by Tina Smith
And right then, in Sam’s lounge room, she knew Reid would help her - and she wanted to help Lila. All the dots connected. Her vision was inevitable. Wherever Lila was, she had friends, because she was too well kept. Cresida tried not to think about it, if she let herself she might know too much and if she was captured she could be used for information. She blocked out the thought of Lila’s hideout, because she couldn’t afford to see it.
Cres and Reid left Angele and Jackson. They had Sam’s house to themselves. They stood in human form; Angele decided to shower, suddenly feeling the sticky human skin she had become. She ran the water hot and tried to regain some sense of herself as not being an alien vessel, after remaining phased for so long. She washed her tangled hair that had matted in the dew and caked in dirt. It had become dishevelled as she’d danced around him in the forest on four legs.
She heard music course up through the stairway, and when she descended into the living area Jackson was waiting. He clicked a button and the rock ‘n’ roll that bellowed through the empty house became a mellow tune which wound its way through her as the Stones sang Angie in that howling tone. She knew Jack had picked it out for her and she smiled like a bashful idiot, unable to hold it back.
“Are you going to go home Jack?” she asked, trying to ignore the way the sound of the Stones made her weak in the knees.
He loved the way she called him Jack, even though he had only ever referred to himself as Jackson - and the pack called him J.
She was certain now they had made love he would leave for the warm comfort of his home, abandoning her.
“Are you worried I’ll never come back?” he asked, adoring the glassy look in her blue eyes.
She hugged him, because it was so easy to do. He had stood so close to her. She rested her head on his long sleeve shirt, which smelt faintly of another wolf, as clothes were an asset to be shared. She didn’t realize how close they had become in such a small amount of time.
“Ange, don’t worry, I just have to say goodbye.” He tried not to think of his mother’s tears and looked away, only to see the reflection of himself and Angele in the window and was disappointed by the sepia image. He hated that he was trapped in a boy’s body. Despite training and lifting, he hadn’t spread out like Reid. He was naturally a more petite, thinner frame.
“Then what?” came her sticky, honey-sweet whisper.
“Then I’ll join you, we can run away together.” He wanted to look more like a man than a boy when he said it, so he turned from their mirror image reflected in the glass, to rest his chin on her wet head, which smelt of shampoo.
She shivered then, because she knew they couldn’t be together in peace. Not until after the impending fight. If they lived.
“I was going to join the Cult you know,” he whispered. “Soon.”
“When?” The music hit a chorus and Jagger cooed through the speakers.
“So we would have met then,” he uttered gently holding and rocking her in his arms.
“This is better,” she whispered back into his chest.
“You wouldn’t have looked twice at me then,” he said in a self-depreciating manner.
She stopped the sway of her cheek against him and lifted her head. “No. I would have.” But she thought with a pang of guilt that she wouldn’t have been so easy, because out here her job was to infiltrate by any means possible, and it had been easier than she thought.
All of a sudden, Jackson was hers and would follow her to war. His friends who wanted to destroy her pack had let her into their circle and in on their plan. She knew she had, in fact, very easily managed to achieve everything Narine had wished her to, but she was torn as to whether she would tell her. She knew with a stirring of rebellion that she wasn’t going to. But later she feared, as her Jack slept, and her eyes glossed over with moisture, that she wouldn’t be as convinced of this when Narine came for that information.
Cres felt a strange elation. She had to wait for Lila, to tell her that she had Reid and Jackson and it seemed even Angie, though she couldn’t trust Angele. But she didn’t let the others know that. If she voiced it, Jackson would talk Angele back into running away and unfortunately they needed the numbers for a battle, even if they weren’t steady.
Cres pulled out her note pad and drew a symbol in pen. While at school, she scanned and emailed it to a tattoo parlor named Inklings, in Mystic Beach, a half hour drive away. She called them from a pay phone outside the school and arranged an appointment.
That night, she jumped out of her window, hotwired a car outside the pub, and took off. The artist’s studio stayed open late for her and she handed the guy a bunch of fifty dollar notes. It was more than the work was worth but she didn’t have I.D, and it was after hours. She only wanted something small on her wrist. The next day, she washed it in the sink with running water, to fade the ink before it stained deep black.
21. Correcting the Balance
Cres looked sad; I could tell she had been crying as I climbed in the window. Her eyes were unusually red.
“We have Angele and Jackson. Reid will follow me,” she assured me. She lent down to a drawer and grabbed something, handing me a box.
“What’s this?” I breathed.
She shrugged. “Camera phone.” I looked at her, fighting a smile. She had remembered my sarcasm, even in the midst of my accusations. “You’ll have to set it up.” She smiled back, her eyes bright. “Don’t turn on the G.P.S, in case they track you.”
“Thanks.” Maybe she was trying to butter me up. “Looks like you’ve been busy.”
“You’ll need it,” she swallowed, “for the fight.” Her eyes lids fluttered. “Anyway you’ve been busy too?” She peered at the side of my face. “You heal well.”
I touched the light pink scar near my eye. I shrugged. “I put some cream on it.” I thought perhaps the evidence of dried tears were for what was to come as I scanned her face. No doubt I’d have a few more scratches before this war was over. I casually looked about her room. I ran my fingers over some school books on the chest of drawers.
I warned, “If Angele’s a spy, she might just agree with you and then tell them about our plan.” I was playing my cards close to my chest.
Cres stroked her yellow blonde hair with her scabbed stubbed fingers. “We just have to keep her in the dark about exactly where and when.”
“And stop her communicating with them.” I added.
“Jackson’s with her all the time. He’s only with us now because she is. She’s on the fence. I think if we stop her or Narine getting to her…” she said intently.
I cut her off, “You think she is a spy?” I asked, feeling vulnerable.
“She was, but I think she really hates Narine,” Cres said confidently. “Narine took a sizable chunk out of her leg. She convinced Jackson to join us.” She raised her brow. “He was reluctant,” she urged.
“They are close?” My eyes squinted in suspicion.
“Yes, they have a connection,” she nodded, turning serious.
I felt she was uncertain. I frowned.
“I feel their feelings are real, but she was sent to monitor us by any means necessary…”
I heard the implied intent. “So her feelings might not be so true?” I asked.
“What we can rely on, is that his feelings for her are very solid.” Like the way Reid felt for her. “And she hates Narine but she is still one of their pack. I will keep an eye on her. So will Reid, and right now she has information they would kill for.”
I pulled out a map “We meet here.” I pointed to show Cres the exact location of Lily’s house on Tarah beach.
“When?”
“We think on a crescent moon?”
Cres swallowed and nodded. “That should be fine. Good, at night,” she agreed.
“Your job is to get them there,” I confirmed. “Cres, this will work won’t it?” I asked, noting my friend’s expression.
“Yes, because of you. I don’t know what’s happening out th
ere with you or who has helped you, but I see it being a successful meeting.” She neglected to mention that for herself, she couldn’t see the same outcome in the end. “I’ve got your back, I swear.” She gave a sad smile.
I mistook her sadness as concern for her brother. “If we kill Narine and Paws, your brother will be safe.”
Cres looked pensive. I knew she was concerned. But she nodded bravely.
I took the opportunity to add what I wanted to say. “Thanks Cres.” And I did mean it.
“For what?”
“Risking it. You could have just turned me in the first time I came, or disappeared. I know you don’t have to help me.”
“I do, I owe you this Lila.” The devastated smile on her lips didn’t reach her almond eyes.
“I understand why you did it,” I added, referring to my entrapment.
“Well,” Cres shrugged, “here’s to justice.” She gave another fainter smile.
I thought I saw a bandage on Cresida’s wrist. Suddenly I grabbed it. Cres didn’t resist and let me un-stick the bandage. Underneath was the unmistakable black lines of ink staining her olive toned skin. My eyes focused on the black wing tattooed on my friend’s body; its thin line was reminiscent of mine and it was in an identical position. The resemblance was flattering. “Are we like a gang now?” I smirked.
Cres shrugged. “I didn’t want to get the same as you because I’m not anymore.” I was perplexed as to why Cres had chosen a single wing, outlined. “She flies with her own wings,” Cres offered. “It’s a Latin saying.” She gave a self-depreciating smile.
I looked at the mobile made of parrot feathers strung above the bed on a fishing swivel. Perhaps it had some special symbolism for her.
I imagined Artemis had an affinity with the birds; perhaps she was the feathered guardian angel of the forests around Shade, like the carving on Tisane’s door. The birds didn’t fear the huntress the way they feared the presence of the wolves.
“Did you collect them?”
“These are trophies, Lila.” Cres assessed my reaction. “I'm not like you, I’ve tried to tell you, I’m a wolf, we kill to eat, and I couldn’t bear to waste the beautiful feathers, they are there to remind me what I am.” She looked over at the mobile with a forlorn expression.
My face softened. “Just because I eat meat, doesn’t mean it’s right, either. We are all murderers.” I wanted to comfort her. “Who is to say what is right and wrong; we have to be trusted to judge that for ourselves. I’m just glad you don’t hang up rats tails.” I teased.
“Or cats tails.” Cres joked and we both laughed awkwardly. “Reid added to it, it was sweet,” she offered. She was reminded of his missing tabby cat and then thinking she added, “Some creatures are our brothers; they’re so like us it doesn’t seem right to kill and eat them.”
“We all make a choice about what we feel is right.” Cres wasn’t mean, “Were you cruel, Cresida?”
“No. The way I saw it, I was a creature surviving and so were the birds. I was nature, eating and giving birth to itself in all its forms. When she is young and weak she protects her, when she is old and weak she shows mercy for her. Nothing is ever created, just reformed from one thing to another, to another forever,” she whispered.
I was reminded of Tisane; how she had told me that hunters were entrusted to keep the balance of the natural world. I wondered what it would be like to be a wolf and hunter at once. I was untouched by the immortal elixir of Zeus.
“What’s it like?” I asked.
“What, eating prey?” she guessed.
“No, being a wolf.” I wondered what she thought of when she was an animal. I wanted to understand it.
“It’s easy,” Cres rasped.
“Have you thought about just being that way forever?”
“They are more noble than us for all their lack of intelligence. It’s when we are human that we scheme, we only know of hunger and fear out there. We can forget human things like worry and hope.” She sounded distant.
“Would you ever disappear as one?”
Cres looked deep in thought. “No. Not now, not then, not ever. I run with Reid because it seems to please him. Like he thinks it doesn’t betray his kind to be with me if I am a dog too.” She sighed.
She wasn’t a dog.
“Artemis would never want you to be tortured Cres, not to live in emotional pain.” I thought how I was lucky to not be in Cresida’s predicament, to not be one of the damned or weak animals at the mercy of humans.
“What do you know about the demigod?” Cres challenged and then fell silent.
“Enough,” I replied. I couldn’t tell Cres about Tisane and her mother’s knowledge passed down. I thought Tis would have changed Cres’s mind, maybe, if it could be altered. Maybe if Cres didn’t accept the end, it would make it more dreadful for me to go through with it.
I asked what troubled me. “Why didn’t Narine take your brother when I went?”
“She waits for him to age. There’s a risk the young will perish from the venom the way the very old do.” Cres knew when the wolves were all dead, and her brother safe, that she could go then. Knowing her brother Bronson was safe was all that mattered to her. I hated that she accepted it.
I suddenly doubted Narine wanted the boy; surely they would have taken him by now because Cres hadn’t kept me placid.
“How do you know she wants him still?”
“I’ve seen it.” She breathed in. “She found my weak spot and exploited it. Also if she took him, I would have nothing to hold me here, she is waiting for you to come to her, Lila.” Narine used the boy to control Cresida.
“They won’t find me here will they?” I whispered, suddenly worried that I had come into a trap.
“No,” Cres said, certain.
I looked down in thought. “She doesn’t plan on your friends and allies though,” I reflected hopefully.
“No, they have underestimated you. After the war, will you take out the remaining wolves?” she was asking me to cull them.
“Only when I am forced.” I shrugged. “They won’t take my mother will they?”
“Not as long as they believe that I don’t know where you are. And as long as they don’t know where you are...you shouldn’t show compassion. I’ve taught you wrongly. Your job is to destroy their kind. My kind, they can’t be trusted, I know, I am one…you can’t make a deal with the devil.” She searched my eyes, “Don’t be the weak link, I accept it. It’s my fate,” she urged. The wolves were vicious.
I couldn’t be convinced now that I could ever be able to end Cresida’s life. But for now, to calm my friend, I agreed. But I had other plans after the fight. C.J could take over if she wanted. Sky’s effect on me awoke the hunter and destroyed her in one swipe.
“I will.” I assured her. And after all, Cres had lied to me once. I knew I was a traitor to my kind, Cres had an excuse and in my heart I wanted that excuse too. I could never be with Sky unless I changed.
One thing was certain, the Cult had broken unwritten rules. They considered themselves above society with their own laws and were no good for others of their kind. They practiced disabling hunters - the law in their world for centuries. They disobeyed the natural law; in doing so they disturbed the equilibrium of nature.
They were dangerous, out of control. Artemis was charged with correcting the balance and hunters were her soldiers.
22. Way Back
As I headed towards Tisane’s, I hated them with more loathing than I had felt before. The chip on my shoulder felt deep, my hands wrung the steering wheel. Cres was in tears, contemplating her impending death and if they didn’t kill her I was supposed to. Sky was trapped and wounded. C.J was on the fence after her first kill. Rage built in me, for them hurting Sky, for separating us and for making me a killer. I would never let him go. I wasn’t going to wait placidly for them.
Abruptly I veered in the direction of the recently buried She Wolf. This would be easier if I didn’t think about it, o
r know who the Jane Doe was, because after I arrived home Tisane might have information on her identity and that would make it far harder to do what I planned. I parked the car on the shoulder of the dirt road to Tisane’s cabin.
I paused in the forest at the grave and reminded myself that I had already decided I was going to do it. I used my bare hands to scrape aside the leaves and dug up the dirty naked corpse; it was by now the early hours of the morning. I pulled out the pale rigid body, with sunken eyes and dirt in her hair. I stood still for a moment listening to the forest and the blood pounding in my ears softly.
Already she had begun to smell and decay in the damp. I took out my hunting knife and carved a cross on her dirt-soiled rigor mortised chest. I would have drawn the angel Artemis, like the one on my wrist, but that was too hard, so I simplified. The cross looked all too plain, so I added a heart like the one on the tree by the river and then I added the same crescent, to represent the moon and four lines like a sun coming out from behind it. I claimed the symbol on the oak for myself, for the huntress.
If they knew about the scarred tree, they would know where I was, if they didn’t already. Maybe this was my invitation. I wiped the dark coagulated blood off my knife with a broad leaf, folded it and placed it in my pocket.
I carried her stiffened, lifeless body some distance – lumbering under the awkward weight. After I had traipsed a fair distance, I placed her naked corpse down in the wild grass and forced her rigid arms up, as they cracked, breaking the rigor, I winced. I wound her hands with a vine cut with the previously bloody knife blade. I wiped my brow and took a few breaths before continuing on, dragging the body through the undergrowth, over leaves and sticks and fallen logs by the bound wrists, determined.