Seraph of Sorrow by MaryJanice Davidson Page A

“Smokey, can you please give me two minutes? You can pound on me all you want after that.”
    “He can try,” Jennifer added, staring at a point right next to the shimmering item. “I’ll shove those coins down his throat if he does.”
    He marveled at her eyesight. “They’re coins?”
    “Two quarters. Maybe ol’ Smokey here thinks he’s a magician. An ugly magician.”
    Jonathan heard another impressed hum from the old creeper. “You can see him?”
    She lifted a wing claw without moving her head. “There’s an outline, and a few details. He’s hunched over, and he’s got large bumps down his back. Clubbed tail. Weird head—what are those, warts or your eye sockets?”
    He shook his head and tried to focus, but Jonathan couldn’t see what she was pointing out. All he saw were the coins, sliding and flipping over each other— zeep, zeep, zeep, plick.
    Despite his own inability to see, her description must have hit the mark, because Smokey didn’t attack. Instead, the coins continued their glimmering dance, and his voice rasped:

The Ancient Furnace.
They say she grows to see all
Under crescent moon.

    In a flash, Jennifer shifted out of dragon form. Flipping her platinum hair, she put her hands on her hips, chewed her tongue, and squinted in a way that made Jonathan smile—Liz gave the same look when exasperated. “Do you have to do that? I hate poetry.”
    The switch to human form didn’t seem to sit well with Smokey. The vines behind the coins shifted, and the old creeper betrayed a few stumbling steps. For half an instant, Jonathan thought he spotted a shadow where a dragon might have been.

In Crescent Valley,
Dragons should be dragons, girl.
But you insult me.

    Yeah, well, get used to it, Jonathan thought. Aloud, he said, “Maybe you should change back, Jennifer.”
    “Thanks, Dad. I’m fine as is. If Mr. Coils here knows about the Ancient Furnace, then I’m sure he knows I can change as I like. And if he’s heard from Winona Brandfire recently, I’m guessing he knows about the silver moon elm and how it can grant any dragon the same chance to change shape at will. Right, Mr. Coils?”
    Jonathan took the silence for accord. So did Jennifer.
    “So if we can stop with the beatings and false offenses and get to the point, here it is: My dad and I need to learn what you know. It’s you, or nobody. Otherwise we wouldn’t be here.”
    Zeep, plick. Zeep, zeep, plick, zeep, plick. The coins disappeared, and then reappeared, and disappeared again.
    Jennifer stomped her foot. “Yes, that’s a lovely magic trick, Las Vegas. Perhaps you could put the coins down and help out the next generation.”
    Zeeeep. Zeeeep. Plick.
    “Charming. Hey, Dad, I think I know what the elder creeper skill is: acting like an ass.”
    “I already know that one,” he quipped.
    A shift in light caught Jonathan’s peripheral vision. It was not Smokey or the coins, he was sure. By the time he spun to his right, it was gone.

So you want to learn
What no other dragon knows.
Only old Smokey.

    “Well, duh.”
    “Jennifer!”
    She shrugged at him. “Did he not repeat what I already said?”
    “The guy lives alone on a glowing island. Cut him some slack.”
    “Fine. So, Las Vegas, will you please put down your magic trick and teach us?”

Absolutely not.
What you want me to teach you,
You’d use against us.

    “That’s not true!” Jennifer protested. “I would never hurt another dragon! And neither would my dad. Anymore,” she finished lamely.
    Jonathan stepped forward. “Elder Coils, what good does it do dragonkind to let this skill die with you? This is a gift that generations have passed down for thousands of years. You’re bound by duty and tradition to help us.”
    The jungle hissed, and Jonathan thought he felt the gaze not of Smokey Coils but of the entire Blaze upon him. Though Jonathan knew those dragons were not here, the weight of their collective stare—of his guilt—was