Claire de Lune

by Christine Johnson

  Claire ate as slowly as she could, forcing herself not to check the time. When she’d meticulously rinsed her dish and put it in the dishwasher, making sure it faced the right direction, she finally glanced over at the clock. Her heart sank when she saw the numbers. How could it only be ten forty-five? Matthew wasn’t due to pick her up until eight! If she couldn’t find something to distract herself from the tension that knotted her shoulder blades together like wings, she’d be crazy long before he got to the door. She headed for the living room, hoping she could find something mind-numbing on television.

  After forcing herself to sit through two bad movies and one infomercial, Claire trudged upstairs to her room and looked around. She picked up her phone and called Emily. Maybe there’d been more drama with the country boy that they could dissect, or mouse encounters Emily could tell her about. Any distraction would be a good distraction.

  “I was just about to call you!” Emily started talking without even saying hello.

  “Oh, yeah?” Claire shoved aside a pile of clothes and flopped into her armchair.

  “I mean, can you believe it? It’s totally amazing news, right? I haven’t been able to get a hold of Mom and Dad yet, but I’m demanding they come get me as soon as humanly possible.”

  Claire’s mouth opened, but no words came out. Of course Emily would get to come home, now that everyone thought the werewolf situation was over. With everything else that was going on, Claire hadn’t really thought about it.

  “That’s—that’s great, Em.”

  “Well, don’t break a nail celebrating, or anything,” Emily huffed.

  Claire closed her eyes. “Sorry, Em—it’s fantastic news, really!” She forced herself to sound enthusiastic. It is fantastic news. Or at least, it should be. So why am I not excited? If she was being completely honest, Claire sort of wished that Emily would stay at her aunt and uncle’s—at least until Claire had things with her mother sorted out.

  How can I feel that way about my best friend?

  “So, are you packing yet?” she asked.

  “Everything but my toothbrush,” Emily announced proudly. “And I gave Dan the ‘thanks for the memories’ speech already too.”

  “Wow. How’d he take it?”

  “Ugh. Let’s just say there were lots of tears involved, and none of them were mine. Anyway, I’m going to call Mom again and see if she’s out of her meeting yet. I’ll let you know as soon as anything’s definite, okay?”

  “Can’t wait,” said Claire, willing Emily to believe her. “Good luck with your mom.”

  “Won’t need it,” Emily reassured her, “but thanks anyway. Talk to you soon!”

  Claire hung up and stared down at the phone in her hand. Having Emily around would only make things more complicated than they already were. She was starting to see what her mom meant when she said it was too hard to be friends with a human.

  Disgusted with herself, Claire crawled into the shower, hoping it would make her feel less slimy.

  The hot water ran out before she could calm down completely. Claire dried off, tossed on a shirt, and ran a comb through her hair. She sighed, wishing that this was just a regular date. If she were normal, she’d be wondering if she should wear a prettier bra, or if her jeans were too tight around the thighs. Instead, all she could think about was finding out how to get to her mother. Claire threw her hairbrush down onto the vanity. It was so unfair. He’s a really great guy, and I’m planning to use him in the worst way possible. Fabulous. I’m sure ordinary human girls are always trying to get secret information from their boyfriends. Yeah, I bet that happens all the freaking time.

  Claire scraped her opinion of herself off the floor and slicked on some lip gloss. She stuck some silver hoops in her ears. The irony brought a tiny smile to her lips. Whichever werewolf had convinced the humans that silver would kill them, all those centuries ago, had created an awesome cover.

  Claire looked over at the clock glowing on her nightstand. Six o’clock on the dot. Claire stared at herself in the mirror, trying to conjure up the excited, crush-stricken girl she had been two and a half months ago. The eyes that stared back were too anxious, too calculating. I’m only doing what I have to do to save my mother. It’s not like I’m going to hurt him. Come on, Claire, try harder. She forced her lips into a smile, but no matter how hard she tried, her eyes gave her away. They were too much wolf, and not enough human.

  Chapter Seventeen

  CLAIRE STOOD IN the foyer, one hand on the door, hoping Lisbeth wouldn’t look too closely at the boy behind the wheel of the car.

  “Okay, here’s the deal. I want you to have a great time, but do not make me regret the fact that I’m allowing you out of the house. And if you’re not home by ten … well … Just be home by ten.” Lisbeth put her hands on her hips, trying to look stern.

  Claire resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She can’t even think of something to threaten me with.

  “Don’t worry, Lisbeth, I’ll be back in plenty of time.”

  Claire rushed out the door, practically slamming it shut behind her. She looked over at Matthew as she climbed into the car next to him. The sun caught in his hair, and when he turned and smiled at her, it stirred up the same fluttery feeling in her belly that it always had. Claire could smell the excitement and nervousness pouring out of his skin. Underneath it was the scent of his desire, sweet as a peach.

  Focus, Claire. You need to know what he knows.

  Every second that ticked by brought her mother closer to the tip of Dr. Engle’s needle. Claire hated all this secrecy, all the double agent crap. She wanted to just ask him about it, to tell him that she needed to know. He trusted her, right?

  But then he’d want to know why she was asking. And she’d just have to start lying all over again. And he might get suspicious and clam up. Or worse, tell his dad.

  “Are you okay?” he asked. “You seem sort of distracted tonight.”

  “Sorry,” said Claire. “I guess it’s just, uh, weird to see all these other cars and people with the sun going down.”

  Matthew nodded. “Yeah. Everyone’s back to enjoying the long, hot summer, thanks to my dad’s ‘service to the community.’” A harsh little laugh tore out of him. “Whatever.”

  Claire’s ears pricked up. “Whatever?” What did he mean by that?

  Matthew pulled into a parking space at the edge of the park and turned off the car.

  “What do you mean?” Claire asked gently.

  Matthew let out a long breath that filled the car with the scent of his confusion and anger. “It’s just—you know how I told you that I wasn’t sure about what my dad was doing? That I wasn’t sure he was right?”

  Claire sat frozen, as motionless as an animal who knows it’s being hunted. She forced herself to give a stiff nod. Claire tried to collect herself enough to keep her voice from shaking. “I don’t really know that much about werewolves. No offense, but I don’t know why I should take your dad’s word for it that they’re the most awful things ever, you know?”

  One lie, two lie; red lie, blue lie.

  Matthew stared at her, a happy glow seeping into his eyes and sweetening his scent. “Not offended,” he whispered.

  “So.” Claire swung open her door and climbed out of the car like they were having the most normal conversation in the world. “What’s actually going on? Making you question your dad again?”

  Matthew grabbed an enormous cooler out of the back of the car and set it on the ground. “If I tell you—Claire you couldn’t tell anyone. I mean, if my father found out, I’d be dead.”

  Claire met his gaze with steady eyes. “I’m really, really good at keeping secrets.”

  And that’s more truthful than you’ll ever know.

  He sighed and ran a hand through his messy hair. The sky behind him shimmered with the last of the day’s light. “Okay. Let’s eat while we talk—I think better on a full stomach.”

  “Sure. Here, I’ll help you with that.” Claire grabbed
the cooler’s handle and lifted with him.

  Matthew’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Wow. You’re really strong.” He and Claire blushed at the same time.

  “I’ve been doing a lot of swimming—”

  “Yeah, I didn’t mean that you looked weak, or anything.”

  They grinned at each other. “Forget it,” said Claire. They set the cooler down near the center of the field. “I’m starving,” she said, anxious to change the subject.

  “That’s good—I packed enough food for an army.” He opened the lid and tossed her a blanket.

  Claire spread it on the ground while Matthew unpacked the cooler. When they were each on their second chicken leg, Claire couldn’t stand it anymore. “So?” she asked, stripping the meat off the bones with her teeth. “What’s the deal with your dad?”

  Matthew poked his fork into a container of potato salad. The first stars glimmered overhead and the growing darkness hid his expression. “Well, you know how they’re keeping the werewolf at the lab until they can give it the cure?”

  Claire suppressed a shudder. “Yeah?”

  “Okay, really, he’ll kill me if he finds out about this.” He twisted a paper napkin in his hands.

  “Matthew. I won’t tell anyone. I promise.”

  He looked up at her. “I know. I trust you. Okay.” He took a deep breath. “I sort of snuck into the lab one night. I was curious, you know? And it’s not like I would have gotten hurt—that thing’s cage is stronger than Fort Knox. Anyway, when I got in there, the wolf—it was crying. Like, really, really crying.”

  A ripping sensation tore through Claire’s chest. She struggled to breathe.

  Matthew barreled on, like he couldn’t quit telling the story now that he’d finally started. Claire could hear in his voice how much he’d been aching to tell someone. “So, I felt bad for it all of a sudden, and—the look in its eyes, I just didn’t think that it could have killed someone. I know it was stupid, but I wasn’t thinking about getting hurt, and I just sort of stuck my hand through the bars and petted it. And it was the weirdest thing, Claire.” He stared up at her from beneath his shaggy bangs.

  “It butted its head into my hand and whimpered and—it was awful. I could just feel how lonely and scared and, I don’t know—how gentle it was. I mean, not like a human, or anything, but not any more dangerous than any other animal, you know? I know it sounds crazy, and I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t believe me, but I could just tell that it hadn’t killed anyone. Or, if it had, it hadn’t really meant to.” He leaned over and lit the lantern that held down the corner of the blanket.

  Claire hurriedly wiped the tears out of the corners of her eyes. Matthew stared at her. He looked shocked. “I—I just feel sorry for it, that’s all,” she stuttered. Truth number two.

  “Yeah. I just wish my dad would … I don’t know. He’s so freaking desperate to get everyone to take him seriously, to prove he belongs on the FHPA. But I wish he would investigate more before he gives it his cure. The way this werewolf is—I’m just more convinced than ever that he’s wrong. I know they’ve done plenty of terrible things—my dad has a billion books about it, right? But, I mean, maybe they’re not all like that. Maybe this one isn’t like that. And his cure leaves them half-alive at best. I just don’t think this werewolf deserves that. I don’t think it’s the one who’s done all these horrible things.”

  “So, who do you think has?” The question popped out before Claire could stop it. The idea had been nagging at her all day. She couldn’t help wondering whose crimes her mother was paying for.

  Matthew leaned a little closer. “Maybe there are more werewolves out there than people think there are.”

  The adrenaline flooded Claire’s veins so fast that the hairs on her arms stood on end. He was too close to the truth. Much too close. “What makes you think that?” she whispered.

  “I saw something once—my dad left some classified reports on the computer desk. Government stuff. I was curious, I mean, anything that has TOP SECRET stamped across it …”

  Claire nodded.

  “So, the reports said that twice, after they caught a werewolf and my dad ‘cured’ it, the killings didn’t stop. The government covered it up to keep the public from panicking—I mean, if people thought there were packs of werewolves roaming around, they’d freak.”

  “Wow, that’s—that’s really surprising.” Claire said, breathily. Really surprising that your dad knows he’s not right, but he’s still torturing us anyway.

  “Yeah, I was shocked as hell. That’s when I really started to wonder about the stuff my dad does. He always works pretty closely with the government of whatever country he’s ‘helping’—he did that even before he got appointed to the FHPA. Maybe it’s more about PR than anything, you know? I mean, what if there have been more werewolves like this one, really gentle ones, and they’re taking the blame for some other killer? Just so that all us humans can feel all safe and self-righteous.”

  He stared off into the woods. “Maybe there’s another werewolf who’s been killing people here. That’s what I think, anyway.”

  “But if you think that, how come you’re not scared to be out here at night?”

  Matthew ran his fingertips across the back of her hand. “Everyone else is out, too, right? ’Cause my dad says it’s safe. I’m not gonna hide in the house forever. I can’t. I guess I just don’t think my number’s up yet.”

  Claire wasn’t sure what to say.

  “Do you think I’m crazy?” he asked finally.

  She shook her head. “No,” she whispered. “I think you’re the only sane one out there.” The tears welled up in her eyes, and Claire didn’t think she could stop from sobbing if Matthew kept looking at her in that relieved way. “I, uh—need to grab something out of my purse. I’ll be right back, okay?” Without waiting for an answer, Claire scrambled off the blanket and headed toward the car, more surefooted than any human could ever have been in the newly dark night. She struggled to control the tears that coursed down her cheeks.

  This wasn’t at all the sort of “information” she’d been expecting to get from Matthew. Claire had known her mother must be terrified, lonely—but to have it confirmed like that just about broke her.

  She yanked open the car door and made a show of rummaging through her purse while she tried to make sense of the thoughts spinning in her head. Maybe she could get more than just information from Matthew. Maybe he could actually help her—even if he could just get her into the lab where they were keeping her mother, it would save Claire an enormous amount of time and energy. Excitement hummed under her skin; the adrenaline overtook her sadness and she dried her eyes. She could do this. Even without Beatrice and Victoria, she could save her mother. It was just a question of how.

  Claire snapped her purse shut and tossed it on the floorboard. She slammed the car door and turned to head back to Matthew—and at that exact second, she heard the first low growl behind her.

  Claire’s eyes were still blind from the interior light of the car. All she could make out was a dark figure weaving through the trees at the edge of the forest. Another snarl rang out. The threat had been issued in a very familiar voice, and the flash of recognition that shot through Claire burned like an electric shock.

  It was Zahlia. Behind her, Matthew knelt in the center of the blanket, focused on getting the food back into the cooler. The car stood between him and the wolf on the other side of the road, so even if he looked up, he might not see anything.

  Claire edged around to the far side of the car and hunched down behind it, confused and scared. Whatever would make Zahlia show up in front of Matthew, it had to be serious.

  At the edge of the forest Zahlia hesitated. Claire couldn’t figure out what Zahlia wanted, and she didn’t have much time before Matthew came looking for her. Claire threw off her clothes and transformed. Her true nature shattered her human disguise, and Claire stood in the shadow of Matthew’s car, surprised by how much more compl
ete her change was. She’d expected the transformation to be the same as it had been at the last full moon, but she looked every inch a werewolf. Still, she could feel something missing, could tell that her strength and her senses hadn’t yet reached their full potential.

  Zahlia, what’s going on? Matthew will see us! It was the first time Claire had needed to communicate the way the rest of the wolves did, since her lupine mouth made speech impossible. It felt as natural as talking, and Claire’s confidence grew.

  Watch yourself, Young One. Zahlia’s warning echoed off the trees. Claire laid her ears flat against her head. She hoped Matthew hadn’t heard that . He would notice that she was missing any second—she had to get back into her human body. Zahlia took a step forward, stalking her.

  What are you talking about? I’m trying to save my mother. If Matthew sees you, it’ll screw up everything! Why didn’t you just call me back? Can’t we talk later? Claire could smell her own fear and frustration. Her confusion. It made her smell weak.

  Zahlia, upwind, caught the scent, too. She gave a little leap, bounding farther into the clearing. At the same moment, Matthew called out.

  “Claire? You okay over there?”

  Zahlia took advantage of Claire’s distraction and launched herself at Claire.

  You. Stay. Out of this. Zahlia growled, and pressed closer, knocking Claire into the car. Your mother has made more than her share of mistakes, and you are following in her footsteps. If you don’t back off, I will be more than willing to let that boy pay for your errors.

  Claire crouched low, her shoulder aching where it had slammed into the wheel well. A guttural rumble tore against her throat, and in spite of her confusion she tensed to spring, ready to defend herself.

  Zahlia, what is going on with you? I’m trying to ask for your help. Why are you pissed? I don’t understand!

  Zahlia squared off against Claire. She panted in anticipation, her hot breath washing over Claire’s face. It reeked of the hot-pepper scent of fury. I’m helping you by not crushing you here and now. Consider yourself warned. Zahlia turned and streaked off into the woods.