stared at the ceiling. Some of the mahogany carvings up there stood out a bit. Jennifer had never noticed these before. She’d only been in this building once or twice before, and who examined woodwork? Now that she looked at them carefully, she recognized them as scenes of unspeakable viciousness between soldiers in flowing robes and hideous monsters. In one corner, a three-headed dragon was speared through the belly. In another, a giant scorpion had a lance poking out of one of its wild eyes. In still another, droves of wolves were being driven from a town ablaze.

“Nice décor,” she observed.

Elizabeth gave her a gentle but firm pinch on the arm. “Hush.”

Jennifer tried turning her attention to the seven men and women who sat in overstuffed chairs behind a massive raised, curved table at the front of the room. Every one of them was wearing a ceremonial white robe with black embroidery in a pattern not unlike chain link. Every one of them had a sword on the table in front of them.

And every one of them was glaring at Jennifer—no one more so than the man at the far right end, Hank Blacktooth.

“Mr. Blacktooth is on the city council?” Jennifer had never heard Eddie mention this. She sneered at the large, red-faced man. “Who the hell elected him?”

“Hush!” This command, and the subsequent smack on the back of the head, came off a bit harder than Jennifer thought completely necessary.

The woman sitting at the center of the table stood up, sword in hand. She was old enough to be Jennifer’s grandmother, but she had obvious strength in her limbs. Her hair was long, white, and flowing. Her irises were nearly as white as the rest of her eyes, giving her dark pupils an unnaturally focused appearance. Grasping the blade of her sword, the woman banged the hilt upon the table in a clear call for silence.

Jennifer didn’t know her or any of the other beaststalkers sitting at the table with Hank Blacktooth. Looking around the room, she thought she recognized a parent here or there. Wendy Blacktooth stood rigidly in a back corner. She spared Jennifer a quick, disdainful glance before she returned her attention to the council. Eddie wasn’t around—nor anyone close to Jennifer’s own age. But then who in the next generation will carry on this fine democracy, she snickered to herself.

The woman at the head of the room did not smile as she spoke. “I call this council to order. Bring in the visitors.”

Visitors? Jennifer bristled at the word. They live in this town. Her foot tapped impatiently as six people walked into the room, led by two beaststalkers carrying ceremonial axes.

Well, five people walked. The sixth wheeled in with a gentle whirr of a motor.

“Mr. Slider?” Jennifer could barely contain herself. Her geometry teacher looked calm, but she could make out a slight defiance in the way he straightened his back and sniffed at the council. He and the other “visitors”—Gerry Stowe and his frail grandfather among them—all stopped at the front of the room, facing the council and their imposing table.

The woman narrowed her white eyes. “You six are hereby—”

“Excuse me.” Mr. Slider’s voice came out crisp and clear in the quiet chambers. “I’ve honored the summons I received for this meeting. A scientist’s natural curiosity, I suppose. But first things first. It would be polite to introduce yourself, and then tell me why I’m here tonight.”

Jennifer smiled at the man’s slightly patronizing tone. Just like a teacher.

The older woman was not amused. “I am Glorianna Seabright, the mayor of this town. Tonight, Edmund Slider, this council will determine your true identity and your fitness for residency here in Winoka.”

Mr. Slider actually chuckled. “I’m sorry, Mayor Seabright, but I don’t see how my identity or residency are really any of your business.”

His wheelchair turned toward the exit, but before he could move forward one of the beaststalkers who had led them in stepped in his way and slammed the handle of his axe on the floor.

The geometry teacher slicked back his thinning blond hair with manicured fingernails as he stared up at the expressionless guard with contempt. “You feel mighty brave, stopping a cripple in his tracks, don’t you?”

“Mr. Slider.” Mayor Seabright’s expression hardened. “Our town has a proud history…”

Jennifer didn’t really hear what the mayor said next, because the blood was swimming in her ears. A proud history! You came in and uprooted an entire town of weredragons, wiped away any trace of them, and settled down as if this had been your land all along!

“…as you can imagine, the emergence of this unknown creature has put quite a stress on everyone here. The process may seem distasteful to you, but it is for the protection of the town. The security of Winoka’s residents is our highest priority. If we deem you fit to remain here, you will come to appreciate these traditions.”

“That’s highly comforting, Your Honor,” Mr. Slider managed through gritted teeth. His dark gaze did not leave the guard standing in front of his wheelchair. “I can hardly wait until the proud day when, as a vetted and approved resident of Winoka, I get to watch you humiliate other people instead of me. A fine tradition, indeed!”

Jennifer grinned and chewed her tongue with satisfaction. Mr. Slider had rapidly ascended from “okay teacher” to “hero.”

The mayor motioned to the guard, who took a step back. “Mr. Slider, there is no need for rudeness. If our proceedings offend, you may leave. But I warn you, this town faces a serious and mysterious threat. Your words and actions here can only hurt your reputation. A school teacher like yourself—accountable to the public—may want to show more respect.”

Mr. Slider’s wheelchair, which had begun whirring once more toward the exit, stopped and turned to face the impressive table. The geometry teacher nibbled his lower lip as his black eyes bored into each of them. “Your Honor. Council members. I do show you, and the people of this town respect. Every day. When I sit in front of your children and try to teach them logic and reason, better than their parents obviously have.”

At this, Jennifer wanted to stand up and cheer. Fortunately, she restrained herself.

Mayor Seabright watched Mr. Slider as he wheeled himself out of the council chambers, then turned to those who remained. “I do not recommend you follow Mr. Slider’s example,” she told them. “The town of Winoka does not look fondly upon malcontents.”

Nobody else moved.

“As I was saying,” the mayor continued, “you are called here tonight to account for yourselves. We want to know who you are—who you really are—and how long you intend to stay here within this town’s borders.” Her white eyes thoughtfully scanned the prospects. “Mr. and Ms. Cheron, we’ll start with you.”

A young couple stepped forward from the rest. Jennifer couldn’t see much of the woman, who wore a long, pale green flowing robe and veil over her head, face, and body. But the man was hard to miss—nearly seven feet tall, with a dark brown complexion and heavily muscled arms underneath a flannel shirt.

“Angus Cheron here, Your Honor.” He was surprisingly soft-spoken for such a giant, with a slight Scottish accent. “And my wife, Delores. We don’t want trouble. Rumor has it this town is full of soldiers of some sort, though we haven’t seen anything like that. That’s why we came here.

“You see”—he leaned in confidentially, as if everyone in the room couldn’t hear him—“we’ve come a long ways to get here, because we thought Winoka might be the safest place to be.”