Claire de Lune Read online

  Right on time, Matthew pulled up in front of the house and honked the horn. Claire winced, hoping that Lisbeth hadn’t heard. She’d seen Matthew’s car before, and if she looked out the window to see who it was, Claire’s luck would be over.

  In the six seconds it took Claire to cross the driveway, tiny beads of sweat had already sprung up on her forehead. She practically leapt into the cool interior of the car.

  Matthew grinned and turned the air-conditioning up even farther. “It’s ridiculous out there, huh?”

  “Oh my God, it’s insane.” Claire leaned forward into the stream of cool air and sighed. “So, hi.”

  “Hi, yourself.” Matthew’s smile widened. “You hungry?”

  “Always.” Claire leaned back in the seat, twisting around to look at her house. She didn’t see Lisbeth hovering behind any of the windows. So far so good.

  “Yeah, I know that feeling.” Matthew turned out of the drive. “Is Louie’s okay?”

  “Sure.” Her hunger faded at the mention of Louie’s. The diner was always full of people from school. Pretending that she was normal in front of Matthew wasn’t so hard, but the idea of being surrounded by people she knew, of having to hide what she was in the wide-open like that—it made her want to sink down into the car seat and disappear.

  But I was already changing at my birthday party, and no one noticed anything. ’Course, it’s a lot easier to keep a secret if you don’t know what it is.

  To hide her nerves, Claire flipped through the stack of CDs that Matthew had stuffed below the car stereo. She held up a disc. “You mind?”

  Matthew glanced at it. “Are you kidding? That’s pretty much my favorite band right now.”

  Claire smiled at him and put in the disc. When she sat back, Matthew reached over and slid his hand into hers like it was the most natural thing in the world. The tingly feeling that zipped through her made Claire catch her breath.

  The third song had just started when they pulled into the parking lot. Claire took a deep breath.

  “You okay?” Matthew stroked the back of her hand with his thumb.

  “Just don’t want to get out of the air-conditioning,” she lied.

  “I can help with that.” Matthew pulled up to the front door. “Go on inside. I’ll just go park and I’ll be right there.”

  “Oh, uh, thanks.” Claire climbed out—he’d stopped so close to the diner’s glass entrance that she had to be careful not to bang it with the car door.

  She stepped into Louie’s and shivered. It wasn’t the rush of cold air—it was because nearly every person in the restaurant turned to look at her. Everyone always looked when someone walked in to Louie’s, watching for people they knew, but the scrutiny sent panic clanging through Claire’s chest. The crowd at the rally hadn’t bothered her—after all, no one there had known who she was. Standing in front of a roomful of people who were rating her social status while she watched was totally different.

  A couple of people waved and she forced herself to smile.

  Matthew walked in behind her. Relief washed through her when he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and steered her toward a booth. Several people looked surprised to see the two of them together, which just increased Claire’s desire to slide underneath a table.

  She’d never been wildly popular. Being the center of so much attention would have made her uncomfortable last year, too. But at least then I thought I was the same species as everyone else. She scowled at the menu.

  The waitress appeared and tapped her pencil against her order pad. “You all ready?”

  Once they’d ordered and were alone again, Matthew leaned back against the cushioned banquette and draped his arms across the top. He looked comfortable, familiar. He looked like he belonged.

  Across the diner, a tableful of girls that Claire recognized from the show choir stared at her and Matthew. They looked horrified. With her pulse thudding in her fingertips, Claire reached up and touched the rims of her ears, checking for fur. Her skin was smooth.

  Oh my God. They’re not looking at me because they know what I am. They’re acting like that because Matthew’s here with me.

  Claire picked at her cuticles under the table and glanced around the diner. The show choirettes weren’t the only ones staring. Near the back of the room, Claire spotted Yolanda Adams. Claire hadn’t seen her since her birthday. Yolanda raised a hand and waved at Claire, grinning. Claire smiled back, feeling relieved and pathetic all at once.

  “So, uh, how’s soccer going?” It was the only question Claire could think of. Lame, lame, lame! She fiddled with the paper from her straw, tearing it into tiny shreds.

  Matthew shrugged. “It’s not, really. Coach cancelled our two-a-days. I guess the school board thinks we’re going to get heatstroke or something. I’m pretty worried about it, actually. If we don’t get some serious practice time in soon, we’re going to suck when the season starts.”

  Claire winced. “Sorry, but I, um—when does the season start again, exactly?”

  “Two days after school starts. Why would you be sorry?”

  Claire shrugged. “It just seems like something I should have already known.” Matthew reached across the table and squeezed her hand. The murmuring at some of the tables across the diner picked up. “There’s no reason you should have known that. Did anyone ever tell you you’re too hard on yourself ? Seriously, though”—Matthew locked eyes with her—“it would mean a lot to me if you came to the opening match.”

  Claire’s heartbeat echoed in her ears. “I wouldn’t miss it for anything,” she whispered.

  The waitress appeared out of nowhere and dropped two plates between them. Claire pulled one of the plates closer to her, picked up the burger, and took a bite.

  A worried crease appeared between Matthew’s eyebrows. “You okay? You seem kinda quiet today.”

  “Yeah, I’m fine,” Claire said. “Just a little tired, I guess.”

  Oh, and my mom said I couldn’t see you anymore and also I’m pretty sure Kate-Marie Brown just took a picture of us with her cell phone.

  The waitress brought the check the instant the last fry disappeared from their plates. Claire reached for the cash she’d stuck in her back pocket, but Matthew snatched up the bill before she could get to it.

  “Not a chance.” He smiled and shook his head.

  Claire shifted uncomfortably. “Matthew, I can pay my share.”

  “I’m sure you can. But this is a date, and I’m buying.”

  “It’s not a date if I buy?” Claire fired back, arching an eyebrow at him.

  He considered that. “I dunno.” Then he grinned. “I’ll think about it while I go pay this.” He slid out of the booth and walked over to the cash register.

  Claire dug a piece of gum out of her pocket and headed for the front door. The stares that were drilling holes into her back didn’t even bother her. Let them look. She could pretend to be normal, right? What do they call it? Hiding in plain sight? Guess I’m gonna have to get pretty freaking good at that.

  Chapter Nine

  THE SMELLS COMING from the Dumpster were almost too much to bear. The wasted, rotten food. The toxic plastic of the trash bags. The bitter scent of a bottle of that must have been pitched before it was empty. Still, it was the best hiding place—in the darkest corner of the alley, but close enough to the back door of the apartment building for easy access. She breathed slowly, ignoring the stench, and forced herself to be still.

  The suburbs were too easy, but this—an exclusive building downtown, where the idiots felt safe—this was perfect. It was even better than a daytime kill.

  Two women wearing impossibly high heels and too much perfume breezed down the alley and into the back door of the building, arguing about whose turn it was to clean the bathroom. She tensed, once again checking the angle of the security camera above the door.

  Finally, she saw the streetlight at the end of the alley catch his blond hair. Looking rumpled after a long day, he walked down the
alley toward the building. He paused in front of the door, patting his pockets of his suit coat like he was looking for a key.

  She leapt without hesitating and closed her jaws around his neck, crushing his windpipe before he even thought of screaming.

  A few days after Claire had been to Louie’s with Matthew, the editor of the Hanover Falls Post turned up dead. Every TV station was blaring the story, and the paper had devoted the entire front page to him. He had been young and handsome and important, which had made everyone even more upset about his killing than they had been about the others.

  Claire found Lisbeth at the kitchen counter, mug in hand, staring at the newspaper.

  “Emily called—she said you weren’t answering your cell.”

  “I don’t usually answer my phone when I’m sleeping,” Claire pointed out. “What did she want?”

  “She wanted to meet you at that coffee shop on Fourth. If you want to go, I can take you over in an hour or so.”

  “That’d be great.” Claire grabbed for the remote, already tired of the repetitive news show, but Lisbeth snatched it away from her.

  “It’s just tragic.” Lisbeth said, sipping her tea. There were dark circles under her eyes and the frown on her face made her look pinched.

  “The editor?” Claire asked, hopping up to sit on the edge of the counter.

  “Of course the editor!” Lisbeth snapped. “And don’t sit on the counter. You know your mother hates that.”

  Claire thunked back onto the floor. “Fine. Geez. If I’d known you were so tense I wouldn’t have said anything. Where is Mom, anyway?”

  “Meeting with a potential client. She’ll be back later this afternoon. And you’re right. I am tense. I didn’t sleep very well last night.” Lisbeth walked around Claire and put her tea mug in the sink. “Maybe I’ll go do some breathing exercises and see if I can control myself a little better.” She gave Claire a forced smile. “See you in a half hour, okay? We’ll leave after that?”

  “Sure.” Claire snagged the remote and pointed it at the TV, wondering how Matthew was doing. If Lisbeth was this stressed about the situation, Dr. Engle must have gone freaking nuclear. “Have fun breathing and stuff.”

  Claire sat at one of the little tables in the coffee shop’s front window, sipping a mocha and waiting for Emily. The shop was mostly empty. Claire closed her eyes and leaned her head against the window, enjoying the quiet. The little bell above the door chimed, and Claire opened her eyes, expecting to see Emily.

  Instead, Victoria walked in. She looked over at Claire, recognition and then caution flashing across her face in quick succession.

  “Um, hey,” Claire said carefully.

  “Hey. Nice to see you, Claire. It’s been a while.” Victoria smiled, but her voice was guarded. She nodded at the counter. “Do you come here often?”

  “Sort of. Yeah. I’m meeting a friend.” Claire squirmed in her seat. It was like running into one of her teachers, or something. She didn’t know what to say—everything she knew about Victoria was a secret. Claire couldn’t exactly ask her for fur-grooming tips in the middle of a public place.

  Victoria nodded. “Well, I’d better get going. Tell your mother I said hello.”

  The door opened and Emily came flying into the coffee shop, her car keys in one hand and her phone in the other.

  Claire waved Emily over, then looked back up at Victoria. “I’ll tell her.”

  Victoria shot her a tiny smile and headed for the counter.

  Emily flopped into the chair across from Claire. “Who’s that?” She kept her voice low, but Claire knew Victoria could hear them.

  “Someone my mom knows.” Claire shrugged. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Victoria glance over and give her a lightning-quick nod of approval. “So—what’s going on? Your message this morning was … odd.”

  “Sorry. I wasn’t exactly free to talk. My mother’s been closer to me than my own damn shadow ever since they decided.”

  The word made Claire’s mouth go dry. “Decided”?

  “It’s over, Claire. My parents are taking me to my aunt’s house tomorrow. I thought I’d convinced them to let me stay, but after what happened to that Dave McKinney guy, they totally panicked.”

  Claire leaned back in her seat, tension knotting her shoulders. “Wow. I … wow. Do you think you can calm them down again?”

  Emily let out a bitter, choked-sounding little laugh. “No chance. They both had that look on their face when they told me—the one that means they don’t care if they are wrong, they’re doing this anyway.”

  “Yeah, I know that look.” Claire sighed. “So, what are you going to do?”

  Victoria headed past them, a paper coffee cup in each hand. She winked at Claire over the top of Emily’s head. Distracted, Claire twitched her fingers in a tiny wave.

  “I guess I’m going to pack.” Emily sniffed. “Will you come help me?”

  “Of course.” Claire pushed away her drink—she felt too awful about Emily leaving to finish it. And even worse than that was the fact that deep down, she was a little relieved. It’ll be so much easier to hide things from Emily if she’s hundreds of miles away. It made Claire sick that she was thinking things like that … even if it was true.

  She ran a hand through her hair and forced herself to focus on Emily’s resigned-looking face.

  “So, when are we packing? I need to call Lisbeth and tell her.”

  “Now, if you can.” Emily looked over at the counter. “I’d better go get a cup of civilized coffee while I still can.”

  Claire picked up her phone and dialed Lisbeth.

  Emily held up a sequined tank top and stared at it regretfully. “I can’t imagine I’d have a single reason to wear this on the farm. You’d look great in it. Wanna borrow it while I’m gone?”

  “Sure,” Claire said, putting down the magazine she’d been paging through. “Thanks.”

  “No problem. I’m sure Matthew will love it.”

  Claire rolled her eyes and Emily wadded up the shirt and threw it at her.

  “What?” Claire smiled. “I just think sequins might be sort of … scratchy as far as Matthew is concerned.”

  “Oooooooh.” Emily’s eyes lit up. “Are you telling me you’ve done more than just kiss him?”

  Claire felt herself blush. She’d never really had a boyfriend before, and though she’d always been willing to listen to Emily’s play-by-play of her make-out sessions, she really didn’t feel like telling Emily everything about her and Matthew.

  “It’s not—uh …” Claire paused.

  “Oh, come on. We tell each other everything, right?”

  Claire winced. That used to be true. Now all of a sudden, she wasn’t telling Emily anything. She didn’t want to talk about Matthew, and she wasn’t allowed to talk about being a werewolf. Having so many secrets from her best friend felt totally abnormal, but what choice did she have?

  “Well,” Claire conceded, “I will say that he’s an amazing kisser.” That much she could say without feeling squicky about it.

  “He’s not one of those tongue-down-your-throat guys?”

  Claire squirmed. “Um, no.”

  “Well, that’s good. Jesus, do you remember Darren from last year?”

  Claire’s embarrassment faded. “Oh, yeah. The one who kept licking your teeth?”

  Emily nodded and shuddered. “Yep. God, I should never have kept dating him after that first kiss. I mean seriously, why didn’t you stop me?”

  Claire settled back against the pillows. Now they were back on safe ground, subject-wise.

  I just have to keep Emily talking about herself, that’s all. Like, for the rest of our friendship.

  Claire re-sorted Emily’s piles of clothes as they rehashed Emily’s last two relationships. She felt totally fake—like an interviewer on TV trying to keep some movie star talking—but at least Emily seemed happy. That was something.

  Sort of.

  That evening, Claire lay on her still
neatly made bed, exhausted. She’d spent the rest of the afternoon making sympathetic noises while Emily crammed things into her suitcases and vented about her parents. It had been a relief when Lisbeth finally came to pick her up, especially since Lisbeth was in a much better mood.

  Claire’s cell phone rang, and she closed her eyes, hoping it was Matthew. But it wasn’t. It was Zahlia.

  “Hello?” Claire answered, sitting up.

  “Hey, Claire, it’s me. Is this a bad time?”

  “No, I’m not busy. What’s going on?”

  “I was wondering if we were still on for practicing tonight? It’s not that long until the next full moon, you know. If you’re up for it, I was thinking we could meet in the clearing, around eleven?”

  Claire started figuring backward in her head. It wouldn’t work. She’d have to be ready to go by ten thirty, and there was no way her mom would be asleep by then. And she wasn’t exactly planning to tell her mom where she was going.

  “It’s actually a little early. Is midnight okay?”

  Zahlia laughed. “I take it Marie’s still not too keen on you learning things ahead of schedule.”

  “I sort of haven’t told her about it,” Claire admitted.

  “That’s probably smart. She’d just freak out, and then you’d be stuck waiting until you were fully transformed before you could so much as chase your own tail.”

  Claire blinked. “Um—when will I get a tail?” Her voice sounded strangled.

  “Dunno. Maybe this moon, maybe next. I was just using it as an example.”

  “Oh. That sounds, uh … interesting. Yeah. Well, I’ll see you in the clearing, then.”

  “Sounds good.” Zahlia hung up without saying good-bye.

  Claire leaned against a rough tree trunk, still in her wolf-form, and panted into the darkness of the forest. She couldn’t even begin to smell the trail she’d been following. She’d lost the deer. Again. Behind Claire, Zahlia shuffled her feet.

  “You seem like you’re having trouble concentrating.”

  At the sound of Zahlia’s human voice, Claire jumped. She hadn’t expected her to transform back. Claire slumped against the bark, exhausted. They’d been hunting for hours, but Claire hadn’t caught so much as a squirrel.