Lunatic Fringe (39 page)

Lexie clamored to Archer, the smoke
clawing its way down her throat, forcing out the oxygen. She
stumbled to her knees, coughing heavily, her throat burning. If she
could change, she would be alright; her body could withstand this.
But she couldn’t change. She retched onto the floor of the cabin,
spitting and gasping. Archer and Blythe snarled at one another,
both gunning for blood. Through the haze of her waning vision,
Lexie watched as Archer and Blythe traded swipes and bites. Archer
had Blythe by the scruff, and then, as quick as a heartbeat, Blythe
had Archer pinned.

She tried to shout to Archer but it
came out as a breathy croak, “I can’t change!”

Her cry stole Archer’s attention, and
Blythe struck. She rammed her head into Archer’s side, sending her
flying into the kitchen and knocking the propane tank onto its
side.

Lexie tried to scream, but her voice
was scorched by the smoke. She lurched forward, her limbs refusing
to heed her commands. She grabbed the knife on her belt, the heated
handle burning her palm. She croaked a pained scream as her skin
melted against the hilt, but she didn’t release her grip. Lexie ran
to the wolves and slashed the blade across Blythe’s haunch. Red
welled up, staining the white fur.

Blythe lurched to standing and shrank
into her human body. Lexie gasped to watch the change reversed so
cleanly. Blythe screamed her pain in a human voice, her skin
burning red with the heat and rage. She snarled and threw her fist
across Lexie’s face, knocking her onto her back.

The whole cabin creaked under the
burden of weakened supports and shifting weight. Archer barked and
pounced, throwing Blythe onto her back, scratching and writhing,
trying to catch some flesh in her claws. Archer hesitated before
going for her throat, wishing the end didn’t have to be so clean.
As she drove her jaws down to Blythe’s exposed throat, Blythe
shifted back into her white wolf form.

The cabin groaned as the great trunk at
the apex of the roof split in two and careened to the floor,
crashing onto Archer’s spine, knocking her away from Blythe. With a
yelp, she slid across the ash-covered floor and went
still.

Lexie wanted to scream, but there was
no air with which to do so. She gasped and retched, struggling to
her feet.

Change! The moon must be up by now.
Change!!! She begged in every language she knew, but her wolf
didn’t heed her cries. Her eyes burned as tears struggled to flush
out the ash.

Knife in hand, she crawled toward the
wolves. Blythe stood and circled like a white menace, her cold blue
eyes peering through the smoke for her prey. She surveyed the
unconscious Archer, a lupine grin curling at her lips. One blow was
all it would take and Archer would be gone forever. Blythe reared
back, intent on the soft fur on her enemy’s throat. Her teeth
glinted red in the firelight. Lexie gasped and choked, unable to
scream. Blythe lunged through the smoke toward Archer’s stretched
throat, but her jaws didn’t meet their target. A dark brown blur
crashed through the room, tearing Blythe away from Archer. The
light and dark creatures tumbled over one another.

Renee and Blythe fought, clawing and
snapping at one another with renewed vehemence. Lexie crawled to
Archer, throwing her arms around the wolf’s heavy skull as the
flames closed in.

Come on, Archer. Get up. Archer roused
as Lexie faded. Lexie had a dark and distant impression of a vise
closing around her body, of teeth pressing but not breaking skin,
of being dragged across ash and flame, and then cool grass and
clean air.

She roused, clinging to Archer’s ashen
fur as she coughed out her lungs. From inside the fire came the
barking of wolf-speech.

You made me a
murderer,
Renee growled at
Blythe.

You chose this!
Blythe chattered back, gasping and
coughing.

I chose to be a soldier, not
a killer. I was fighting for something I believed in, not personal
grudges.

Outside, the moon’s light outshined by
the flames, the Pack watched the cabin dissolve into an inferno.
The midnight-black Sharmalee whined high in her throat, and
Corwin’s broad, caramel paw held her head against her shoulder.
Hazel, tiny and mottled gray, sat on the ground, facing away from
the fire as a golden Jenna nervously fidgeted with the collar of
the clothes folded neatly at her feet. Mitch paced, burly and
brindle, jerking toward the fire, and then away. None of them paid
any mind as Archer dragged Lexie past them and back into the woods
where the cold, moist air could expunge the soot from her
lungs.

Archer and Lexie made it to the river
before they heard the final crack of the rafters and a cacophonous
explosion. Archer turned to the clearing, watching as the girls all
gasped and cried out. The cabin had caved in completely, the walls
replaced by fire.

Amidst the swirling smoke stood a
solitary figure with dark brown fur, lean and tall, her muzzle
coated in a thick, red sheen. She looked like a fire goddess,
flames dancing behind her dark, tufted fur, her black eyes
reflecting flames as if she could create them by deeming it so. She
shook the timber off her solid back and looked to her sisters, then
to the sky. Drifting ash mixed with tiny flakes of snow. Renee took
one step through the flames, away from the limp white figure at her
feet, before throwing her head back on her neck and releasing a
howl from the depths of her body.

It was a mournful and prideful howl,
honoring the turn of the tides and her new position as alpha of the
Pack. The girls walked to her, throwing back their heads and
joining her in their song of sorrow and celebration.

Chapter 26

The moon had set by the time Lexie
awoke. She blinked up at a swath of indigo sky, shattered by the
shadows of pine needles. She was in their treehouse, lying on the
sheepskin she knew so well. A silent prayer of thanks skittered
through her head as she realized Archer was with her here. Their
world might have burned, but she had survived.

Lexie’s throat throbbed, raw and
painful. Turning her head to the side, she saw a tall glass of
water, in which tiny flakes of river flotsam danced in the
approaching sunlight. Beyond the glass, Archer sat with her back to
Lexie, her legs dangling over the edge of the platform, her
silhouette bathed in shadow.

“
How do you feel?” Archer
asked sullenly, over her shoulder.

Lexie tried to talk but what came out
was a short, gruff, cough. Her head was woozy, and she could use
two more weeks of sleep, but she was alive. She looked at the palm
of her hand, pink and raw, the delicate moon-shaped runes from the
knife’s hilt scalded into her flesh.

Blythe’s death moved her little. The
realization left her feeling cold inside, cruel, especially
compared to Archer, who seemed to take on the burden of the death
and infighting as if it were her sole responsibility. Lexie spoke
across the distance, ashamed at the truth of her words. “Perhaps it
was a just death, Archer.”

“
I don’t think justice
works like that, Lexie.”

“
Perhaps it was just a
death, then.”

A sniffle. Archer had been crying.
Lexie crawled over to her. Her clothes were filthy, smelling like
kerosene and char. Archer was nude.

“
There are so many things
that don’t make sense to me about you,” Archer said, wiping her
eyes.

“
Ask me anything,” Lexie
said, laying a hand on Archer’s back. “I’ll tell you.”

Archer struggled to smile. “I don’t
mean you specifically. People. I don’t get them.”

“
Oh,” Lexie said. “Well, I
think you and I have that in common.”

“
You take so much for
granted.”

“
Like what?”

“
It took me decades to be
able to move through the world without feeling like a monster. Even
at your most awkward, you are elegant. As elegant as any human, at
least. Things like emotion, loyalty, love. I feel . . .” Archer
sighed. “I feel like I’m a different species.”

“
You are.”

“
I know. But it’s not such
a fun thing to feel. It’s more fun to forget. To think I’m among my
kind when I’m with you. But . . .”

Lexie knew no platitudes would do the
job here. She sat, like Archer had sat with her innumerable times,
as Archer talked through her grief.

“
I didn’t do a good job,”
Archer said, her voice filled with tears. Her eyes were red,
darting towards Lexie then back into the forest, shame flushing her
ears and chest. “I didn’t save my Pack.”

“
Maybe you did.”

“
Blythe’s death--it was my
fault.”

“
It was
Renee’s
fault,” Lexie
corrected.

“
But it was my
Pack.”

“
I think you and I have
different standards of accountability.”

Her shoulders slumped in defeat. “I
could have done something.”

“
No, Archer, you couldn’t.
They made their own choices. Give them the responsibility for their
actions.”

“
I believe in
loyalty.”

“
So do I,” said Lexie, but
in her voice was an apology.

Archer turned to her, her mouth
half-hidden behind her shoulder. She chewed on her lip.

Lexie wedged her hands beneath her
thighs, “You don’t deserve the blame for my mother’s death, do
you?”

“
I was commanding the
field.”

“
That doesn’t mean
anything.”

“
To me it does.”

“
I don’t
understand.”

“
No. But that’s
okay.”

“
It sounds sick, but I’m
kind of relieved to know the truth about her,” Lexie said. “I never
tried to track her down. Well, I never tried hard. I kind of
figured that if she cared, she wouldn’t have left in the first
place. In a way, I suppose, she was always dead to me.”

Archer honored that admission with
silence.

“
Temes tumtum,”
Lexie said. “You know what that means, don’t
you?”

Archer nodded with a sad smile. “Little
heartbeat.”

“
Damn,” Lexie muttered. “I
wish she had taught me her language. That is really
sweet.”

“
It’s not Cree. It’s
Chinook jargon--a Creole language. A pastiche. Just like
you.”

Lexie smiled and rested her hand on
Archer’s. “And you.”

Archer’s smile faded. “I can’t stay
here.” Archer looked at her hands, holding her breath for a long
while. “Blythe was right. Other packs will hear about this. They’ll
think I am to blame.”

“
But I know the truth. So
does the Pack.”

“
I wish that was
enough.”

Archer looked out into the twilight and
sighed. “Will you come with me?”

Lexie knew this was coming. She knew
there’d be a departure, and a question. There would be talk of
family and futures. There would be the fantasies laid out in her
mind as tangible for the very first time. That it was happening
now, that Archer extended her hand in invitation now, atop so much
death, so much wreckage, sullied the anticipation of it.

“
Where?”

“
Elsewhere. Anywhere. New
territory, new life.”

“
As women or as
wolves?”

“
Whichever we want,
whenever we want.”

“
But I can’t--”

“
I can teach
you.”

“
--I can’t just leave
college,” Lexie continued.

“
You don’t need
college.”

“
I’m pretty sure I
do.”

“
You’ll learn more about
life being on the road. College is just one of infinite paths; why
not try one more interesting?”

“
I’ll need you too
much.”

“
There’s nothing wrong with
that.”

“
Yes, there is. I’m just
learning how to be on my own. I couldn’t even leave the state to go
to college. I grew up, like fifty miles from here, and this the
farthest I’ve ever been away from home!”

“
That’s what I’m saying. We
can travel together!”

“
I want to travel,” Lexie
nodded. “I want to see amazing things and meet amazing people and
all of that.”

“
That’s what I’m offering
you.”

“
But I want to do it in my
own time.”

“
Come with me,” Archer
said.

“
I can’t.”

“
You can.”

“
I won’t.”

Archer’s face twisted with tears and
regret. “I’m sorry I killed that man. I’m sorry Blythe is dead. I’m
sorry I let your mother die.”

“
This isn’t about that. I’m
not mad at you anymore, for any of that.” Lexie shook her head,
expecting tears but finding she had none left. It made her feel
clean. “I spent my whole life thinking that my mother skipped out
to follow some deadbeat across the country, lost in love. I grew up
believing she was stupid and weak, and maybe crazy.”