Claire de Lune Page 8

  Claire snorted. “Trust me, I’ve got an extra serving of disapproving parent myself.”

  He stared at her, his brown eyes warm and serious in the afternoon light. “I do trust you, actually.” He sighed and shifted in his seat. Their knees pressed together under the table and Claire’s breath caught. “I guess that, for me, it’s kind of the same thing that makes me not like the death penalty.”

  “I—okay, you’re going to have to explain that.”

  “Well, it’s not that some crimes aren’t worth dying for. It’s just that—sometimes they find evidence that says that the person on death row is innocent. So you have to figure that maybe some of the people they’ve executed were innocent.”

  Claire nodded. She’d heard that before.

  “Well, what if it’s the same with werewolves? What if the ones in the comas, the ones dad’s ‘cured’—what if some of them are the wrong ones?”

  Claire was trying not to shiver. “But aren’t all werewolves killers?” she whispered. Was it possible that he could totally disagree with his dad? That he could actually get it?

  Matthew raised an eyebrow at her. “I don’t think that makes sense. I mean, bears can kill people, but not all of them do, right? Or lions? You hear about some lions turning into man-eaters, but not all of them do. Anyway. It’s just a theory. And my dad gets freaking pissed if I even start to talk about it.”

  Claire’s insides were dancing. She struggled to keep her face interested but not ecstatic. “Well, it makes sense to me,” she said.

  He met her eyes, and she could smell a wave of relief waft up from him, clean-scented, like fresh grass.

  “You really aren’t like everyone else, are you?” he asked.

  Claire swallowed hard, not a hundred percent sure what he meant. She shrugged. “I like to think for myself, is all,” she said. Which technically was not a lie, even if it was miles away from the whole truth.

  She tried to take another sip of her smoothie and was surprised to find that she’d already finished it. Matthew rattled his straw against his own empty cup.

  “Do you want another one?” he asked.

  Claire shook her head. “I’d probably better get back, anyway. If we beat Lisbeth home, you can escape without her doing your horoscope.”

  Matthew stood up, grinning. “I dunno—that could be pretty interesting.”

  Claire rolled her eyes. “It loses its appeal after the fiftieth time, trust me.”

  As the two of them walked out to the car, Matthew slipped his hand into hers. Even though his touch sent little electric shocks through Claire with every step, it felt totally natural at the same time—like they’d been holding hands for months.

  Chapter Seven

  IN THE WOODS, the sunlight rippled across the undergrowth. The leaves flashed and turned. Behind her, she could hear some stupid little animal scuttling around the base of a tree. Her stomach growled, but this wasn’t the time for a snack. She had bigger things to do. Plans to make. Unsettled by the wait, she licked at an invisible spot of dust on her foreleg and watched as the wet patch of fur glittered in the sun.

  Finally, there was a flurry of movement in the open parkland below her vantage point. The man walked out into the grassy expanse, all jiggling thighs and fat-padded shoulders, focused on walking over the uneven ground. Her mouth watered and she rose into a crouch, brushing against a low-hanging branch. As her muscles bunched to spring, the man was joined by two women and another man, shouting at him to wait. A third man straggled out into the clearing behind them, lugging a giant backpack.

  Damn. Too many. Everyone had forgotten about the so-called “daytime werewolf sighting.” Which hadn’t even been her. She’d wanted to prove that she could kill in daylight—take away the false safety of the sun—but this was asking for failure.

  Keeping the rumble of frustration and disappointment that vibrated in her chest to a whisper, she sank back down onto the forest floor. The angle of the light against the trees increased her frustration. She’d run out of time—they’d be expecting her back, soon. What a waste. Still, maybe she’d have time to try again tomorrow.

  When Matthew and Claire pulled up in front of Claire’s house, it was only a little after five thirty. Lisbeth’s note said she’d be home around six, so they had close to half an hour before she’d be back. Half an hour in an empty house.

  “Do—do you want to come in?” Claire asked.

  Matthew twisted in his seat so that he was facing her. He reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and Claire took a breath. Matthew’s scent filled her nose, and she resisted the urge to sigh.

  “I want to come in more than anything,” he said, and the rough catch in his voice told Claire that he meant it, “but I don’t think that Lisbeth would love coming home and finding me here. And I really want Lisbeth to like me, because I’m hoping to be around a lot more, and it’ll be a lot easier if she does.”

  Claire gave in with a sigh. “You’re right.”

  “Still, we do have a few minutes.” Matthew cupped her face in his warm hands and leaned close. Claire blinked up at him, but when he brushed his lips against hers, her eyes fell closed. His mouth was gentle but insistent. Her lips parted and Matthew’s hands slid down to her shoulders, pulling her closer. The happiness that bubbled up in her chest when his arms slid around her was like nothing Claire had ever experienced before. After the last few days, when she’d felt uncomfortable everywhere, in every form, she’d finally found a place where everything seemed right.

  It seemed like only seconds later that Claire heard Lisbeth’s car coming up the long gravel drive. She pulled away from Matthew, straightening her hair and taking a deep breath.

  “Is something wrong?” The worried look on his face made Claire want to kiss him again.

  “I heard a car coming,” she explained.

  “Really?” he looked out his window. A few seconds later, the rumble of tires on gravel got louder and Lisbeth’s car pulled into view.

  “Wow. I guess I wasn’t paying enough attention.”

  Or I wasn’t paying enough attention. God, I was so focused on kissing him that I didn’t even think that I’d be able to hear something like that way before he could.

  Claire nudged him with her knee. “You didn’t hear me complaining,” she said.

  “So, do you want me to stick around and say hi?”

  Claire shook her head. “Maybe next time.” She opened the door and slid out into the heat. “I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”

  “I’m counting on it.” He smiled at her.

  Matthew drove past Lisbeth, waving to her as he went.

  Lisbeth got out of the car, looking a little out of sorts. She pulled her yoga bag out of the passenger seat and walked over to Claire.

  “So, how was your date?” The note of teasing in Lisbeth’s voice fell flat.

  Claire felt her cheeks start to burn. “It was nice,” she said, lifting her chin. She was allowed to date. She’d called Lisbeth to let her know where she was going. There was no reason for Lisbeth to make a big deal out of this. “How was your workshop?”

  Lisbeth glanced at her bag and an unreadable expression fluttered across her face. “It was pretty good. I’ll be sore as anything tomorrow, I bet.” She turned to walk into the house. There was a dried leaf caught in the back of her hair and Claire plucked it out.

  “Were you guys doing yoga outside?” she asked.

  “Um, a walking meditation, yeah. It was hot as Hades. Why?”

  Claire held up the leaf. “This was in your hair.”

  “Oh.” Lisbeth brushed a hand over her head. “Well, thanks.”

  “No problem. So, what’s for dinner?”

  Lisbeth groaned. “Anything that can be delivered. I just want to take a shower and find a soft place to sit for a few hours. That okay with you?”

  “Sure. Whatever.” As long as Lisbeth didn’t plan to grill her about Matthew, Claire couldn’t care less. The two of them headed insid
e, and Claire made a beeline for the kitchen drawer where they kept the delivery menus. Even though she was pretty sure that the twisty feeling in her stomach had as much to do with Matthew as it did with being hungry, Claire browsed the China Palace menu and listened to the distant thrum of the shower. Outside, the whistle of a breeze through the treetops called to her, sharpening the hunger in her belly and bringing with it a desire to run.

  Claire stared out at the woods and wished that a jog around the neighborhood would satisfy her. Somehow, she knew it wouldn’t.

  Lisbeth went to bed when it was just barely all-the-way dark outside. Claire tried to call Emily—she wanted to know if her parents had come to their senses yet—but it went straight to voicemail. Claire flopped down on the couch. She flicked through the TV channels until she couldn’t stand the pinpricks of restlessness in her legs anymore. She had to get out of the house. She was dying to get into the woods, to stretch her legs and run, to see what else she could do. She might as well go practice. Maybe if she learned to control the werewolf stuff better, she’d be able to focus on something normal again.

  It was just after ten when she slipped out into the backyard and hurried across the lawn to the hidden opening in the wall. She knew that it was risky to sneak out two nights in a row, but with Lisbeth sleeping like the dead and her mom still in Chicago, it was too good an opportunity to waste.

  The forest seemed less strange tonight. The invisible paths that wove between the trees looked familiar, and the scent of leaves and dirt smelled heavenly. It was easy to find the same spot where she’d practiced the night before: the two huge pine trees surrounded by scrub oak. Claire sank down onto the ground and let the feeling of fur slide over her hands and ears. Willing it to come.

  Even though her eyes were closed, Claire knew she’d transformed—the sounds of the crickets and mosquitoes were suddenly twice as loud. Her senses might have been sharper than a normal person’s before, but in her wolf-form, they were almost painfully sensitive. Everything seemed very close to her, sharp and immediate. She could feel the texture of the ground beneath her through the cotton of her workout pants. I should probably start taking them off when I transform. One of these days, I’m going to grow a tail and rip right through them. The thought of having a tail made her a little queasy, and she took a deep breath.

  The forest scents were strong enough to make her dizzy. Leaning forward, Claire rested her head on the cool ground and closed her eyes, trying to acclimate to this new world where nothing was hidden.

  Maybe I should take this just a little slower.

  A sludge of disappointment sat in the pit of her stomach, weighing her down. Since she’d already done it once, she’d somehow expected that changing would be easier. Instead, she was just as uncomfortable as she’d been last night.

  When the assault on her senses had stopped making her nauseous, Claire sat up again. Her fur went a little farther up her arms tonight. She reached up and felt her ears, which were larger than before, and pointed at the tips. Her feet had transformed into something a little more cramped and pawlike. Mostly, though, she still looked human.

  Getting unsteadily to her feet, she walked a little way into the woods, wondering if she could find the clearing where she’d met the others. She wove her way through the trees, surprised at how many landmarks she remembered. When she’d come here with her mom, it had seemed like she was just stumbling through the forest, too dazed to really notice anything. But there was the big fallen oak they’d climbed over. And a little ways farther on, the gnarled tree whose trunk twisted into the shape of an S.

  Finally, the smell of a burned-out fire tickled her nose, and Claire followed the bitter, almost hollow scent all the way to the clearing. She sat on a fallen limb and wiped the veil of sweat from her forehead. It was cooler here, in the deep part of the woods, but the humidity was still thick.

  Without the fire or the rest of the pack, the clearing seemed oddly normal. Like any other part of the forest. Claire stared up at the patch of sky visible directly overhead and sighed. There was nothing special about this place, and she couldn’t figure out what had made it seem like such a good idea to come all the way out here, anyway. She didn’t want to practice in the clearing—it felt too exposed, even this deep in the woods. She’d be better off walking back to the pine trees. Claire stood and stretched. She had just turned to slink back into the trees when the voice spoke behind her.

  “Don’t freak out,” it said.

  Claire backed across the clearing as fast as she could, nearly falling over the well-hidden remains of the fire in the process, and ducked behind a tree. Her mouth was open, but some primitive instinct kept her scream locked in her lungs. If she screamed, they’d find her for sure.

  A thin figure slid through the trees, walking into the shaft of moonlight that struck the clearing. “Claire?” Zahlia called, her pale features scanning the trees.

  Claire stepped out from her hiding place, her heart thudding. “Jesus! You scared the crap out of me,” she breathed.

  “Sorry.” Zahlia folded herself down onto the same fallen limb where Claire had been sitting. “I didn’t mean to.”

  “No, it’s fine. So, uh, hey.”

  “Hey, yourself. What brings you to the clearing when it’s not a full moon? Is your mom around?” Zahlia asked, her eyes glittering in the bluish light.

  Claire shrugged. “No, it’s just me. I felt sort of like practicing, so I came out to the woods, and then I kind of wandered over, I guess. I didn’t even know if I’d be able to find it.” She felt heat rise into her cheeks. “My mom doesn’t really know I’m out. Am I not supposed to be here?”

  “You’re allowed to be in the gathering place. And of course I won’t tell your mom that you were here. It’s just that usually I’m the only one who ever comes, other than when we all meet. It’s a good place to think.”

  Claire sat down across from Zahlia. “Yeah, I can see that. It didn’t seem like a very good place to practice, though.”

  “Really?” Zahlia cocked her head to one side. “Why not?”

  “It just felt too … sort of out in the open, or something.”

  Zahlia grinned. “That’s a great sign.”

  “It is?” Claire sounded startled, even to herself.

  “Sure,” Zahlia said. “Not wanting to be seen while you’re in your true form—it means your instincts are strong. And the stronger your instincts, the easier it is to learn, to be good at the things we can do.”

  “Oh. Well—okay then.” Being good at being a werewolf was better than nothing, right? Claire wiped the moisture off her temples and winced as the perspiration matted the fur on the backs of her hands.

  “You look hot.” Zahlia smiled. “There’s a way to fix that, you know.”

  “Uh, no. What do you mean?” Claire sat up, interested. Sweat trickled down her spine and pooled in the small of her back.

  “Close your eyes and think of something really cold. Snow, ice—it doesn’t matter what.”

  The icicles that clung to the edge of her window every winter popped into Claire’s head. The way they hung there like a set of uneven, shimmering teeth …

  “Do you have something?” Zahlia asked.

  Claire nodded.

  “Okay, so this is where it gets a little tricky. You have to sort of pull that idea around you, like a cloak, and hold it there.”

  The cool air that slid through her fur surprised Claire, and her eyes flew open. Holy crap. The heat rushed back over her.

  Zahlia laughed. “We’re not done yet. You have to stay focused. That was only the first step. Why don’t you try again?”

  Claire squeezed her eyes shut and pulled the cold around herself, shivering a little against the sudden chill.

  “Great,” Zahlia whispered. “Now you’ve got to let it in. Hold it under your skin, the same way you keep your wolf-self hidden.”

  Claire felt the cold slide under her fur. It was like the jolt of diving into icy water on a hot
day—shock and relief at the same time, and the tiniest edge of pain that disappeared as her body adjusted to the change. She opened her eyes and stared at Zahlia in disbelief.

  “That’s amazing,” she breathed.

  Zahlia nodded. “I love that one, especially. It really comes in handy when you’re hunting—keeps the temperature from being a distraction. Go on, move a little—give it a try.”

  Claire ran a little way into the woods, experimenting. An hour ago, even a short run had left her panting and drained. Now, the heat of her exertion was whisked away by the cold inside her. Claire let out a yip of pleasure. She could run for miles, for hours, like this. Without the thick air pressing down on her, she was filled with new energy. It tingled through her, and she shivered happily as she made her way back into the clearing.

  “So—I can do this to stay warm, too?”

  “Sure. You can keep either heat or cold beneath your skin, but only as a werewolf . In your human form, you’ve gotta listen to the weatherman, just like anyone else. You’ll get hot and cold like the rest of the humans.”

  Claire nodded, grateful. “Thank you so much for teaching me that. It’s just—it’s nice to have these extra things, you know? It kind of helps make up for everything else.”

  Zahlia wrapped her arms around her legs and stared at Claire. “Being a werewolf isn’t a curse, Claire. It’s hard, but it’s got more benefits than drawbacks, I promise. Wait until the first time you get to hunt with the whole pack. It’s amazing—like you’re everywhere at once, and totally unstoppable. Humans don’t get to feel that. The Goddess has given only us that honor.”

  Claire rubbed a hand across her forehead. “Yeah, okay.” She wasn’t really convinced about the whole honor-of-the-hunt thing yet—she’d still trade it in if she could be normal again. She took a deep breath. “So, what else can we do?”

  “Oh, lots of stuff, as long as you’re in your true form. Fire will do your bidding. Some of us can open locks with our thoughts. Things like that.”