CHAPTER 30
Jennifer
The next morning,
Evangelina and Dianna were gone.
No one had seen them
leave, and Jennifer feared the worst. Or was it the
best?
“Do you think they’ve
gone to kill Andi and Skip?”
“I don’t know,” her
mother answered over a breakfast of highly artificially flavored
toaster pastries. “I don’t think so.”
“Well, if they’re
gone, what are we going to do the next time Skip sends another
swarm?”
“Evacuate, like we
did last time.”
“And
then?”
It took a few seconds
for Elizabeth to stop chewing. “Jennifer, I don’t have all the
answers.”
“You sounded pretty
sure of yourself yesterday when you were pissing all over your
KO.”
“Cute. If you’re done
haranguing your mother, I’d like you to take Catherine and Susan
and do a townwide patrol. Spend some time in town. Get Susan to do
a blog. See if we can rally a few more to help us.”
“Susan doesn’t want
to do a blog.”
“How do you
know?”
“I asked. She’s still
down on Gautierre.”
“She needs to pick
herself up.”
“Try telling her
that.”
“You try telling her
that. She’s your friend.”
“What’s the point?”
she snapped. “No one listens to me. Or you. Not Susan, not Ember,
not what’s left of Hank’s army, not Evangelina or Dianna, not Andi,
and certainly not Skip!”
Elizabeth’s calm did
not give way. “You’re suggesting we give up.”
“I’m suggesting the
two of us can’t do it all!”
“We have
others.”
“What others? A few
dozen nursing assistants? What are we going to do—sling bedpans at
these people? Mom, it’s time to give up. We’re not doing anything
useful—”
“Don’t you dare.” Elizabeth actually reached across
the cafeteria table and clenched her daughter’s hair, ignoring the
startled yelp. “Don’t you dare dishonor him like this. I do not
care how hard this gets for you. He sacrificed his afterlife for
you. People are depending—on you. You
have a responsibility. You will see it through.”
“Ow, Mom, my
hair—”
“Preferably without
whining.”
Without looking away,
Jennifer reached up carefully and disentangled her mother’s fingers
from her locks. Elizabeth relented, but her face retained its
hardness.
“You’re a
bitch.”
Her mother blinked
slowly, like an owl. “You’re soft.”
“Well, I’d rather be
soft than—”
“You mean, you’d
rather be selfish than take responsibility.”
Jennifer kicked back
her chair and stood. “Oh, here we go.
I’ve been taking responsibility for the last two years! I became
the fucking Ancient Furnace when I didn’t want to. My reward for
that dumb-ass stunt was I got to watch Grandpa die, and then found
and fought his murderer when no one else could. Remember? Or were
you too busy working at the hospital and giving patients more
attention than you ever gave me?”
This made Elizabeth
stand. Jennifer sucked in breath and resumed the attack. She knew
it was being unreasonable. Who cared? It was entirely possible she
had never, ever been this angry at her mother.
“Take responsibility?
Take responsibility? I woke up in a
whole other universe and took responsibility for changing it
back. Changing you back, and raising Dad from the
dead.
“Then I took
responsibility for facing down dragons and beaststalkers the night
this damn dome went up. I’ve done everything you’ve asked, every
time, and I’m sick of it! I’m done! I’m through! Fuck you and your
responsibility! And fuck you for throwing Dad in my
face!”
Elizabeth punched
her.
Bent over, Jennifer
held her jaw. Several silent moments passed as she considered her
options.
Finally, she chose
one. “Cripes, Mom. You and hitting people lately.”
“There are more thick
skulls out there than usual.” Her mother grimaced and massaged her
knuckles. “If it makes you feel better, it’s possible I’ve jammed
my index finger. With Dianna, it was simply
rejuvenating.”
“You’re quite the
superironic pacifist.”
“You’re still
talking, aren’t you?”
“Well, maybe you’ll
want to find a sledgehammer and shut me up.”
“Tempting.” Her
mother’s grim-but-cool expression wavered; her lips trembled. “Oh,
boy, if your dad could see me now.” A lone tear slid down her
mother’s cheek.
“He would understand,
Mom.” The near- killing rage that had swept over her had evaporated
the moment the tear made its appearance. The rage was gone, and all
that remained was dull embarrassment, and sorrow.
Her mother took a
deep, steadying breath. “Ever since Dianna came back, I’ve felt
more and more empty inside. The loss of your father—it sounds
strange, Jennifer, but I had always wished for a second
child.”
Jennifer said
nothing. They both knew that had been a physical impossibility for
Elizabeth, since Jennifer’s birth.
“So he dies. It was
so much easier to avoid the truth when he was alive. And then here
comes Dianna, with Jonathan’s other child. And then here you are,
growing up so fast . . .” She choked back a sob. “I’ll be alone
soon, Jennifer. Either because you die like him, or you succeed
brilliantly and leave me behind.”
“I’m not going to
leave you, Mom.”
“Don’t be daft. Of
course you will. You’ll be an adult someday. You’re not going to
want to live in my house forever.”
“You won’t be alone.
I won’t allow it.”
“You’ll have no say
in the matter. It doesn’t matter; right now, we’re all living under
this . . . this . . .” She waved at the dome, then wiped the tears
from her face. “I’m sorry I suggested you don’t take
responsibility, honey. Of course you do. I want you—I need you to keep taking responsibility. I can’t do
this alone, any more than you can. We have to stay together,
focused on the same goal.”
“Okay. Um. What is
the goal again?”
“Protection of the
innocent. Healing of the sick and wounded. Negotiations toward
peace.”
“Right. I knew that.
That’s it, huh?”
“No. Also, we have to
figure that out.”
Jennifer looked out
the window where Elizabeth was pointing and groaned. A
two-hundred-foot-high wall of mist was billowing over the
neighborhoods to the west. It shimmered with unnatural silver
menace, and its tendrils swirled around houses and trees before the
glistening bulk swallowed them whole.
“What do you make of
it?”
“I have no idea, Mom.
How can it possibly be good? Cripes, my jaw still hurts . .
.”
“We should find
Dianna.”
“Wow. You must really
be worried, if you—”
“Find Dianna please,
honey.”
There was no need.
Dianna and Evangelina had already appeared in the parking lot
outside. From the concerned look on the face of the sorceress,
Jennifer already knew they would have little help to
offer.
As they walked to the
exit, they thought through the possibilities. “Ember?”
“Doubtful. There’s
mist outside the wall as well.” Elizabeth pointed to the south,
where the barrier was shrouded in this strange
weather.
“Skip?”
“Possibly. It’s
coming from a new direction, though. His attacks have come mainly
from the northeast.” They were outside now and close to the other
two.
“He can go wherever
he likes, Mom. And don’t forget about Andi.”
“Andeana’s power
flows from the music inside her,” Dianna interjected. She closed
her eyes. “There is no music inside this mist. It’s a different
sound altogether. Something . . . dragon?” One eye opened with an
inquisitive brow.
Jennifer shrugged.
“I’ve never heard of one of us doing anything like this. If it were
Xavier, he would have told us.”
Not if he allied with his niece, after all.
“He’s not going to do
that.” But Jennifer felt something fall inside. What if Xavier had
been holding back? What if Ember had finally convinced him that the
destruction of the town was the golden opportunity his vengeful
heart sought?
She burns half the town, and her uncle drowns whatever’s
left.
Evangelina sounded
bored:
The answers are coming soon enough. It’s headed this way.
As it neared, a
thunderhead with a long snout formed before the front like a
figurehead on the prow of a ship. It took an unmistakable
bearing—straight toward them, gaining speed.
Elizabeth took a
subtle step closer and clutched her daughter’s hand. “My, my,” she
murmured. “We are the popular girls this week, aren’t
we.”
“What do we do,
Mom?”
“No idea. You,
Dianna?”
“It’s dragon . .
.”
“So you’ve said. Yet
this is hardly going to care about a bullet, or a sword. Do you
have anything more helpful?”
“Wait. I hear it more
clearly now. It’s water . . .”
“Really.” Elizabeth
dropped Jennifer’s hand and hissed. “You’ve traveled through dozens
of dimensions to come back here and tell me that mist is water.
Wow. Just how stupid was my husband, at
age fifteen, for you to impress him?”
Dianna shot back an
unkind smirk. “I meant, the dragon. The dragon is
water.”
“What do you mean,
the dragon is water? How can a dragon be . . .” Jennifer trailed
off. The leading shape twisted and unfolded two wings, each the
size of an aircraft carrier. The appendages curled around the
hospital, and a gentle rain began to fall upon them. From deep
within the mist, a roll of gentle thunder began to
speak.
We’ve come far, ancient girl, since we met at the sea;Destiny’s tides pull at us, we yearn for the sea.What you left behind does not drown or drift away, Oceans stay faithful, though you live far from the sea.
“I know that voice.”
Jennifer felt a thrill as she burst into dragon shape. “I know that voice!”
What you left behind does not drown or drift away, Oceans stay faithful, though you live far from the sea.
“Sonakshi! Oh, wow.
Even with the poetry, you are the best damn thing to happen here in
a year. The last time I saw you, you had tentacles. How did you get
through the dome?”
Is there a place in this world where rain does not fall?Is there a place that denies the seeds of the sea?From water we are born, to water we return, We pass through such magic as do fish through the sea.
“Of course,” Dianna
mused. “In the form of mist, they’re weather. Weather can pass
through the dome. Edmund created it so. I’m sure he had no idea . .
.”
“Weather can—”
Jennifer’s brow furrowed. “And tell me, Sonakshi. You’ve been able
to whip through magical walls for . . . how long
exactly?”
Time flows like the current that warms and sustains us;Our ways, like the waves, are as ancient as the sea.
“So, longer than a
few months. Um. How do I say this without sounding slobberingly
ungrateful—where have you
been?”
Do not tell the ocean when it may rise and fall, Tides may be quick or slow, like the beasts of the sea.
“Great. Slow tides.
Okay, well, I’m still really happy to see you! Um . . . how many of
you are in there?”
Sonakshi, like the ocean, can only be one.But my friends are plentiful as fish in the sea.
The massive wings
flexed, and suddenly the raindrops grew larger and faster. Jennifer
felt like dancing—help is here! Help is
finally here! We’re going to figure this out! We’re going to stop
Skip! We’re going to beat this dome! We’re going to find out if
blue really can be the new black!
After all, she could
do anything any other dragon could do . . . and if there are dragons that can pass through the dome .
. .
The rain kept
falling.
I have to get them to teach me what they can do. Once I
can pass through the barrier, I can lead them—not a few dozen, but
an army of dragons as big as a rainstorm! No one can stop that, not
even Skip!
Oh, Skip, you are gonna pay and pay and pay . . . it’ll
almost be worth losing Dad and everything else to see the look on
your face when my new friends and I rearrange your guts for
you.
The rain kept
falling.
At the point when
they all considered going inside to avoid the sheets of water, the
skies began to clear and thousands of shapes began splashing down
next to them. In an instant, each one became as solid as any other
dragon Jennifer had ever seen. They filled the parking lot and the
yards and fields beyond, each one a true-blooded dragon with gray
and dull green or dull blue markings, each one bound to the Ancient
Furnace through loyalty . . .
. . . and each one
less than a foot long, inclusive of the tail.
“Wha?” Jennifer
exclaimed.
“Huh,” Elizabeth
added.
“My.” Dianna
snickered.