Read Online Jennifer Scales and the Ancient Furnace by MaryJanice Davidson - Free Book Online

drove up onto the north lawn. A familiar shape was poised in the passenger seat with its head out of the window.
    “Phoebe!”
    She wasn’t sure how the collie-shepherd would react to a seven-foot-long reptile with a family member’s voice, but to Jennifer’s unending delight, there was never a question in the dog’s mind. Phoebe leapt out of the open window and raced up the porch steps to lick her pack sister’s scaly face. Then, in a black dash, she was off around the house and through the forest.
    Jonathan grinned. “Off to find sheep of her own. She never could resist herding them.”
    “How’s it going?” called out Elizabeth. She was getting something out of the car.
    “We’ve had breakfast. I’d like to do a few more things, maybe get in a bit of flying before lunch.”
    “Well, I got what you asked. You sure this is safe?”
    Of all the things her mother could have pulled out of the minivan, Jennifer never imagined she would see a trampoline. She looked at her father with startled eyes.
    “It’s safe,” he assured both of them. “But before we get to that, we need to cover fire-breathing. Could you check on the horses for me, Liz?” He turned to Jennifer. “I started the fire that cooked your breakfast, but you’ll need to learn how to do your own fire-breathing if you want to have anything but raw meat for yourself.”
    “Okay,” Jennifer agreed. With a full stomach, a good night’s sleep, and a growing acceptance that her transformation wasn’t immediately fatal, she was ready to learn a few things. Plus, the thought of her crawling on her belly and eating uncooked food for five-day stretches did not sit well.
    Elizabeth set the trampoline against the porch, and then went off to check on the horses, Phoebe, and the sheep.
    “Come on.” Her father gestured. “Let’s practice into the lake, with the wind at our backs.”
    Fire-breathing, as it turned out, involved just about every vocal action short of actually speaking. A cough, a snort, a growl, even a sneeze—each of these, her father explained, opened a small valve at the back of the throat that released the fire element. Then, as with speech, the placement of the lips, tongue, and teeth did the rest.
    While sneezes generated short but impressive fireworks from the nostrils, a rough clearing of the throat issued a volcanic flow that cascaded over the grass and into the lake. Most spectacular of all, a shrill whistle let loose a volley of flame rings that grew as large as hula hoops.
    “Check this out,” he told her, calling Phoebe at the top of his lungs. “Once in a while, like when you’re off at summer camp, your mother and I bring the dog up here during crescent moons and teach her tricks.”
    Phoebe came racing like a dark dart around the opposite end of the house from where she had disappeared. The moment she saw Jonathan rear up on his hind legs, she stopped about twenty yards away and crouched low in anticipation.
    “Phoebe—
circus
!”
    The dog stood up. Jonathan let out a short whistle, and a ring of fire ripped out of his mouth. With no steps at all, the dog leapt through the blazing hoop as it roared over her position, did a half-twist in the air, and then landed brilliantly on all fours.
    Jennifer burst out laughing. Phoebe raced to a point about twenty yards from her and crouched down as before, obviously expecting Jennifer to do the same.
    The three of them played like this for a while. The longer the whistle, the greater the number of hoops Phoebe had to jump through. She could manage up to three, but singed her tail if asked to do more than that.
    After an hour or so, Jennifer felt in good enough spirits that she nodded when her father suggested they begin flying lessons.
    “This isn’t going to be like fire-breathing,” he warned her. “That comes as naturally to a dragon as, well, breathing. But flying won’t come any easier than walking did when you were a toddler. You fell down. A lot. Now you’ll be