Free The Silver Moon Elm by MaryJanice Davidson Page B

his niece at the same time, whispering harshly in her ear. But Ember broke free of her uncle’s grip and lunged at them both.
    This time, it was her mother who intercepted the assault. Armed with nothing but her jeans, suede jacket, and leather gloves, Elizabeth slid between them all with hands held high.
    “Okay, stop! You want me? Here I am! Just don’t—just please don’t fight each other anymore!”
    “Mom!”
    “Liz, get the hell back!”
    Ember looked at them all in disgust. “You’re all pathetic,” she hissed with forked tongue. “The murderous beaststalker, the traitor who married her, and the atrocity they spawned together!”
    Wind whistled in and out of Jennifer’s clenched teeth, and her hind legs kicked at the thick turf beneath, but her parents held her back. Somewhere in the distance, they could all hear the low, cellolike strumming of fire hornets. Xavier laid a dispassionate wing claw on his niece’s shoulder. “Ember. We should go.”
    “No, they should go!” The younger dasher slapped her tail on the ground, sending moss and dirt flying. “They should go back to their own world, slink into the Pinegrove home they wrongly took for themselves, gorge themselves on sweets while sharing stories of the dragons they’ve hobbled or murdered, and then sleep in their stolen beds. That’s the beaststalker way.”
    “I’ll be happy to show you the beaststalker way,” Jennifer spat between hisses. She was strongly tempted to shift back to two legs and stab the scaled cow in the jaw. “You want to go again?”
    Ember ignored her and stepped closer to Elizabeth, seeped in the fumes of her own hatred. Still hissing breath through her teeth, Jennifer began to raise a protective wing, but her mother stood her ground.
    “I hope you die,” Ember growled over the mounting sound of insects gathering, and then her voice rose to a scream. “I hope you all die for what you’ve done!”
    Jennifer felt a strange surge ripple down her spine and tail—it was as if her muscles were racing each other. The noise of the fire hornets was louder than ever, and suddenly she saw a sight that almost made her scream.
    A massive, shambling shape came crashing through the nearby brush. Twice as tall as any of them, it was the shape of a dragon—in fact, it suggested a nose horn and double-pronged tail similar to Jennifer’s—but it was certainly not a single creature. Rather, it was at least ten thousand fire hornets, each the size of a golf ball. That is, if golf balls were angry, furry, and black with distinctive violet markings.
    The swarm moved together with purpose, careening toward the confrontation and spreading its shape to flaunt two furiously buzzing wings—
    —and then it stepped right between the Scales and the Longtails, turned to face Ember, and roared at her in a chorus of fierce strums.
    The dasher screamed and scrambled back into the wings of her uncle. Xavier’s golden eyes turned to Jennifer in panic.
    “You’ve made your point, Ambassador! Call them off!”
    Her jaw dropped. “Call them off? I didn’t call them on!”
    “Actually, ace,” Jonathan murmured, “I think you did.”
    “What?”
    The droning cloud wheeled around and flexed its limbs, humming contentedly at its effect on the Longtails. Both dashers were backing away with a total lack of grace, unbecoming of such lithe shapes.
    “As the Ancient Furnace, you probably have the powers of many Elders and ancestors,” her father explained as the swarm held position. “This would be one of them—power over certain insects, such as this land’s fire hornets.”
    “How did I call them? Scratch that, I don’t care. How do I get rid of them?” She could make out the soft, hairy shapes of individual hornets. Each bug had an oozing nail dangling behind its abdomen. Those can’t possibly be stingers, she promised herself unconvincingly.
    “Ummm…”
    “You don’t know?”
    “I’m not completely sure,” her father admitted.