by Allison Moon
“Well,” she admitted, boldly, “us, I guess.”
Archer gave up her half-grin for a full one. “Yes. There is. I’m bigger and stronger and older. And, I’ve been at this for a while.”
Archer’s bluntness stunned Lexie silent.
“But,” Archer continued, “you have power over me as well.”
“What do you mean?” Lexie asked, the question catching in her throat.
Archer smiled, her head resting solidly on her hand, her eyes first downcast, then staring into Lexie’s own, creating a breathtaking moment’s pause before answering, “I’m in love with you.”
A great pressure built up behind Lexie’s eyes. She felt as though her head were aflame.
“Does that surprise you?” Archer asked, tilting her head one way, then another as she tried to listen with both ears.
“I don’t know,” Lexie replied. “Maybe.” She laid back and let the fleece tickle her neck. A sliver of sunshine crept across her skin, teasing freckles from beneath her bare flesh. “No, I guess not.”
Lexie smiled at the clouds passing overhead. “You’re the third person who’s ever said they loved me.”
Archer stroked her fingertips along the pale path of Lexie’s forearm.
“Your family was small.”
Lexie nodded, “Tiny.”
“How strong it must be.”
Lexie turned to Archer, searching for meaning in those heterochromatic eyes. “What do you mean?”
“Wolves travel in groups for safety and for power. The fewer members, the harder it is to survive. A pack of two, that’s strong.”
Lexie smiled sadly, feeling like her father in that moment. A fragile grin, eyes downcast, a jaw too tight to speak.
“I love you, too.” Lexie’s eyes flicked up in time to see the tears fall from her lover--her love’s--eyes. Archer placed her palm on Lexie’s bare sternum.
Lexie blinked up at the sky to keep from crying herself, watching the clouds drift past. Archer watched her still. She felt the most beautiful when Archer looked at her this way; her love edified each cell of her body.
“I always wanted a big family,” Lexie said. “Other families I knew always kept their front door open and had people coming in and out all the time. Things like dinner parties or ski weekends, or camping, or whatever. It was always stuff that other kids did. My house was so quiet. Always just . . .” Lexie sighed and watched Archer’s body create its own horizon as the sun tilted toward the sea.
“Large families have their own challenges,” Archer said.
“I want to be challenged. I want to know what it’s like to want something.” Her hair rasped against the wood grain as she spoke more adamantly. “Like, I listen to the Pack talk, and I want to know where that passion comes from. It’s so potent, so real. It’s moving.”
“You’re right,” Archer answered Lexie’s frustration with calm. “That’s exactly what it is. It moves things. Most of their power comes from anger.”
“But anger seems to do something.”
“Anger absolutely does things. It is a powerful tool for inciting change. But it has to be wielded like a tool. You can’t let it can’t wield you. That’s what separates us from that beast that attacked you.”
“You totally kicked his ass.”
“Yes, because he was overwhelmed. This core rage that you have,” she patted Lexie’s chest, “it’s a weapon. Even without teeth or claws, sometimes all you need is the rage to win, because rage is a refusal of logic or even self-preservation. It’s a hatred that has the potential for great destruction. But rage is strong enough that it can own you, too. That’s what tends to happen to the half-blood males. They lose their minds, sometimes their memories.”
“But when I turned, my mind remained.”
“True. But you’re female. You’ve been conditioned to the fluctuations of hormones. Everyone’s response is different.”
Lexie didn’t buy it; it sounded too pat, but she wasn’t sure enough to say so. She didn’t need to.
“Human women are conditioned from birth to control themselves, to pretend nothing of the animal exists within them at all,” Archer said. “They are told to remove their hair, to hide natural odors, to always be kind, receptive and passive, hiding all their animal instincts. They are taught to stay in control even when losing it. Human men don’t have such training. When they get bitten, it’s a powerful force that overtakes them.”
“Blythe calls it ‘testosterone poisoning’.”
“Hah. Kind of, I suppose. I suspect testosterone is a key player in the change. At any rate, it’s a wicked brew that women seem to handle better than men.”
Lexie looked unsatisfied and Archer shrugged. “Feminists like the Pack get a bad rap for hating men. But it’s a defense mechanism in response to the hatred men have for women. For every nice guy like your dad, there’s another man who turns his desire for women into contempt, or exaltation, which is just as dehumanizing. Add super-strength and a healthy dose of animal rage and, well, you grew up here. You know how it is. Half-bloods can’t control their change, but they do have that rage you mentioned. Blind and brutal.”
“The wolf that attacked me didn’t seem blind and brutal. He knew exactly what he was doing.”
“That’s because he was a full-blood. His kind are the intermediary between purebloods and half-bloods. He’s one of the werewolves responsible for turning the half-bloods. He was born a wolf, and he’ll always be a wolf. His kin are responsible for many, many deaths, including those of my pack.”
“Oh my god, really?”
“That charred area where I found you, where he found you first, that was where we warred years ago. And, as you may suspect, it’s where we lost.”
“Did any survive?”
“Some. But the pack itself didn’t. I was exiled and my partner’s body burned. Our peacespeaker died along with them, and most of the Morloc males ran free.”
“Your what?”
“Peacespeaker. A shaman of sorts, a human diplomat who can mediate conflict between warring packs and communicate between werewolves and humans.”
“Cool.”
“She was very cool indeed.”
“Was she hot?”
“Quite.”
“Did you. . ?” Lexie asked with flirty eyebrow.
“No, ma’am. That’s a big taboo among my kind. No rolling around between werewolves and peacespeakers, unless it’s the violent kind of rolling.”
Lexie popped another grape in her mouth.
“So, if male half-bloods go all aggro because they haven’t been socialized to be docile like women, and full-bloods are wild beasts to begin with, where did my rage come from? I never had this burning attack instinct until I turned.”
Archer laughed, deep and rich. “You absolutely had this inside you before you changed. What your wolf side gave you was the ability to feel it and turn it into action. In our society, women are not allowed their rage. But predators always are.”
Lexie turned to her side to face Archer. “Are you afraid of them?”
“Who? The full-bloods? No, I’ll always have the upper-hand with them.”
“No, I mean the Pack.”
Archer chuckled, shaking her head.
“Now your dad, that’s a different story,” Archer joked.
Lexie laughed aloud, realizing in that moment the dissonance that had become her daily life. Would her father be more upset she was potentially a lesbian or potentially a blood-thirsty beast? She didn’t know, though she was leaning towards ‘werewolf’.
“They want me to join them, you know.”
“The Pack?”
Lexie nodded.
Archer considered this, silently.
“You know what they do, right?” Lexie asked.
“Yes,” Archer said. “And I do my best to stay out of their way.”
“I don’t think they care about females. They’re really invested in these werewolves they say are sired by the, what was it?
Murdoch? Mordor?”
“Morloc. Yes, Blythe has been at this for a while,” Archer said.
“So what they’re doing, you agree with it?”
Archer shrugged. “While I’d prefer to attack the source by eliminating the Morloc, you have to realize that this is a war that has been waging for decades. I have no problem going to battle to support my interests.”
“Easy for you to say. You’re a pure-blood. The Pack is just a bunch of chicks with weapons.”
“Don’t underestimate them,” Archer said, pressing her lips together in a way that indicated she had no more satisfying answers.
“How do you know each other?” Lexie asked.
For the first time since Lexie had known her, Archer seemed uncomfortable. She shifted her body on the fleece, and pushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear, avoiding Lexie’s eyes.
“Blythe is one of the reasons I left Milton,” she admitted.
“Were you. . ?”
Archer dropped her head, letting it hang. “Yes and no. Mostly no. I didn’t come back to rehash the past. I came to set it right.”
“How?”
“By helping take care of the rogue males.”
“Then why aren’t you out there with them?”
“It’s complicated.” A heavy silence pervaded the space. “I work better on my own.”
“Lone wolf.”
Archer nodded. “That’s me.”
Archer traced the tip of her index finger from Lexie’s scalp down her forehead and nose, grazing lightly at her lips and ending on her chin. Lexie sighed as her nerves sizzled beneath her touch.
“Do they know your secret?” Archer asked.
Lexie shook her head. “But Renee knows I’m seeing someone, and after class last week, she said that Blythe thinks I’m ‘special.’ I don’t know what that means. Either way, they want me to help them.”
“What do you think about that?”
Lexie thought for a moment, unsure of the answer. “I suppose it feels great, to feel wanted. A month ago, I would have killed to be invited into a family like that. But now, with you, I feel wanted in a new, better way.”
“I do want you. I want you to be my family.”
Lexie grinned. Archer saw her in a way the Pack didn’t. Couldn’t. She tugged at Archer’s earlobe. “I want to go running with you, as you.”
Archer was silent, then, “Why?”
“It will be real.”
“It will be strange.”
“No. It will be us.” Lexie said, wrapping her arms around Archer’s neck.
They lay next to each other, legs and arms draped over each other’s bodies, the autumn’s chill not strong enough yet to cause any discomfort. Lexie felt the picture of languid elegance as she lay entangled with Archer. The bowstrings of her muscles eased and her gangliness softened. She felt womanly.
The thought of her womanliness delivered an unwelcome thought into her head. “Shoot,” she said, unfettering herself from Archer’s grasp. “I have to go.”
“Why?” Archer asked, catching her hand.
“I have a study session with my women’s studies class. I haven’t been in weeks. I need to show.” Lexie leaned forward and kissed her, before hitting her playfully on the shoulder. “This evening, okay? Dinnertime.”
“Oh,” Archer said, sulking.
Lexie giggled, reaching for her clothes. “It’ll be less than four hours, okay?” Dressed, she kissed Archer again, reticent to go.
She pushed Archer onto her back, pinning her. Archer giggled and flipped Lexie over, half growling, half laughing. They pushed back and forth, playing with power and submission, nibbling at any of the various angles and curves of their bodies that came within mouth’s reach, testing each other for strength. Archer pinned her by the shoulder and thigh, resting her head on Lexie’s chest as they breathed together and waited for their pulses and breathing to settle. Archer leaned back, drawing Lexie’s body over hers until they were face to face. Lexie’s legs wrapped around Archer’s waist, and she rested her elbows on Archer’s shoulders and stroked her face. They kissed, serene and open.
Lexie didn’t want to leave. In her head, calculations of time swirled around each other, determining how many seconds, kisses, moments, and cat naps could be squeezed in until the next obligation swept her away from her love. And yet she was wary of this comfort. Like a soporific spell, Lexie felt as though she could drift through time lying alongside Archer, letting life pass by. It was lovely and terrifying.
Her first months at college with the Pack ignited tiny sparks of ambition inside of Lexie. For the first time in her life, she found herself entertaining possibilities of travel and a career outside the limited bounds of her hometown. She thought of riding planes, horses, rickshaws, camels, of learning languages and cuisines and romance. Archer was often with her in these dreams, though sometimes not. These fantasies were bigger than anything Lexie had dared imagine before, but for some unknown reason, they felt real and achievable. Like climbing the tree to this platform nearly a month before, Lexie just needed to run fast enough for a huge leap that would sustain a flight far enough from her past.
So, she needed to get to her study session.
“Tonight, okay?” Lexie said as she stepped to the edge of the platform.
“Do me a favor?” Archer asked. “Don’t let Blythe know you and I are . . . whatever we are.”
“In love?”
“Yes, that.” Archer smiled.
Lexie took the memory of that smile as she leapt through the branches and headed back to town.
Chapter 16
Drizzle splattered Lexie’s skin as she walked onto campus. The rain inspired a memory of moving in two months ago--or two million years ago, Lexie couldn’t tell which. She chose the path that led past Rice Hall and her decimated dorm room. In the time that passed since the tree toppled into the roof, it appeared that the better treatment had gone to the culprit rather than the victim. Little progress had been made to repair the hole, save some blue tarps shoddily draped to keep out the rain.
The side door of the dorm was propped open, and two men passed with boxes and bags, depositing them in a rented cargo van. Lexie watched them make the trip in and out of the building twice before she wondered who would be moving out this close to midterms. She entered the building and followed the hall to Anna’s room. Anna sat on her bare mattress, gingerly folding her clothes and placing them in a suitcase. Lexie knocked on the open door.
Anna looked up, her expression vacant until she recognized Lexie and smiled faintly.
“Hey, Anna,” Lexie said. “What’s going on?”
“I’m leaving. Just for a while.”
“Why?”
Anna furrowed her brow, incredulous. “You didn’t hear?”
“Hear what?”
Anna’s chin trembled. “Close the door.”
Lexie stepped into the room, closing the door behind her. As soon as the latch clicked, tears streamed from Anna’s eyes.
Lexie rushed to her side as Anna hid her face in her hands.
“They just won’t do shit,” she spat out through her sobs.
“Who won’t?”
“Fern! The administration! I’ve put so much time and energy into this stupid school, and they’re treating me like a leper. No, they’re treating me like a whore.”
Lexie rubbed her back, not wanting to ask another question but desperate to know what Anna was talking about.
“Two weeks ago I went to a party at Phi Kappa Phi. I was there for a while and drank, but no more than usual. I got kind of dizzy when I was dancing, so I went upstairs to find a place to lie down. I was on a sofa watching the ceiling spin when Brian walked in with one of his frat brothers. I tried to get up, but I was too fucked up to stand.”
Lexie rubbed Anna’s back, smelling the moisture in her armpits and the remembered fear underneath it. She dreaded to hear what she knew was coming.
“Brian and his friend started mocking me, ca
lling me a ‘fat slut’ and stuff like that. I told them to leave me alone. I tried to leave again, but Brian pushed me down. He held me by the throat and nearly choked me out. Then they took turns raping me. Some time during it I guess I passed out. I woke up the next morning in the same spot with vomit on my clothes. Unfortunately--or fortunately, I guess--it all belonged to me.”
“Jesus,” Lexie whispered. “What did you do?”
“Exactly what they say to. I called Dr. Fern. I reported to security. I went to the doctor. Everything.”
“And?”
“Nothing. Just nothing. The judicial board doesn’t care. There are no witnesses, no proof, just my word against theirs. The board chair even said that because I had sex with Brian before that he may have just ‘misinterpreted’ something, that it couldn’t have been rape.”
“That’s insane.”
“Well,” Anna shrugged, hopeless. Her face burned red. “I swear to god it’s because that little prick is so rich. This wouldn’t have happened if it was some townie. His hick-ass would be in jail, but Brian, that smug jerk, is walking around like it’s no big deal.”
The knock at the door startled them both. “Anna?” a man’s voice called. “Your brother and I have the van packed, hon. Time to go.”
“Okay, Dad,” she called through the door.
“Where are you going?” Lexie asked.
“Home. I’m probably going to transfer to State next semester. Everyone on campus is choosing sides like it’s some sort of reality show. It’s humiliating. If I get called a fat slut one more time . . .” Her jaw tensed, shoulders squaring. She sniffed back her tears. “Whatever. It wasn’t even that bad, the rape. It was . . . stupid. Pointless. It’s the way I’ve been treated since that drives me insane.”
Lexie squeezed her shoulder, utterly clueless of the appropriate way to handle such a situation.
“I’m so sorry, Anna.”