Lunatic Fringe

by Allison Moon

  Lexie was suddenly ashamed to be exposed like this, unsure of the truth that unfolded around her. Her neck began to sweat and her earlobes burned.

  Archer lowered her head. Her shoulders slumped.

  “Archer?” Lexie tried to catch Archer’s eyes. The girls shifted on their feet.

  Blythe spoke to Lexie, “I’m sorry you had to learn the truth this way. It certainly wasn’t my intention to hurt or humiliate you. I want you to know that we’re here for you.”

  Sharmalee nodded emphatically, her hands held as in prayer over her sternum. Jenna and Hazel nodded too. Renee stood motionless, save for her jaw, which clenched and unclenched repeatedly.

  “You’re lying,” Archer spat, squeezing her fists tight to stave off the wolf. “You only want her because she’s valuable to you.”

  “Are you implying that she’s valueless to you?” Blythe smiled.

  “She’s not a commodity, Blythe.” The steeliness of Archer’s voice sent chills creeping down Lexie’s spine.

  “Then why did you turn her life into one?”

  “I DIDN’T SIRE HER!” Archer boomed, her throat forcing out sounds made of both human and wolf at once.

  “You beasts are all the same. You fight over human lives as if they were carcasses, willing to draw blood from each other for gristle,” Blythe said.

  “That isn’t what this is about. You’re terrified of me because you know you’re a lousy leader and that given the chance, I’d run this Pack better than you ever could,” Archer said. “You’re only an alpha because there was no one left alive to do the job.”

  “No one until now, apparently,” Blythe said. “Allow me to finish that.”

  Archer walked forward and Blythe leapt from the truck. They met in the smoky meadow that had once been Archer’s backyard.

  “My girls will eviscerate you,” Blythe snarled.

  “They may know how to kill werewolves, but could they kill a woman?” Archer asked.

  Blythe scowled. “Let’s find out.”

  With a hurtling fist, Archer struck Blythe’s face, sending her flying onto her back. Blood streamed from Blythe’s nose, a bright red shock against her milk-white skin. Blythe staggered to her feet and leapt back at Archer. The moon was not yet above the tree line, but Blythe had no problem shifting in midair, from woman to wolf. A great, white creature, she landed on Archer’s human body, slamming her to the ground and knocking her breathless. Archer groaned with pain before kicking back and flipping Blythe off of her.

  Blythe whipped to her four feet and ran at Archer, who met her snapping jaws with her hands, gripping Blythe’s snout and leaping onto her back.

  Renee watched the fight, and Lexie watched Renee. She knew that Renee didn’t understand the truth, was merely acting under Blythe’s orders. Renee grappled with the half-truths Blythe fed her, like the women now grappled on the grass, none of it adding up.

  Archer straddled Blythe’s back, her arm barred across Blythe’s throat, cutting through the soft tissue below her jaw, making Blythe stagger and buck. Though Blythe waved her large, heavy head, Archer held fast. The girls shouted for Blythe to destroy Archer. Unable to dislodge her, Blythe threw herself onto her side and rolled her heavy frame onto Archer, knocking her loose.

  “No!” Lexie screamed. The Pack cheered as blood seeped from Archer’s scalp. Blythe ran at her and seized her shoulder in her jaws, lifting Archer from the ground and shaking her like a rag doll before tossing her in the direction of the burning cabin. Archer fell to the ground mere feet from the flames, her shirt soaking red with blood. Archer gasped and coughed.

  “I don’t want to kill you, Blythe.”

  Blythe grinned with a mouthful of bloodied teeth, saying, We never did agree on anything.

  Archer staggered to standing, the heat of her burning home drying her blood. The girls beyond flinched at the crackle of weakening logs.

  Blythe lowered her head and swayed her heavy, white tail. She ran at Archer, ready to ram her into the flames. As she closed in, Archer stepped forward and, like slipping off a robe, she sloughed off her human disguise. Blythe’s pure white beast met Archer’s gray one with a great crash and snarl. Archer caught Blythe’s shoulders with her paws and used her momentum to hurl the white wolf through the wall of flame. Logs caved and snapped, crashing with Blythe into the fire. Without a moment’s hesitation, Archer leapt in after her.

  Desperate, Lexie moved toward the cabin. Renee grabbed Lexie’s hand and jerked her back, intertwining her fingers with Lexie’s. It felt comforting, before Renee began to squeeze. Lexie’s muscles tensed with the urgency to act, and Renee responded by bearing down. Lexie nearly tore her own arm off as she tried to wrench herself free from Renee’s grasp, but unlike before, Renee wouldn’t underestimate her strength. She dug her nails into Lexie’s hands, squeezing off the circulation. Lexie twisted and fought like a rabid dog on a leash.

  “Let me go!” Lexie shouted.

  “Like hell,” Renee said. Spotting Lexie’s knife she tore the holster from her belt. Lexie swatted and scratched at Renee, but the tall girl evaded her attacks. Renee grabbed the knife by the handle, dropping it with a shout. Lexie stared wide-eyed as Renee shook her hand as though she had been bitten.

  Lexie reached down and picked up the knife, unsheathing it and brandishing it in front of Renee’s face. She staggered back, releasing Lexie’s wrist. Lexie smiled with her newfound power, leaning into Renee’s face.

  “Blythe made you a murderer. If I’m this ‘peacespeaker’, you just killed three innocent boys so she wouldn’t have to.”

  “They weren’t innocents,” Renee snarled.

  “Brian was an asshole. He was a pig, and he was a rapist. But he wasn’t a werewolf. So tell me one more time, who are you really fighting?”

  Renee’s face burned red with the reflected flames. Her lips curled from her teeth. Her eyes flicked over Lexie’s shoulder to the two wolves grappling in the cabin and she doubled over, releasing a scream from the lowest parts of her. Not yet a wolf, her howl was purely human, driven by grief and horror. When her lungs were spent she did it again. Lexie watched, her own insides hurting for the pain she had to inflict, but also from jealousy for Renee’s grief. Lexie should be able to make those same sounds in honor of her mother, but there was no anguish to be found there.

  Renee sank to the ground, her face buried in her knees. Lexie abandoned her, shoving her knife through her belt as she ran to the cabin. The heat made Lexie dizzy as soon as she burst in. She coughed as though her whole throat wanted to evacuate her body. The smoke was thick, and white spots appeared like flashbulbs in her field of vision. Lexie called Archer’s name over the cacophony of cracking timber and growling flames. Through the smoke, she saw Blythe and Archer crash into the kitchen table, sending it flying.

  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 tr
uth 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.”