“Like what? What have you been doing without me? God, Claire, I miss you so much! Seriously—I want to hear what’s been going on with you.”
“Not that much, really. And, um, I sort of need to make another call.”
Claire was dying to talk to Matthew. It was a whole lot easier than talking to Emily. It made Claire’s squirm to realize that, but it was true.
“Matthew?” Emily squealed.
“Yes, and I really do not want to talk about it right now.”
“Okay, but I am so serious, Claire, if I do not get some details soon I am going to freak out on you.”
“I know, I know. We’ll talk later, okay?”
“I’ll say hi to the cows for you.”
Claire could hear Emily giggling as she hung up. At least she’s in a better mood. She shook her head while she dialed Matthew.
“Hello?” The rasp in his voice caught Claire by surprise.
“Matthew, hey—are you okay?” she squeaked. Oh, very sophisticated, Claire.
“Yeah, I know I sound like crap. Ever since Dad planned his meeting for today, the phone’s been ringing nonstop.” He sounded exhausted.
“So, how come you’re stuck answering it?”
Matthew sighed. “They’re all upstairs in Dad’s stupid ‘War Room,’ trying to figure out where they need to set the traps.”
Claire’s heart stuttered against her ribs. “T-traps?”
“Yeah, for the werewolf ? It’s his new plan. They’re gonna try to get them put up before dark—they think the werewolf may be following the press coverage, so they’re keeping it supersecret.” He paused. “Oops. Uh, don’t say anything about that, okay?”
“No problem.” The lie came easy. Too easy. Her mother’s voice echoed in her head. In this world—we are driven to lie a great deal, Claire. More than most. “So, are you playing secretary all day?” she asked.
“Nah. I’ll be finished pretty soon. Can you hang out?”
“Yeah—” The memory of Dr. Engle’s piercing eyes made Claire’s wolf-brain twitch. “Mom and Lisbeth will be gone later this afternoon, and it’s gonna be wicked hot again. Maybe you could come over and we could hang by the pool?”
“Sounds great to me.”
Claire snapped her phone shut . Having Matthew over was probably a bigger risk than she should take. But between the memory of Matthew’s warm, crooked smile and her mom refusing to actually talk to her, again … maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea after all. And her mother had said that she didn’t want her alone any more than necessary, right?
A few hours later Claire sat in the kitchen with Lisbeth while she made up an enormous grocery list.
Her mother appeared in the hall, beckoning Claire with a long finger.
“Claire, may I speak with you for a moment?” The sharp lines etched in her mother’s forehead were a bad sign. Claire slid out of her chair.
“I’ll be right back,” she mumbled to Lisbeth. Claire followed her mother into the hall. “What’s up?”
Her mother frowned. “I’m going out. I think I have an idea wh”—she stopped, her eyes trained on the kitchen where Lisbeth was banging the cabinet doors closed a little too obviously—“in regards to our earlier conversation.”
Claire’s mouth went dry. She couldn’t let her mother go traipsing around the woods with Matthew’s dad and his whackos out setting traps, especially not if she was in her wolf-form. And she probably would be, since it was the best way to hide her identity.
“Mom, I need to talk to you first, okay? Let’s, umm, can we go talk in my room or something?”
Marie shook her head. “I don’t have time, chérie. We’ll talk when I return. I may be out a bit later than usual. And no matter what happens, you are not to leave this house until I tell you that you may.”
The closed-off look that Claire knew all too well slid across her mother’s eyes. Before she could say anything, her mother turned and strode down the hall with unnatural speed. Werewolf speed.
“Mom!”
Marie turned, her face a mask of irritation. “Not now, Claire!” Her voice was a growl, the command in it clear. “Later” wasn’t a request—it was an order from a higher-ranked pack member.
“Just—be careful,” Claire sputtered, her gaze darting to the kitchen door. “There’s … dangerous stuff out there.” As warnings went, it was pretty crappy, but between her mother’s insistence and Lisbeth hovering in the kitchen, it was the best Claire could manage. If her mother really was planning to transform and search the woods, then she was taking a huge risk.
Lisbeth left a few minutes later, looking distracted and irritated.
Claire sat in the empty house and waited for Matthew, wondering if it were possible for time to pass any slower.
“Hey.”
Matthew’s smile hit her like a blast of tropical air. So did the actual air—the heat wave showed no signs of letting up any time soon.
“Wow, it’s awful out there.” Claire waved him into the house. “Ready to hit the pool?”
Matthew waved the rolled-up towel in his hand. “Absolutely.”
“Great. I just need to change into my suit.” Claire left Matthew in the kitchen and threw on her bathing suit as fast as she could.
Ten minutes later, they were floating in the pool chairs with the sun beating down on them. Claire kept glancing at the kitchen windows, half-hoping to see her mother staring back at her—even if it meant getting caught with Matthew. She was worried enough not to care .
“This is heaven,” Matthew announced.
Claire looked at the drops of water sparkling on his chest. I’ll say.
“You okay?” Matthew asked. “You seem sort of distracted.”
“Sorry, I guess I am, a little. My mom and I had some … weirdness this morning, and I can’t shake it.” That was putting it mildly. But she couldn’t exactly tell him that she was worrying about what might happen if her mother ran into his dad in the woods. Maybe she’s not even there. She didn’t say exactly where she was going. …
Claire sighed and bit her lip.
Matthew slid off his pool chair into the water and swam over to her. “Sounds like it’s been a bad parent day all around.” He took her hands and gently pulled her off her floating chair. “Is there anything I can do?”
Claire leaned into his chest. “Distract me?” she suggested.
He smiled. “That could be arranged.” He leaned in and kissed her, tightening his arms around her. Claire felt the two parts of herself rise up and begin to battle. The human in her relished the touch of his soft mouth, welcomed the pressure of his hands against her shoulders. The rest of Claire—the werewolf—wanted to go off by herself, to think about what she could do for her mother. She didn’t know which side to listen to—didn’t know which voice was the angel on her shoulder, and which was the devil.
I tried to warn her … There’s nothing I can do about it right now, anyway.
In spite of her anxiety, Claire gave into the familiarity of being human, and wrapped her arms around Matthew’s warm back.
Long before the sun threatened to sink, Matthew suggested that they’d pushed their luck far enough for one day. After his car had disappeared down the drive, Claire slipped out onto the front steps and sat down. She wrapped her arms around her legs and stared out at the trees in the distance, shivering in spite of the heat. Please let her be okay. Please.
Darkness fell, and Claire’s mother still hadn’t come home. She couldn’t stand the waiting anymore. Something had gone wrong. Claire could feel it. She had to talk to Beatrice.
The phone felt hot in her sweaty hand. After a quick Internet search to find the number, she dialed, and then stared at the digits glowing on the tiny screen. All she had to do was hit SEND . Claire closed her eyes and pressed the button.
It rang only once before Victoria answered. “Hello?”
“Victoria? It’s Claire. Listen, I really need to talk to Beatrice.”
“On the phone?”
The dismay in Victoria’s voice sent doubt slithering through Claire’s stomach like an eel.
“Um, yeah. It’s kind of urgent. Is she there?”
“No, she’s not. What on earth is going on?”
Claire’s voice wobbled when she answered. “Mom took off, Victoria. I think she went to look for something in the woods—the seule, I guess—but Dr. Engle put traps out there, and if she’s been caught—” Claire couldn’t finish the sentence. The words were too horrible to say. “We have to look for her. She might need help.”
“Claire, there’s no reason to think anything’s wrong. Your mom probably just wants to catch the seule before Zahlia does. I’m sure she’s fine. Marie is a very capable woman—and she’s an even more capable wolf.”
Claire’s jaw tightened in disbelief. “You think this is just about her wanting to beat Zahlia?”
“Probably. I know you’re too new to know all of this, but your mom and Zahlia aren’t exactly best friends.” Victoria hesitated.
“Okay, so they don’t love each other. Victoria, I really think my mom might be in trouble—”
“Claire,” Victoria said, interrupting her. “Your mother is fine. Trust me. Go watch a movie or something, and try to relax. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Fine.” Claire hung up. If they were going to treat her like that—like she was just some stupid newbie—then maybe she’d go ask someone who thought she was capable of doing something.
She called Zahlia, but it went straight to voicemail.
“Hey, it’s me, Claire. Could you call me as soon as you get this, please? Thanks.”
Claire hung up the phone and stared out at the dark lawn, desperately wishing that there was an easy answer to just one of the questions that spun through her mind.
Chapter Fifteen
LISBETH GOT HOME a few minutes after the first stars glimmered to life.
“Claire?” Lisbeth poked her head into the living room.
“Yeah?”
“I’m gonna put some steaks on the grill. Is your mom home?”
“Um, no, she’s not here.” Claire wriggled her toes, willing herself to hurry up and invent some plausible reason her mother wasn’t back.
“Okay.” Lisbeth’s voice was slow and thick with suspicion. “Well, where is she?”
“She, uh, she called and said she had to fly to Denver right away. Something about a big, last-minute shoot.”
Lisbeth crossed her arms. “Since when does your mother have a client in Denver? She’s never mentioned it.”
Sweat prickled on Claire’s forehead. Be calm, be calm, be calm. She shrugged. “I dunno. You know she doesn’t tell me anything. So, um, since she’s gone, I guess we can go ahead and eat whenever.” Claire tried to brush past Lisbeth.
Lisbeth’s grip on her upper arm startled Claire. “Not so fast. I want to know what’s going on. What’s really going on. You’ve been prowling around here for weeks, sleeping all hours of the day—you never tell me anything anymore. And your mother’s no better. When I mentioned that I was worried about you, she just brushed me off. I know we’re not actually related, but I love you, and I’m worried. Please, Claire, talk to me.”
Claire stared at Lisbeth, remembering all the hours Lisbeth had spent with her—helping with homework, teaching her to knit, listening when she griped about boys and school and her mother. She trusted Lisbeth and she wanted desperately to tell her what was happening. Maybe the two of them could figure out what to do, how to find her mother. The words tickled the tip of her tongue, but she could never actually say them.
“Claire, please.” Lisbeth shook her arm, not bothering to hide her desperation. “You can trust me. I mean, what, do you think I’m the werewolf or something?”
She meant it as a joke, Claire could tell, but the secret shriveled and dried in Claire’s mouth like an autumn leaf. Maybe Lisbeth wasn’t a werewolf, but she was definitely keeping something from Claire. And that meant Lisbeth didn’t totally trust her. So why should Claire confide in her? When she looked back at the woman who had taken care of her for so many years, the lies came pouring out of her as easily as if she’d turned a tap.
“Lisbeth, nothing is going on. Really. Mom took off for a random work thing—just like she always has. It’s not like she’s ever given us a ton of notice, so I don’t see what the big deal is this time. And I talk to you plenty. Just because I don’t tell you every little thing about my social life doesn’t mean I don’t like you or anything. It’s not like you tell me everything about your life.”
Lisbeth blushed and dropped Claire’s arm. Bingo. She knows I’m right about that.
“Okay, I’m sorry. Let’s—let’s just go eat.”
“Sounds good, I’m starved.” Claire watched Lisbeth’s shoulders slump in defeat. A shower of guilt that felt all too familiar pattered down on her. “Maybe after dinner we could watch some TV or something,” she added.
“That would be great!” Lisbeth perked up at the suggestion. “I better go get the meat on the grill.”
When she’d left the room, Claire called her mother. It didn’t make sense that her mom wanted to know when Lisbeth was home, but still … The call went to voicemail and Claire’s heart sank. Her bad feeling about all this had just become really terrible.
After dinner Claire sat curled up on the couch with Lisbeth. She bit her cuticles and tried to look like she was paying attention to the sitcoms that blared on the screen. If something had happened—if she’d been caught—the news would interrupt this crap. The thought only half-comforted her. If her mother had run into the seule, the news wouldn’t know about that, now, would they?
Hours later, Lisbeth stood and stretched. “Ugh, that’s as much mass-market media as I can take tonight. I’m going to bed, Claire-bear. You sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. And don’t call me that.”
Lisbeth sniggered and headed for the shower. Claire walked over to the window and stared out at the dark lawn, willing her mother to come loping across the grass. The desire to sneak into the dark forest was so strong it made Claire’s bones ache. She couldn’t stop imagining her mother, caught in some sort of hideous trap or mangled by the seule. But no matter how badly she wanted to go, Claire couldn’t just ignore an order from a senior pack member. Some primitive compulsion to obey emanated from deep inside her wolf-brain, keeping her trapped in the too-empty house. When she heard Lisbeth close her door, Claire wandered upstairs and watched the woods from her bedroom window.
For three nights, Claire kept her vigil. She gave Lisbeth fake messages from Marie, and hoped desperately that Beatrice would decide to do something.
By the time the sun crept over the horizon after the third night, Claire had collapsed onto her window seat, frightened and exhausted. When the first bright rays touched Claire’s face, a fierce determination swelled inside her. Why should she be the good little listener she was supposed to be? It wasn’t getting her anywhere and it wasn’t helping her mother.
Screw the pack order. Screw my mother’s command. If she’s dead— Claire forced herself to think the word— it won’t make any difference, anyway.
Claire flipped on her computer and looked up Victoria’s address. It was halfway across town, but there was no way she could ask Lisbeth to drive her there. She’d have to bike it. Claire drummed her fingers against the edge of the keyboard. It was like teetering on the edge of the high dive. She knew she could jump—she knew she should jump—but the animal part of her brain screamed at her not to do it, not to endanger herself so foolishly.
Claire’s muscles twitched with indecision. Go. Stay. Go. Stay. Okay, I’m definitely going. But if Mom’s okay, she’ll be freaking furious with me. Crap.
Outside, the forest waited, wearing an early-morning haze like a nightgown. Matthew’s dad might already be out there, checking his traps again. The idea shook Claire to the core. She had to go—if he wouldn’t waste any time, Claire couldn’t, either.
&nbs
p; After she scribbled a bogus note to Lisbeth about where she was going and blew the dust off her bike helmet, Claire took off down the sloping driveway.
This is so stupid. If I’d gotten a car for my birthday like every other sixteen-year-old, I could still be in the air-conditioning.
By the time she pulled into Victoria’s driveway, her shirt was soaked with perspiration, and the smell of fear and exhaustion wafted up from the damp fabric.
Claire rang the doorbell, and then looked at her watch. Holy crap. How did I get here in twenty minutes? It should have taken an hour to ride here! She’d have to be more careful. When she was scared it was too easy to do things faster than a normal human could.
Victoria opened the door.
“Oh, Claire, I should have guessed you’d come.” She pulled Claire inside with her free hand. In the corner of the room, Beatrice looked up from her knitting.
“I’m sorry,” Claire panted. “It’s just—my mother still hasn’t come home. I know you said it’s no big deal, but I think she was looking for the seule. If she’s hurt, if something’s happened to her—we have to find her.”
Beatrice glanced in the direction of the TV. The BREAKING NEWS banner scrolled across the screen. “Have—you haven’t seen the news,” she said, her eyes trained on the pastel square of yarn in her lap. “Claire—your mother has been caught. I am so sorry.”
“Caught?” The word twined around Claire’s throat as she said it, choking her.
“Yes. I’m afraid it’s only a matter of time before they force her to reveal her identity, and then Dr. Engle will administer his ‘cure.’”
Beatrice’s hands trembled when she spoke, and that was the last thing Claire noticed before the floor swirled up to meet her and everything went dark.
“Claire. Claire! Wake up.”
The fingers that pinched her cheek were gentle, but Claire slapped the hand away from her face without thinking. Beatrice’s eyes glowed with concern.
“Sorry,” said Claire, instinctively ducking her head low. The old woman sniffed and turned away. Claire had been forgiven, this time. “So, what are we going to do?”
Claire de Lune Page 16
