Jennifer Scales and the Ancient Furnace (17 page)

In response, Geddy licked one eye, then the other, then the first one again.

“He hasn’t made a peep since we got him.”

“Huh. I guess Geddy’s a freak, just like me.” But Jennifer said this with a smile. “Aren’t youuu, my widdle Geddy-gecko-poo? We’re two widdle peas in a pod!”

Phoebe whined from a distance. Elizabeth looked ready to retch. But Jonathan and Crawford smiled.

“I used to have a little fella just like that one,” Crawford said. “You’ll be surprised what a gecko can do for a dragon.”

“Can it clean her room?” Elizabeth asked. She and her father-in-law exchanged looks, but Jennifer didn’t notice. All she could do was titter as Geddy slunk across her hand and arm, up her ticklish neck, and through a mane of sliver and gold hair to perch upon her head.

They flew back under cover of darkness the day after Christmas, all three of them in a line—her grandfather, her father, and herself. She was looking forward to spending time as a dragon with her father—the bad feelings between them on that cold October morning had passed over time, and this last Christmas present had sealed the deal.

Said present was currently clinging to her horn with ferocious nonchalance. Jennifer had expressed worry that Geddy, being cold-blooded, would freeze to death, but the others had assured her he would be fine. Her mother agreed, with something approaching disdain, to bring up the tank and supplies in the minivan in a few days. In the meantime, the lizard would have the run of the cabin.

“We’ll have to find you a cricket or two from the barn,” she whispered to him as his spoon-shaped tongue hung out of his mouth a tiny bit. “Or maybe you’ll brave one of Grandpa’s hornet nests. They’re a bit more sluggish in winter, you know.”

Thick clouds hid the moon as they streamed through the night, a distance off the highway. The scent of snow was on the air at least ten minutes before the first soft flakes sprinkled their wings. By the time they reached the cabin, an inch of powder covered the driveway.

“I’d better go check in with the newolves,” Grandpa called out as he veered over the eastern pastures. “Jon, you and Jennifer get set up, and let Joseph know we’re back. Maybe he’s got a bit of leftover mutton in the fridge? Don’t eat it all! I could use a snack.”

“Newolves?” Jennifer asked as her grandfather’s dark shape disappeared quickly into the twilight. “I’ve heard that word before. What are they?”

“I doubt you’ll see much of them,” Jonathan told her. “Normally they stay in Crescent Valley. But your grandfather thought it would be a wise precaution to keep a few near the farm, given some of the rumors we’re hearing. They’re excellent guards, and fiercely loyal to our kind.”

“Loving father. I can’t help but notice that you haven’t answered my question at all.”

“Yes, well… just don’t go out looking for them. They’ll smell you well before you see them, and they’re not easy to get to know.”

Jennifer sighed as they landed on the northern porch. Joseph was waiting for them, and as luck had it, there was indeed leftover mutton, but not a lot of it.

“So what are we going to do tomorrow?” she asked her father as they hurried to finish off the meat before Crawford got back.

“Well, I don’t suppose you want me looking over your shoulder during your lessons. I’ll probably just stay out of your way during the day, and join you and your grandfather for breakfast and dinner.”

“Do you think we could do a little ice fishing?” The lake had frozen over well before Christmas this year.

“Sure.” He laughed. “You’ll see how nice it is not to have to drill through the ice. Though plunging your head into the icy water may get old after a few times. You may wish you were spending more time with your tutors instead!”

When she didn’t smile at that, he leaned in close. “Hey, I didn’t mean anything by that. Grandpa tells me you’re absolutely amazing, at everything you do.”

“Not everything.” She pouted. “I still can’t summon a darned decent lizard.”

“What, you’re still worried about that? Don’t fret, sport. You’ll be calling brontosaurs by Valentine’s Day.”

“They’re called apatosaurs now, Dad.”

“Dumbest name in the world. Makes ‘em sound half as big, with bunny shoes. Some things just shouldn’t change.”

Winter passed quickly by the lake, and friendships deepened. Catherine, Patrick, and Joseph all made a point of keeping meals with Jennifer, even when her grandfather or father didn’t join them for a story or history lesson. At first this made Jennifer feel awkward since she was younger than the other three, but as Catherine put it, “In dragon years, we’re all newborns.”

She actually didn’t see much of her father after the first couple of weeks back—just an occasional drop-in here and there, though he was always careful to call if more than two or three days went by. He would often take over a camouflage lesson for her and Joseph, sending their surly tutor off to disappear smoothly in the forest somewhere. In this formal setting, Jennifer found his lectures more tolerable. In fact, he seemed to make a point of keeping his words short and sweet.

As for her mother, beyond the briefest of stays on New Year’s Eve (to drop off Geddy’s tank and supplies), she barely came by. The cabin seemed to make the doctor uncomfortable, and Jennifer noticed that Crawford never asked his daughter-in-law to stay for long, even when there weren’t other dragons about. When Jennifer asked him about this, he was rather terse.

“It’s a matter for your mother and me,” he told her. “Best leave it alone, Niffer.”

So Jennifer spent most days during crescent moons playing sheep hunts with the other dragons, or creeping up on deer in camouflage, or zapping the pine cones off of pine trees with her tail as she whipped by. She kept up with her friends back home (mainly Susan and Skip) by phone, and did the occasional school project as time allowed. Her dragon friends followed a similar schedule, keeping up with their own studies as best they could while also helping Jennifer with her schoolwork so she wouldn’t fall behind.

Joseph was the only one of the three she ever saw in human form. He was pale, of Norwegian lineage, with a blond crew cut and a quiet but easy smile. Because he was staying at Grandpa’s cabin he naturally spent the most time with her. At seventeen he was an apprentice electrician, so he was able to help Jennifer with science and mathematics. Patrick was a history buff, and so during his crescent moon visits to the cabin, he would check her history and writing work.

Catherine was actually already taking a college-level course in sociology and anthropology. Jennifer wasn’t sure what this was, but she nodded politely when her friend pronounced it so seriously. She became a whole lot more interested when she found out what Catherine studied in her spare time.

“Newolves?” It was an early spring evening. Pale buds were forming on the tips of the deciduous trees, but the crescent moon was still visible through their stark branches. “You’ve seen them? What are they?”

The scales around Catherine’s lips curled in a mysterious smile. “Now, you have to promise not to tell anyone about this. Grandma told me not to go poking around the forest, but I couldn’t help myself. The past few weeks have been so fascinating! The potential advances in anthropological methodology alone are—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, that’s great,
what are they
?”

“They’re reverse werewolves,” the older dragon explained. “Usually, they’re just very intelligent, very large wolves. But every couple of days, they take human form. After I pestered Grandma for a bit, she told me they shift every fifty hours or so. But I want to do my own observations. So since early February, I’ve been slowly introducing myself to the dozen or so your grandfather has across the refuge.”

“Wow, so you can talk to them now? Share meals with them? Play primitive games?”

“Um, not really. But when I fly overhead, they don’t scatter anymore.”

“That’s quite the doctoral thesis you’ve got going there.”

“Hey, it’s progress. You wanna come along someday?”

“Thanks, no. If I want to chase animals around, I’ll go after sheep. At least I can eat those.”

Despite her skepticism, Jennifer found herself looking forward to Catherine’s ongoing daily reports on the herd: what the youngest newolf cub had eaten, who appeared to be the alpha male, how a new mating pair was getting along. It became an elaborate secret that the two of them shared.

The spring mornings came earlier and grew warmer. During one late April sunset, when the latest crescent had almost finished waning in the sky and only one or two dragons were left at the farm, Jennifer decided to ask her friend if she could go along on a visit. Catherine’s red eyes immediately lit up.

“Oh, yes, that would be great, Jennifer! The pack just settled into a new grove a bit west of where they had been before. I think it’s a territorial push. They’ve acclimated to my regular visits, and I think they’re ready for additional exposure to a monitoring agent. Just think of what we can learn about how they respond to observing our
own
unique social relationships!”

“Um, yeah, I guess. I just wanna see ‘em. We’d better hurry, though—my dad’s flying in later tonight before the crescent moon ends, and he’ll get suspicious if I’m not around.”

It had been raining all day and the early evening skies were still overcast. The oaks, walnuts, and maples now gave good cover to anything on the ground, and Catherine couldn’t fly too well anyway, so it took some time for her to spot the right landmarks and lead them to where she was sure they would find the newolf pack.

“Here!” she finally called out from the ground, as Jennifer nervously skimmed the branches above and felt a few lingering raindrops flick her scales. “Come on down and look!”

Expecting to witness an exquisite gathering of primeval man-beasts, Jennifer cleared her throat, gently came down through the trees (being careful not to make any sudden moves), and gazed upon… a huge puddle of mud.

“What, is there a newolf taking a mud bath in there?”

“No, look! Right in the middle!”

Jennifer peered more closely at the puddle and saw, a bit left of center, an indistinct impression in the mud. Her father and grandfather had taught her a bit about tracks when they hunted deer, and this one looked strange. It might have been the print of a newolf. Or it might have been the print of a drunken timberwolf.
Or
it might have been a crater left by a small, bouncing stone …

“Um, Catherine…”

“They can’t be too far! Come on, this way!”

Half-dragging her younger friend, Catherine pushed through the brush, making quite a racket and (Jennifer was certain) scaring anything outside of a cement bunker away. After a few moments, just as the last few rays of sunlight drifted through the wet leaves around them, she gave an incredibly loud hushing sound and pointed.

“
Oh, Jennifer, look
!
Over there
!”

Jennifer would never be able to put into words the sight that met her eyes as she followed her friend’s finger. This was largely because she didn’t see much.

“That was a fox, wasn’t it?”

“No, no, no.
Behind
the fox.”

“Oh for—Catherine, tell the truth. Have you actually ever
seen
a newolf?”

“Of course I have!” The older girl seemed hurt by the implication. “Plenty of times. I just think they’re being shy around you.”

“No, the
missing link
is shy. These guys are positively antisocial.”

“It’s getting late.” Catherine sighed. “The crescent moon’s only got a couple hours left in it. I’d like to get back home before then—it’d suck to morph halfway there and then have to walk in the rain.”

“Okay. Well, thanks for the nature stroll.”

With a sour glance, the trampler turned and lifted herself off the ground a bit, before whomping her way through the forest. Jennifer glided up above the trees and headed back for the cabin.

When she returned, Joseph was waiting on the porch for her. He had already morphed back, and had a suspicious look on his pale face.

“Where have you been?”

“Out in the forest.”

“Doing what?”

Jennifer decided the truth would do. “Absolutely nothing. Since when is this any business of yours?”

“Your grandfather’s out looking for you. He’s worried. Your mom called.”

“What did she say?”

“She says your dad left for here this morning. He should have been here hours ago.”

Just then, the phone rang inside. Jennifer pushed Joseph aside, lumbered over to the phone, saw the incoming number, and knocked the receiver off with one claw as the other clumsily pressed the speakerphone button. “Mom?”

Her mother’s voice was very faint.

“Your dad’s in trouble, honey.”

“Mom, what’s going on?”

“Come home, sweetheart. Please. Right now.”

Elizabeth Georges-Scales had never looked so old to her daughter. Tears clouded her green eyes, and her shoulders slumped over the kitchen table. In her quivering hands was a single scrap of paper, which had been crumpled and smoothed multiple times.

She didn’t look at Grandpa Crawford or Jennifer as they entered in human form. Handing her father-in-law the note, the woman barely moved her mouth and did not make eye contact.

“Someone slipped this under the door early this evening, after I called the first time. I didn’t hear or see a car in the driveway.”

Crawford looked at the scrap, read what was on it, and walked out immediately. His anger was obvious. Elizabeth did not even try to make him stay.

“I’d say we have until the new moon’s over before your grandfather goes out and does something rash,” she explained as the door slammed.

“What, three days away?” Jennifer was aghast. “What do we do until then? And why is he so angry?”

Elizabeth held up the paper so that her daughter could read the single word scrawled there:

Prophecy
.