by Allison Moon
“What’s going on?” asked Lexie.
“We found him!” Hazel said again.
“Him, who?”
“He’s the one who killed the frat boys,” Mitch said.
Lexie looked at the boy. He was thin and pale. Iron chains connected his wrists and ankles to the ground. He didn’t move.
“Shouldn’t you be congratulating him?” Lexie asked.
“He’s a werewolf!” Corwin insisted.
“And you hated Brian. You all did.”
“That doesn’t fix the fact that he’s a werewolf,” Sharmalee said, as though the repetition would allay Lexie’s concerns.
“Who’s idea was this?” Lexie snapped, growing frustrated. “Renee?”
Renee met Lexie’s eyes before glancing away. Tiny beads of sweat formed at her hairline. She chewed at her cheek.
“Why did you bring me here?”
“To kill this fucker, Lex,” Corwin said, squeezing and unsqueezing her fists in a silent rhythm. “He needs to die, and we need to know that we can trust you.”
Mitch nodded. “That’s right.”
Lexie rolled her eyes. She knew that Brian probably deserved what he got, but she couldn’t say the same for Duane or the other boys, nor could she say that taking out their killer was the right choice either.
“How do you know he’s the one?”
“The way we always do,” Hazel said.
“You tracked him?” Lexie asked, looking to Jenna.
“Blythe did,” Jenna replied.
“Then why isn’t she here?”
“Christ, Lex. Just take him out already,” Mitch said.
Lexie stepped to the boy and leaned her face into the crook of his neck. She inhaled, hoping her senses would serve her. She pulled in the scent of compost and roots. The boy’s skin broke in a wash of goosebumps beneath her breath.
“Why me?” she whispered, watching the fine hairs on his neck rise in the tiny breeze she created.
“It has to be you, Lexie,” said Hazel.
“It’s true, Lexie. It has to be you. Please, just do this, and we can be a family,” Jenna pleaded. “You can avenge Duane. It’s all going to work out. Just do this for us. For you.”
This doesn’t make any sense. Lexie didn’t know if she whispered or merely thought it. His odor was wolfish. She didn’t doubt that he was a beast as the girls claimed him to be. But her certainty of so many things was unraveling. Walking to class with Jenna felt like eons ago. Now she stood in a different world, among a different group of women, and she didn’t know who she wanted to be anymore. She let the tips of her fingers graze the hilt of the knife.
Corwin grew impatient and shifted her weight back and forth between her feet.
“Christ, Lexie, it’s not that hard!” Corwin burst out.
Jenna held up her hands, “Okay, Corwin. Give her time.”
“Time to what? Make him feel comfortable? We’re killing a goddamn werewolf, Lex! It’s what we’ve always done. The question is what are you doing? What have you ever done? You run away from everything!”
Jenna stepped forward and held out a sharp blade on the palms of her opened hands. “You’ve hunted. It’s not that hard. If you hurt him, he’ll turn and then it’s so easy. He won’t be human anymore.”
Lexie looked at the clean, new blade that Jenna held out for her and shook her head. Her heart was beating in her throat.
“Is that true?” she asked, staring at the boy’s face. “That they aren’t human?”
The girls exchanged nervous glances. Mitch licked his lips and hid them between his teeth. Lexie’s pulse fluttered against her flushed skin, frantic as a bird’s wing. She took a breath and tried to calm herself, knowing the boy could smell her rising anxiety. She unsnapped the sheath on her hip and pulled out her own blade. She took a step to the boy and felt the room relax.
Lexie closed her eyes and steadied her breath, holding the knife against her sternum like a talisman, imagining how it would feel if somebody slid it into her flesh. Perhaps that feeling would connect them, Lexie choosing life by drawing it from her supposed foe. Staring into the darkness of her closed eyes, Lexie tried to find the animal within her that defended itself so violently on the mountainside. She could feel it deep inside, but the loudest voice was that of the blade in her hands.
She opened her eyes and let the women around the edge of the cave fade into darkness. The boy’s pale flesh gleamed in the swaying lantern light. She leaned before him, holding the flat of the blade against his delicate neck. She noticed three tiny beauty marks dotted on his skin. She saw them reflected in the polished surface of the blade and stopped. The light swayed. The blade reflected fur over flesh. Her eyes scanned his body and she saw the shift, the same that she had seen twice before, at the Full Moon Tribe and the next day as she lay with Archer. Whispers glinted at the edges of her hearing as though the cave was beset by ghosts. Lexie struggled to keep her composure, commanding herself not to run, that there was something she should listen to here.
She squatted in front of the boy and ripped the blindfold from his eyes. He flinched against the dim light and blinked at Lexie. She gripped and released the knife handle, molding it to her grip. The boy’s face shifted as though trying to find a clear signal between two warring radio frequencies. There was golden fur and a long muzzle in one moment, a lithe boy’s face in another. With the knife in her hand, Lexie felt as though she could see clearer than ever.
In a whisper so low she couldn’t be sure she was speaking at all, Lexie said, Tell me what you can remember.
The boy licked his lower lip and answered by barely moving his mouth. Sometimes I catch glimpses. The rest is blank. I don’t want to be this way. He stifled a whimper, trying not to cry.
Why aren’t you fighting back? Lexie asked.
Because the full moon will rise soon, and if I’m free, I’m afraid I will kill.
Like you killed those boys?
No.
Have you killed before?
I . . . don’t know.
Lexie inhaled and exhaled rapidly, raising her heart rate and getting a little high on his scent and the fetid milieu of the space. She took as much of him into her lungs as she could, letting the chemistry of his body answer the riddle of the murders. His wolf-face steadied, and she looked into his eyes, seeing his fear though he tried to hide it all. Lexie stood and sheathed the knife. His face became a boy’s once again.
“The hell?” Corwin said. “He killed those boys.”
“No, he didn’t.”
“He’s a werewolf!” Sharmalee shouted.
“Yes. But he didn’t kill them.”
“How do you know?” Mitch said.
“I just know.”
Renee threw open the door and ran outside, her face ashen.
Lexie looked to the Pack. They were unsatisfied. The boy didn’t move a muscle.
Lexie followed Renee out. “You have no idea what you’re doing, do you?” Lexie asked. The air was chilly enough that a puff of cool breath, like smoke, formed as Lexie spoke.
“We know far better than you,” Renee said, fumbling for a cigarette and finding her pack empty. She crumpled it in her fist and threw it to the ground.
“Why do you want me to kill that boy?”
“He’s a werewolf.”
“So? Why not take him out yourself? Why drag me into this?”
“You wanted to be a part of us! This is what we do!” Renee turned on Lexie. “We know about Archer.”
“What?”
“It’s not like you could keep it a secret. You stink of her.” Renee paced, as each of the girls crept out of the cave to watch. “Blythe’s not just gonna let you walk away from us. She’d kill you first. Or, rather, she’d kill Archer.”
“I can make my own choices.”
“Can you? Because the choice you seem ready to make is a life as an animal, with some pathetic exile at your side. You let that bitch sire you--”
“That bitch? So
me language, Ms. Feminist Revolutionary.”
“Fuck that noise. Archer has been a thorn in our side for years. Blythe’s just waiting for the opportunity to take her out.”
“Take her out? Why?”
“Because she’s an exile. She can’t sire. But we all know about your little love-fest, and we know Archer’s trying to start a new pack.”
“So? She wants to help.”
“Oh, does she now? Because last I saw she bailed on us when shit started getting real. Because of her, the Morloc have been running the show for ten years. Now she wants to swoop in here working her alpha ju-ju to try and recapture her former glory. Do you want to be her lap-dog, her little beta? Or do you want to fight with us?”
“There’s another option.”
“No,” Renee said. “There is only ours. Archer just can’t stand that someone has a different vision.”
“Who, Blythe?” Lexie asked incredulously.
“And me. We both have ideas.”
“Oh really?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Renee steadied her hands by squeezing them into fists.
“What are you really trying to do here, Renee? Save the world from werewolves? Or establish a new hierarchy that you happen to like? Do you think you’re creating a feminist utopia? A lesbian island? That shit isn’t real. You’re busy trying to come to consensus on dish duty when there are real wolves, real full bloods out there, stalking this town. They aren’t like Frank or that kid in there. They’re all wolf, and you haven’t caught one yet because they’re too smart for you.”
“We are doing the right thing,” Renee said.
“No, you’re not! You’re taking orders from a leader who’s more concerned about her micro-fascist regime than about getting the job done. Are you trying to save the world from ‘the phallostocracy’ or a bunch of evil fucking werewolves?”
“It’s the same goddamn fight.”
“You keep saying that, but it’s not true! You can’t say that a jerk like Brian is the same thing as a bloodthirsty beast. It reduces the entire fight to man versus decency and it’s more complicated than that. As far as I can tell there are two kinds of wolves out there, Renee. The Pack is saying it’s ‘us’ versus ‘them’ or worse, ‘male’ versus ‘female,’ but that’s not the reality. Archer’s back because she’s a warrior who knows this fight, and that’s what you need. Without real leadership, you guys are just a bunch of vigilantes with crossbows.”
“Brian was a werewolf!”
“What?” Lexie exclaimed. “No, he wasn’t.”
“Yes he was! They all deserved what they got!” Renee’s shout ricocheted against the hillside. In the glint of twilight, her lips snarled back to reveal the glint of long, curved fangs. A face wavered on top of her face, furry and fierce; Renee’s wolf image snapped into view and then dissolved.
“Holy shit,” Lexie whispered.
“What?”
“Your face.”
“What about my fucking face?”
“You’re a werewolf.” Lexie shook her head, her blind stupidity side-swiping her. She wanted to ram her fists against her skull, to punish herself for being so naive.
Renee rolled her eyes. “Lexie, you are out of your fucking head.”
“I know it. You’re a werewolf. You all are.”
“So? So’s you’re fucking girlfriend.”
“But you said . . . Oh god.” Lexie grabbed Renee by the shoulders, pulling their bodies together. She drew in Renee’s scent as deep as her lungs would let her. She recognized it from the countless minutes they spent together, but more so, she recognized it from the woods, from Duane.
“I know your scent.”
“Shit. She already sired you.”
“You were there.”
“You’re a fucking werewolf!”
“It was you. You killed those boys.”
“Girl, you need to back the fuck down.”
“I know it. I can see your scent. You tore Kevin and Mike in half. You--you ate Brian.”
“They had it coming! They were werewolves!” Renee glanced bitterly at her crumpled cigarette pack.
“Says who?”
“Blythe! They were all wolves except Duane, which is why we let him live.”
“They weren’t, Renee.”
“How the fuck would you know the difference?”
“I know. As clearly as I can see your face now. It’s what the voices have been telling me all this time.”
“All right, schizo girl. You can smell me or you can see me. Which the fuck is it?”
Lexie drew the knife from her sheathe.
“Get that out of my face.”
Lexie ignored her, watching her through the blade. Renee’s wolf visage pulled into keen focus. “You’ve got glossy dark-brown fur, but the tips of your ears are black. Your muzzle has small freckles of lighter brown.”
“Jesus fucking fuck.”
“You did. You killed those boys.”
“You’re a peacespeaker.”
“What’s a peacespeaker?” Sharmalee whispered to Mitch.
“Shh!” Hazel scolded.
Renee paced as if at the edge of a cage. “This is why Blythe wanted you so bad. I’m such a fucking idiot.” Her wolf image shuddered and disappeared with each of her frenetic heartbeats. She dug her hands into her hair and made fists, yanking at the roots, trying to hold herself on two feet. Lexie sheathed her knife.
“We have to tell Blythe, Renee,” Mitch said.
With no warning, Renee lunged at Lexie, grabbing her by the wrists. The bones in Lexie’s hands folded on top of each other, resisting against Renee’s vice grip. Lexie yanked her arms, and Renee squeezed tighter. Adrenaline pounded in Lexie’s veins, awakening her muscles, waiting for the right moment to surge forward.
“We have to tell Blythe!” Mitch said again. Corwin and Sharmalee shared an agitated glance, waiting for Renee to tell them what to do. Lexie saw their long snouts, sprays of fur, and sharp teeth flash into being.
“Everybody chill. Blythe can stay out of this for now!” Renee snarled at the Pack. She searched Lexie’s face, as if she could see her wolf. “This can’t be. You can’t be both. It’s impossible.” Renee’s face burned russet, while Lexie’s paled. “You come here thinking you know something about us. As if because you’re a peacespeaker, you can see something beyond the tip of your pointy little nose. You know nothing about who we are or what we do.”
“What’s a peacespeaker?” Sharmalee whispered again.
“Shush!” Hazel said.
“Renee, we have to tell Blythe!” Mitch was shouting now.
“Fine!” Renee barked in response. “Corwin, you go.” Like the well-trained dog solider she was, Corwin turned and ran.
As nauseous as she felt, Lexie knew she had to get to Archer, though the path to the south was blocked by Mitch and Sharmalee’s solid frames.
Renee gritted her teeth and dug her nails into Lexie’s wrists. She pulled Lexie back toward the cave.
“No!” Lexie shouted, pulling her wrists to her chest. As she pulled, she kicked Renee, breaking her grip and sending her soaring beyond where the girls stood. Renee landed on the ground by the cave’s mouth. Sharmalee gasped loudly and Mitch moved to attack, but Lexie was already running headlong into the woods. Behind her she heard Mitch say, “Holy shit, she’s a werewolf and a peacespeaker?”
“She’s a werewolf?” Sharmalee asked.
“It’s impossible,” Hazel said.
“It’s not impossible,” Jenna said. “But it’s bad news.” And then Lexie heard nothing more, having run so far so fast.
Chapter 23
At the edge of the world, Archer stepped along the rocks, taking a moment to clear her head. She had run to the coast, to the springs, where the tides crashed at jagged rocks below, and she and Natalee had bathed together so many years ago. She was careful not to step on broken glass as she navigated the cliffside. Apparently, these secret baths were secret no longer,
the litter of countless drunken nights scattered at her feet. She sighed and squeezed her eyes shut, fighting the creeping tension gripping at the muscles of her forehead. She wanted so badly to change. The dawn’s glutted moon had bathed her in its cruel light, teasing her, mocking her impotence. Now, the afternoon’s cold sun seared her eyes, and she cursed its ostentation.
Although Natalee’s death occurred miles away, in the barren lands destroyed by the wildfire, her ghost clung here. Her white skin had been made of the moonlight itself, her hair as deep and black as the nighttime sea, and her eyes the cool gray of the stones surrounding these pools. Archer squatted to the ground, digging her fingers into the algae that carpeted the submerged rocks, remembering Natalee’s slick black fur. The spongy, green flora bruised like overripe fruit beneath the pressure of her fingertips, releasing streams of tiny bubbles before springing back into shape.
Archer thought about Natalee’s perfect skin and its bloodless refusal to spring back to shape as she lay on the chips of slate that formed her deathbed. The red gashes across her body were beautiful in color if crude in execution. The greatest traversed the length of her abdomen, drawing out her organs, their sheen glinting in the moonlight. Archer had known that somewhere beneath the mess of blood and viscera were her pups, barely formed beyond the length of one of her claws. She couldn’t look, wouldn’t look. She never did look. Natalee’s body was wrapped and burned without anyone counting the heirs that burned with her.
Best not to dwell on such things, especially this evening, on the cusp of what, Archer didn’t know. Yet what better time to examine her mistakes and expunge some of the guilt she carried with her?
After this is over, Archer thought, she’d like to take Lexie on a road trip. Lexie would like that. Archer could prove that she still had adventure in her blood, that she could be young and vibrant, too. Maybe take Highway 1 down the coast, racing through the redwoods, digging through tide pools, blazing a trail all the way to Mexico.
Lexie would be her family now, her last chance to love and be loved for the rest of her life. She stood and spoke to the wind, “Goodbye, love.” A simple prayer to her lost lover so she could give herself over to new hope.
