Seraph of Sorrow (32 page)

“I’m not offering opinions. I’m offering facts. Elizabeth Georges-Scales is a beaststalker. So is her daughter. Beaststalkers are our enemies. Our enemies must die. Therefore, Jennifer Scales and her mother must die, as quickly as can be arranged.”

“That’s not necessary!” she insisted nervously. Most of the dragons who had gathered around Catherine and Jennifer had dispersed, but a few were still nearby. “Xavier, you can’t say things like that! You’ll only make it worse.”

“How can it get worse than this? Winona, has it occurred to you yet that Jennifer’s mother is a blonde? Named Elizabeth? Who kills dragons?”

“Of course it’s occurred to me! I’m not terminally stupid! That’s an issue for another day. The matter before us—”

“It cannot wait for another day!” His tail slapped the ground, denting the earth and sending turf into the air. “Winona, she killed Charles! She probably killed Jada and Caleb! And if we let her, she’ll kill us, too!” He pointed at the dwindling shape of Crawford and his cargo.

“
She?
Xavier, do you hear yourself? You’re confusing the mother with the daughter!”

“They are the same! Like parent, like child.”

Winona hissed. “There are beaststalkers who feel the same way about Jennifer’s father.”

“That’s my point!”

“So what is she supposed to do? Live in the wild with no family or friends at all?”

“I’ve already offered my solution.” His snout wrinkled. “She need not live at all.”

“You’re a fool. So is your niece. And no one on the Blaze will agree to murder her.”

“It only takes one of us.”

“No, Xavier.” She stood up straight. “It will take more than one of you, or even two of you, to get past me to her. That girl saved my granddaughter!”

He muttered something brief and vicious, but then took to the air.

Fortunately for Winona, the Blaze agreed with her and rejected the Longtails’ hateful approach. At the time, Winona thought them all wise for siding with the Scales family. Yes, Elizabeth Georges-Scales had killed Charles Longtail. Winona searched all the records she could, and found not one more proven instance of the woman hurting anyone since then. In fact, she calculated from records at Winoka Hospital that Dr. Georges-Scales had saved the lives of nearly three dozen weredragons over the course of her medical career.

She was as good as her word,
Winona told herself, remembering that girl by the river who was arguing with Glory Seabright.
She never killed again. Charles inspired that in her. She’s our hope for peace. Jonathan had the wisdom to see that. Their child, Jennifer, is the key.

All hopes rest with the Scales family.

“I will speak before the full Blaze later. But you deserve to hear this first and in private.”

It was days later. Winona brought a wing claw up to scratch at her ear. Jonathan Scales had her full attention, just as the Scales family had her full trust.

She looked over at Xavier and his great-nephew Gautierre. The elder dasher looked considerably less trusting, and Winona wondered if she would have to interpose herself between him and the Scaleses—particularly Elizabeth Georges-Scales. She had heard from Ned Brownfoot that a chance encounter between these parties a couple of days ago had gone badly.

Jonathan Scales began to talk. At first, he began with the story of how he and Elizabeth Georges met. This was lovely, romantic stuff, to be sure, but Winona didn’t see the point. It wasn’t until Jonathan mentioned two tramplers, who attacked him and his girlfriend under a silver moon elm, when Winona suddenly realized what Jonathan was telling her.

He did it. Not a beaststalker. He killed my sweet Jada, and poor Caleb. He made Catherine an orphan. He made us all believe someone else had done it.

Jonathan’s voice droned on, but she wasn’t listening anymore.
He lied. Lied about who he is. Lied about who he married. Lied about the child they had. Lied about his horrible misdeeds. Even as he spits in dragons’ faces, he cannot avoid being what he is. Like Ma.

“. . . forgiveness I hope to receive from you, if you’re willing, in your time.”

Winona was dimly aware that the liar had stopped talking, and that everyone was looking to her for a response. What was it they expected her to do now? Reach out and hug this man who had murdered her daughter? Slap him on the back and tell him it’s okay to lie, as long as you’re covering up for someone you love? Offer up Catherine as an additional sacrifice, if he felt the need to kill again—perhaps to protect his own daughter next time?

The thought that he might hurt Catherine had Winona up on her hind legs, wondering how to tear Jonathan Scales apart, while he was in vulnerable, fleshy form. Instead, a small shred of compassion—not for him, but for his daughter, Jennifer, who had such hopeful anticipation on her young face—made the Eldest of the Blaze veer away instead.

I can walk away from him. Like I walked away from Ma. I don’t have a use for him anymore. No use for liars.

“Eldest? You have nothing to say?”

Her teeth ground.
I cannot abide a liar’s voice.
She felt a thrill down her spine, the sort of feeling she got when calling a swarm of fire hornets. Steam rose from the water before her. Not knowing or caring what it meant, she stared at the rising vapor and growled.

“Elder Scales. You have broken faith with me, for the last time. Catherine, let’s go.”

She heard the child’s voice, pleading with her friend. The words were not important, and Winona felt the last vestiges of her shredded patience burn and vanish like the vapor coming off the lake. Something deep inside her unwound, and at the same time something churned in the steaming waters. Something was coming, something the world had never seen before . . . and if Catherine didn’t move her ass, it was going to unleash upon everyone here.

“Granddaughter!”

Even though she did not move her foot, the earth shook. The tremors forced whatever was under the water to surface briefly—a series of dark red coils—and Winona strained with the effort to push away whatever was coming.
I don’t need help. Not now. Not from this.

Once she was sure Catherine was next to her, she took off over the lake and headed for the portal, certain she was dragging away what she had summoned.
And what exactly was that?

She couldn’t avoid the answer. The memory of what she had seen in the boiling water, summoned by her own simmering rage, was all too fresh. It had been flat-out impossible, this thing so least expected and least wanted. It was also undeniably real.

“Grammie, please!”

“Catherine, I swear if you bring it up again, these newolves will tear you apart!”

They were in Crescent Valley, where they had spent the better part of the last two weeks. Winona had taken them out of circulation—out of school, out of work, out of Minnesota. Catherine wasn’t allowed out of Winona’s sight, and since Winona never left the cave . . .

The girl had been miserable. At first Winona had tried ignoring it. After all, she had lots of Elders to talk to. When she was done talking to them and Catherine was still sobbing, she tried reasoning with the girl. That discussion had lasted about thirty seconds, and had included such rhetorical gems as “stupid rock prison” and “fascist old crocodile.”

Winona couldn’t believe it. The kid still wanted to live in Winoka! Yes, they had bought a house with the intention of moving closer to the Scaleses and some potential beaststalker allies. That had been before they learned about Jonathan Scales’s dreadful lie. There was no way she could trust the Scaleses now—certainly not to keep her and her granddaughter safe. Yes, it was a shame that Catherine and Jennifer’s friendship had to suffer. There was no alternative.

After days of watching her granddaughter starve herself in protest, Winona had asked a couple of newolves to move into the cave with them. Catherine adored newolves—it was easy to recall the nearly fatal trouble she had gotten into so she could learn more about them—and Winona hoped that the close contact with this passion would help the girl come around.

It had gotten her to eat—no more. The two of them did not exchange a single word. An uncomfortable and lonely way to live, but Winona could tell herself they were alive and safe.

Then yesterday, Catherine took a new tack. She asked repeatedly to see Jennifer.
One last time,
she had asked.
Just to explain! To say good-bye!

Winona was in no mood to hear it. In her mind, no further explanation was necessary. Jonathan knew why Winona had severed ties, and he would explain it to his own daughter. After all, had they seen the Scales family since that night? Had anyone in Crescent Valley? Of course not. Because they all knew the welcome they would get, and they all knew why.

This didn’t stop Catherine from asking. Over and over, for hours on end. Once Winona realized what the girl was doing, she tried shouting her down, ordering her to stop, summoning an anaconda to wrap around the girl’s snout, leaving the cave. Nothing worked.

Heavens, the girl could talk! She was surprised the newolves could stand her. They loved her, in fact, almost as much as she loved them. Winona was beginning to suspect they saw the younger Brandfire’s side of things.

So when the elder threatened to sic them on Catherine, both gorgeous animals raised their noses, sniffed out the emptiness of the threat, and rolled back to sleep.

A bitter breeze blew into the cave, and Winona sought out the warmth of the inner chambers. Catherine did not bother to follow her. Both of them knew her echoing voice would.

“She’s my friend and she’d do anything for me and I’d do anything for her and you know it and she’d never treat me badly plus she’s the Ancient Furnace and can you really kick out the Ancient Furnace I mean is that even legal and I know we can trust her because she saved all of dragonkind though okay part of the reason why she had to was because of dumb Skip who betrayed all of us and she shouldn’t have brought him to Crescent Valley but she couldn’t have known what he was going to do and she fixed it anyway and you know if she could she’d fix this too but she can’t because she can’t go back in time and it isn’t her fault what her father did and did you stop to think the reason he told us at all was because Jennifer told him to?”

There was a pause. Winona dared to hope—

“And besides wasn’t it self-defense it’s not like Mr. Scales went around looking for tramplers to kill and yes I’m upset with him too in fact shouldn’t it be me that decides whether we’ll talk with them or not after all they’re my parents in fact one of them wasn’t even related to you but they were both related to me and I didn’t even know them and I guess I love them because they’re my parents and who doesn’t love their parents but they didn’t raise me Grammie you did and you also taught me about what’s fair and
this isn’t fair
. . .”

It went on. Winona did think about fairness, and about a day as a teenager herself, when her notions of fair play and justice began to unravel.
Catherine, you don’t understand what they’re capable of. What
we’re
capable of.
Why did young people insist on seeing the world in such simple, naïve terms? Shouldn’t they know better? Weren’t they the ones who got hurt?

The next day, Catherine finally stopped talking, switching back to the silent treatment. The two of them were pretending not to notice each other at the lip of their cave, and eating the fruits of a successful hunt . . . when he returned.

Winona spotted him from a distance, a small red string, winding its way through the sky with the help of two translucent wings. The violet quills and asymmetrical horn pattern became clearer as he got closer, and he landed on the rocks next to her with a flourish.

She stopped chewing her meal, unsure of what to say. “Tasa.”

“Winona.”

Winona glanced over at her granddaughter, and was grateful to see that the younger trampler could see this newcomer. “You’re really here.”

He brought up two fingers of one wing claw and flicked the other wing. “Apparently so. Your summoning skills have improved. Remember struggling to call a chameleon at nineteen?”

“Grammie, who’s this?”

“I thought we weren’t talking to each other.”

The teenager rolled her nose horn in a melodramatic pout, and resumed eating.

“How is this possible?” she asked Tasa.

His violet quills flexed in a shrug. “I’m not sure, but I’m not arguing. Being born into that bubbling water—it was painful, and bewildering, and exhilarating all at once. I headed for Crescent Valley, and I’ve been flying there, and around the other side, ever since.”

“Who are you?”

“Stop interrupting, Catherine. So you’ve been flying around since then, no home, no family? Have you eaten?”

“I’ve eaten a little. And I do have a family. You, Winona. I was hoping I could stay with you for a while. In exchange, I have some information.”

“Sure, Tasa. You’re always welcome here. Catherine, get another bed ready inside.”

“Not until you tell me who it’s for.”

“You don’t hurry and do what you’re told, it’ll be for yourself.”

Catherine spat out a half-eaten glob of meat and headed into the cave. Tasa and Winona gave each other a knowing look before Tasa spoke.

“Two big pieces of news. First, I’ve spent the last few weeks with Smokey Coils.”

“Smokey? Why spend time with him? And why did he allow it?”

“I’ll answer the latter question first: He didn’t know I was there. Or if he noticed me, he didn’t care. He was too busy with his new student. As for why I spent time there, I should think it would be obvious. Part of you has always wanted to stay in touch. You send him messages by hornet, and you tell him he’s welcome to return anytime. You may or may not love him anymore, but he’s still a part of you. Catherine’s evidence of that.”

“Fair enough. Who’s his new student?”

Tasa widened his eyes. “Who do you think?”

“Jennifer Scales,” she muttered after brief consideration. “No one else would dare.”