MaryJanice Davidson - Seraph of Sorrow (Jennifer Scales 4).pdf

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SeraphofSorrow
SeraphofSorrow
THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP
Published by the Penguin Group
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product
of the authorsÓ imaginations 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.
SERAPH OF SORROW: A JENNIFER SCALES NOVEL
An Ace Book / published by arrangement with the authors
PRINTING HISTORY
Ace mass-market edition / February 2009
Copyright ¨ 2009 by MaryJanice Davidson Alongi and Anthony Alongi.
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 authorsÓ rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
For information, address: The Berkley Publishing Group,
a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.
eISBN : 978-1-440-68652-8
ACE
Ace Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group,
a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.
ACE and the ÐAÑ design are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
For our moms and dads,
who were once fifteen, too
It is an illusion that youth is happy, an illusion of those who have lost it.
ÏW. SOMERSET MAUGHAM
PREFACE
This fourth book in the Jennifer Scales series has been our favorite. ItÓs also a touch
aggressive and complicated, particularly for those of you who may
not have had the good manners to read the first three. Rather than chastise you or
callously insist you put this book down right now until youÓve paid
twenty or so bucks for our earlier paperbacks, weÓre going to help you out. Because thatÓs
the kind of people we are. Well, itÓs the kind of person Anthony
is. MaryJanice would rather let you hang.
HereÓs the minimum you should know (or remember) from the first three books:
To start, Jennifer Scales is our hero, and sheÓs a weredragon. That means sheÓs one of a
rare breed that turns into a dragon every crescent moon. Weredragons
have a hidden refuge called Crescent Valley. JenniferÓs different from her kind (a Ðfreak
among freaks,Ñ as she would put it) in that she can change shape
whenever she wants. Lately, sheÓs found a way of passing on that power to other
weredragons, which makes her popular with many of them, including Catherine
Brandfire, whoÓs just old enough to drive the Ford Mustang convertible her grandmother
Winona owns. (What, no boldface font on the Ford Mustang convertible?
you ask. ItÓs a good car, folks, but it doesnÓt drive the plot here. Try to stay focused.)
Jennifer would be even more popular among dragons if she werenÓt also half beaststalker.
A beaststalker is a warrior bred to kill dragons and other monsters.
They run Winoka, the town the Scales family lives in. In fact, beaststalkers invaded
Winoka about sixty years ago, back when it was called Pinegrove. They
ÐcleansedÑ the town of its dragon populace and pretended the old town never existed. The
mayor-for-life is Glorianna Seabright, an elderly woman with unusual
eyes who barely tolerates the Scales family but appears to have a soft spot for JenniferÓs
mom, Elizabeth. Also in a position of power is Hank Blacktooth,
husband to Wendy and father to Eddie. Eddie and Jennifer have been friends for years.
Jennifer also has werachnids to cope with. All right, everyone, youÓve all taken this sort
of test: weredragons is to dragons as werachnids is to . . .
guess what? (Kittens?! Start over!)
Despite their terrifying spider and scorpion shapes, werachnids are not all evil. Sure, Skip
Wilson, JenniferÓs would-be boyfriend, betrayed everyone. And
sure, his father, Otto Saltin, tried to put Jennifer in a coma and kill her father, Jonathan.
And sure, a half dragon, half arachnid (name of Evangelina)
came blazing through this dimension for a few weeks to terrorize her family. And sure, a
powerful arachnid foursome (called the Quadrivium , of which there
are two confirmed survivors, a girl named Andi and a teacher named Mr. Slider) recently
tried to scrub out beaststalkers and dragons completely from the
universe.
But really, theyÓre nice guys and gals. Sometimes. Like dragons, and beaststalkers, and
normal people like Susan Elmsmith (JenniferÓs best friend) and you
and us.
ÏMaryJanice and Anthony
PART 1
Jonathan Scales
Youth is a blunder; manhood a struggle; old age a regret.
ÏBENJAMIN DISRAELI
SeraphofSorrow
CHAPTER 1
Schooling
At the age of fifteen, Jonathan Scales did not know or care about the powers of the
crescent moon. He did not know or care about the people who turned into
dragons whenever such a crescent hung in the sky. He did not know or care that he was
one of these people, nor that his parents were. He did not know or
care about a woman named Elizabeth Georges, a young woman bred to kill dragons who
lived miles away getting a different sort of education. And he did not
know or care about the daughter he would have with this woman one day, a girl they
would name Jennifer Caroline, after ElizabethÓs mother and his own.
All he cared about at the age of fifteen was a girl named Heather Snow.
Heather Snow was not the prettiest girl at Fairville High. Nor was she the smartest,
strongest, fastest, or funniest. She wasnÓt the nicest, or the tallest,
or the most bubbly. She wasnÓt the one with the straightest teeth or best legs.
It didnÓt matter. She was an angel, he knew. His angel. His friends told him she
resembled a koala bear with a broken jaw; but what did they know? He followed
her with the passion of a disciple, and for several weeks she embraced him.
They did their geometry homework together in study hall, held hands on the way to and
from the cafeteria, passed notes promising eternal love to each other,
and kissed and groped in whatever soundproof practice chamber they could find near the
band room.
It was in one of these tiny cells that she decided to crush his heart.
ÐJust friends.Ñ As he stared at the linoleum floor with wide gray eyes, he repeated her last
two words. What is it with girls and those two words?
ÐUm, yeah. Sorry.Ñ He didnÓt check, but he knew she would be biting her upper lip and
twisting her black curls with a long forefinger. She always did that
when she got nervous. ÐSo, um, are we okay?Ñ One of HeatherÓs feet took a step toward
the glass door, and he panicked.
ÐNo!Ñ
ÐJonathan, we can still be goodÏÑ
ÐDonÓt say friends,Ñ he snapped. Now he did look up at her, and he was suddenly furious
to see that she didnÓt appear close to crying. I can change that,
he dared himself. ÐFriends donÓt do . . . what youÓre doing. They donÓt screw around with
other peopleÓs feelings. They donÓt break up for no reason at
all.Ñ
ÐItÓs not Òno reason.Ó I needÏÑ
ÐWhat? Space? Someone else? A good laugh with your obnoxious girlfriends?Ñ
ÐStop calling them obnoxious.Ñ Finally, some emotion. ÐAnd stop interrupting!Ñ
ÐGosh, Heather, IÓm sorry IÓm not being superpolite while you dump me. How rude of
me. Please continue.Ñ
ÐForget it. YouÓre a jerk.Ñ
He was up and jamming the chamber door shut before she could open it. ÐIÓm a jerk?Ñ
ÐYes, youÓre a jerk! Let me go.Ñ
He found he didnÓt want to. Why should he let her go? Where was his incentive, exactly,
to let the door open and watch her slip into the hallway and out
of his life?
ÐYou can leave when you answer one questionÏÑ
ÐLet me go!Ñ
It occurred to Jonathan that by keeping her here in this dark room against her will, he was
probably crossing a line. Part of him was repelled by the thought
of scaring her like thisÏbut a small, mean voice within was relieved to see tears appear
at the corners of her gem-blue eyes. If you cannot keep her happy,
you can at least keep her here.
ÐAnswer my question!Ñ he insisted. Heather pulled against the door again. Now his full
weight was on it. While thinner and more wiry than the man he would
become someday, Jonathan Scales was large enough to keep a teenaged girl inside a
small room for as long as he liked.
She pushed fruitlessly against his chest. ÐFine, whatÓs your damn question?!Ñ
See how she stays while she listens, the voice told him. ÐYeah, okay, my question. Huh.
How about this. Did you go out with me to bore me to tears with
your endless stories about shoe shopping and your pet birds, or do you just get off on
stringing a guy along for a few weeks without giving anything up?Ñ
Finally, she slapped him. ÐYouÓre gross. I canÓt believe I ever let you kiss me.Ñ
The awful voice inside finally let go. Blinking hard, he slumped away from the door.
ÐNeither can I. Good-bye, Heather. IÓm sorry IÏÑ
She was already gone.
ÐHow was school today, ace?Ñ
ÐCrap. How was farming stupid wildflowers and asinine sheep?Ñ
Crawford Thomas Scales didnÓt miss a beat. ÐDonÓt forget the Òloser horsesÓ and Òlame
bees.Ó It was great; theyÓre all great. You seem downÏÑ
ÐIÓm not going to talk about it, Dad.Ñ
ÐHuh.Ñ Crawford shifted in his porch seat overlooking the lake. He was often here on
cool autumn afternoons, though to Jonathan there didnÓt seem to be
any reason to stare out over the lake. ÐYou want to talk to your mom instead?Ñ
ÐNo. Speaking of which, isnÓt it about time you two handed me off to the Happy Fun
Farm?Ñ About twice a month for as long as he could remember, his parents
would kick him out of his own house and make him stay at the neighborsÓ place, several
miles down the road. There, he provided backbreaking (and, he couldnÓt
help noticing, incredibly cheap) labor to upkeep the old and frail coupleÓs household and
their small apple orchard. The Grears were nice people, but they
barely talked and never let him leave their sight. Wolves in the woods, was the most they
ever said to him. It did not explain all of the sounds he could
hear coming from the forest.
ÐActually, we think you should stay here this weekend.Ñ
ÐWhat, my era of human bondage is coming to an end?Ñ
ÐIn a manner of speaking. Your mother and IÏÑ
ÐWhere is Mom, anyway?Ñ
ÐShe went into town on a couple of errands, at the pharmacy and such. Listen, instead of
work, how about spending the weekend relaxing with us?Ñ
JonathanÓs brow furrowed into a suspicious pattern. ÐWith you? Doing what?Ñ
Crawford began to sweat. ÐUm, hard to say. I hope youÓll stay. Can you?Ñ
ÐActually, now that you say IÓm free, a bunch of my friends are going toÏÑ
ÐYou need to stay with us.Ñ
ÐDad! Why the hell did you ask?Ñ
ÐIÓm sorry, son. This is pretty important. YouÓll seeÏitÓs important that you stay here
this weekend.Ñ The older man squinted wistfully into the skyÏat
what, Jonathan did not know or care. Other than a pale sunset, the only thing up there was
a slowly slimming half-moon.
Jonathan flipped his dark bangs out of his face and let out a sullen hiss. ÐWhy canÓt you
speak plainly to me? Why is everything a secret with you two?
Secrets become surprises. I hate surprises!Ñ The recollection of Heather Snow ambushing
him in the practice room with her ridiculous good friends speech
worsened his mood.
ÐJonny.Ñ His motherÓs voice from the porch steps made him jump; he had not heard her
drive up to the barn or get out of the car. ÐPlease trust your father
and me. WeÓd like you to stay here at the farm with us. And once this weekend begins,
we think youÓll want to stay, too.Ñ
As much as he hated to give in, Jonathan could not withstand his mother. He had more
than a foot on herÏbut the slightest hint of sadness to Caroline ScalesÓs
smile, like the one she wore now, rendered him helpless.

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