Jennifer Scales and the Ancient Furnace

by MaryJanice Davidson

  In an instant, the newolf’s face was gone. With a start, Jennifer caught a glimpse of its furry flanks and, she thought, a smaller shape clinging to its backside—a pup.

  A strong desire to leap off the branch and chase it seized her. She wanted to try to communicate with it, touch its offspring, see if either of them knew anything. But she knew it would be useless, and she let out a long breath.

  “Nothing, Mom,” she called back down carefully. “Just a deer, I think.”

  She examined the branch, as well as the next two higher up but she found no further clues. Some of the bark seemed a bit thin in places, but that could have been anything.

  Neither she nor her mother found anything like blood around the scene—just indentations, shoe prints leading in and out of the ditch, and a swath of grass that may have been smoothed down by a heavy, dragged bundle.

  “So this is what we know,” Elizabeth summed up as they got back into the car. A distant howl pricked Jennifer’s ears, but her mother didn’t seem to hear it over the engine. “There are at least two ambushers. They know what your father is and they know about your grandfather’s farm. One of them is fast enough to knock a dragon unconscious—yet apparently did not want to kill him.”

  “Werachnids?” Jennifer asked, shaking thoughts of the newolf away. “Grandpa says their chieftains can work sorcery. Maybe one cast a spell on Dad, to knock him out.”

  “It’s possible. The crescent moon was nearly over, and I gather different individuals morph at different intervals. One or both of them could have been able to drive a truck. But usually, the simplest answer is the right one—I think something more regularly human in shape did this. Certainly the note points us that way.”

  “Beaststalkers, then. They wrote ‘prophecy’ in the note. What prophecy do you think they’re talking about?”

  Elizabeth shook her head sadly. “It’s hard to say,” she sad with a sigh. “Both your father and grandfather put some significance into the fact that your scouts had heard rumors of war, and of the Ancient Furnace. If beaststalkers have located your grandfather’s farm but are afraid to approach it, it would make sense to kidnap your father, learn all they could, and set an invasion plan based on what he tells them.”

  “So they’d learn about Joseph and the bees.”

  “And other things, from what I hear. Your grandfather is very clever, and not all of the defenses will be obvious. How much anyone learns from your father depends on how . . . forceful . . . they are.”

  Suddenly, Jennifer didn’t want to talk about this anymore. “So what do you think Grandpa and the other dragons will do, when the crescent moon comes?”

  This made her mother quiet for a while. Her knuckles turned a bit white around the steering wheel. Finally, she said, “Honestly, Jennifer, I have no idea. You have a better idea as to how your grandfather thinks than I do, at this point. What do you think?”

  Jennifer stared out the passenger window as the Minnesota farmlands swept by. “When I was younger, I only thought of Grandpa as a grandfather, like most kids would. He would tell great stories, and go fishing with me, and all that. But this past year . . . I’ve seen a new side to him. Something heated, impatient. Like how he treats you.”

  This earned a strange look. “You’ve noticed?”

  “It would be hard not to. He wanted his son to marry another weredragon, didn’t he? Not you.”

  The next words came out very carefully, even for her mother. “Jennifer, your grandfather loves you deeply and unconditionally. But he’s quite traditional. Enemies have driven weredragons from one place to another for some time, and he has lived to see many friends and loved ones suffer. There are not many weredragon families left.

  “For as long as I’ve known him, I’ve tried to respect his heritage. While your father and I were engaged and your grandmother was alive, I would try to find meaningful trinkets and books related to dragons for their birthday, and Christmas presents. But this just made things worse.”

  “Is that why you order him those ugly horse blankets from Iceland every year, now?”

  Elizabeth grinned. “The horse blankets avoid conflict. He does love his horses. I think he’s actually beginning to look forward to my blankets, now. Maybe it’s wishful thinking.”

  “You do that a lot,” Jennifer observed.

  “Do what a lot? Wishful thinking?”

  “No, not that. You avoid conflict.”

  “Hmmph.”

  They rode in silence for a few minutes, and then she added: “I’m a doctor, honey. I heal. I see the results of conflict every day—school bullies who provoke my daughter, family members who hurt each other, and complete strangers who go at each other’s throats because they’re just a tiny bit different. No, I am not a big fan of conflict. I prefer discussion, and open minds.”

  “That sounds nice, Mom. But someone who disagrees with you has taken Dad.”

  Elizabeth did not answer.

  CHAPTER 13

  The End of the Trail

  When they got home, there was an unwelcome surprise waiting for them. Scratched into the green paint of their front door was a single word:

  Furnace.

  Jennifer lost it. She began kicking at the scratch marks furiously.

  “Come out!” She screamed to the air above her.

  “Come out and fight! Cowards!” She punctuated each sentence with another kick. The door rattled on its hinges.

  “Ssshhh!” Elizabeth pulled her back away from the door in a hug until her daughter collapsed. “Baby, that’s not going to help! That’s not going to get him back.”

  Jennifer could only sit on the doorstep in her mother’s arms, sobbing. Her mother cried with her for a while, but before long the wheels were turning again. “Whoever did this left evidence. Let’s get to work. You look around the house, and I’ll focus on the doorstep. Come on, baby, get up. That’s it. Can you do this?”

  With a sniff and a nod, Jennifer got started. Unfortunately, Phoebe had been out of the car for a few minutes, and the few places where there might have been visible tracks were her favorite places to run. Before Jennifer could begin to interpret the few undisturbed impressions she could find, she looked up and saw a face looking out the window next door.

  It was Mrs. Blacktooth, glowering at her.

  Suddenly, a lot of things made sense. The hatred this family had for her. The way their church had rejected her mother years ago. The word “prophecy.” The way they would watch her father, and all of the Scales family, closely. How easy it would be to slip next door that morning and scratch the front door while no one was watching. And above all, the way Eddie had been acting lately.

  “Hey!” she called out to the woman in the window. In an instant, the scowling face disappeared. “Hey!” She began to walk across the yard toward the Blacktooth house.

  “What’s going on? Jennifer, where are you going?”

  “It’s them!”

  “Honey, what do you—no, wait!”

  Elizabeth tried to grab her daughter by the shoulder, but her hand was too easy to shake off. It took a bear hug in the middle of the lawn to get Jennifer to stop her march and pay attention.

  “Mom, it’s obvious! They’re trying to get the furnace and they took Dad because they think he can help! Look at the evidence!”

  “Jennifer, come inside. Let’s talk about this—”

  “He’s been gone more than a day. If he’s over there—”

  “You can’t know that. And if he is, what are you going to do about it?”

  “I don’t need to be in dragon form to kick those jerks’ asses.” She started to move again, but Elizabeth held on with both arms clasped.

  “Not every problem can be solved by kicking a jerk’s ass, sweetheart. And we don’t even know it’s them. You’re jumping to conclusions.”

  “What’s your plan, Mom?” Jennifer shouted, redirecting her rage. “Sit at the kitchen table and work through all the possibilities while Dad dies next door? A
re you really that unfeeling?”

  Her mother’s eyes narrowed. “Get over yourself, kid. You’re way out of line. I deal with death every day. And I’m telling you that if you go through that family’s front door, you’ll die.”

  Jennifer stopped struggling and stared. “You know what they are, don’t you? You’ve known, this whole time. We’ve been putzing around the highway, and you knew!”

  “We still can’t be sure it’s them, Jennifer. We have to approach this methodically, based on evidence and a plan. That’s why police usually handle—”

  “Oh, no, of course, Mom! It’s probably not these beaststalkers. It’s probably the beaststalkers two doors down! Or the ones at the bakery, or the bookstore! I can’t believe I’ve wasted this day with you. Dad could have been home by now.” With that, she broke free from her mother and continued toward the Blacktooth house.

  “Jennifer, don’t!” She could hear her mother about to cry again from the edge of their lawn.

  “I can’t believe you’re such a damn coward! We’re talking about Dad!”

  Her mother’s voice was desperate now. “Jennifer, if you go in there they’ll kill you. They must know by now what you are. Please. Come back into the house. I can help. We can do this together, if we talk it through.”

  “You go ahead and talk, Mom. Talk all you like.” She was at the front door. It stood stark and black before her. Without looking back, she raised her foot and kicked it off its hinges.

  Mrs. Blacktooth was waiting for her in the foyer. She was a tall woman, though not as tall as Eddie or Jennifer. Her raven hair streamed down her shoulders onto a housewife’s modest blue-and-white-checkered dress and frilly apron. Meticulous makeup shaped her nose and cheeks, and her sapphire eyes flashed with disdain. Across her carefully manicured hands, she held a long sword. The blade did not shine—instead, it seemed to suck the light out of the doorway.

  “We have learned what you are, worm.”

  “Where’s my father?”

  “We know what he is, too, now. You cannot save him.”

  “Want to bet?”

  Jennifer took a step forward. In a flash, the tip of the dark sword pointed at her throat.

  “The Blacktooth blade has killed a beast in every generation, for the last two thousand years. It will kill again today.” Something moved behind Mrs. Blacktooth.

  “Eddie!” she called out. It was indeed Eddie, but not as Jennifer remembered him. His face seemed older, drawn. “Eddie, please!”

  “You should leave now,” he told her over his mother’s shoulder. “Your father isn’t here.”

  “Where is he?”

  He ignored the question. “I can’t save you.”

  This betrayal was too much. For what seemed like the hundredth time in the last day, she felt tears well up. “Eddie, how could you?”

  “That’s enough. Justice must be served. It’s time to die.” Mrs. Blacktooth stepped forward and pulled her sword back to strike. Jennifer flinched.

  Then the sword came down—but slowly, and by its wielder’s side.

  “You are lucky today, worm. Your mother is here. By my people’s code, I cannot kill a child before the eyes of her parent.”

  “My mother wouldn’t care if you did.” The words sounded wrong to Jennifer as she said them, but she could not help herself. Too much was happening to her, all at once.

  “Do not let me find you alone. Ever.”

  “Go to hell.” Jennifer backed away, still wiping her cheeks. Neither Blacktooth moved until she was out in the road. She backed away from her waiting mother.

  The idea of going back home was humiliating. And there was no point staying here, if Eddie was telling the truth. But where could she go?

  She felt Geddy’s feet on her shoe. He swirled up her leg like a tree trunk, crossed her stomach, and settled on her left shoulder. With a turn of his tiny head, he opened his bright red mouth and hissed at the gaping front doorway of the Blacktooth house.

  “Jennifer!” Elizabeth’s called out desperately.

  She didn’t even turn to look. A mixture of anger, shame, and fear drove her in the other direction. The Blacktooths had marked her father for a freak. Now he was gone, her mother was useless, and she was alone.

  It was several miles to the mall, walking the same route she had the October night she had first morphed. Whether it was that memory, or just the rage and frustration that seeped out of her very skin, Jennifer thought she felt her insides swirl a bit. It was nothing, of course—the next crescent moon was still days away. Easy to shake off, the feeling was soon gone. By the time she got to Winoka’s typical mall, with its typical parking lot and typical crowd of people and cars, it was midafternoon.

  It was unseasonably warm. She felt the heat and her own pain, but very little else. She was thirsty. If she went to the ice-cream shop, she could order a malt and think about what to do next. Maybe she should try to call Joseph or her grandfather up at the farm . . .

  “Jennifer!” The most welcome voice in the world.

  “Skip!” She practically tackled him with her embrace.

  The delight in his face turned to worry as he saw her desperation. “What’s the matter?”

  Jennifer finally reached the point where she couldn’t hold back any longer. On the spot, without pausing or thinking, she simply poured out her entire story, from the fateful night in Mr. Blacktooth’s truck to her father’s disappearance to the scene at Eddie’s house. She didn’t know how he would take it, but the more she told him, the better she felt, and the more right it seemed to share.

  When she was finally done, he stood there with wide-open eyes for a minute or so.

  “Skip? Hello?”

  “I’m with you.” He gulped and tried a game smile. “This is pretty heavy stuff, Jennifer. Maybe your mom’s right—maybe you should go home and talk this through.”

  “Haven’t you been listening?” She could tell from the way he flinched that he wished he hadn’t been. “She doesn’t want to do anything, or confront anybody! She’s blathering on about talking, and waiting, and all this time the Blacktooths have my dad socked away somewhere!”

  “Eddie says they don’t have him at their house?”

  “Yeah. He might be lying, of course. But I don’t think so. They didn’t seem scared of me at all, so they would have just told me if they had him in the basement.”

  “Huh.” Skip thought for a moment.

  “What?”

  “Well.” He paused. “Remember that night back in October you first changed, when Mr. Blacktooth was asking about my dad?”

  “I guess. There was a lot going on.”

  “Well later that night, he called about some work around town my dad was doing. Dad talked to him for a while and gave him some information on an undeveloped property at the edge of town. We never figured out why he was interested. A few weeks later, Dad said that Mr. Blacktooth bought it.”

  “So?”

  “Well, there’s no one around for miles,” he explained slowly. “Nobody’s built anything on it, or near it. And during the winter, Eddie and I went down there a few times for snowball fights. There’s a huge entrance to the town sewer system right there. If I wanted to hide something, or someone . . .”

  “Skip, you’re a genius! Come on!” She left her malt half finished on the table and pulled him out of his seat. They had only gone a few steps when they ran into Susan.

  “Hey, guys! What’s up?”

  Ten minutes later, as Jennifer finished telling her everything she had told Skip—it felt so good again!—Susan looked as though she wished she had never asked.

  “Wow.” This was all she said for a while.

  “Susan, I’m so sorry I told you I was sick. You, too, Skip. But we have to find my father. Will you please help? Three is better than two. Mr. Blacktooth may not be alone, and Dad may not be in any condition to—”

  “Jennifer, hold on!” Susan stopped cold.

  She turned impatiently, guessing what
her friend was going to say. “What?”

  “Listen, I’m just a little freaked out, and that’s okay, I believe you. And I forgive you for . . . for pretending you were sick, like my mom. But we can’t just go running into a sewer to face this . . . whatever you call it.”

  “Beaststalker.”

  “Yeah. I mean, it sounds way too scary, for me. Jennifer, I’m sure you don’t want to hear this, but I don’t think I can go with you.”

  Instead of getting angry, Jennifer took a deep breath. “Susan, I’ve given you a lot to take in. I can see you’re really worried about doing this. That’s cool.”

  Susan exhaled.

  “So you go home. Please . . . just don’t tell anyone about this.” After a quick hug, she and Skip left their astonished friend behind.

  Winoka’s southeast side was primarily an industrial park. A few family farms pressed up against a strip of dingy wetlands that separated them from the park. It was to this strip, and alongside a steep hill, that Skip led her to the sewer entrance.

  The culvert was large enough that they could nearly stand straight up inside. Before they went in, Skip clutched her arm. He was visibly shaking.

  “Jennifer. This is for real. You could get hurt. Are you sure you want to do this?”

  Jennifer turned her face up to the sky. Two eagles were circling far above. The scent of lilacs was thick in the air. “All I can think about is my father, and how much he loved flying.” She looked back at Skip. “You’re a great friend, Skip, but I have to set that aside if you’re not with me. I’m doing this for my dad. This is no time for cold feet.”

  “Right.” He didn’t look happy at the thought, but her resolve was apparently contagious. “Let’s go, then.”

  The culvert led deep into the hillside and they faced their first problem—the darkness. Fortunately, Skip had a solution.

  “Dad smokes cigars,” he explained as he flicked a lighter. “He’s always looking for a light.”

  It flickered faintly, but it let them see an opening directly in front of their feet that they might have fallen into otherwise. Ladder rungs were built into the concrete, all the way down into blackness.