“Thanks.” Not for the first time, Jennifer’s conscience pricked her for not owning up to all of her secrets. Susan had a right to know about Jennifer’s other half. And maybe she could help figure out Evangelos, as well. Sharing secrets and helping out—wasn’t that what friends were for?
Later in geometry class, Jennifer reflected on her conversation with Susan. Tonight, she decided. I’m telling my parents tonight that I’m letting Susan in on everything. Then I’ll tell her tomorrow. Her resolve made her feel marginally better.
At the same time, having Gerry Stowe asking questions about her was disturbing—and not just because she had no romantic interest in him. Sure, he was cute—but Skip had made some good points, and the boy could be anything.
She looked around the overheated room, feeling cold. Any of these guys could be anything! Gerry Stowe. Bob Jarkmand. Whoever kept sending her love notes through the ever-surly Kay Harrison behind her. (She held another one, still unsigned, crumpled in her hand.) Speaking of Kay Harrison, could Evangelos disguise himself as a girl? Or maybe even as Mr.—
“—Scales?”
Her head jerked up at the name. “Huh?”
From his wheelchair in front of the blackboard, Mr. Slider peered over the heads of the students in front of her. “I say, how would you solve this problem, Ms. Scales?” He pointed up with a piece of chalk.
Panicked at the mess of lines, angles, and shapes she saw there, she stalled for time. “Er, I’d use logic.”
Mr. Slider’s head didn’t move an inch, but his lips did tighten. “No doubt. And?”
Those few seconds were precious and helpful, but not quite enough. Her eyes flew over the blackboard while her mouth stalled for more time. “Er, well…this looks a bit like the proof from last week…”
“There are similarities.” From his tone, she couldn’t tell if he was amused, encouraging, suspicious, impatient, or a combination of all four.
That was all the time she needed—her brain had arrived to the rescue. “Okay, so we use the given statements to establish that segment BD is a median of triangle ABC. Then, if the median of a triangle bisects the side into two congruent segments…”
Her mouth and brain now working at the same speed, Jennifer had a random, spare thought.
Why can’t my real-life problems be as easy as my math problems?
After school, her mother insisted on training in the backyard. “You need to learn this skill” was the typically short and simple explanation.
Jennifer looked dubiously at the makeshift target—an old plastic sled that hung from a nail in a wooden porch support pillar, at about chest height. She remembered laughing and sliding down the hill behind the elementary school on that thing, with only one mitten on. Now, it was her mortal enemy. “I have to hit that?”
“Yes.”
She turned to the beautiful, and now suddenly quite heavy, daggers she held in her hands. “With these?”
“Yes.”
She looked around the yard. They were at least thirty feet from the porch stairs. “From here?”
“Yes.”
“Um, don’t you have a geometric proof or something else I could do?”
“Start with your stance. Whichever hand you’re throwing with, that foot starts behind. Keep your heels on a line, toes pointing out a bit from each other, and your knees…”
Jennifer never realized how many body parts it took to throw a single knife. Between balancing her weight on one foot or another, measuring the swing by her head, and keeping her shoulders firm, she almost forgot there were arms and hands involved.
The first throw sent a dagger crashing through the basement glass door, handle first.
“Keep your arms straight to start. Point them at the target.”
The second knife clattered against the porch railing, six feet above the sled.
“Wait to release until your throwing arm is pointing exactly at the sled.”
After retrieving the daggers, they tried again. The third throw hit the sled, but bounced off.
“Don’t stop your throw after you release.”
The fourth throw stuck dead center, piercing the plastic sled and pinning it to the pillar.
“Not bad at all! Now do that ten times in a row.”
A few minutes later, her mother changed the distance. “You won’t always be exactly this far from the target,” she explained. “In general, you can expect the knife to make a full rotation every seven feet. So depending how far away you are, there might be times when you have to start the throw holding the blade, instead of the handle. Here you go. Try it from here.”
Just as Jennifer released the blade, a scream pierced the air. It sounded, Jennifer guessed as she watched her throw go two feet wide and into the vinyl siding under the porch, like it came from the street.
Both she and her mother raced up the hill, Jennifer plucking her daggers out of the side of the house on the way. As they came within view of the street, Jennifer heard a second scream…and her heart stopped.
Susan was on her back in the middle of the street, scrambling on all fours like a crab, best as she could toward her house. Her face was flush with terror, but she appeared otherwise unhurt.
Hovering over her was the dark, twisted shape. Jennifer recognized him immediately.
Even in broad daylight, the sight of him was terrifying. The sun’s rays could not penetrate the corona of gloom that spilled from his unseen head and partially obscured his body and wings.
A mass of dark clicks, slithers, and hisses, Evangelos advanced on the terrified Susan. His tail and legs twitched in anticipation. Breathless with dread, Jennifer recognized the movement. Her gecko Geddy twitched his tail like that—right before he pounced on prey.
Susan closed her eyes and fainted.
“Susan!”
Before the word even left Jennifer’s mouth, the beast swung around and forgot Susan completely. And then the shadow was very still.
Evangelos was facing them both, mother and daughter, straight on, about twice as far away as the sled had been from Jennifer in the backyard. One of the dark hind legs scraped against the pavement.
…no love…
She hissed with the effort to chase the words out of her mind, but they repeated in a relentless pattern.
…no love…no love…no love…no love…
“Enough!” Her mother’s voice rang clear across the street. Passing in front of Jennifer, she held up her sheathed sword with both hands. “You don’t need to fight!”
…no love…no love…no love…no love…
“Mom!” Jennifer shrieked. “He’ll kill you!”
Elizabeth ignored her and kept the sword held harmlessly high. “We know why you’re here! We know you’re in pain! Let us help you!”
…no love…no love…no love…no love…
“Mom, please!” Her throat swollen in desperation, Jennifer had a sudden flashback: her mother, in this very spot in the yard last spring, begging her daughter not to go any farther toward danger. Desperate and afraid for the life of someone she loved.
“There’s still hope!”
Miraculously, the voice stopped.
Jennifer took a deep breath. Hope. Was her mother right?
The shadow shifted and drew back a bit.
…hope?…
“Yes, hope!” Her mother was flush with excitement. Slowly, she laid her sword at her feet. “We don’t need to fight!”
Jennifer began to exhale.
And then Wendy Blacktooth knocked her over from behind, charging at the shadow before her, holding the Blacktooth blade high and unsheathed. The edges of her blue-and-white checkered apron flapped behind her legs like a strange warrior’s cloak.
Her voice was high and clear. “Ready yourself, beast…or ready your soul!”
“NO!” From the ground, Jennifer wasn’t sure if it was her or her mother who shouted it louder.
The shadow of Evangelos darkened, reared up, and turned toward the new threat
. Like a sonic boom, the telepathic voice sucked away the surrounding air, knocking them all down and leaving them gasping for breath.
ENEMY!
Wendy Blacktooth was still on the ground, scrambling for her sword, when the missile came.
Since the head was invisible, there was no warning beyond a dry popping sound. Then, what looked like a basketball wreathed in a dark green halo spat out of the darkness and splashed over the fallen soldier.
Jennifer had never heard anyone scream like she heard Wendy Blacktooth scream. It was the wail of someone consumed by pain and beyond all help. Her matronly clothes curled and fell to shreds, exposing her back and side to whatever had eaten through. Within seconds, they could smell the burning flesh and hair.
Now Evangelos pronounced a new word.
PREY.
“Mom!”
Jennifer’s heart broke at the sound of the new voice. Eddie was running wildly into the street, unarmed, seemingly oblivious to the shadow that extended over them both. With tears running down his face, the boy slid onto his knees before his mother and tried to pull her up off the pavement.
Both Jennifer and Elizabeth moved forward to help…but then they stopped at the sight before them.
Evangelos had risen as if to strike again, but the finishing blow did not come. The shadow hung over the mother and child before him, hesitating.
“Mom, come on!” Eddie’s frantic voice was the only sound on the street. He tugged at the limp body—Was it a corpse already? Jennifer wondered grimly—and turned his head toward the two of them. “Jennifer! Dr. Georges-Scales! Please help me!”
Elizabeth held Jennifer back by the shoulder, gaze fixed on Evangelos. “We are helping, Eddie.” She lowered her sword to the ground, and motioned for Jennifer to do the same with her blades. “We’re helping as best we can. But Evangelos may charge if Jennifer or I move. Can you get your mother over to me?”
Eddie turned toward his own house. “Dad, help me get her over there!”
The answer came out loud and clear from the yard behind them. “The sword, Eddie! The Blacktooth blade!” Jennifer turned enough to see Hank Blacktooth standing on the edge of his yard, looking past them all at the dully glowing object in the street.
“Dad, she’s going to die!” Eddie was scrambling madly for the near side of the street, dragging his mother’s body as best he could. The shadow of Evangelos seemed torn between watching his struggle and considering the show of peace Elizabeth and Jennifer were offering a few feet away.
“The blade, son!” Hank’s face was an angry mix of impatience and fear. “It’s right there!”
Seeing Eddie struggle to get his mother’s body up onto the curb, Elizabeth chanced a few quick steps forward to help ease his burden onto their own yard. Since Evangelos still wasn’t moving, Jennifer joined them right away. The smell was fearfully strong, but she was less sure now that she could see the woman’s burnt, trembling limbs that Wendy Blacktooth was truly dead.
“Hold her still!” Elizabeth quickly checked the pulse—left arm, Jennifer noticed, since the right was scorched. Then she raised her voice in the direction of Hank Blacktooth. “Call nine-one-one!”
He gave her an impatient look, still plainly unable to move his feet. “The sword!”
“Call nine-one-one!”
“I’ll do it, Mom!” Jennifer stood up and made for their front door. Halfway there, the door opened and her father emerged, damp towel around his waist and cell phone in hand.
“I’m calling!” Jonathan was shouting, not even looking up to see why his wife had yelled for help from the front yard. “What’s—”
He looked up at the same time Evangelos turned toward him.
FATHER?!
Jennifer’s spine tingled. “Oh, shit.”
“Get him inside!”
Jennifer did exactly what her mother ordered, thrusting her father—towel, phone, and all—back through the door and pulling it shut before he could say another word. She turned around on the doorstep in time to see Evangelos preparing to run through her.
“Hey! No! Over here! Over here!” Elizabeth jumped up from Wendy’s side and threw her hands into the air. “Not them! Me!”
The shadow hesitated again, confused. Seized with a new idea, Jennifer gritted her teeth and darted away from both house and mother. “No, over here! Not her! Me!”
“Jennifer! Don’t you dare! Hey, you! I said over here!”
“Take care of Eddie’s mom! Keep coming over here!”
“Jennifer Caroline Scales, you stop this instant!”
The shadow rocked back and forth between the two women, front door forgotten. Finally, it rested on Jennifer alone.
She looked at her mother. “I love you!”
Then she turned and ran like hell.
The sudden flap of wings, the growl in the back of the shadow’s throat, the scrape of claws as they left the pavement—all these sounds suggested success. Success, of course, being relative in situations like this.
Don’t look back, don’t look back, she told herself. She resisted for about half a minute, but then she couldn’t help it—she needed to be sure Evangelos was following.
She turned and looked down the street.
Evangelos wasn’t following her.
In fact, Evangelos wasn’t there at all.
INTERLUDE
Confusion
Why didn’t you kill them?
Evangelos huddled under the oaks and maples deep behind the Oak Valley apartment complex. This encounter had been a surprise, a hunt, a success, and a disaster, all rolled into one.
Meeting up with Susan Elmsmith on the street outside the Scales house had been unexpected. Her screams had been unnecessary: Evangelos had no desire to kill her. But that neighbor beaststalker—the one who burned so delightfully well. Monster killers, indeed! If that’s all it took to bring down a beaststalker, Evangelos wasn’t so sure why they had such a horrific reputation.
Was there a twinge of regret for the woman? Very well, there was regret. Evangelos hadn’t wanted to involve other people in what was essentially a family matter. In fact, the woman’s interference would greatly complicate things. The Blacktooths—that was their name, right?—yes. The Blacktooths would want revenge now.
Her son, Eddie. So brave. So concerned with his mother.
That was what had made Evangelos pause, instead of dealing the deathblow. And then Father’s wife and their daughter had shown the same concern for each other. All of them struggling to save the other’s life. Was such a love between parent and child possible?
Was that what Dianna Wilson had felt?
Or Jonathan Scales?
There is no love!
But there was a memory there, back in Australia. One of the very first from this world. Before the horror and grief at what had happened. Before the fear of a premature delivery.
She had felt love. For her husband, and for their child. It was there, wasn’t it? Was that what made the boy on the street do what he did?
Evangelos had dismissed the memory at first, out by the desert surrounding the underground town of Coober Pedy. Perhaps that had been a mistake.
No mistake. What the boy felt doesn’t exist for you. Father doesn’t feel that.
But was there no chance? None at all? Was there no hope?
Evangelos growled at the unbidden thought.
A gentle rain began to fall—a phenomenon unique to this world. But in fact, the pattering of the raindrops made it easier to think, trace, and remember. Still clear were the memories left here in these woods by the Scales family days ago, when they hid and followed Rune Whisper.
There is always hope, the woman had said. She was a doctor. For everyone. Until the very end.
Doctors, like rain, were unique to this world. Evangelosstruggled with this woman in particular, and the memories she had, and the things she said.
The very end? When was that, exactly? How long would the killing continue? When would the end come?
>
She used to be a killer, too.
But then she stopped. When will this stop?
When Jonathan Scales has paid the price. You should have killed her. And the daughter. And the neighbors. All of them. Why did you show mercy?
Mercy. Doctors. Rain. So many new things in this world. Since arriving in Coober Pedy, so much had happened, so many memories lingered, and so many voices had emerged that Evangelos was not sure what to do with it all.
A harsh conviction rose out of the uncertainty.
You must go back and finish the job.
But deep inside, there was resistance. The idea of going back was not appealing. It had little to do with danger—plainly beaststalkers were not invincible.
Cruelty. Yes, that was it: This was all becoming too cruel, to hunt down family and kill them. It was too cruel to ambush an old man in his cabin; it was too cruel to kill Father’s friend, miles away, who had nothing to do with this. Nothing at all…
Too cruel!
Evangelos almost laughed at the thought, and spat instead. The leaves beneath him hissed and smoldered.
Too cruel! Like the world I grew up in?
There was no immediate reply within. Evangelos pressed the matter.
Go back and finish the job.
There was fatigue, defiance, desperation in there. No easy answers. Go back? Not now. It was too much.
No. Now.
The rain drove down harder, and the drops off the branches above struck black skin and sizzled.
Go back. Finish it. Now.
CHAPTER 13
Jennifer Scales and the Messenger of Light Page 17
