Jennifer Scales and the Messenger of Light

by MaryJanice Davidson

“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

  “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?!”

  With their noses inches apart, Jennifer let the shape of her face change just enough for the blue scales to surface over her human features, and the reptile to peek out from behind her gray eyes.

  Her voice was only a whisper. “When my mom wakes up, she and I are going to march right into city hall and kick the ass of every crazy loon on that council of yours. And then my dad and I are going to burn that building down, sick ceiling artwork and all! You wait.”

  She willed herself calm, flexed her features fully back to human, and stood up straight. “Now go back and tell your friends I don’t want them swinging by to pay respects or anything else!”

  “Ms. Scales, please. I regret—” But the mayor was already backing out the door, which made it all the easier for Jennifer to slam it in her face.

  A few seconds later, the door opened again. Jennifer turned to shove it closed when the elderly features of Martin Stowe appeared. He was wearing a custodian’s jumper and had his hospital employee badge on his belt. The failing eyes were wide as he set his mop against the doorframe and tried to take in the comatose shape on the bed.

  “Gerry told me your mom was hurt.”

  She eased away from the door, still wary. “Yes, Mr. Stowe. Come on in.”

  “I’ve been on shift,” the man explained. “I didn’t believe Gerry right away, but the nurses told me he was right. What do the docs say?”

  “Not much.” She supposed it was unfair, but she was still not entirely convinced about the man’s grandson.

  He nodded slowly, staring at objects in the room but not, Jennifer guessed, truly seeing them. She still felt compelled to adjust her hospital gown.

  “Gerry tells me you kid
s have been awfully good to him at school. You and Susan, especially. I wish there was something I could do.”

  Jennifer didn’t quite know what to say to that. Of course Susan talked with Gerry, but she had never thought of herself as Gerry’s “friend.” For a new kid with no parents, though, who knew how much good an occasional smile from a random girl at school would do?

  He wringed his hands. “The docs really have nothing to say?”

  Jennifer shook her head. “Nothing helpful.”

  “I can’t see her too well, but from what I can tell, she seems restful,” Martin almost whispered. He took a tentative step forward, but could not summon the courage to get closer than the foot of Elizabeth’s bed. He turned to Jennifer and gave a wan smile. “You’ll tell her I was here?”

  “Sure.”

  “Are you…uh…feeling all right yourself?”

  “Sure. I’m fine.” She just wanted him to leave now. “Thanks for coming by.”

  The custodian nodded and backed out of the room. “I’ll tell those nurses to keep an extra eye or two on you both.” He waved a hand in front of his weakening eyes, grinning wryly. “For me.”

  Jennifer nodded gratefully and gently closed the door. Five seconds later, there was another knock on it. Who now?

  It was Susan, in tears. Seeing her like that made Jennifer start to cry again.

  “Oh, Jennifer!” She rushed in with a hug. “I got your message and came as soon as I could. Is your mom okay?” Without waiting for an answer, she looked past her friend’s shoulder at the patient’s bed. “Oh…she looks so peaceful…”

  “Don’t say that,” Jennifer snapped, immediately feeling bad. She softened her tone. “I mean, that’s what they say about dead people.”

  “I’m sorry. Hey, it’s okay.” Susan tightened her embrace. “I understand.”

  Of course she does, Jennifer realized, remembering Susan’s own mother.

  Susan backed up a step and dabbed her cheeks with a sleeve. “What—was it—”

  “Yeah, it was the thing you saw yesterday. Which I’m so sorry about! It wasn’t after you, it was after…Listen, Susan, I can’t keep any more secrets from you. You’re my best friend and it’s too much.”

  Susan nodded, found a chair, and sat down. “Okay. Go.”

  “Okay, first thing. Remember that day last spring I told you I was a dragon and so was my father? Well, I learned something else about myself. Later on. It has to do with my mother.”

  “Well, she must be a dragon, too, right?” Susan’s look of complete innocence and trust broke Jennifer’s heart.

  “Um, no. It doesn’t always work out that way. It turns out…well, she’s a beaststalker. So I’m part beaststalker, too.”

  Susan’s expression was unreadable.

  Jennifer had to say something. “Um, anyway, I just thought you should know that. I haven’t told Skip yet, because my mom killed his dad. But I’m going to tell him soon, I swear.”

  More staring. The sounds of the hospital rolled over them—hustling nurses, patients muttering to visitors, voices calling through the speaker system.

  “Also, um, funny thing, Skip and I share a half brother. Kind of a half-dragon, half-spider thing. That’s, um, that’s what you saw in the street. You know, uh, earlier today. Which I’m really sorry about. Again.”

  Susan’s mouth gaped open.

  “Yeah. Um, one last thing. This half brother’s from a completely different dimension. He’s already killed my grandfather, and he wants to kill everyone close to my dad. Including me. And that’s it. That’s everything. Just wanted, you know, to keep you up to speed on things.”

  Somewhere in the distance, someone called for Dr. Evanston, whoever he or she was, to get to surgery immediately. Susan didn’t budge. Her expression was one of tear-streaked awe.

  She can’t handle it, Jennifer was certain. She’s going to bolt, just like she did when she found out I was a dragon. But I will not judge her, I will not blame her, no matter how much I need her to stay. She never signed up for this.

  Suddenly her friend’s features firmed up, and the tears were gone. Susan Elmsmith stood up, took her best friend’s hand, and kissed her on an astonished cheek.

  “Okay, Jennifer. So I’m here to help. What do you need?”

  Susan’s agreeing to keep watch over Elizabeth made it easier for Jennifer to leave the hospital, but going back home to the awful mess was still difficult. She had just begun surveying the wreckage inside the house when she heard someone approach the front doorway. Phoebe—who had stuck close to the house even with the door kicked open—barked at the noise and ran out of the destroyed dining room. Jennifer followed closely, weapons in hand and adrenaline surging as she saw the winged shadow approach before the hovering afternoon sun. This is it. He’s back for me. Come on, you. Let’s go. I cannot wait to bury you.

  “Jennifer!”

  “Dad!” He was still in dragon form. Phoebe was whining around his hind legs. Jennifer raced through the door and hugged him.

  “I got the message from Joseph. Where is she?”

  “At the hospital now. The doctors say…” She trailed off, unwilling to continue. Somehow, telling him would make it more real—even more real than watching her mother asleep.

  “She’s still alive?” His gray eyes shone a bit. “She’s not dead?”

  Jennifer shook her head, sniffling, and told him about the coma.

  He folded her in his wings tightly.

  After a while, he let go. “I should go to see her. If she’s alone when she wakes up…”

  “Susan’s watching her. She’s got my cell phone number, and a cell of her own.” Jennifer patted the device on her skirt belt. “I thought I should come back here and figure out what I could.”

  “Good instincts, ace.” He looked over his shape ruefully. “Okay, I suppose we could take a look around first.”

  They picked through bits of plaster, fabric, and wood, looking for clues that would tell them the story of the fight that took place here. Phoebe settled down in the front doorway, content to see part of her pack home, and stood watch.

  Stepping carefully through the living room, Jennifer spotted a small marble ornament on the floor—the dragon carving Susan had given her for her fifteenth birthday. Her parents had let her put it on a fancy end table, which was now in splinters across the room. She picked up the miniature dragon and cradled it in her hands for a moment, before gently placing it on the windowsill. Then she continued her investigation.

  In her peripheral vision, she caught her father wiping his face several times as they surveyed the wrecked furniture and damaged walls.

  “Wow, she really kicked his ass,” she offered in the way of comfort.

  Jonathan sniffed quickly and looked up with red eyes. “What makes you say that, ace?”

  “Well, look at these marks on the table.” They were in the dining room, and she pushed aside some hanging fragments of wallpaper as she pointed. “These look like thrust marks from Mom’s sword. They’re covered in blood—and Mom didn’t have any major wounds when I found her. Not even any minor ones—scratches at worst. She must have slashed him at least five, maybe six times, in this room alone. And with all these claw marks, it looks like he was struggling to get away. He left the dining room and went into the kitchen—see the direction of the bloodstains?—and I can’t imagine he’d be chasing someone who was stabbing him over and over.”

  A corner of his mouth raised. “She had him running away from her, at one point.”

  “I can’t figure out what happened here, though.” Jennifer examined the remains of the kitchen table and chairs. “She had him backed into a corner. See where the paintings got knocked off? By wings, or legs, up against the wall. But then she got her sword stuck here in the floor, which seems too far away from her target. And I found her…I, uh, found her over there.” She pointed vaguely this time; it felt almost like bad luck to get too specific.

  “I know what happened.” Jonath
an sighed. “She reached out to him.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She drove her sword point down to show Evangelos she was done fighting. She showed him mercy.”

  “And in return, he attacked her.” Jennifer felt the back of her neck get warm. “When she didn’t even have her sword.”

  “Yes. A cowardly act. But then he did something extraordinary, Jennifer.”

  “What’s that?” Now it was her turn to wipe her eyes.

  “He left her alive.”

  She cleared her throat and scanned the kitchen. “I haven’t seen much sign of Skip.”

  Rubbing her shoulder for comfort, he silently agreed to the shift in investigation. “The door to the basement stairs is still open,” he pointed out after a few seconds of investigation. “But it doesn’t look like there was much fighting over there.”

  “We usually keep it closed, don’t we?” Biting her lip in fear for what she may find, Jennifer jogged down the hallway and peered down the stairs. “Skip! Are you down there?”

  There was no answer. The wood paneling and carpeting were intact, and it was clear Evangelos had not entered this part of the house.

  As her father folded his wings and squeezed behind her, she crept down the stairs. Only the hum of the furnace was audible. The stairs turned a corner at the landing, and Jennifer held her breath as she peeked past.

  The basement was empty, save for the cardboard boxes where they kept seasonal decorations, and a few spare clean clothes piled up by the washer and dryer next to the furnace.

  Her father immediately moved past. “Back here.” He led her past the furnace and motioned toward some carpet remnants that had been pushed from their normal position. On the floor where they used to be was something Jennifer had never seen before—a metal trap door in the cement floor. The tunnel, Jennifer remembered from her conversations with her grandfather and mother.

  It was open. Jonathan approached it and flicked a wing claw against the sharp corner of the metal square.

  “Skip hurt himself squeezing through.” He drew the claw back and showed Jennifer the thickening blood he had scraped off. “Not seriously, I don’t think. In any case, I doubt we’ll find him anywhere near here. Not the way he is now, anyway.”