Claire de Lune Read online

  I’m—reading her mind? Werewolves have ESP?

  Not exactly, her mother said, sniffing the air. You are reading my body language, the same as I am reading yours. And you can smell the chemical changes that come with shifting emotions. You’re just translating it in your head, the way I do from English to French. It’s part of the heightened senses that you will have from now on—even in your human form.

  A low growl interrupted them.

  We are already late. It is time to hunt. Zahlia’s pure-black fur shimmered against the flat dark of the forest shadows. She was huge—the same size as Marie, with pale flashing eyes.

  Claire’s mother nodded. Zahlia is right. Claire, you must stay here with Beatrice. We will be back as quickly as we can.

  “But—” Claire started to protest, but Zahlia stepped in.

  Oh, Marie, why not let her come? She might as well start learning.

  Claire’s mother gave Zahlia a look that could’ve frozen lightning. You know that training does not begin until after one’s transformation is complete.

  Judith sniffed. Beatrice must make the decision. And I’m getting hungry.

  Zahlia shrugged her dark-furred shoulders, tilting her head slightly to one side in a gesture that clearly said Whatever you want.

  They all turned to Beatrice.

  Marie is right. Beatrice sat tall and still on the ground next to the fire. This is not the right time. Go, the five of you, and hunt. Claire and I will wait here.

  The five werewolves streaked off into the woods. Claire looked over at Beatrice, whose wolf-form looked almost exactly like Victoria’s, only thinner, and with white fur streaking her muzzle and ears. Her ribs showed.

  Beatrice padded over and eased herself down on her haunches next to Claire and nudged Claire’s arm around her neck. Tears flooded Claire’s eyes, and Beatrice pressed her flank close against Claire’s leg.

  It’ll be okay, child. Your mother—after you finish your transformation, she will be able to explain things better. I know it’s hard to believe, but she’s as nervous and afraid as you are, Claire. Maybe more. When Victoria had her change, I was so proud, but at the same time my heart broke for her. Our life—it’s a wonderful one, but it’s also a heavy burden to bear, and Marie knows it. Did your mother tell you that she is second only to me?

  Claire shook her head.

  Someday, she will be the Alpha of our pack. You must trust her, Claire. She knows our ways—she knows what she is doing. Things will be fine, really.

  Claire buried her face in the soft fur of Beatrice’s shoulder. Her breath came in short, ragged gasps. If this is what I have to be, things will not be fine. I want to go home, she thought. I just want to go home, I want to go home. And how the hell could she not tell me any of this for sixteen freaking years? Before her tears could begin to flow in earnest, she heard a strange sound, like something heavy was being dragged through the woods.

  “What’s going on?” she whispered.

  It’s the hunt. Beatrice began to pant.

  Victoria bounded into the clearing ahead of the others.

  I hope you’re hungry, she said, butting her head into the side of Beatrice’s neck. We got a buck!

  Claire looked over in time to see her mother and Katherine dragging an enormous deer into the clearing. The silvery fur on her mother’s chest was matted with blood. The buck kicked once, sending a wild hoof in Katherine’s direction.

  “Oh,” Claire cried. “Oh—it’s not even dead!” She scooted back and cowered against the trunk of a tree.

  Zahlia clamped her jaws around the deer’s neck and squeezed until it lay still. The six wolves gathered around the animal. Claire shut her eyes and tried to block out the sounds of ripping deer hide, and chewing.

  There was a soft yip that sounded familiar, somehow. Claire looked up and cringed.

  Her mother cocked her head to one side. Are you okay?

  In spite of herself, Claire glanced over at the other werewolves crouched around the mutilated deer. Its wounds glittered in the firelight. To her horror, Claire felt a band of hunger squeeze around her stomach. Her mouth flooded with saliva and she swallowed hard.

  Claire’s mom blinked at her. Do you want me to bring you some? Her ears flicked in Claire’s direction. Your teeth—human teeth—won’t work.

  Claire shook her head. In spite of her watering mouth, she couldn’t eat that. She wouldn’t. I’m not an animal, she thought. She forced herself to look away, gazing down at her hands. The sight of them made her gasp. A coat of silky fur, the color of a storm cloud, covered the backs of her hands. Slowly, she reached up and brushed the same sort of fur as she traced the outlines of her ears. They had lost their usual seashell curve. They were flatter, more pointed. An inhuman whine whistled through her teeth.

  Claire’s mother padded over to her and sat on her haunches. Marie ducked her head low so that they were almost face-to-face. The hunger will get stronger and stronger for you, and it will bring more changes each time it comes. Each month, your transformation will be more complete. In three full moons, Beatrice will call your name in the ceremony, too. This is the way of our world. The sooner you accept it, the easier things will be.

  Claire’s chin trembled. She pushed her palms hard against her eyes, trying to force back the tears, and shook her head. The fur on the backs of her hands was like a blanket. Her skin underneath felt hot, smothered. She heard her mother sigh and pad away across the clearing, back to the deer.

  While the others ate, Claire huddled against the tree and ignored the growls coming from her stomach. She closed her eyes and waited while the minutes crawled by. Finally, Beatrice stood over the remains of fire and gave a strange, gurgling howl. As the noise died away, so did the flames, and since the moon had long since dipped below the tops of the trees, the clearing was left in darkness.

  Judith and Katherine left for home together, still in their wolf-form. Beatrice slipped silently into the trees while Victoria and Marie dragged the remains of the deer back into the deep woods. While they were gone, Claire felt a snout nudge her. She looked up at the round, gold-flecked eyes that stared down at her.

  You kind of look like you’re freaking out. Zahlia flopped down next to Claire and stretched out her legs, licking at the blood spattered along the fur of her shins.

  Claire shrugged.

  Well, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. Your mom’s really smart and all, but she expects a lot of everyone. You especially. Just ’cause she thinks this is normal doesn’t mean you do, you know?

  Claire nodded, her clenched teeth opening the smallest bit.

  Zahlia’s mouth opened in a wolfish grin. When my mom dragged me into the woods on my sixteenth birthday, I totally panicked and ran halfway to the interstate before Beatrice caught up with me. And then I didn’t speak to my mom for almost a month. The fact that you’re here and not tearing through the woods like a screaming lunatic tells me you’re doing pretty damn great.

  “How long did it take before it didn’t freak you out anymore?” Claire whispered.

  A year, maybe? I guess it’s different for everyone. I’m nineteen now, and this all seems more normal than being human ever did. So, you know, there is hope.

  Claire managed a tiny smile. “So, where’s your mom?”

  Zahlia looked into the fire. Gone. It’s a long story. Anyway. The pack—it’s all about tradition and rules and history, right? But sometimes that stuff doesn’t give you what you really need. So … you let me know if you need something, okay?

  “Um, okay. Thanks.” Claire could hear the confusion in her own voice. She didn’t know what Zahlia was talking about, but she was obviously trying to be nice.

  Victoria and Marie slipped back into the clearing. Claire could see the surprise and suspicion that crossed her mother’s expression when she saw Zahlia sitting with her, but she couldn’t tell what her mother was thinking. It was like Marie had intentionally blocked it, somehow.

  Claire, it is time to go, her m
other said.

  Claire nodded and got stiffly to her feet. Finally. She was dying to get out of here—to get home. Claire’s mother shook her silvery fur and sighed. Her form shimmered and stretched, patches of skin appearing over her pelt. Claire tried to look away, but a horrible fascination kept her eyes glued to her mother. Until she realized that her mom was naked. Claire’s cheeks burned and she turned away. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her mother stretch out a pale, elegant arm and grab a bundle from underneath a shrub. In a flash, she’d pulled on clothes and twisted her dark hair into its usual tight bun.

  The firelight skimmed over her mother’s high, pale forehead and straight nose. It was the face Claire had always known—what still seemed like her mother’s real face. Claire scratched at the back her hand, startled and relieved when her nails clawed across smooth, hairless skin. They were back to normal—both of them.

  “Thank God,” she whispered. “I changed back!”

  Her mother leaned close to her. “From now on, you should really say ‘thank Goddess,’ chérie. And you are not yet able to change back on your own.” Her mother’s low, barking laugh disappeared into the undergrowth. “So impatient. I pulled you back with my own transformation. Mothers can do this for their children—it is a protection. To change back, you must hold your breath and feel yourself being pulled in, like putting your fur back under your skin, like stuffing a blanket back into a drawer. But there will be time to learn that later, after you have completed your devienment, your ‘becoming.’ For now, you must learn to wait.”

  Behind her mother, Claire saw Zahlia roll her eyes while she adjusted the collar of her shirt.

  Marie continued. “The most important thing, Claire, is that you must never say anything about who you are. To anyone. Obviously.”

  Claire bristled. She hadn’t given her mother any reason to treat her like a six-year-old. “I’m not a moron. I wasn’t exactly going to run off and post it on the Internet.”

  Marie pursed her lips. “Mistakes have been made before. I am just trying to keep you safe.”

  Claire stared numbly at her mother. “You have blood on your chin,” she said.

  Her mother rubbed her shirtsleeve across her chin.

  “You seem distressed. Are you all right?” She brushed the twigs and dirt from the front of her shirt.

  All right? Was she all right? A flame of anger licked at Claire’s insides. Her mother had just turned her world completely upside down and she didn’t understand why Claire might be upset. Was she serious?

  Marie waited, her arms crossed in front of her.

  “I, uh—didn’t think about the clothes,” Claire finally stammered.

  Her mother nodded. “One must always take off the first outfit before putting on the second, yes? This is the same thing”—she paused—“only different.” She shrugged. “A body is just a body. Now. Let’s go.”

  Claire trailed through the woods behind her mother. They crawled back through the hole in the wall, sneaked back across the yard, and then they were safe inside the house. Her mother flipped the bolt on the kitchen door and turned to Claire.

  “Go upstairs and put your clothes where Lisbeth won’t find them. Then you must shower and go straight to bed. We will talk more tomorrow.” She smoothed back a hair that had escaped her bun. “You did well tonight, Claire. I’m proud of you.”

  Claire watched as her mother slipped up the back staircase. She sighed. When she was little, she’d wished her mother were around more, that they could spend more time together. This wasn’t what she’d had in mind. And even worse—there didn’t seem to be any way out of it. The sudden feeling of being trapped wrapped itself around Claire so tightly that she had trouble catching her breath. She forced herself not to think—to walk up the stairs one step at a time and get into the shower like nothing was wrong.

  When she’d washed away the smell of the campfire and stashed her filthy clothes, Claire crawled into bed. The sky was already streaked with pink, predawn light, and she fell into an exhausted sleep as soon as she tugged the comforter around her shoulders.

  Chapter Four

  IT WAS THE only house on the block without a porch light on, the only one with enough darkness to hide in. She’d hoped to get one of the Engles’ neighbors, not just someone who lived on the same street. Still, it would be enough to rattle some teeth, shake some bones … wake them up. She wondered if they would notice if she took a little memento. The house felt cool against her flank when she pressed into the siding. Inside, everyone was breathing the breath of sleep.

  She opened her jaws and keened so high and thin that only the dog—the one she could smell sleeping at the foot of the bed—could hear. The barking was sudden, frantic, afraid. She snuffled with pleasure. Dogs. Smart enough to be scared, stupid enough to lure the humans to their sharp-toothed end.

  She huddled by the back door. When it creaked open, she watched the fool dog streak out into the yard. Watched the human step out after it. And then she sprang. His body held the door open nicely. She stepped around his twisted-necked form and padded inside.

  “Claire? It’s time to wake up—c’mon, sleepyhead.”

  The memory of the night before bubbled to the surface of Claire’s mind, and her heart sank before she’d even opened her eyes. Welcome to My Life As a Monster, Day One. She swallowed hard.

  “Are you feeling okay?” Lisbeth frowned. “You look sort of … green.”

  “I’m fine. I just didn’t sleep very well,” Claire lied.

  “You could’ve fooled me, since you slept till noon. Anyway. Your mother—she asked if you would meet her in her darkroom.”

  Claire’s mouth fell open. No one was allowed in Marie’s darkroom. Ever. Not even Claire.

  Lisbeth shrugged. “It surprised me, too.”

  “Yeah, well, thanks for waking me up.” Claire stretched.

  Lisbeth headed over to Claire’s closet. “I’m doing a load of darks—I’m gonna grab your dirty stuff to fill it up.”

  “No!” Claire jumped up, throwing off her sheets. She’d stuffed her smoky clothes underneath a massive pile of shopping bags, but Lisbeth had a nose like a bloodhound.

  Lisbeth put a hand on her hip and stared at Claire. “What? Why?”

  Claire took a deep breath. “I don’t think I have any dark stuff dirty, that’s all. Anyway, I should probably start doing my laundry myself, you know? I mean, I’m sixteen—I don’t need someone else to fold my T-shirts.”

  A little wrinkle of suspicion grew between Lisbeth’s eyebrows. “You’re sure there isn’t maybe something in your laundry you don’t want me to find?”

  Claire swallowed hard. She stalked over to her closet and yanked out the laundry basket. With her heel, she nudged the door shut.

  “You want to go through my pockets? Fine. There’s nothing there, Lisbeth. I can’t believe you don’t trust me.” She was wound so tightly that it made her voice shake. She thrust the basket at Lisbeth.

  “Okay.” Lisbeth held up her hands like a surrendering criminal, leaving Claire holding the laundry. “Sorry. After three years of pulling wadded-up tissues and Diet Coke bottle tops out of your jeans, I’d love a break. It just seemed sort of sudden, that’s all. I’ll be watching the news if you need help.”

  That was too close. As soon as she leaves I’ll find a better spot to—

  Something in Lisbeth’s voice stopped Claire midthought. “The news? Is something going on?”

  Lisbeth looked at Claire, her eyes scared and sad. “There was another … attack last night. Three doors down from the Engles’ house. That—that monster killed some guy by his back door and then snuck into the house and killed his wife.” She shook her head. “I don’t for the life of me know why people don’t just stay inside with the doors and windows shut like the City keeps telling us to. Anyway. It’s been on the news nonstop all morning. The police don’t know what to do, and the FHPA just keeps saying that it’s an ‘ongoing investigation,’ whatever that’s supposed
to mean.

  “When I think how close we were yesterday … we drove right by it. I just hope they catch that thing, and soon.”

  Claire watched the door long after Lisbeth had left. How could there have been another attack? Who could have done it?

  It couldn’t have been anyone in the pack. We were all together last night. Claire yanked a pair of shorts out of her dresser. On her vanity, her cell phone lit up. Claire picked up the phone and looked at the screen. Matthew. Her thumb hovered over the SEND button. What am I going to say to him?—Yeah, I’m fine, glad it was the neighbors and not you? I had a great night, and guess what, I’m a werewolf ?—Oh my God, no wonder my mom hates his dad so much! Dr. Engle’s freaking hunting her.

  The voicemail alert flashed, and then the phone went dark in her hand. Of course, Emily would probably call any second, looking for details about her date with Matthew. Claire dropped the phone back onto her vanity and pulled on her clothes, throwing her hair back into a messy ponytail. At least her ears had quit itching. They were as smooth and pink and normal as they’d been every other day before her sixteenth birthday. Which just made everything she’d seen last night seem even more like a bad dream.

  She hurried into the hall, headed for the back stairs that led down to the basement—and the darkroom.

  Claire knocked on the thick oak door as softly as she could. Her mother appeared, her hair slicked back into its usual tight bun. A tiny, cupboardlike room was all Claire could see behind her mother—and another door, this time painted black, like the walls and ceiling. Overhead, a dim red bulb glowed, like a warning.

  “Come in,” her mother said and stepped back into the tiny room. “And shut the door behind you.”

  Claire crowded close to her mother and did as she was told. The room was so small that the doorknob poked into her back and its little twist lock dug into her spine. Her mother led her into a huge room, lit entirely by the same ruby light. Rows of metal tables lined the walls. Wire shelves held bottles and jugs of the chemicals that smelled so familiar—her mother’s scent. Some moms wore Chanel, Claire’s mom doused herself in developing fluid.