The Silver Moon Elm Page 2

  Catherine put a soft hand on her shoulder, and her lean Egyptian features closed in for a whisper. “Easy does it. You can’t have global harmony if you bust up your friends on the car ride there.”

  The older girl’s voice soothed Jennifer. She relaxed, curled up a corner of her mouth, and tossed a casual glance back at Skip. “If you get a hand back under her shirt, don’t be surprised if it doesn’t find much.”

  Skip and Catherine burst out laughing as Susan gasped. “That’s not fair!”

  “Oh, it’s fair,” Catherine countered as she accelerated the car back onto the highway. “If you flirt with a girlfriend’s ex, she gets to make rude and superficial remarks about you. It’s part of the code.”

  Susan appealed to the boys, eyebrows high in desperation. “No, really, it’s not fair! Jennifer’s got perfect everythings, and have you seen her mom? Of course she’s going to have bigger—”

  “So anyway, how much longer until we’re at…wherever we’re going?” Eddie asked, even redder than he had been before.

  “We’re almost at her family’s farm,” Skip answered before Jennifer or Catherine could say anything.

  “The family farm? You’ve been to Jenny’s grandpa’s place?”

  No one answered; there was no point in denying it. Skip had been to the farm weeks ago, when Jonathan Scales invited him there to talk about Evangelina. After all, she was his half-sister as well—the daughter of Jonathan Scales and Dianna Wilson.

  Eddie turned to Jennifer with a hurt expression. “You always told me no one besides family was allowed at your grandpa’s place.”

  “Um, that’s not true. Catherine’s been there lots of times.” How is that an answer? she asked herself before plunging forward. “It’s sort of a dragon hideout. Anyway, er, Skip, er, didn’t stay long.”

  “Is that where Crescent Valley is?” Susan interrupted helpfully. “At the farm?”

  “Sort of. It’s…close by.” Why am I being evasive? We’re all going there soon enough. “It’s kinda hard to explain. You’ll see.”

  The car swerved. Alarmed, Jennifer looked over at Catherine, who was clutching her right shoulder. “You okay?”

  “It’s getting kinda hard to keep this shape,” her friend replied through gritted teeth. “Normally I’d’ve changed by now…”

  Since it was almost noon, she could not easily see the moon in the sky. But it occurred to Jennifer that her father had left their house in Winoka earlier this morning—like most weredragons, he was compelled by the crescent moon to change shape. Only she among her kind, and Skip among his, were able to decide when and where they morphed.

  “Oh, that’s…”

  “You do not,” Susan commented, “look well.”

  Jennifer resisted the urge to grab the wheel. “Pull over!”

  Catherine did not argue. She whipped open the door and tumbled out of the car even before it had completely stopped. Jennifer followed her friend into the ditch and picked up the shoes, jacket, yellow pullover, and faded jeans as they were shed and tossed to the ground.

  “Wow,” she heard Skip mutter back in the car.

  “Grow up!” she shot back, trying to interpose herself between the gawking boys and her friend, who was slowly easing into her new shape.

  Except for her father, Jennifer had never watched someone else change into a dragon. It was fascinating, though brief after the first (quite painful) time. Tramplers like Catherine were one of three distinct dragon breeds. They were powerfully built, with only rudimentary wings but terrific musculature and impressive nose horns. A scarlet fire burned behind their eyes, and many had what Jennifer privately thought of as “peacock scales”…green under most lights, but with hints of yellow and blue when the sun or moon were right.

  When Catherine was finished, she showed two rows of sharp teeth. “Looks like you get to drive us the rest of the way there, Jennifer.”

  “Oh! Um, sure—”

  “No, wait, I can drive! I have my learner’s permit and Jennifer doesn’t.” Susan shrugged out of the backseat while calling out the window.

  Catherine wrinkled her nose. “Um, no offense, Susan, but—”

  “But she just met you this morning and trusts me more than your little piece of paper. Return to your station in the backseat, trollop.”

  Susan grinned back at Jennifer and settled down. “Fine. Eddie, our friend Jennifer is colder than the weather. Care to warm me up?”

  That was enough for Eddie, who quickly opened his door, scrambled away from Susan, raced around the back of the idling Mustang, and slipped into the passenger seat.

  “Hmmph! Fine. Skip, you’ll do…”

  “I’ll do what?” With a traitorous grin, he pushed Susan over into the spot Eddie had occupied. “Keep your distance, before you get us both into more trouble.”

  The grimace of hurt and anger was gone so quickly, Jennifer wondered if she’d imagined it on Susan’s face. She forced her mind back on track and settled into the driver’s seat. “Fine advice,” she said with faux enthusiasm. She turned the key in the ignition. The resulting sound was terrifying.

  “Um, Jennifer, the engine’s already started.”

  “Also fine advice. Thank you, Eddie. Let’s go. Catherine, flap those wings hard and try to keep up!”

  She gunned the engine, and the Mustang spun gravel into the air as it thrust back onto the highway.

  “Geez, won’t people see her? I mean, it’s broad daylight!” Susan gaped out the rear window at the winged shape that glided behind them. Every few hundred yards, a giant hind leg would smash into the ground, propelling its owner farther.

  Jennifer shook her head. She had learned that most people did not see dragons—not because dragons were invisible or had any special mental powers, but because it was just too darn difficult for the average person to admit that things like dragons, and giant spiders, and soldiers who devoted their lives to slaying such things, could exist. Wow, great special effects, what movie are they shooting? Or, Huh, I must not have shaken the flu like I thought. Or, Whoa, is the Air Force testing new funny colored jets around here or what?

  After that initial burst, she kept her speed down so that Catherine could keep up—the trampler had a hard time moving much faster than forty-five miles per hour. Fully adult tramplers could gallop much faster, Jennifer knew—she and her father had been on hunts where tramplers had moved in coordinated, predatory herds that topped sixty or more miles per hour. But she stayed patient with Catherine. After all, there was no hurry. This was her first time behind the wheel of a car, and despite the automatic transmission, she was anxious.

  “What if the state patrol stops us?” asked Eddie, voicing Jennifer’s primary concern. “I mean, we’re breaking the law here.”

  “Correction: Jennifer’s breaking the law,” Skip said. “We are innocent bystanders. Hostages, really, to her ferocious temper.”

  “It’s just to the cabin,” Jennifer answered. “Maybe five more miles, tops.” Her nerves did not stop jangling, however.

  “So how will we get home?” Susan’s tone was more concerned than accusatory. “It’ll still be a crescent moon for a few days. We’re not staying that long, are we?”

  There was no easy answer to this question. Nobody offered to take Jennifer’s place, not even Susan. Driving the rural route the last few miles to their destination was one thing; braving state highways for the long trip back to Winoka was something else again.

  “Let’s worry about that when we go back.” Jennifer decelerated to take a right turn onto an unpaved county road. The ground shifted uneasily beneath the tires, as if the earth itself were aware of her moving violation. This was dumb; why didn’t they let Susan drive? Sure, that would have been technically illegal, too, but at least her friend had had lessons. And a police officer would probably look more kindly on a learner’s permit than a blank stare.

  The Mustang rolled agreeably enough along the dirt highway, shifting abruptly an inch or two left or right just
often enough to keep Jennifer’s knuckles white on the steering wheel. Catherine’s winged form sailed across the potato field to their left, anticipating the farm, which would be just past that line of trees up ahead, and then around the bend where the wildflowers and grasses grew…

  When the first of her grandfather’s enormous beehives emerged from the grassy knolls to their left, Jennifer let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. The neat hives lined the south lawn like buzzing sentry towers, and behind them were the fields of strange wildflowers and the herds of sheep, still faithfully maintained. Beyond them, the sparkling lake shimmered through the copses of maples, pines, and oaks to the north. Not far from its shore was the farmhouse: sprawling, white, green-shuttered, with a wraparound porch and more rocking chairs in sight than she could count. She knew the large porch and grill were in back, along with a larger barbeque pit for guests…and off to one side, the grave marker her mother and she had set up for Crawford Scales. Just a few steps from the marker, it was possible to fall into the lake, cool and with a taste of liquid diamonds.

  The car stopped with a small, quick squeal of brakes at the end of the driveway, and as one the gang unsnapped their seat belts. “C’mon,” Jennifer said. “I’ll show you round the back. Stay behind me, because—”

  Skip almost shoved her aside in his rush to get around the corner of the “cabin” (as the Scales family still affectionately called it). “Whatever. What’s the big freaking—whoa!” His feet stuck to the bed of pine needles that lined the gravel driveway. Eddie and Susan pulled up short behind him, and Jennifer heard Susan let out a small whimper.

  A few feet from the back porch, a pit that would have swallowed the Mustang was filled with fire and the delicious smell of roasting sheep. Around the smoke-filled edges, in murmured conversation punctuated with raucous laughter, were a dozen dragons. As one, their necks craned and they took in the visitors with reptilian coolness.

  “Hey, Joseph,” Jennifer called out after an uncomfortable silence.

  Joseph, an eighteen-year-old lavender creeper who looked after the farm for the Scales, snorted. “Hey, Jennifer. You brought friends.”

  “Yeah.” She momentarily reconsidered the wisdom of bringing them all here. After a brief surge of anxiety, she straightened her shoulders. “Did Catherine already show?”

  His dark, scaled claw pointed to the porch doors. “Inside.”

  “Great. Save a bit o’ mutton for me, guys.” With that, she led the others inside.

  “Um, Jennifer.” Susan’s voice was very small as they hustled themselves into the library. “There are twelve dragons in your backyard.”

  “Twelve big dragons,” Skip chimed in. He was still grinning, but there was a certain awe in his voice. “And I’m not sure they’re all thrilled we’re here.”

  Susan tried on a smile for her best friend. “Good thing we’re with you!”

  Skip sniggered. “I don’t think all of them are that crazy about Jennifer, either.”

  “She’s not in dragon shape,” Eddie observed quietly. It was the first time he had spoken since they had arrived, and he stared at the gathering by the fire pit. “They don’t like the reminder of her beaststalker side.”

  Jennifer ignored the uncomfortable turn the conversation had taken. “Hey, Catherine. You around?”

  “In here!” Catherine’s voice came from the kitchen. “Car still intact?”

  “Give or take a wheel. Bring out the ketchup, will you?” Jennifer turned to the other three. “There’s plenty of snacks in the refrigerator, if you don’t want sheep. I remember the first one I had—it was a bit weird.”

  As Eddie and Susan headed into the kitchen, Skip turned to her. “You and Catherine going outside to eat?”

  “Yeah, I have to—it’s been a rough few—Eddie’s right. I should try to make nice with them. There are dragons around who still wonder about me and my mom.”

  “So we eat in here. You eat out there.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Interesting.” His expression wasn’t quite readable.

  “What? It’s not like you’re in any danger or anything. I just thought you’d be more comfortable in here.”

  “I’ll eat out there. With you.”

  “What, so you’re going to make Susan and Eddie eat in here alone?”

  His hands spread out. “They can come outside if they want.”

  Catherine ambled out on all fours, one wing claw clutching a squeezable ketchup bottle. “Who can come outside?”

  Jennifer turned to Skip. “I’m not going to get into an argument with you, Skip. You want to come outside? Come outside. Be an hors d’oeuvre. The rest of us will remember you fondly as we continue to Crescent Valley.”

  A few minutes later, she was grumbling to herself as all five of them sat around the pit with the dragons, eating barbeque and swapping stories. Susan was full of nervous laughter as she told these strangers about her childhood memories with Jennifer; Skip and Catherine chatted together about life without parents; and Eddie gave short, one-word answers to the occasional question from a dasher or trampler.

  “That’s right,” Susan was saying cheerfully to a bright violet creeper sitting to her left. “Jennifer can breathe fire, twirl a knife around her wrist, and do all sorts of amazing things. And I sculpt things out of rocks and wet dirt.”

  “Beautiful things,” Jennifer spoke up loyally, thinking of the small dragon Susan had made for her earlier that year. Susan gave her a grateful look.

  She noticed that this group of dragons was younger than average—all in their very late teens or early twenties, like Joseph. A few had lived in Eveningstar like Jennifer, before it burned down; but they had no memories of Pinegrove, so there was caution but little bitterness in evidence toward beaststalkers.

  Finally, Joseph turned to Skip. “So what’s your story, buddy? You a beaststalker like Eddie here, or a pure human like Susan?”

  Jennifer’s insides clenched. Skip flipped back his chocolate hair and looked up at the treetops. “Neither.”

  A dasher with deep blue-green undertones and quills bristling from the nape of her neck winked. “But that’s impossible. You’re not pure human, and you’re not beaststalker. Jennifer here is the only dragon who can hold human shape under this moon.”

  Joseph’s gray eyes narrowed. “So what are you?”

  Skip lowered his gaze with a cold smile. “I’m like Jennifer. Except a bit different.”

  The dasher spit out a gobbet of sheep and licked her full array of teeth. “How different?”

  With a low growl, a trampler at the far end of the pit joined the conversation. “Eveningstar different?”

  Skip remained calm. “That’s one way of putting it.”

  Joseph gave Skip a hard stare, and then turned to Jennifer. “Do the elders know about this? Does your father know?”

  She returned a defiant look. “Come on, guys. I’m full. Let’s go back inside. We’ve got to get ready for Crescent Valley.”

  “You’re taking all of them to Crescent Valley?” The dasher was up on her hind legs now, pointing at Skip with a trembling wing claw. “Including him?”

  “Including him.”

  “Inside, inside,” Catherine stressed, pushing the others in front of her.

  “This was a bad idea,” Eddie groaned as he stepped through the porch doors.

  “Grow a pair, Blacktooth.” Skip was the last to enter the house, letting Catherine herd the others inside while he kept eye contact with Joseph. For a moment, Jennifer thought he would close the door behind them and rejoin the dragons at the pit, at whatever cost. But he did finally come inside.

  “That was scary,” Susan whispered.

  “Please,” Skip retorted as he watched the barbeque through the glass doors. “They’re not that scary!”

  “Are you looking at the same dragons I’m looking at? You almost got roasted!”

  “Susan, they’re just talking tough. But all they have are teeth and—”r />
  “Fire-breathing! They breathe fire, Skip. Can spiders do that? I mean, I’m sure the webs you can weave are pretty and all, but—”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Jennifer cut in. “We’re going.”

  “So are they,” Catherine groaned. She was watching the dragons outside as they doused the fire and extended their wings, making for the lake. “The crescent moon is up over the treetops. They’re going to make it to Crescent Valley first and tell the others what we’re doing!”

  “Let them tell,” snapped Jennifer. “We’re not doing anything wrong.”

  “We should go now—they’ll be expecting us!”

  This was exasperating. Jennifer stepped up and flicked her friend’s nose horn. “Excuse me, but I’m in no rush. My plan was to spend a fun weekend with my friends. And I don’t know if you noticed, but we are now five teenagers with the place to ourselves, with no adults telling us what we can and cannot do.”

  “Now you’re talking my language,” Skip chuckled.

  “Stow it,” she replied kindly. “After we kick back and relax with our own fire, there are enough bedrooms here for us to each get our own. To sleep in. No nighttime visitors!”

  Skip poked Susan’s ribs. “That goes double for you, Elmsmith.”

  “Grammie will be so ticked off when she hears about all this,” Catherine murmured as she watched the lake’s surface. “And then the whole Blaze will be waiting for us! You sure we shouldn’t go now?”

  “They’ll be calmer tomorrow,” Jennifer pointed out. She yawned. “And I’m getting too tired to fly more, and then face everyone. Plenty of time.”

  “She only told you to bring back beaststalkers, Jennifer. Maybe Skip should stay here? And maybe Susan, too?”

  Before Skip or Susan could react to that, Jennifer held up her hand, five fingers extended. “All five of us, Catherine. All together. All the time. Got it?”

  Catherine gulped. “Okay.”

  Skip’s voice floated in from the kitchen. “Hey, toaster waffles!”

  CHAPTER 2

  Sunday

  “Cripes, Skip, could you just change back? You’re creeping me out.”