Lunatic Fringe (36 page)

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? Some 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.