The Silver Moon Elm Read online

  Praise for the novels of

  MaryJanice Davidson

  “A hilarious romp full of goofy twists and turns, great fun for fans of humorous vampire romance.”

  —Locus

  “Delightful wicked fun!”

  —Christine Feehan

  “Move over, Buffy, Betsy’s in town and she rocks!…I don’t care what mood you are in, if you open this book you are practically guaranteed to laugh…top-notch humor and a fascinating perspective of the vampire world.”

  —ParaNormal Romance Reviews

  “One of the funniest, most satisfying series to come along lately. If you’re fans of Sookie Stackhouse and Anita Blake, don’t miss Betsy Taylor. She rocks.”

  —The Best Reviews

  “Undead and Unwed is an irreverently hilarious, superbly entertaining novel of love, lust, and designer shoes. Betsy Taylor is an unrepentant fiend—about shoes. She is shallow, vain, and immensely entertaining. Her journey from life to death, or the undead, is so amusing I found myself laughing out loud while reading. Between her human friends, vampire allies, and her undead enemies, her first week as the newly undead is never boring…. A reading experience that will leave you laughing and ‘dying’ for more from the talented pen of MaryJanice Davidson.”

  —Romance Reviews Today

  “Chick lit meets vampire action in this creative, sophisticated, sexy, and wonderfully witty book.”

  —Catherine Spangler

  BERKLEY JAM titles

  by MaryJanice Davidson and Anthony Alongi

  Jennifer Scales and the Ancient Furnace

  Jennifer Scales and the Messenger of Light

  The Silver Moon Elm: A Jennifer Scales Novel

  Titles by MaryJanice Davidson

  Undead and Unwed

  Undead and Unemployed

  Undead and Unappreciated

  Undead and Unreturnable

  Undead and Unpopular

  Undead and Uneasy

  Derik’s Bane

  Dead and Loving It

  Sleeping with the Fishes

  Anthologies

  Cravings

  (with Laurell K. Hamilton, Rebecca York, Eileen Wilks)

  Bite

  (with Laurell K. Hamilton, Charlaine Harris, Angela Knight,

  Vickie Taylor)

  Dead and Loving It

  Mysteria

  (with P. C. Cast, Gena Showalter, Susan Grant)

  Demon’s Delight

  (with Emma Holly, Vickie Taylor, Catherine Spangler)

  The Silver Moon Elm

  A JENNIFER SCALES NOVEL

  MaryJanice Davidson and Anthony Alongi

  BERKLEY JAM,NEW YORK

  THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP

  Published by the Penguin Group

  Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA

  Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada

  (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.)

  Penguin Books Ltd., 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

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  (a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty. Ltd.)

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  (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd.)

  Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty.) Ltd., 24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196,

  South Africa

  Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  This book is an original publication of The Berkley Publishing Group.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  Copyright © 2007 by MaryJanice Davidson Alongi and Anthony Alongi.

  Cover photo by Tim Robberts/Getty Images.

  Cover design by Lesley Worrell.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the authors’ rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  BERKLEY is a registered trademark of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  BERKLEY JAM and the JAM design are trademarks belonging to Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  PRINTING HISTORY

  Berkley JAM trade paperback edition / June 2007

  Davidson, MaryJanice.

  The silver moon elm: a Jennifer Scales novel / MaryJanice Davidson and Anthony Alongi.—Berkley JAM trade paperback ed.

  p. cm.

  Summary: Almost immediately after learning yet another devastating family secret, fifteen-year-old Jennifer awakens in a universe transformed by werearachnid sorcery, in which weredragons are long extinct, and she must try to find a way to change everything back.

  ISBN: 978-1-1012-0877-9

  [1. Dragons—Fiction. 2. Arachnids—Fiction. 3. Metamorphosis—Fiction. 4. Science fiction.]I. Alongi, Anthony. II. Title.

  PZ7.D283224Sil 2006 [Fic]—dc22

  2007004399

  For Annie and Jessica,

  who make our universe

  that much more pleasant to be in.

  Have love for your friend up to a limit, for it is possible he may turn into your enemy some day; and hate your enemy up to a limit, for it is possible he may turn into your friend some day.

  —ALI BIN ABI TALIB

  It is easier to forgive an enemy than to forgive a friend.

  —WILLIAM BLAKE

  Contents

  PROLOGUE

  Thursday

  CHAPTER 1

  The Previous Saturday

  CHAPTER 2

  Sunday

  CHAPTER 3

  Sunday Afternoon

  CHAPTER 4

  Monday

  CHAPTER 5

  Monday Night

  CHAPTER 6

  Tuesday

  CHAPTER 7

  Tuesday Afternoon

  CHAPTER 8

  Wednesday

  CHAPTER 9

  Wednesday Night

  CHAPTER 10

  Thursday

  CHAPTER 11

  Thursday Night

  CHAPTER 12

  Friday

  CHAPTER 13

  Friday Night

  CHAPTER 14

  Saturday

  CHAPTER 15

  Saturday Afternoon

  CHAPTER 16

  Sunday

  CHAPTER 17

  Monday

  CHAPTER 18

  Quadrivium

  CHAPTER 19

  Monday Night

  CHAPTER 20

  New Tuesday

  PROLOGUE

  Thursday

  Lying on her belly and sobbing, Jennifer Scales wanted to die.

  The crescent moon slid peacefully through the twilit sky, shedding enough light on her surroundings for Jennifer to lose all hope.

  There was no refuge in this forest. The foreign sounds of unknown things filled the air, murmuring a restless siege. She sat up at the gathering noise and tried to collect herself. They were closing in. Maybe a minute left before
the end.

  Friends? None left. She thought of them all—Susan, Eddie, Catherine, Skip—and a new wave of despair crashed over her with the memory of each one.

  Family? Jennifer began to cry again at the thought.

  And there was no place else to go.

  Her tear-filled gaze went up to the crescent moon. She cursed it under her breath. So much pain had come into her life since she had discovered its power.

  She released herself from dragon form, for what she knew would be the last time. Back in the shape of a fifteen-year-old girl, she felt around with her hands for a sharp fragment of stone. Lifting a small, jagged rock in her hand, she thought wistfully of her beautiful daggers. She had lost them. She had lost everything.

  Holding the stone firmly in her right hand, she held out her left wrist. She flexed her fingers and watched the blue veins shudder under her starlit skin.

  I miss you so much, Mom. You, too, Dad.

  The noises in the forest were closer. She could make out movement in a few of the taller trees. They would be upon her in seconds.

  She pressed the sharpest edge of the stone against the skin, saw some blood seep out…and then abruptly stopped. Gritting her teeth, she removed the rock from her wrist and stood up. Not like that, she promised herself. I won’t do it for them.

  “Come on!” she screamed out to her predators in the dark. The stone felt fierce in her hand. “Come on!”

  She did not see the attack come from behind.

  CHAPTER 1

  The Previous Saturday

  This is almost as good as flying, Jennifer Scales thought to herself ecstatically with gray eyes closed.

  The November wind whipped through her shoulder-length platinum blonde hair, good music washed over her numb ears, and the sunlight shone on her reddening cheekbones. It was chilly, to be sure—but she had a sweater, jacket, and scarf to keep most of her warm.

  She snuggled farther down in the Ford Mustang convertible’s leather passenger seat and turned to the driver.

  “So how often does your grandmother let you use this car?”

  The dark olive features of Catherine Brandfire lifted from the attention of the road long enough to flash perfect teeth at her friend. “All the time, when I’m not grounded.”

  “Like you are today?”

  Catherine laughed. “You know this weekend was an exception. Besides, if I know her at all, Grammie Winona will be more annoyed at you than me!”

  Jennifer bit her lip. This much was true. At fifteen years old, she was already a legendary figure among her people, a unifying presence who blended all three dragon races and more. Most weredragons forgave a lot about her—not least the fact she was half beaststalker because of her mother. While beaststalkers were among the sworn enemies of weredragons, Jennifer Scales was an ambassador between the two peoples.

  But that didn’t mean everyone in Crescent Valley was going to be happy with what she was doing.

  Turning to the backseat and the three friends shivering under several coats and blankets with goofy grins, she lingered over the face of Eddie Blacktooth, her childhood friend and a young beaststalker. Eddie’s sharp nose and soft brown eyes stared back at her, sparrowlike. He smiled at her and she smiled back, thinking of the strange turn of events that had wounded his mother, Wendy, alienated his father, Hank, and led him into the guest room at her own house.

  This weekend’s trip to Crescent Valley would be a landmark of sorts—the first time in her people’s memory that a beaststalker had come to the most hidden and sacred of dragon refuges. Winona Brandfire would welcome Eddie, Jennifer knew. After all, it was the eldest dragon who had suggested such contact.

  Susan Elmsmith—Jennifer’s best friend, shivering next to Eddie—would probably also get a gracious reception. At least Jennifer hoped so. Susan was neither dragon nor stalker—she was 100 percent American girl, with no additives or preservatives, as the two of them occasionally joked. In any case, Jennifer wouldn’t keep Crescent Valley from her friend—after more than a year of hiding uncomfortable truths, she had resolved there would be no more secrets between them.

  “What?”

  Jennifer broke from her reverie, realizing her friend was looking back at her. Oh! “Uh…”

  Susan blindly wiped her nose on her own sleeve, which sent her brown curls bouncing around panicked blue irises. “Have I got something on my face?!”

  “Yeah, my fingers.” The passenger on Susan’s other side reached over and lightly pinched her nose, causing her to snort and giggle. Jennifer turned all the way around in her seat to flash him an affectionate grin.

  It was, she considered, the warmest reception he’d be likely to get for some time. The eldest of all dragons had given no permission for the third visitor her granddaughter and Jennifer were bringing with them. Skip Wilson was a werachnid—another one of the sworn enemies of weredragons, whose oversized spider and scorpion shapes emerged under the same crescent moon as Jennifer and Catherine’s people. Jennifer knew she was taking a chance in bringing Skip to Crescent Valley. She knew some dragons—maybe even Winona Brandfire—would be furious with her.

  But she didn’t care. She was sick of secrets, and sick of hiding parts of herself from her friends. Crescent Valley was part of who she was. Skip was her friend—and might have been more, she remembered ruefully, had she been more forthcoming with him in the past.

  Full disclosure—the way to go. Weren’t their high school English literature classes full of long, boring examples of characters who would have fared much better had they pursued a policy of honesty? Didn’t modern singers generate hit ballad after hit ballad where a love was lost due to deception? Didn’t movie stars play one forgetful (and eventually regretful) liar after another? As the lyrics or plot always revealed, cover-ups never worked. Secrets were the butt-biting boomerangs of modern pop culture.

  Anyway, Skip had promised to be on his best behavior. They were off to a good start. In this trip to her grandfather Crawford’s cabin—Scratch that, she reminded herself ruefully, it’s not Grandpa’s anymore, it’s Mom and Dad’s—so far, Skip Wilson had been a perfect gentleman, complimenting the girls on their fashionable autumn coats, thanking Catherine for giving them all a ride, and even making nice with Eddie. That last part was no small feat, since the two of them had started their sophomore year at Winoka High at each other’s throats.

  The year had gotten off to an awful start, she had to admit. In a mere two months, her world had churned violently. Not only had Eddie made an ill-advised (and ultimately failed) attempt at “coming of age” as a beaststalker by attacking Jennifer, but a promising relationship with Skip had been cut short, Susan had gotten hurt, Catherine had nearly been trampled to death, Skip had beaten Eddie into unconsciousness, her mother had been hospitalized…and worst of all, her grandfather Crawford had been murdered.

  Not just murdered by anyone. By his own granddaughter Evangelina—a half-sister Jennifer hadn’t even known she had until just recently. The young woman had been beyond insane. Evangelina was an abandoned, disturbed, and deeply vengeful dragon-spider hybrid. Only just before she died, when confronted with new emotions such as love and mercy, did she show a glimpse of humanity.

  Too late for her now, Jennifer mused. And too late for Grandpa. Consumed in thought, she barely heard Susan’s voice in the backseat, a soft complaint about the cold—then a muffled giggling as Eddie and Skip both tickled their friend warm. But not too late for us.

  Susan’s giggles burst into a whoop of alarm as Skip’s hand strayed too high from her ribs. “Hey! Those aren’t ticklish!”

  “Accident!” he protested, raising his palms and smiling nervously as Jennifer’s head whipped around. She tried to give him a hard stare, but Susan’s continued chuckling forced her to face front again. You can’t get mad at him for flirting with other girls, she chastised herself. Not if he’s not your boyfriend anymore. She swallowed hard and lifted the collar of her coat up against her ears.

  Catheri
ne noticed the movement. “You want me to pull over and raise the top?”

  “It is November.” A sudden bad mood made for a harsh tone.

  “But it’s a convertible!” Susan objected as Catherine pulled the Mustang gently into the breakdown lane. “You can’t put the roof up on a convertible! It’s sacrilege!”

  “It’s sixteen degrees!” Jennifer snapped, pointing at the digital display on the polished maple dashboard. “You just said yourself it’s chilly!”

  “Yeah, but I’m getting warmer.” Her best friend snuggled up against Eddie, and did not protest when Skip brought his right hand back down over her slight shoulders and long black curls. The car came to a full stop, and silence descended upon them all.

  It took exactly twenty-three seconds for the convertible top of the Mustang to extend itself and settle into position. Jennifer knew this because she counted each one off by grinding her tongue between her teeth while she stared at the scene in the backseat. Meanwhile, Catherine whistled a jaunty tune at the steering wheel; Eddie focused on the nearby speed limit sign with an embarrassed shade on his cheeks; Susan had the decency to look down with fluttering lashes; and Skip stared right back at Jennifer with calm blue-green eyes as he teased Susan’s opposite earlobe between thumb and forefinger.

  Jerk. She briefly considered reaching back and tearing out his jugular. He just can’t resist a good confrontation. Or a bad one.

  Finally, Susan gently brushed away his hand. “Skip, stop it.”

  Jennifer’s squint shifted to the right. Nice of you to notice it bothered me.

  Eddie’s cough was obviously fake. “Wow, Catherine, it really warms up fast with that roof up. Thanks.”

  The non sequitur irritated Jennifer. “Oh, shut up, Eddie.”