Jennifer Scales and the Messenger of Light (23 page)

“I do,” Jonathan replied calmly. “And she is not your enemy, Xavier Longtail. No matter how many times you say it, it will never be true.”

“And no matter how many times you argue it, I will never believe you,” the dasher snapped. “Do I need to remind everyone that Elizabeth Georges-Scales is descended from Saint George of England, the most bloodthirsty enemy our kind has ever known? That her grandparents and parents were among those who assaulted Pinegrove, drove out our kind, and settled there as if the land had been theirs all along? That she herself is responsible for the murder of three dragons, all of whom have family here tonight?”

“Only one of those was her choice!” Jonathan barked. He did not look at Jennifer, who was plainly wondering how much Xavier said was true. She had never heard her mother speak of killing dragons. More secrets? With great effort, she quelled the feelings of dismay and irritation and tried to focus on what her father was saying.

“Beaststalkers do not corner the market on unprovoked attacks. What Elizabeth did in her own defense, any of us would do.”

“I doubt she shed a tear when my brother died at her hand,” Xavier hissed back.

Jennifer’s eyes widened. Aha! There it is.

Jonathan sighed. “I am now, as I have always been, sorry for your loss. And I will not defend the beaststalker’s bloody rite of passage, which has caused our people pain for thousands of years. But from the day Elizabeth slew your brother, you and she have each had a choice to make. Since that day, she has never raised her sword with the desire to kill a dragon. Since that day, she has sworn an oath to do no harm—and has healed thousands of people, including hundreds of our friends and kin. Since that day, she has raised a weredragon as a child, and would sooner die herself than see the Ancient Furnace come to harm.

“Since that day, Xavier Longtail, what choices have you made? How many beaststalkers have you attacked and killed? How many have you healed or saved? How many have you even gotten to know?”

In the wake of these questions, a loud ripple of approval and acceptance rushed through the gathering. But Xavier was unmoved.

“I do not need to get to know them, Elder Scales. There is no point to knowing them. They are separate. They are the enemy.”

“There is a point if we are to learn to live with them peacefully, someday.”

The dasher’s elaborate tail struck the ground with enough force to jolt the entire amphitheater. “No! We will not live with them peacefully! Not today! Not tomorrow! Not ever! That is our law.”

Winona Brandfire’s strong voice interrupted the two dragons. “Where is such a law written?”

Smoke curled around Xavier’s crusted yellow eyes; he never took them off Jonathan. “It is written on my brother’s grave.”

Dasher and creeper stared at each other for long enough to make Jennifer fairly certain one would go for the other’s throat. But her father suddenly broke eye contact and turned to the rest of the Blaze, Winona Brandfire in particular. “You all knew my father, the Venerable Crawford Thomas Scales.” A murmur swept through the gathering. She guessed her father used the title “venerable” purposefully. Whatever it meant, it drew respect here.

“He taught me something long ago. Whenever I’d get worked up about something bad that had just happened, he’d sit me down, work a wing over my back, and tell me: ‘Jonathan, if dragons were meant to fly backward, they’d have eyes in their tails.’ He insisted this was a common saying among dragons, though I’ve never really heard anyone else say it.”

This provoked some chuckles. Jennifer sensed the mood shifting toward her father, and felt a surge of confidence. If they say yes to Mom, they’ll also say yes to Skip!

Jonathan continued after a short pause. “Of course, what he meant was, we’re built to look forward and move forward. We cannot stay fixed on the past. We must look for opportunities to reach out to those who can help us heal. My wife is a healer. And she needs our help. I hope we can look forward far enough to help her.”

“Forward, not backward,” a creeper Jennifer didn’t know spoke up. “Something to try for once!”

Yes! They’re going to agree!

“And then,” Xavier puffed sardonically, “we should try turning our back on other traditions, such as honor, nobility, and—”

Blah-blah. Hate, hate, hate. Whatever—Hey, where’s Geddy?

The small gecko was no longer near Jennifer; she’d been so caught up in what was going on she hadn’t noticed him slip away. She tried to look around subtly without looking frantic. Argh! Of all the times to lose track of him! Geddy!

“—loyalty to family and friends! Or…eh?” Xavier’s rant stopped suddenly as he looked down to see something on a scaly toe. “I only bring these up—Huh.” The dragon seemed totally distracted from his tirade, and Jennifer had a horrible thought.

Don’t squash him!

Xavier reached down and held Geddy up in one enormous clawed hand. His expression was sincere and thoughtful. “Did someone lose a friend?”

“It’s—uh—it’s mine, Elder Longtail.” Jennifer darted forward and practically snatched Geddy out of the elder’s claws.

“That gecko’s yours, eh?” He curled his lips and wrinkled his wings, but his tone showed measured respect.

“Yes,” she said, thumbing the scaly skull of her pet.

A short silence greeted the admission.

“You were saying, Elder?” Winona prompted gently.

“Yes. Thank you, Eldest. I’ve…” He trailed off and stared at the gecko again, and the girl who held it. “I believe I’ve made my point. I urge unity in this matter.”

“I’ve met Dr. Georges-Scales,” said the creeper who had spoken earlier. “I was in a car accident not far from Winona. Hers was the closest hospital. I could’ve sworn she saw right through me—knew exactly what I was, though I hadn’t a clue who she was at the time. But she fixed me up right.”

“I know Jonathan Scales,” offered Ned, the ripened trampler. Jennifer smiled at him as he stood up straight. “Good man. Good choices. I trust him. I say we let ’er in.”

There were more voices, more testimonials. Alex Rosespan, still loyal to Jennifer after tutoring her last year. Joseph Skinner, who had taken a break from watching over the farm to come weigh in—favorably, she was relieved to hear.

“Are there no other dissenting opinions?” Winona asked after a time. “Has the Blaze come to a decision?”

Xavier sighed. “We will regret this day.”

“We may,” Jonathan replied softly. “But I doubt it.”

“We are decided, then,” Winona announced. “Dr. Elizabeth Georges-Scales may immediately find refuge here in Crescent Valley, for a period of two weeks. She must be accompanied by her husband at all times. After two weeks, we will reconvene to determine if further time is warranted.”

“Thank you!” Jennifer couldn’t help the outburst; she was jumping up and down. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“And…” Jonathan took a deep breath. “We must make one more request, if you are willing.”

Piece of pie, Jennifer thought in an optimistic thrill. Mom’s a grownup warrior, but Skip’s just a kid. We’re trying to protect a minor! He’s a shoo-in.

The wind was whistling past them pretty loudly, but Jennifer could still make out the profanity Jonathan unleashed once they were a safe distance away.

“I guess we pushed our luck,” she comforted him, feeling rotten herself. “And hey, they did let Mom in! You know, conditionally.”

“Hmmph.”

“It’s the best we can do for now.” She had an odd thought: Who was the child here? And who was the grownup? Had he really thought they’d get a “yes” to both? Had she really thought that?

“Maybe we can sneak him in later.”

She nearly fell out of the air. “Sneak him in?! How’s that going to work?”

“No idea. We’ll figure out what to do once we’re all together. Skip can decide for himself what he’d like to do, at least.”

“I guess. So we go home now?”

“I’m just seeing you to the lake. I’ll stay here and make arrangements for comfortable living quarters. Your mother doesn’t have a dragon’s hide, and our nests and caves are unlikely to appeal to her without additional furnishings.” He winked. “Tell your mother to pack a waterproof bag. And have Skip make a decision. I’ll come through and meet you at the cabin in a few hours.”

“Okay. See you soon! Watch Geddy while I’m gone?” She plucked the lizard off her nose horn and tossed him lightly over to her father. The stunned lizard landed on the other dragon’s back.

Jonathan spared a glance at the pet before it crawled up the back of his neck and settled behind his purple crest. “I told you this gecko was special. Did you see how he calmed Xavier down?”

“That was weird,” Jennifer agreed. “Longtail’s got a thing for geckos, does he?”

He shrugged. “Whatever it was, it helped us get your mother here. She’ll be thrilled to hear she owes her sanctuary to a small lizard.”

They laughed together, and then he veered off with a quick good-bye, and she was through the lake again.

Mom’s coming through!

It was almost enough to ease her anxiety about Skip.

The euphoria Jennifer had felt about the weredragons’ decision vanished as soon as she approached the house. Phoebe the dog was cringing in the far corner of the yard, and the green front door was off of its hinges.

She immediately felt the freezing sensation of danger as she broke out of dragon shape and entered the house. The living room was in tatters—furniture ripped and overturned, wallpaper scraped off as if by knives, and the walls themselves gauged and dented.

“Mom?” There was no answer.

“Skip?” More silence.

There’s another explanation, she insisted to herself. There’s another explanation. But, of course, there couldn’t be. What else could possibly have happened here?

Everything she could see was broken. Everything. Coffee tables, end tables, the dining room table…the china hutch, all the china in the hutch. The vases, even the small bowl of alabaster eggs her mother kept on the key table in the hallway. Shattered. Shambles. She could hear Phoebe crying in the backyard.

To the side, she caught a glint of moonlight on steel in the kitchen. Pushing debris out of her way, she stepped up and made out the straight shape of her mother’s sword, plunged several inches into the tile.

A few feet to the right, in front of the steel refrigerator’s smashed door, Jennifer saw a collapsed shape and screamed. For a moment she felt her sanity tipping like a sailboat on an angry ocean. I’m going crazy and none of this will matter soon.

Elizabeth Georges-Scales lay on her back. There were new white strands among her blonde hairs, and new wrinkles around her wide-open jade eyes. She stared at the ceiling, whispering so softly Jennifer was certain all that was left of her mother was a ghost.

“No love. No love. No love…”

There was no sign of Skip at all.

CHAPTER 14
No Love

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“She’s lucky,” Jennifer dimly recalled a nondescript doctor telling her some hours later. Dr. Freeborn, or Treehorn, or some such. “Very lucky.”

Is that what they call a coma nowadays? Jennifer wondered silently as she stared at the still, prone form of her mother upon a bed nestled within machines and tubes. Lucky?

Elizabeth Georges-Scales was now asleep—not that she had been exactly awake before. The doctor went on to guess at how long it might be before she opened her eyes again, or talked, or made some sardonic comment, or cooked badly, or snapped angrily, or did any of the things that drove her daughter nuts. The answer, it turned out, was anywhere from the next minute to never.

She stopped listening to the doctor at that point—clearly she would learn nothing helpful from the man—and thought about her father. She had left a desperate phone message at the cabin. With luck, her father or Joseph would arrive there soon. Just in case, she had sent a black mamba cooled tentatively (and none too happily, for mount or rider) on the back of a snake eagle. How these emissaries would make it to the farm or through the lake without drowning, or how they would communicate the exact nature of the emergency, or how her father would appear in any event under a crescent moon here at the hospital, she had no idea. She just had to hope.

The doctor’s voice droned on. The fluorescent lights above made him look sickly and pale. Jennifer felt sweat trickle down her own cheeks, following the tracks of tears. Was she about to faint? That would be all right, wouldn’t it? The doctor would understand…

She had no more time to wonder before she collapsed.

What must have been a while later, she woke up with a breathing tube attached to her face and an intravenous solution dripping into her arm. The staff had thoughtfully set her up in the same room with her comatose mother.

She began sobbing again—how many times had she cried, since Evangelos returned? Thinking of her father, she tore the machinery off of her own body, swung her legs off the bed, and sat up.

Not like this. I won’t let him come back and find us both like this.

A breeze ran up her bare back, and she realized she was in a hospital gown. She was still scanning the room for her clothes when there was a knock at the door. The person who poked her head inside was unexpected, and unwanted.

“What do you want?” Jennifer sniffed as stiffly as she could at Mayor Glorianna Seabright, while adjusting her gown and standing up. There was one good thing about the woman being here: It put crying out of Jennifer’s mind.

The mayor’s long, white locks framed a grave and cautious expression. “Ms. Scales. I was visiting Wendy Blacktooth down the hall, and I heard…” Her oddly pale gaze came to rest upon Elizabeth’s body. “I came to pay my respects.”

“Pay respects!” Jennifer couldn’t help the spittle that flew out of her mouth. “Cripes! She’s not dead!”

Mayor Seabright flinched. “That’s not what I meant. I meant—”

“Visiting hours are over.”

The patronizing sigh that followed rankled Jennifer. “Dr. Georges-Scales was popular here at the hospital, and throughout town. I’m sure many others—”

“Was!” She came at the door so fast, the mayor very nearly closed it between them. “Was?! Are you serious?!”