Hungry Ghost by Allison Moon

Author:Allison Moon
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Tags: urban fantasy, queer, lesbian, werewolves, college, shapeshifter, feminist, trans, lgbtq, lesfic
Publisher: Allison Moon

22

Through all the information Shirley offered, all the warnings, all the history, only one thing burned in Lexie’s brain: Dad knew.

Dad knew.

Dad motherfucking knew, and he lied to Lexie’s face twice. When she gave him the out, when she laid it out before him and all he had to do was cop to it and come clean, the fucker buried his head even deeper in the pile of bullshit he’d been shoveling all of Lexie’s life.

Rage burned under her skin and forced sweat from her brow. She ground her teeth until her jaw ached. She wanted to explode, to force her fist into someone’s ribcage, to close her teeth around a throat and tear. Didn’t matter whose.

Mom had been killed by Rares. Dad knew she was a peacespeaker, and he’d lied. He lied and lied and lied for eighteen fucking years. That patronizing son of a prick.

“Fuck you, Dad!” she screamed as she ran through the forest that had once been Archer’s, far away from any ears.

“Fuck you, Dad!” she screamed again as she burst into the clearing by the river and launched herself up the cliffside leading to the treehouse. Her voice echoed against the rock face, and she screamed without words, until her throat seized and she coughed against her self-inflicted damage. Atop the cliff, she stripped off her jacket and shirt and tore into her sycamore, the branches scratching at her bare skin and tearing at her hair. She leapt into the tree, landing on the planks of the treehouse with a clatter.

The birds in their nest chirped loud and insistent, a warning, meager and pathetic. Lexie glared, and the birds peeped once and fell silent.

She stood at the edge of the platform. The glittering sea formed a narrow strip at the horizon. She drew her knife from her belt and threw it with all her strength into the trees. It caught the red sunset as it spun in the open air and dropped through the treetops. “Fuck you, Dad!” she screamed and grabbed her hair, pulling, tearing it from her scalp. Her face was wet with sweat and tears. “Fuck you, Archer!” each time louder, a seeping wound of rage and loathing. “Fuck you Randy, fuck you Brian, fuck you Duane, fuck you Mom, fuck you Blythe fuck you fuck you fuck you!!!” She choked on her voice, each scream croaking out of her.

“Fuck yooooooooooooooooooooou!!!!!!” she howled.

And blacked out.

When she came to, a breath later, she knew.

Her chest felt heavy and full. Her breath came in gasps. She let her tongue loll out of her mouth and tug at her throat. She rolled her heavy skull on her neck and let her lungs fill up with one, two, three times the capacity of her human lungs. The inhalation was like the drawing of a syringe. She released a gurgled growl, drunk on the smells of the forest, of her body, of this treehouse. Scents too subtle for human noses now stood out starkly. They rattled her

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