The Silver Moon Elm
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MaryJanice Davidson & Anthony Alongi
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.
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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 inCrescentValley 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 toCrescentValley 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 keepCrescentValley from her friend—after more than a year of hiding uncomfortable
truths, she had resolved there would be no more secrets between them.
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“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 toCrescentValley . 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.CrescentValley 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.
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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.
Catherine 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.”
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
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