Claire De Lune (27 page)

Claire was startled to see the body of a woman and not a wolf waiting for her. Her mother lay on the ground in her human form, bone-white and disturbingly thin.

Why did she transform?

“Where is the key?” Claire asked.

“Dans le congélateur
,” her mother whispered.

She couldn’t remember the English words. Claire suddenly knew how bad things really were.

“Mom, I—”

Marie heaved herself up onto the point of her emaciated elbow. “Freezer,” she groaned.

Claire sprinted across the lab and wrenched open the
freezer door. Inside was a bottle of imported vodka, three trays of ice cubes, and a tiny ceramic bowl with a silver key in it. The freezing metal bit at her fingertips when she snatched it from its dish. She yanked a long white lab coat from a hook next to the refrigerator and ran back over to the cage. It was only a moment before she had the key’s teeth jammed into the lock, twisting it open so hard and fast that she nearly snapped it in half. The door swung open and Claire scrambled inside.

Gently, she covered her mother with the coat. Claire knelt and lifted her mother’s head into her lap. She stroked her greasy, matted hair. “It’s okay,” she murmured. “We’re going to get out of here.”

Marie opened her eyes and looked at Claire. “You should have left me,” she murmured.

“What?” Claire’s hand stopped midstroke.

“It would have been safer, for you—for the pack. I would not be the first wolf in our history to sacrifice herself for the good of the rest.” She closed her eyes and a pained expression washed across her face. When her gaze met Claire’s again, there was no reproach in it. “But I am glad you did not leave me,
chérie
. You should have, but I am very glad that you did not.”

Tears filled Claire’s eyes and she struggled to hold them back. “I would never leave you,” she whispered fiercely. “Never.” Somewhere in the lab, a machine whirred, reminding Claire of where they were. “Can you walk? We really have to get out of
here.”

“That is why I transformed. You must help me, but, yes, I think I can walk.”

Claire’s mother rose gingerly, holding on to Claire for support. Claire helped her button the lab coat. The fabric hung awkwardly from her mother’s thin shoulders, but at least she was covered. With their arms wrapped tightly around each other, Claire and her mother slowly made their way out of the lab, stopping to put the key back in the freezer. They inched their way toward the safety of the woods. Every second that passed made Claire’s blood hum with anxiety. She was sure that Dr. Engle and his antiwerewolf militia would appear at any moment, ready to kill them both.

When they reached the shelter of the trees, Claire lowered her mother onto the trunk of a fallen ash tree to rest. Marie sat with her hands on her knees, drawing in deep breaths of the clear night air. Claire sniffed at the breeze. There was no scent of Zahlia, but she couldn’t keep her gaze away from the shifting shadows in the forest.

“What?” Marie eyed her suspiciously.

Claire picked at the bark beneath her. “I’m worried that Zahlia’s out here.”

“That bitch,” she snarled. “I heard her assault you outside the lab tonight.”

Claire hesitated. “I don’t get why Zahlia did what she did. Why did she kill those people? Why come after Matthew
and me?”

Her mother struggled to speak. “Zahlia has always wanted to be second-in-command of our pack. And she was poised to do so. But then Zahlia’s mother—she thought that she had found evidence that showed our kind were to hunt humans once a year, as a tribute to the Goddess. Beatrice agreed with me when I said that Zahlia’s mother was doing nothing more than searching for a loophole in our laws in order to fulfill her horrific appetites. Zahlia’s mother left the pack before she could be disciplined. Because of her mother, Zahlia lost her chance at power. She has always felt that was my fault.

“I think that this was her idea of revenge. She thought if I were caught—blamed for murdering innocent humans—then she would be able to take my place.” She grimaced. “It almost worked. But she didn’t count on you getting in the way. I assume that’s why she attacked you. After all, you ruined her plans.”

Claire touched her mouth, remembering the feel of Zahlia’s paw between her teeth. “When we fought, I—I hurt her pretty badly. I don’t
think
she can sneak up on us tonight.”

“I hope not,” Marie moaned. “I do not think I am strong enough to fight her, and you have already been injured tonight.”

“We just have to make it home,” Claire said encouragingly. “We can pack some stuff and go straight to the airport, just leave and never come back. Let Beatrice deal with Zahlia.”
Not that she will, but it’s not my problem anymore.
Claire forced
herself not to think about the fact that leaving Hanover Falls meant leaving Matthew and Emily, too.

The expression on her mother’s face made her look like an old woman. “Claire, we cannot. It is our responsibility to help the pack. As soon as we make it home, I need to contact the others. Once we can arrange a gathering, then the pack can determine Zahlia’s punishment. We must also deal with Matthew. He knows. And unless we can be sure that he will keep our secret … well. It must be taken care of one way or another before we could go. If he tells his father, then there will be no place where you and I could be safe.”

“What do you mean, ‘taken care of ?’” Claire choked.

The thin slash of her mother’s lips were all the answer Claire needed.

“You—you’re talking about killing him?!” she gasped.

Her mother shrugged uncertainly. “Perhaps. But only as a last resort, only to protect our pack. It is permitted in our laws—and also in the laws of man. There may be one other way. In our traditions, there is something called a
gardien,
a secret-keeper.”

“Yeah, I know about that, Zahlia told me.” Claire flinched when she said Zahlia’s name.

Her mother’s lips thinned in disapproval. She sighed. “It is my hope that he will become one. The humans throughout our history who have known our identities without revealing them are offered the protection of our pack in exchange for
their silence. You would be asking Matthew to carry a heavy burden, Claire.” Her mother’s eyes burned with fever and her gaze made Claire catch her breath. “It may be a very difficult choice for him to make. But it is the only way. I am sorry,
chérie
. Now. I suggest we go, before he makes a choice without even knowing that he has. Every moment we delay only increases the chance that he has already told his father what he has seen.”

Claire knelt in the soft carpet of pine needles, her lungs burning with a scream she could not voice, while her mother stood and limped deeper into the forest.

In spite of the ache in her belly, Claire hurried after her mother. The deeper they went into the woods, the jumpier Claire got. Every twig that snapped in the distance, every rustle of a bird’s feathers made her start, sure it was Zahlia. It took them longer to get home than Claire had thought it would. By the time they crept into the yard, Claire was shaking with the thought of what she had to tell Matthew.

She hurried ahead and peered in the window. One light burned in the kitchen, but there was no sign of Lisbeth. Claire got her mother into the house and they both crept upstairs. A note pinned to her door caught Claire’s eye.

Claire-bear,

Sorry I wasn’t here when you got home. Some last-minute plans
came up, and I decided to jump on it. Hope that’s okay! I’ll be home around one—call my cell if you need anything. Hope you had fun!

—L

She’ll be back by one? Crap.

It was already eleven. If she didn’t leave soon, Lisbeth would be home before Claire could get back.

Claire got her mother into bed and then sprinted back to her room, ripping the note off the door as she went. She got cleaned up as fast as she could with her sore ribs. The shampoo she scrubbed through her hair burned when it ran into the wound on her ear. On the edge of the sink, her phone flashed at her—Emily had called four times. Claire reached out with a soapy hand and turned it off. She’d deal with Emily later. Tomorrow. Sometime soon.
Man, I am a really sucky friend.

Claire snaked her arm back into the shower and scrubbed at the dirt under her ragged nails. When she was clean enough that she didn’t look terrifying, Claire slipped into her mother’s room.

The silk comforter was pulled up to her mom’s chin—her frail body barely made a lump under the covers.

“Mom?”

“Yes, Claire?” Her mother struggled to keep her eyes open.

“Do you want anything? I have to go—to talk to … well. You know.”

“Thank you, but I will be fine. Please tell Lisbeth, er …” her mother hesitated.

“I’ll leave her a note saying that you flew home because you got sick. That’s true enough. She’ll probably come up here bugging you to drink some sort of miracle tea or soup or something, though.”

“That will be fine. I know how to handle Lisbeth.” A trace of humor tinged her mother’s voice.

Claire grinned. “I’m sure you do.”

“Be careful out there. And Claire?”

Claire cocked her head.

“Thank you. For everything. Not many creatures, human or wolf, would have done what you did tonight.”

Claire waved away Marie’s gratitude, but she couldn’t keep herself from smiling. “You’re my mother,” she said. “Of course I did it.”

Claire slipped out of the room and crept silently down the stairs. She left a note for Lisbeth on the table in her best imitation of her mom’s handwriting. Then Claire walked out into the night, squaring her shoulders against the weight of what she was about to do.

All but one window of the Engles’ house was dark. Matthew was still up. If his parents had been asleep when he got home, there was a chance that he hadn’t talked to his dad—that Dr. Engle didn’t know yet.

Claire picked up a handful of the smooth pebbles underneath a crabapple tree. Carefully, she lobbed them against the glass pane. As tense as she was, it would be all too easy to throw the pebbles hard enough to break the window. Matthew’s face appeared in the window just as the fourth stone hit the glass. He leapt back out of sight and Claire cursed under her breath.

She waited until he peeked out again, and then waved frantically. Matthew slid the window up a few inches. “Claire? What are you doing here?”

“We have to talk. I’m sorry I lied to you before. I really, really am. But if you don’t listen to me now, we’re both going to regret it.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “Are you serious? Why should I believe you now? Can you give me a single reason to trust you?”

Claire’s nostrils flared and she fought to control her temper. “Okay, I deserved that. I understand why you’re pissed, Matthew, but this is serious. My mother sent me here.”
He’s right. I am a liar, but not this time.

“I don’t care if the pope sent you. I need some space. I have to think. And it’s late. I’m going to bed, and you should go home.”

“I’ll go now, if you want. But let me talk to you before you—before you do anything about it, okay? Tomorrow, maybe, after you’ve had some time to think about stuff ?”
Claire hated the whine that crept into her voice, but she couldn’t stop it.

Matthew sighed and rested his head against the window frame. “Fine. I’ll meet you tomorrow night at Greenway Park, on the side where we had our picnic. I’m practicing with a couple of the goalies until eight thirty. I’ll be there at nine.”

Claire let out a long breath. Greenway Park would be really exposed, and who knew how healed Zahlia would be by tomorrow night? Still, she wasn’t in a position to argue. “Awesome. That’s perfect. Thank you, Matthew, you don’t know how—”

He cut her off. “Go home, Claire. I’ll meet you tomorrow.” He closed the window, and Claire’s gaze darted to the other darkened windows on the second floor. They stayed dark. Matthew hadn’t woken his parents.

Claire slunk into the deeper shadows of the backyard and watched his window until he turned off his light. She checked her watch—12:18. If she hurried, she could still beat Lisbeth home.

When she made it back to her house, the lights were off.
I made it.
Claire hurried inside and checked on her sleeping mother. Exhaustion crept up on her like a spider and her injuries throbbed in time with her heart. She downed a couple of pain relievers and tumbled into bed. In spite of everything that had happened, Claire slept like the dead—still and dreamless.

Late the next afternoon, Claire slipped into her mother’s room.

“Ah, Claire. How are you feeling?”

Her mother looked more like herself—still pale and sharply thin, but better.

Claire shrugged. “My ear hurts, and my ribs, but everything else is pretty much okay. As long as we don’t run out of Advil, I think I’ll be fine.”

“I’m glad to hear it. I’ve just talked to Beatrice, and we’re gathering early tonight, just before dark. It should give us time to make a plan and then take action before morning.”

“Tonight?” Claire rubbed her eyes. “Crap.”

“What?”

Claire sat down hard on the delicate-looking chair near her mother’s bed. “Matthew was too mad to talk to me last night. But he said he’d meet me at the park tonight, and he promised not to do anything until after I’d told him … well, you know … what I have to tell him. He should be there just about nine o’clock.”

“The timing will be bad.” Her mother leaned back against the pile of pillows. “But talking to him is every bit as important as dealing with Zahlia. I will make sure you are able to meet him.”

Claire licked her lips. “Does Beatrice know about the Matthew … thing?”

“She is the Alpha—I had to tell her. She is the only one who can truly grant permission to create a secret-keeper, and
it is her duty to inform the rest of the pack.”

Claire squirmed in her seat. “Is she angry?”

Marie turned, her dark eyes searching Claire’s face. “She understands your actions. I know she believes you can convince Matthew to accept this new role.” She hesitated. “Are you sure you trust him? You are sure his father is not on his way here now?”