By the time she woke up, it was sunrise. To her great surprise, she didn’t want to get out of bed even then—because Skip was sitting right at her bedside, with a grin on his face. Geddy was curled up on the boy’s left shoulder, sleeping.

“Skip, I’m not dressed! What’re you doing in here?”

He pretended to cover his eyes. “Your dad let me in.”

“But you were almost dead!”

“I’m a fast healer. Being what I am—or will be, someday—helped, of course. My father’s poison would have done way more damage to you. The folks at the hospital couldn’t believe how I healed either, but they couldn’t force me to stay. I feel fine, even if there is a nasty scar.” He pulled up his shirt and showed her the angry red diagonal across his bare chest. It sported thirty or forty stitches already starting to fall out.

“Huh. So you say my father let you in? He’s not exactly one to invite boys into my bedroom.”

“Maybe he trusts me after what happened—or he realized I’d just use the trellis up to your window anyway. He definitely likes me more than your mother does—she’s been just outside the entire time I’ve been here, waiting for me to suck your blood or spin a web or something.”

“You’re damn right!” Elizabeth popped open the bedroom door without knocking. Geddy started on Skip’s shoulder, opened an eye, and licked it.

“All right, buster, you wanted to be here when she woke up. She’s awake. Now beat it.”

“It’s okay, Mom,” Jennifer insisted, pulling her bed sheets as tightly around her neck as she could. “If he wants to talk, I don’t mind.”

“Hmmph.” Perhaps Elizabeth was relieved to see her daughter awake, or perhaps she remembered Skip’s father and how he died. Her face softened and she retreated without argument, leaving the door open. They heard her footsteps fade down the hall and stairs.

Skip’s easy grin wavered as he looked at Jennifer again. “Jennifer, I’m so sorry. I would never have . . . I mean, my dad told me what you were, and I thought—”

“You don’t have to explain,” Jennifer interrupted. “I mean, I was really mad, but what you did in that cell . . . well, you came through when it counted. As far as I’m concerned, that makes up for . . . for other stuff. Thanks.”

His shoulders slumped with relief. “I was so afraid you’d never want anything to do with me again. In fact, I was surprised you didn’t leave me on the floor of that cell. Dad was wrong about you. All of you. I won’t forget that.”

“Skip, you know that . . . um . . . your dad . . . ?”

“Yeah, I know.” He breathed deeply. “He’s dead. My aunt Tavia told me while I was at the hospital. She says they found him with stab and bite wounds. I went back down in the sewers yesterday night. They had taken his body, but there was still a bunch of dead snakes and spiders.” There was a meaningful pause. “I don’t suppose you know anything more?”

Jennifer could see now that Skip was not just here to apologize. But she could not blame him—his father was dead, for good or bad, and he wanted to know how.

“I understand why you’re asking,” she answered carefully. “And I’m sure you understand if I’m not quite ready to betray the person who rescued me. Any more than I’d betray you.”

Skip nodded sadly. “Okay. I won’t ask anymore. I just wish Dad . . . I wish Mom . . .” He stared past her bed, out the window for several seconds. “I don’t know what I wish.”

He suddenly got up and rubbed his eyes, making Geddy hop onto her pillow and curl up there. Gently touching her wrist, he pressed something into her palm. “I also went back for this. I meant what I said the first time. Er . . . if you and I are okay, Jennifer, I gotta go. I’m not used to crying in front of girls I really like. Cool?”

“Cool.” She waved as he left. Then she looked down at her hand. The necklace of the Moon of Falling Leaves was in her hand. Her fingers closed around it.

Elizabeth turned and blinked at her daughter. “I’m going to get materials for you to train. You have another part of your heritage to develop, now.”

“Mom . . .” Jennifer thought back to the beginning of the school year. “That kick at the championship soccer game. The way I can jump. That’s not the dragon in me, is it?”

After looking conspiratorially around the foyer, her mother sighed. “Your father sucks at soccer. Even when he was in college, he couldn’t kick a beach ball into the ocean.”

She straightened. “This summer, you’re going to learn what it means to be a beaststalker. It’s not going to be easy. Are you up for it?”

Jennifer’s gray eyes sparkled. “I can keep up with you, old woman.”

Her mother’s voice was without humor. “No, you can’t. But you’ll figure that out soon enough.”

“Mom? I’m sorry for what I said to you, outside the Blacktooths’s. About being a coward.”

“Forgiven and forgotten.” Elizabeth gave her an inscrutable look. “And what I said ended up being true, anyway: Nothing could stop the Scales girls, when we worked together.”

As she walked out the door, she turned back one last time. “Don’t forget to feed that dorky lizard of yours. He did, after all, save your life.”

Geddy scurried along the carpet toward them. Phoebe intercepted the tiny lizard and gave him such an enthusiastic sniff, she knocked him head over tail.

“Thanks for letting Skip in, Dad.”

“Sure. Susan’s been by a couple times, too, but she had to go home. I imagine she’ll visit again tonight. Skip insisted that he stay until you woke up. I had a sneaking feeling he wouldn’t do anything to hurt you, at least not anymore.” There was a wry smile in his voice.

“Why haven’t I morphed yet?”

“I should think the answer is obvious by now,” he replied. “You apparently don’t want to, at the moment. Being the Ancient Furnace gives you the power to change back and forth at will.”

She sighed contentedly. “I’m glad I can choose. Being a mythical figure has its perks, I guess!”

“I guess! You’re doubtless the only thousand-year legend with a curfew.”

“Curfew, schmurfew! Hey, um, so we don’t need to move, right? And I can go to school without playing sick?”

“That’s right. Your grandfather and I are still trying to piece together the information we have, but best we can tell, as long as you don’t put off morphing for weeks and weeks, you should be able to choose when and why it happens. For a while, though, you’ll want to watch your temper . . . that looks like a trigger.”

“Speaking of temper—is Mom okay? I can’t tell if she’s still angry with me.”

“She’s furious with you, Jennifer. And relieved beyond belief. And full of love for you. So am I, on all counts. Would you have it any other way?”

“I guess not. I’m sorry I freaked you both out. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“I have a general idea. I can’t say for sure that I wouldn’t have been just as hasty to find you, if our positions had been reversed. Your mother always was the calm, collected one.”

Jennifer tried to think of how to ask the next question. “Does that come from being a beaststalker?”

“If you’re asking me if all beaststalkers are calm and collected, then I only have to point you to the Blacktooths for proof that they are not. Most beaststalkers crave conflict. Your mother, as you already know, does not.”

Jennifer sighed inwardly—thinking of the Blacktooths made her think of Eddie. She supposed he wouldn’t stop by to see if she was okay, like Skip and Susan had. Things would never be the same between them again. That hurt.

Her father continued. “But if you’re really asking me if you’ve got as much beaststalker in you as dragon—and I think you are—then I’ll answer your question with a question. Where do you think that owl came from, the first time you tried lizard-calling with Ned?”

She raised her head. “That wasn’t a mistake?”

“Beaststalkers practice for years before they can summon birds of prey. Remember the golden eagles we saw on the lake, when you first learned how to fly? Or the ones that followed you to the sewer?”

“So it was the same birds! Those were Mom’s? She can call eagles?”

“She calls the same pair every time. It’s a good thing she had them, too—those led her as far as the sewer entrance, and then Geddy did the rest.”

“That’s so cool! Eagles. Jeez. How come she never told me what she is, or what she could do?”

“How come you never asked?”

“Touché.” She put her head back on his wing. “So anyway, she told me I’m going to get to learn to do all the cool stuff she can do! I really want to do that wicked light and sound show.”

His forked tongue flickered at her. “Now, don’t give up learning your dragon skills! There’s more than the few you’ve learned so far—and you could improve on some of those, too.” He winked.

“Improve on an army of black mambas? I don’t think so. And I’ll have you know my camouflage is going to get me out of your so-called curfew a million times.”

“You don’t even come close to my camouflage.”

“Oh, no?”

“Well, you tell me. Did you see me in your bedroom while you were talking to Skip?”

She gasped. “You . . .”

His scaled stomach heaved with a chuckle. “I can do a mean dirty laundry pattern, let me tell you . . .”

“That was an invasion of my privacy!” She tried to be irritated, but curiosity got the better of her. “How did you do both my plaid and striped sweaters, at once?”

“You’re right, it was an invasion of your privacy. And I’m sorry. But it was the only way I could get your mother to promise not to stand behind Skip’s shoulder the entire time he was there. I won’t do it again.”

The mention of Skip made Jennifer pensive again. “He doesn’t know who killed his dad.”

“I know. He and I had a short talk before I let him upstairs. He’s not stupid—he’s sure you were involved in your own escape—but I think he’s shown maturity in waiting for all the facts to come in before he judges. Of course, his aunt and others may not feel the same way. So you did well to answer him as you did. As you can imagine, your mother’s involvement must remain secret. After all, as your grandfather told you—no dragon has ever reported seeing a beaststalker for years!” His eyes twinkled at that.

“What happened between Skip’s mother and you that got Otto Saltin so angry?”

Jonathan sighed. “I’ll tell you the same thing I told Skip. It’s not the whole story, but it will do for now. I knew Dianna Wilson, long before she married Otto. And I knew what she was, just like she knew what I was. But we were the best of friends.

“Otto put an end to that friendship. I don’t know that you need to know much more than that, just yet. Anyway, Skip tells me they didn’t last long together, and he grew up with his mother, journeying around the world.”

“I remember him talking about western Africa, and Australia, and South America,” Jennifer recalled, fingering her necklace.

“Meanwhile, Otto has remained close by. He led the werachnids at Eveningstar, and he must have moved secretly to Winoka a few years after we did to begin building his lair and setting his plans for you. He would need to wait until you got old enough to morph, as he said. Then he would be sure of what you were, and have your blood at full potency.

“Skip coming to him this year was an unexpected gift—a way for him to lure you. Just before Christmas, Otto and I accidentally ran into each other at a town meeting. By then, his plan for you must already have been in motion. I feel foolish for not putting it all together. If I had just gone with you that one time to the mall, I would have seen who Skip’s father really was!”

Jennifer couldn’t believe her father. “Dad, Skip kept his mother’s name—there are dozens of Wilsons in every town in this state. How on earth would you make a connection like that?”

“It’s a father’s job to pry and connect,” he answered. “From now on I do a complete checkup on every friend—especially every boy—you bring into this house.”

“Great.” To her surprise, Jennifer didn’t feel as sarcastic as she sounded. She got more comfortable. “I like that you were friends with one of them.”

“I like that you’re friends with one yourself.” He paused. “It won’t be easy, Jennifer. And it may not end well, after all. But the friends who stay with you through changes are worth the effort. They are a rare kind.”

“Especially the ones who take a bit of poison in the gut for you.”

“Yes, you’re lucky to know one of those!”

“And you’re lucky Mom and I are both freaks. If we were normal people, you’d have been in trouble down there.”

His wing claw combed her silver hair. “If you were normal, Jennifer, you wouldn’t be a Scales.”

“Spoken like a true freak. Does everyone talk like you in Crescent Valley, wherever that is?”

His head perked up. “Come with me and find out!”

The suddenness of the proposal shocked her. “Crescent Valley? But I thought—you said I couldn’t—I’ve only—are there newolves there?”

“Lots,” he chuckled. “I think you’re ready, now. And given who you are, I think I can convince the Elder Council to agree. Jennifer, you won’t believe what you’re about to see. This world is going to blow you away.”

“Okay, sounds great! But wait—what about Mom?”

“We’ll leave her a message. She’ll understand. We’ve got to get moving, though—the moonlight won’t be on the water for long.”

Moonlight on the water. He had mentioned that before, but . . . “But Mom and I were going to start beaststalker training!”

His silver eyes flashed as he smiled urgently and held out a wing. “Be a beaststalker tomorrow. Today be a dragon, and nothing else, one last time.”

She smiled back, and by the time she grabbed his wing, it was with a wing of her own. Then they were out the door together, and under the twilit crescent moon. Jennifer had no idea what was coming next.

The thought pleased her.