39

The phone had been ringing for thirty seconds without going to voicemail. Lexie sat at her desk, wrapped in her mother’s quilt. Frost clung to the outside of her bedroom window, and fog clung to the inside. Finally, when Lexie was two rings away from hanging up, Lorelei Koda picked up. Her voice was small, a whispering monotone. At Lexie’s request, she put on her husband, George. Lexie hadn’t seen him since the day Archer killed Hank Speer.

“Mr. Koda?” she said.

“Hello, Alexis Clarion,” George said, friendly and frank, as was his way.

Lexie tried to make small talk, but George wasn’t the loquacious type and she ended up feeling stupid.

“Mr. Koda,” she finally said. “I have a big favor to ask.” She wanted to sound matter-of-fact, like her father, like there was nothing weird at all about asking a buddy to borrow his pump-action shotgun.

She wasn’t sure of the words she used, but she tried her best not to stumble over the request, like a neophyte telemarketer desperate to close. There was a long silence at the other end of the phone. Lexie strained to hear George breathing behind all the static and squeals of the telephone connection.

“Alexis Clarion,” he said. He always used her full name in a mystifyingly patriarchal yet endearing way. “What are you getting up to?”

“ Hunting,” she squeaked.

He sighed like he was accepting a great burden. “I don’t really know. I remember what happened the last time I saw you.”

Lexie walked to her window and saw Sage in a circle with the women, leading them through movements that looked like Tai Chi.

“It’s not like that, Mr. Koda. My friend and I. We just want a way to defend ourselves.”

“I can respect that. But why aren’t you asking your father?”

Lexie bit her lip, wondering if the truth might be useful in this scenario. “We’re not talking,” she said.

Another interminable pause. “Come by around dinnertime. Mrs. Koda will be here. She’ll loan you a pair.”

Lexie’s next breath came in a half-squeal, half-scream. “Thank you, Mr. Koda,” she eked out.

“Mm-hm,” Mr. Koda sighed. He caught her before she could hang up. “Alexis Clarion, I trust your father so I trust you. You understand?”

“Yes, Mr. Koda,” Lexie said, her ears growing hot. He hummed again and hung up.

Downstairs, Renee was sipping coffee, watching Sage and the girls through the kitchen window.

“What’s this about?” Lexie asked, shuffling into the kitchen wearing pajamas and her quilt.

Renee blew the steam from her mug. “He’s trying to show them how to find the space between thoughts.”

“How’s it going?”

Renee shrugged.

“Why aren’t you out there?”

Renee sipped her coffee, made a face, and shrugged the question away. Lexie looked askance, but let it slide, eager to share her revelation.

“I’ve been thinking about the poem. ‘Something new, something strange’.”

“Okay,” Renee said.

“What if it’s not werewolves, but something else?” Lexie asked.

“What, like a change of attitude?”

Lexie eyed Renee’s coffee covetously. “Well, maybe not like that, but what if it’s the space between that Sage talks about? Not the woman or the wolf, but the shift itself that has power?”

“I dunno.” Renee noticed what had drawn Lexie’s attention and passed her the mug. “The in-between place, when I’ve paid attention to it, just makes me feel nauseous.”

Lexie took a healthy gulp of the coffee and felt it work its magic on her bloodstream. She passed it back to Renee. They passed the mug back and forth, watching the Pack balance and sway in the yard.

“Any word from your gun-toting buddies yet?”

Lexie grimaced. “Yeah. I can pick up two tonight from one of my dad’s friends, but no replies from high school friends yet. Not that I’m surprised. I was kind of a weirdo in high school. How you would you feel if the spaz from Spanish class emailed out of the blue to ask for your Browning?”

Renee returned her gaze to the window, and Lexie knew the answer.

Renee stared at the girls as they strained against their bodies, willing them to bust open, to undo everything they grew up learning.

“Do you know how to work a pair of clippers?” Renee asked.

“Yeah, I used to cut my dad’s hair … when he had hair.”

“How would you feel about shaving my head?”

 

The upstairs bathroom got nice light through the skylight, but Lexie still spent awhile bringing in two extra desk lamps and Hazel’s makeup mirror. She was nervous.

“I want this,” Renee said. “It’s cool.”

Lexie took a deep breath and shook it out. “I’ve just heard stories … ”

Renee cocked an eyebrow.

“ … Of the way black girls feel about their hair.”

Renee laughed.

“Promise that if I fuck it up, you’re not going to toss me out to the Morloc first?” Lexie asked.

Renee sat facing the mirror and mock-narrowed her eyes at Lexie’s reflection. Even sitting, her head came to Lexie’s chest.

Lexie placed her hands on Renee’s head and let her hands sink into the black suds of her hair. She sighed with the delightful sensation. “Ready?”

Renee stared herself down in the mirror, took a heavy breath, and nodded. “Fire her up.”

Lexie pressed the clippers to Renee’s scalp and skidded them along the curve of her skull. Her hair fell off in clumps, like lamb’s wool.

Renee ducked and bolted out of her chair. “Okay, never mind.”

Lexie laughed. “It’s too late now. I just took a chunk out of your head.”

Renee fanned herself with her hands and paced. “Okay. Hold on.” She rushed down the hall to Corwin and Sharmalee’s room. Lexie followed.

Renee snatched up the bottle of Cuervo Corwin kept on her desk and took a healthy swig. Lexie poked around and found the DVD of the porno they’d been watching on repeat.

“I don’t get it,” Lexie said, reading the back of the case.

Renee wiped her mouth and exhaled. “That’s better.” Renee offered it but Lexie waved it away.

“I think it’s about redefinition and community,” Renee said, swirling the tequila around in its bottle.

“Porn?” Lexie asked, unbelieving.

“That kind, I guess,” Renee said. “Like with Hazel and her stripping. The porno is probably Sharm and Corwin’s way of playing with new ideas, too, while feeling not so freakish for having the desires they do.”

Lexie snorted. “Desires like dudes?”

Renee shrugged. “Sure, why not? Dudes are fucked over by the patriarchy, too. I think it’s great that Corwin’s letting herself explore. Just like Sharm and Mitch for that matter.”

Lexie nodded and stuck out her bottom lip, considering. Renee took another swig.

“I guess it just flies in the face of the things—”

“—Blythe taught us,” Renee interrupted. “Right?”

Lexie nodded.

“You came into the Pack at a weird time. We were tighter than ever, but that meant shutting out the outside world and any new ideas that might come from it. The outside world is a scary place, and we all needed to heal. Together. Now we don’t have the luxury of living in an echo chamber. Which means we’re going to in-fight and disagree. If we live to have that privilege, that is.”

Lexie chewed on her lip and propped the porno on Sharm and Corwin’s pillows, like some sort of pervy teddy bear. “That’d be nice.”

“Okay,” Renee said. “I am officially buzzed enough to face my bald future. Let’s do this.”

Back at the mirror, Renee kept her eyes trained on her reflection. Occasionally she’d daub tears from the corners of her eyes with some toilet tissue. Sage’s commanding and soothing voice outside provided a muffled soundtrack as Renee had a moment with herself. Lexie felt honored to be a part of it.

“How’s the book?” Lexie asked, gesturing to the tiny black book wedged in the back of Renee’s pants. She was enjoying her role as mock hairdresser.

“Good,” Renee said.

“Want to read me some?”

“It’s a short book.”

“This haircut won’t take much longer,” Lexie smiled.

Renee fished out the book and flipped it to a highlighted passage.

“Thus we may know that there are five essentials for victory,” Renee read. “One: She will win who knows when to fight and when not to fight.”

Lexie snickered at Renee’s on-the-fly gender reassignment.

“Two: She will win who knows how to handle both superior and inferior forces. Three: She will win whose army is animated by the same spirit throughout all its ranks. Four: She will win who, prepared herself, waits to take the enemy unprepared. Five: She will win who has military capacity that is not interfered with by the sovereign.”

“Well, we’ve got that last one covered,” Lexie said.

Outside, yelps and shouts interrupted Sage’s soothing instruction.

They ran into Lexie’s room, which had windows that overlooked the yard, to see Hazel flickering back and forth between girl and wolf.

“Hold onto it!” the girls below shouted.

Lexie ran down the stairs and out onto the porch. “Let it go, but catch it before it falls away. Like that slidey-pole drop you do.”

Hazel squeezed her eyes shut and concentrated on Lexie’s directions.

“Like Pilates,” Jenna whispered, in awe.

“Or Kegels!” Sharmalee shouted.

Hazel struggled and sweated, but she did it. Like a zoetrope, Hazel released and caught her wolf. The transition disappeared, leaving only her flickering form released, chased, and caught, over and over.

“Good, Hazel,” Lexie said. “Now grab it and let go just a little bit. Hold onto it as light as you can while still holding it.”

Hazel whined and grimaced, contorting like Proteus as she struggled to obey Lexie’s commands. Her eyes squeezed shut. Her jaw clenched. Muscles and tendons corded her usually soft limbs as she strained.

“There!” Lexie shouted.

The girls gasped together.

Hazel stood on two legs, two feet taller than her usual height, her back curled forward, and her arms like forelegs, covered in a mottled gray coat. Her snout was wolf-shaped but shorter, her tail still curled behind her back. At the ends of her arms were her paws, half human, half wolf. Five sinewy digits—four fingers and a thumb—ended in scythe-shaped claws.

The Pack and Sage stared agog.

“This is it. Something new,” Lexie repeated.

“Something strange,” Renee finished.