“You can’t—”
“I can. I haven’t been out of this building in days. It will be good for the citizens of this town to see their mayor taking charge of the situation.”
His expression was inscrutable. “I could give you a list of students who—”
“That won’t be necessary, little Henry. I think I know the players here.”
“But there’s someone you may—”
“Stop pretending to help.”
He straightened his jacket. “I’m trying to tell you, someone is—”
“Do you need me to validate your parking?” she asked sweetly.
He flushed, his neck going the color of old brick. She could see he wanted to raise his hand to her. Watching with sour amusement as he swallowed that suicidal impulse, she nodded back when he finally inclined his head a fraction of an inch and marched stiffly out the door.
After he was gone, she sighed, sat down, and leaned back in her chair. With a flick of her wrist, the newspaper skidded off her desk and into the leather-lined wastebasket.
Where would she go from here? How did you fight a war against an enemy that could warp the entire battlefield? How long would it take before another werachnid concocted a new scheme to wind back time, or summon another half-bred insult to nature, or have the trees in town covered with cobwebs and producing poison instead of sap? For all of Glorianna’s disdain for dragons, the emerging threat seemed far more likely to run on eight legs.
Or roll on two wheels.
The next day, she was walking down the halls of Winoka High with its buffoon principal scurrying to keep pace.
“—highly irregular,” he panted.
“I’m aware, Mr. Mouton. It shouldn’t take long.”
“You’re always welcome to talk with any of our teachers, of course. But in the case of the students, shouldn’t their parents be present for the—the—”
“Questioning?” Glory suggested. “Interviews? Water-boarding? Call it what you like. I’m only going to ask them each a couple of questions, Mr. Mouton; I left my cat-o’-nine-tails at home.” As he opened his mouth to protest, she added, “Your teachers’ lounge should do nicely. Keep everyone else out. You had no trouble finding everyone on my list?”
“Jennifer Scales has been on excused absence for the past couple of weeks. Her mother called me again this morning to say it would be at least a few more days.”
Excused absence! Is that what we’re calling slinking around on a lizard’s belly nowadays? “I’ll speak with Ms. Scales some other time.” Her long, muscular finger stretched over the piece of paper she had given him. “Bring me the first on my list.”
The first was Edmund Slider. The geometry teacher rolled in, a fine dusting of chalk powder sprinkled all over the front of his black mock turtleneck and jacket. She was already seated at the head of the crumb-strewn table in a cheap folding chair. She waited patiently for him to roll himself into position opposite her. Her hands were folded in front of her; her expression, she knew from decades of practice, was carefully bland. “Tell me,” she began, “about the Quadrivium.”
He raised his eyebrows. “What is it you think you ought to know?”
“Start with names. You were one. So was Otto Saltin. Who were the other two?”
His fingers smoothed his blond hair, and he searched the stained ceiling tiles for an answer. “Let’s see . . . unfortunately, practicing sorcery tends to dull my memory . . . If I think hard, I can remember . . . Yes, I can! It was Raggedy Ann and Andy. No, wait. It was Romeo and Juliet. Hang on, I’m getting another vision: It was you and a sock puppet. Good heavens—that sorcery must have been amazing to hit my memory this hard!”
“Edmund. Your life is hanging by a thread.”
Looking at her directly, he pulled up his shirt, revealing a remarkably toned torso. “Please, Your Honor. Have the guts to pick up your sword and do your own dirty work.”
She did not answer. It took all of her energy not to take him up on the offer.
“Or perhaps,” he suggested, “you should go back to your home in city hall and get some sleep. You seem out of sorts.” He yawned. “I know I could use a nap myself.”
“Aren’t we both too old for these sorts of verbal games, Mr. Slider?”
“I couldn’t agree more. Since Mr. Mouton tells me you have a list of students to bore, I should let you get to it. By the way,” he added as he backed up his chair with a twinkle in his eye, “I never got a chance to tell you how fun it was to plot your murder. Despite my disappointment that it didn’t work out, I’ve found I can’t stay angry at Ms. Scales for unwinding the whole thing. She assured me it had nothing to do with loyalty to you. Your survival, it seems, is the unhappy, unintentional byproduct of her success. Perhaps someday, I can fashion a universe that will both meet the modest needs of my favorite student, and still see you dead.”
After Slider’s departure, it took only a minute for the next person on her list to arrive. Mouton had specific instructions from her to keep those on the list at the ready, in other rooms, separate from each other. She wanted no delays, and no coordination among interviewees.
“Francis Wilson. Come in, have a seat.”
“It’s not Francis; it’s Skip. Every person over twenty-five—ugh, never mind. What?” the boy snapped as he leaned against the white-painted cement brick wall. He was a good-looking child, carrying a chip on his shoulder heavier than a redwood. The arachnid form within his abdomen pulsed with incredible power. Glorianna had not seen anything like it since . . . since . . .
“Can we hurry this up? I’m missing gym.”
That broke the spell. “You’ll miss the rest of your life if you don’t show respect.”
The boy actually smirked. “I had a father who was a bully.”
“Yes. He was a member of the Quadrivium.”
His voice got darker and nastier. “Yeah, the Quadrivium. So what? It failed. I got screwed. What, you called me in here to rub it in? Did Jennifer put you up to this?”
Interesting. She had this boy pegged as Jennifer’s ally, based on what Hank had told her months ago. Apparently, that intelligence was outdated. “Jennifer’s role is not the point. I need information. You have it. You will give it to me.”
“I have information.” He mocked her tone. “I will walk out this door with it. You and your freakish white eyes will get bent.”
And with that, he walked out of the room.
Glorianna was shrewd enough not to try to stop him. She had expected low cooperation from both Slider and Wilson, and she had learned enough from both of them for the time being. She made two mental notes: First, she would have Mr. Mouton suspend the boy immediately. What lay inside that child’s abdomen was nothing less than a ticking time bomb. She didn’t need it going off in the middle of a high school.
Second, before Christmas, she would have one of the town’s peace officers visit his house, and kill everyone in it.
The third interview began far better.
“Hi, Your Honor.”
Glory looked up and relaxed. Despite Hank’s reports on his son, she had not actually seen Eddie Blacktooth for some time. She had worried about him and his mother, and it was good to see him looking well. He was handsome, with pale skin and deep brown hair. While giving the impression of a sparrow at this young age, his features were sharp, and his bone structure promised exceptional good looks when he matured. By the time she took him all in, he had already shaken her hand and dropped gracefully into the chair next to hers.
“Edward. Thank you for seeing me.”
“No problem, ma’am. You’re getting me out of a pop quiz in chemistry right this minute.” He smiled at her, and to her own surprise she smiled back.
“Right to it, then. What can you tell me about the Quadrivium?”
That made him frown a little. “Geez, your Honor. I told Mom everything Jennifer told me. I didn’t even know about the word quadrivium until that night Jennifer ran up and . . .” His ears and che
eks reddened. “Anyway, I told Mom everything. She said she’d pass it on.”
“I did talk to Wendy.” This was true; she had done so after receiving Libby’s letter. All accounts of what happened squared, and there didn’t look like there was much more to get, from either Wendy or her son. Glorianna tapped her pencil against the pad in front of her. Maybe the boy could help her with something else. “I hear you’re staying with the Scaleses. I’m sorry to hear of your family’s difficulties. Is Wendy holding up well?”
“Mom? She’s okay.” Eddie shrugged. “I mean, it’s hard not living at home. And I’ve seen her cry when she thinks no one’s around. She’s told me Dad has been bad for her, and I . . .”
When he didn’t continue, Glory pressed. “You agree?”
This time, his shrug was more mysterious. “Dad is who he is.”
“He certainly is. So tell me—how do you pass the time with the Scales family?”
There was another good-natured smile. “Nothing you’d probably approve of, Your Honor.” Her expression made the smile disappear, and he rushed to add, “Nothing that’s going to hurt you or this city, either.”
“Care to be more specific?”
He bit his lip. “Not really.”
“Perhaps I should talk to your father about what you’re up to.”
That friendly smile of his returned, and then tilted. “You’ll tell him I said hello?”
Glorianna shivered at what felt like a thousand bugs crawling up her spine. Fingers clenching her pencil, she pointed toward the door. “Why don’t you go see if you can catch the end of that pop quiz, Edward.”
“Sure.” He winked at her before he got up and left the room.
The next interview had been an afterthought, but she believed in being thorough.
“Am I in trouble?” Susan Elmsmith took in the white brick walls of the teachers’ lounge as though they might collapse upon her.
“You certainly are not, Ms. . . . Elmsmith.” Glorianna tried to put on a reassuring smile as she looked up from her notepad. “Can I call you Susan?”
“I guess.” A sparkling blue fingernail worked its way up into the girl’s dark hair. Glorianna thought of a distant time, when her only thoughts were of perfect nails and hair, and how irritating her father was. This girl’s records indicated she had lost a parent, as well. Perhaps Glorianna could forge a connection? “I hear your late mother used to teach at this school.”
The girl gulped. “Yeah.”
“We don’t need to talk about her, if you don’t want to.”
“That’s okay. She died years ago. Dad and I moved on.” She didn’t sound convincing.
“I lost a parent when I was young, too.”
Susan sat up, interested. “I didn’t know that.”
“Yes, actually, both parents.”
“Who raised you, then?”
“Family friends. I was already fifteen by then, like you.”
“They must have been pretty good friends.”
“No better than your friends, I’m sure. Like Jennifer Scales, and Eddie Blacktooth.”
Like a punctured balloon, Susan deflated into her chair. “Oh. This is about Jennifer.”
If Glorianna could have stabbed herself for her own stupidity, she would have. Like that, the fragile connection was gone. She tried to coax it back. “We don’t have to talk about—”
“No, I get it. Everyone wants to talk about her.” The girl put on a brave grin. Glorianna knew she’d be fighting uphill from this point forward.
“You do keep interesting company. I will bet you’ve seen things no one else has.”
This earned the mayor a mild shrug. “I’ve seen some strange stuff.”
“Anything that has to do with this Quadrivium story in the papers?”
“Jennifer told me a few things. She said her mom sent you a letter with everything in it.”
Damn these people for talking to each other! If Glorianna didn’t see a conspiracy before, she certainly saw one now. Wendy, Eddie, Libby, Jennifer, that beast Jonathan, and even this girl Susan . . . if they were talking about the Quadrivium, and about that letter, then they were talking about their mayor. And if they were talking about her, and disagreed with her leadership (as they plainly did), then they were conspiring against her. And if they were conspiring against her, and finding people like Susan to convince . . .
She leaned toward the girl. “Susan, do you know the value of keeping a secret?”
The pretty brunette shrugged.
“This town has many secrets,” Glorianna explained. “Some more secret than others.”
“Some secrets more secret than other secrets?” the girl replied, trying not to giggle.
“Do you know what I mean?”
Susan coughed. “Sort of.”
“It’s my job to keep some of those secrets. It’s my job to protect people from knowing anything about some of those secrets. The more secret ones, I mean. Still following me?”
“Sure. It’s your job to keep people in the dark about some stuff, and feed them the little bits that you think they need to know. That way, they’ll follow you without question.”
The girl said it so matter-of-factly, Glorianna actually missed the ironic tone for a few seconds. When she caught on, she gave a long sigh. She had one lever left to pull. “Susan Elmsmith. Your family has benefited from this town’s protection.”
“Well, I’ve benefited from Jennifer’s protection. And Dr. Georges-Scales was a great comfort to my mom, in her final days.”
The last dead end, Glorianna thought bitterly. “Perhaps I need to talk to Jennifer herself.”
“She’s away,” Susan faithfully reported. “I’m not sure when she’ll be back. Are you sure you want to talk to her? Because you don’t sound like you want to talk to her.”
Glorianna had arranged these interviews in what she thought would be decreasing order of difficulty. In retrospect, she realized her first interview, Edmund Slider, had been the least disturbing of the four people she had talked to today.
“You seem to be in frequent communication with Jennifer,” she managed to say. “Perhaps you could pass on a message to her. Tell her I am intensely interested in speaking with her, the moment she returns to this town. Do you think you could do that for me, Susan?”
“Yes, ma’am,” the girl said, politely enough, and left.
It was several days before Glorianna heard from Jennifer Scales. One morning, the mayor woke up, got dressed, and went downstairs to her office. Outside the window that looked upon the courtyard of city hall, she saw a snake eagle perched on a tree. The snake eagle had a black mamba comfortably wrapped around its talons and torso. Both animals were staring at her.
Later that afternoon, she found half an hour to make it back to Winoka High. This time, Glorianna asked for the principal’s own office. A serene Jennifer Scales strolled in minutes later. The mayor’s eyes strayed to take in the golden angel that still fluttered below the child’s heart.
“Your mother sent me an interesting letter,” Glorianna started once they were both seated. “I was hoping you could tell me more.”
“Mind if I get comfortable?” Jennifer stood up and stretched her limbs, and to the mayor’s astonishment, changed into electric blue skin, softer gray underbelly, large wings, two-pronged tail, three-horned head—it was all there! In the principal’s office! In front of her!
She knew the child could change shape at will. She just didn’t think she would ever dare.
“Jennifer Scales. You are showing me enormous disrespect. I cannot believe Libby’s daughter would do such a thing.”
The dragon showed rows of gleaming, silver teeth. “You’ve met my mother, right?”
Glorianna stood on trembling legs. “There is a fine line between conscientious objection, which your mother practices, and outright disregard for civility. If your so-called diplomatic efforts mean anything to you at all, you will change back to your human form immediately.”
“Being the obedient daughter I am,” Jennifer answered without fading a single scale on her skin, “I asked my parents if it was okay for me to do this. They both approved. As they put it, I’ve saved this universe—including your fascist ass—and I’ve earned the right to take whatever shape I like, whenever I like. Now, I don’t want you to worry, Mayor. My parents are still raising me right—I have to get all my homework done before I watch any television, and be home by curfew every night! Sometimes, teenagers have to compromise. Am I right?”
Slowly, certain she was losing authority but equally certain she could do little about it, Glorianna sat down again. She could feel the flush of hot blood over her face and limbs. Her sword shifted inside the folds of her robe.
Within the dragon’s abdomen, the angel continued to flit. Glorianna tried to talk to it, instead of to the reptilian head of the Ancient Furnace.
“You were telling me about the Quadrivium. Can you start by identifying the four?”
“You already know two names,” the dragon replied. “They were in my mother’s letter, and the newspaper got them right. Edmund Slider is here at the school, if you want to talk to him. Otto Saltin is dead.”
“I was hoping for the other two names.”
“For the sake of better dragon-beaststalker relations, I’ll give you one: Dianna Wilson.”
Glorianna recognized the name from rumors. Together with Jonathan Scales, this Dianna Wilson had spawned the thing that had threatened Winoka recently. The sorceress could supposedly walk through dimensions no one had ever traveled before—but never, as far as Glorianna knew, had Dianna Wilson dared walk through Winoka.
“Where is Ms. Wilson now?”
“No idea. I doubt you or I could reach her. If it’s any comfort to you, I don’t believe she’s interested in trying the Quadrivium’s experiment again. They can’t do it without her.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“She has what she wants.”
“Which is?”
“Her daughter.”
Seraph of Sorrow Page 16
