By Your Side. (Sequel to Art Girl and Wolf Boy)

By Your Side. (29)

Phoebe's POV:

"Dylan, you might want to get down here." Jude's voice was calm, but strained with worry. Dylan didn't seem as if she were worrying, still browsing through the racks for something suitable. Gabby sat in my lap, playing with strands of my hair while I rested my feet.

"Jude," she said patiently, "if it's one of THOSE emergencies, I'll be home in a few. Don't worry."

Madison made a retching noise. I smothered a laugh. Without missing a beat, Dylan gave her the finger.

"It's Archer."

My stomach dropped into my feet.

Everyone seemed to freeze.

I heard the strain for what it was now. It wasn't one of those emergencies.

No, it was him barely holding onto his wolf.

I rose slowly, gently sliding Gabby off of my lap. My fingers curled and pierced my palms as I struggled to keep the panic, the urge to burst out of my clothes down. I felt like I was going to be sick, like everything was wrong.

"We'll be there in five. Take care of my son, Jude." There was no mistaking the growl in her tone. Dylan snapped the phone shut and turned to me and the girls, Vivian with a hand on my shoulder.

"Keep it together, Phoebe," Dylan commanded softly. She turned to all of us.

She wasn't snarky Dylan anymore, the one who helped me pick out a cute shirt. She was in total Luna mode.

"Let's go."

*

When we got to the house, I jumped out of the car and sprinted forward. There was a large crowd outside of the pack house, all in wolf form excpet for my father, at the front, with Bruce and Greg flanking him. 

Jude's shoulders were more tense the I'd ever seen in my life. I steeled myself and headed for the front. My dad, in wolf form, sat beside him.

Above us, the sky was bloodred. The sun was setting. I focused on that to stay human. I had no extra clothes, and you only look silly when you're trying to rip someone's throat out while you're naked.

"What's going on," I snarled, looking at the place that they were all looking.

A boy, about my age, was sitting on the porch, cutting a piece of paper up like nobody's business. The sharp, deadly looking scissors glinted dangerously as the small strips of paper fell onto the steps. He looked perfectly at ease, as if there weren't about fifty, mutant sized wolves ready to tear him about at the slightest command.

His hair, a firey red, was cropped short. His eyes were brown, dead looking. A thick, cruel scar trailed from his nose to just above his hairline, making it almost hard to look at him. He was dressed in a regular red shirt and pants.

He looked familiar. I didn't know why exactly until his eyes postively lit up when he saw me.

"Phoebe Castro," he breathed, standing up. My father growled and moved in front of my slightly as Jude did with Dylan. She was red with fury.

"Where is he?" I snarled, starting to march toward him.

A hot, blazing trail of fire lit up in front of me. My father grabbed my shirt in between his teeth and yanked back as the spot that I was standing in was scorched. The flames roase over twently feet in the sky, the perfect width to burn me alive.

The teen closed his hand, and the fire left. The grass looked perfectly untouched.

"In good time, my dear." He studied his fingernails, picking up bits of the paper and scorching them one by one. "But do you know why I'm here?"

"The professor," I hissed.

He threw his head back and laughed loudly, eyes glittering. Abruptly, he sat staright and shook his head. "That old coot? Despite his views on people with greater potential, he couldn't hurt a fly. My brother," the man's lip curled in disgust, "admired him for his talents."

"The man who came to kill us." I said in realization.

"The man who came to recruit you." He corrected. He sneered in the direction of the door. "And was ripped into pieces for it."

"It was self defense!" Jude roared.

He ignored his words. "Zane," he called lightly over his shoulder, setting the scissors down and standing up.

A huge, hulking man with watery green eyes and a cruel smile opened the door casually, as if it were his house. I heard Dylan let loose a string of curse words as the man released his burden.

Archer dropped to the porch floor with a heavy thunk.

I lost it. I completely lost it. My clothes flew everywhere, compressing for a millisecond before I was in full wolf form, growling and pissed.  

But he was alive. A little flushed and sad looking, with a few bruises on his body, but alive.

They came out of the house, all gruesome and large.

I wanted to rip their throats out. I wanted to tear and scratch and bite and make them feel pain. I wanted to to kill. Next to me, my father shivered with the blood lust.

"If any of you move," the man announced, "you will burn to death where you stand. I know fur catches easy." He grinned, and the scar curved into a cresent moon.

There were about fifteen of them, all large with burly arms. A few were werewolves, I could tell.

There was something passed to the man. My eyes caught silver.

He held the flask up, lifting it to the air as if making a toast. He bowed his head. "For you, brother."

He unscrewed the cap.

The smell of gasoline slapped us all in the face.

I was frozen with horror. I looked at Archer, my Archer, laying on the porch steps. I could see Jude starting to lunge, the wolves beside him running desperately for the porch. It felt as if they were moving in slow motion.

His eyes fluttered open for a moment, gracing me with gorgeous blue. His face became one of confusion as he felt the gasoline being tipped, wetting his back and hair.

"Phoebe?" I heard it, though it was a whisper.

I slowly began shaking my head, my legs finally working as I desperately pushed and pushed and pushed--

The man raised his hand, meeting my eyes, and I just noticed that there were tears pouring down his face.

He clenched his fist.

And Archer, my mate, my best friend, the love of my life, exploded into flames.  

*

Oh. My. God. I just killed Archer! I JUST KILLED MY FAVORITE CHARCTER!!!!

God. I need a tissue.

In case you don't know, Archer really is dead. Like, dead dead. Like I-just-made-him-become-virtual-ashes dead.

Oh my god ohmygodohmygod. Okay. I'm okay :'( 

But wait! It aint over till the fat lady sings! So no cursing or insulting me until it's over, kay?