Jennifer Scales and the Ancient Furnace (21 page)

Finally, the eyes emerged. The two originals blackened and bulged to the size of dinner plates. An additional eye burst out on either side of the main set. And finally, like sentries around the sides and back of the head, four more evenly spaced swells appeared.

If Jennifer hadn’t been struck down by sorcery, she would have screamed. As it was, she managed a gasp and a mild squirm backward from the man-sized spider.

Otto’s knife-sized mandibles clicked with every word. The odd, fatherly voice was still there. “Now you can see the face of the enemy you
should
fear, dragon-girl. With the help of your blood, I can take my form at will, independent of the moon’s cycles. But that’s not all this blood can do for us. Your capture will be the end of your race. I suppose I should thank you. You’ll be so important to me, to Skip, to all of us.”

His gratitude infuriated Jennifer. She began to feel past the numbness—the sorcery was wearing off, and she could speak with some effort. “You’ll never get the Ancient Furnace!”

The mandibles vibrated in what could only have been a gentle laugh. “You still don’t get it. None of your kind did. That’s why no one protected you.

“
Find
the Ancient Furnace?
Get
the Ancient Furnace? I
have
the Ancient Furnace, Jennifer Scales. I have
you
.”

It may have been the sorcery reasserting itself, but Jennifer went numb again. “What?”

“As I was trying to tell you before you rudely interrupted me the first time, you dragons have an infatuation with the number fifty. It isn’t completely unfounded. If dragons spent less time hunting sheep and more time searching into the past, like I have, they would no doubt have learned the full prophecy of the Ancient Furnace. Every fifty generations, the blood of all dragon clans combines within a unifying figure. This blood
is
the Ancient Furnace. The one with the Ancient Furnace roiling through her veins wields incredible powers, and strengthens all who surround her. Or him.”

Prophecy. Furnace. Blood
. Jennifer recalled the messages that Otto and his son left for her.

“Powers like fire-breathing,” Jonathan Scales guessed from where he lay. Jennifer could see that his concerned eyes had returned to her. She felt miserable, stupid, and used. Her father had not been the target. He had been the bait. And Skip had lured her right into the trap.

“Indeed,” Otto agreed. “Breathing fire is a skill we have sought for a long time. Six years ago at Eveningstar, suspecting Jennifer’s powers and how you might use them against us someday, we tried to find and kill her. As a chieftain among our kind, I could work enough sorcery to arm our troops with fire for a short while. The effort nearly destroyed me. After that, I decided I was going about it wrong. Instead of knocking myself out to kill her, I decided to lure her in and use her.

“I needed to be patient, since her blood would do me no good until she had her first morph. Fortunately, Skip and I moved into town just in time.

“Our first plan was to invite her over for dinner and just take her there, alone. But Skip began to think he was on an actual date, it seems, and so moved the location from our house to the mall.” The hiss the massive spider directed at Skip betrayed a fury that had not entirely passed since last November.

“You didn’t tell me what you had planned until after then!” Skip protested. He pointed at the syringe lying on the floor. “And you never said anything about blood, or hurting her!”

“In any case,” the arachnid continued, “it would not have been advisable, to attempt to kidnap a young woman in front of several hundred witnesses. So the opportunity passed. Soon after that, you were gone for extended periods, in all phases of the moon. So I had to set up a slightly more provocative trap. I didn’t mind. Spiders love traps, you see.

“And the trap worked. Anytime I need it, the power of the Ancient Furnace will be a mere injection away. Not just fire-breathing—I’m interested to see what beasts I can call to my service, or how easy it will be to hide in plain sight. How delightful your daughter’s so talented. And a shame, I suppose, that she’ll never get to use those talents again.”

“What the hell do you mean by that?” Jennifer saw the outrage on her father’s face—and the alarm on Skip’s. How much had Otto really told Skip before getting him to lure Jennifer into the sewer?

“Don’t panic, Jonathan. If you’d been listening, you’d know I have no intention of killing her.” Otto was clearly enjoying this, rubbing his four forelegs together. “The boost her blood gives me is temporary. I need a continual supply.”

“You come near my daughter with that syringe again, and she’ll cram it up your bulbous ass,” Jonathan promised.

The beast’s posture betrayed a loss of good humor. “I don’t doubt it. That’s why I’ll have to poison her into a permanent coma. I’ll take what I need, when I need it. She’ll never feel a thing. And she’ll never see you die for what you did to our family.”

Skip’s thin voice rose. “Wait a sec. A coma? Forever? And you’ll kill this guy? Why, because of Mom? Dad, you didn’t… this is—”

“
SILENCE
!” The enormous spider shuffled its legs with lightning speed to face its human son. “I told you she would survive without pain. That’s all you needed to know, son.” The voice through the mandibles softened. “I don’t expect you to understand anything else, Skip. Not until your first change.”

Jennifer remained silent. Conflict between bad guys was good. Plus, she was pretty sure the sorcery was almost completely spent. She twitched her tail and curled her wing claws. Otto either didn’t see this or didn’t care. He kept his focus on his stubborn son.

“Dad, whatever this guy did, it’s not worth murder!”

“He’s right,” Jonathan chimed in. Jennifer silently congratulated her father on not sounding at all desperate. “You can’t expect to leave no trail behind. Both my daughter and I will be missed. And I imagine if my daughter knew where to find you, my wife will, too. You can expect authorities here at any moment.”

The thought encouraged Jennifer. Her dad was right—maybe Susan had gone for help, too!

“You’re quite a ways away from where Skip led your daughter,” Otto informed them, “in a section of the sewer system virtually no one knows about but my own construction company. No one followed you here. No one will look for you here. You’ll die here, Jonathan Scales, and your daughter will live out her days in this cell. Sleeping comfortably.” He finished with a soft gurgle.

“
I
know where they are,” Skip said steadily. To his credit, he stared all eight of his father’s eyes down. “And I know this isn’t what Mom would have wanted.”

“You’re a child,” Otto sneered. “What do you know about what your mother wanted?”

“I know she didn’t want
you
.”

Otto’s left foreleg jabbed up and pinned Skip to the wall. He did not sound fatherly at all anymore. “You ungrateful twit. You’ll stay silent. And you’ll come to appreciate what I’ve done for our family, and all our kind. You’ll watch our destiny unfold, and you’ll show respect.”

With that, he let his dazed son go and spat on the ground. A puddle of venom sizzled upon the cement floor. He brought his right foreleg down, and dipped the claw in the venom until it shone with a light green coating.

“Now stay still, Jennifer, or this will do worse than knock you unconscious.” Otto’s spider shape positioned itself so that he looked directly at Jennifer.

As she stared back into the front four eyes, she found herself mesmerized with fear. She thought back to the butterfly that had put her into a trance, that day in Ms. Graf’s science class. From there, her life did not flash before her eyes as much as unravel backward … the soccer championship … seventh grade, then sixth … elementary school graduation … the burning of Eveningstar…

Before her mind could go any further, Otto rushed forward and brought his foreleg down.

“NO!” With equal speed, Skip pushed off the cell wall and leapt forward. The distraction was all Jennifer needed—she scrambled back, and Skip rushed into her place.

With a cry, Otto altered his strike to avoid poisoning his son, but the stroke was already nearly complete, and the claw grazed Skip’s chest.

Nobody moved. They all watched Skip grab at his chest, feel the bubbling wound, and open his mouth. Then he staggered back into Jennifer and collapsed.

Otto saw this and was quick to anger.

But Jennifer was angrier, and quicker.

A blast of flame streamed across the room and engulfed the spider. He squealed like a monstrous pig, and forgetting about his own son’s safety, he opened his mandibles and breathed his own salvo of fire.

She didn’t have to think at all—it came as instinct to protect the unconscious boy in her arms. Her wings wrapped around Skip, and she turned her head down so that the heat bounced harmlessly off her armored back and wings.

“Fire may not hurt you, vermin, when you’re in dragon form … but your father won’t be so lucky…”

Letting Skip fall to the ground, Jennifer moved toward her father to protect him—but she had forgotten about the collar and wall chain! There was nothing she could do as Otto reared back to prepare a new volley of fire. With a cry of frustration, she sought her father’s eyes one last time. But he was not looking back at her.

He was looking at something scuttling beneath the arachnid’s spindly legs.

Jennifer squinted at it. It was Geddy.

Had Geddy followed them? If so, what—?

Before she could piece it all together, something moved into the doorway behind Otto and an intense light flooded the room. She shut her eyes against the pain it caused. Jennifer heard Otto scream, and then another sound filled her ears. It was a battle cry—deep, horrible, and petrifying. She slammed her wing claws to her ear-holes and began screaming herself.

A tiny corner of her mind recalled something Grandpa Crawford had said:
Walking weapons, using light and sound
…
their very voice can paralyze their foes
…

A beaststalker
! Eddie had snuck away from his parents to help after all!

The light and the noise persisted. Even with eyes and ears closed, the assault on her senses was devastating. “Eddie, please stop that!” She couldn’t even hear her own words.

The noise stopped. The light dimmed a bit beyond her eyelids. She dared to open them and gaped at what she saw.

The beaststalker was larger than life. Jennifer knew that the Blacktooths were tall, but seen from the floor of a cement cell in a sewer, this one was a tower. A full helm with no visor—how could he see? she wondered—glowed with a pure light. A drawn sword fed off the helm’s light.

The rough leather armor may once have been white, but was browned with dirt and blood and time. Over this was a cape of black, thick, flowing fabric.

“Hurry!” The voice was high and clear, even through the helm. “I wounded him, but he will be back.”

Jennifer finally noticed that Otto was no longer in the room. The dark sword swung through the air, making her flinch—but it cut the wall chain, not her, and with a loud
chink
she was free.

Another stroke and Jonathan was also free. He struggled to get to his legs. The beaststalker helped him up and supported him as they left the room.

“Wait a sec, Eddie!” Jennifer looked over at Skip. He was lying faceup, shirt torn and chest wound still simmering with venom. “We can’t leave him here. He’ll die, or worse.”

The reply was impatient. “If you want him, carry him.” And with that, the beaststalker dragged her father out of the room. Geddy bolted after them.

It was lucky for Skip, Jennifer decided as she rolled him onto the wool blanket her father had used in the cell, that she was a forgiving soul. His wound looked nasty and they were his best hope for quick medical help. Her wing claw cramped as she dragged Skip out of the room by pulling on the corner of the cloth, but somehow she managed to stumble out and follow the others.

Otto’s lair was different from a typical sewer. For one, there were lightbulbs hanging every few yards throughout the network of rough-hewn tunnels. Second, the dimensions of the hallways were large—at least ten feet from side to side, and floor to ceiling. Third, there were other cells. Some were empty, and some housed unseen things that skittered and hissed in an unfriendly fashion.

Now was not the time for investigation, Jennifer decided. She kept her horned head down and her hind claws moving. They went on for at least a mile, slightly uphill, with Geddy slipping around the feet of those in front. Jennifer became more and more grateful to the gecko—they passed through several intersections, and took at least three different turns. Without the tiny lizard’s memory and sense of direction, she realized, they would never have been found.

Skip became heavier and heavier as she dragged him on the blanket. “Eddie, how much farther?” she called out.

“The main junction is up ahead. After that, a few hundred yards to the ladder shaft.”

“Okay, I can walk now.” Her father’s breath sounded ragged but stronger, and Jennifer began to feel they might actually make it out.

Until they heard the sounds of hundreds of clicking mandibles in the darkness ahead.

“He’s summoned help,” Jonathan guessed. “Except I’ll bet it’s not
lizards
he’s calling.”

“Dragon!” The voice through the helmet had a power that compelled her forward. “Drop the traitor! You should be up here with me!”

“I’ll take Skip,” her father volunteered. Jennifer let her burden slide to the ground and stepped up to the front of the group. Geddy quickly ran up her hind leg and found a comfortable perch on her back between her wings.

She winced as that awful noise and light began to fill the room. “No, Eddie! Let me take care of this.”

The clicking got closer and closer. Up ahead and a few yards around a corner, the last of the ceiling bulbs cast a shaky light on a widening of the hall and a large opening where a barricade of boards and stones had recently been knocked down. Beyond this opening was wide-open darkness—the sewer junction Eddie had mentioned, Jennifer guessed. There was movement on the floor, but it was difficult to tell what it was, or how many.