Claire De Lune (29 page)

“Yes, she’s dead. And I’m mostly okay. Are you?”

“Scared out of my goddamn mind, honestly. Why are you hiding?”

“It’s … I don’t have any clothes with me.”

“Oh. Right.” Matthew unzipped his massive sweatshirt and laid it on the ground. “I won’t look,” he promised, spinning away from her.

Naked, Claire darted across the clearing and threw on the sweatshirt. It hung almost to her knees. “Okay,” she said.

Matthew turned around. “What about your mom? That is your mom, right?”

Claire nodded. “Zahlia hurt her pretty badly when she attacked us. She’ll be okay, I think. Are you—do you hate me?”

“No. Why would I? That thing”—he pointed at Zahlia—“that
monster,
I hate. But you defended your mom. And me.”
His voice was shaking, but when he looked at Claire, confidence glowed in his eyes.

“Matthew—I’m no different than she was.” Claire stuffed her hands into the sweatshirt’s deep pockets. “I’m not a human girl, you know that. If you think she was a monster, then you must think I am too.”

Matthew put a hand on her arm. “Of course not. You just proved everything I’ve suspected about werewolves. A monster wouldn’t save a human. You could have pushed me out there as a distraction. You could have let your mother fend for herself and run away. Instead, you saved us both. You couldn’t bring yourself to kill her, could you?” he asked seriously.

Claire shook her head. “No. I couldn’t. Maybe it would have been kinder if I had. I don’t know.” Overwhelmed, Claire wavered on her feet. Matthew’s arms slid around her, steadying her.

Claire slid out of his grip. “This is all my fault. You were only out here tonight because of me. If I weren’t a werewolf, you wouldn’t have had to see that—you wouldn’t have been out here at all. I’m sorry I dragged you into all this. I’m so, so sorry. I should have stayed away from you.”

“I know you’re not human.” He pulled her in again and wrapped his arms around her more tightly. “But that doesn’t mean you’re not a person. I was scared. I can admit that. But I’m not sorry I was here. I’m not sorry that I know who you really are. You shouldn’t be, either.”

Claire leaned into him, hoping that he couldn’t feel her shake. “Will you keep the secret for us?” she whispered.

“I promise. And not to save my own skin—I’ll do it for you. I’m no monster, either.”

“Thank you. Really and truly, thank you.” Claire eased herself out of his arms and looked at Zahlia, lying on the forest floor.

“What are we going to do about her, um, body?” Matthew asked. Claire could smell the sour, green smell of his nausea as he looked at Zahlia.

Claire ran a hand across her forehead. “I think I have an idea. Hang on.”

She walked over to her mother, kneeling by the enormous wolf. “Can you get home on your own?”

Marie huffed and thumped her tail against the ground twice. Even while in her human form, Claire could tell that her mother was saying
yes.

“Good. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of Zahlia.” She turned to face Matthew. “Okay, so here’s what I’m thinking …”

The picnic blanket was still wadded up in the trunk of Matthew’s car. The cheerful red plaid looked inappropriately festive wrapped around Zahlia’s body, but it was better than getting blood all over the car. While her mother limped her way home through the forest, Claire covered up the gore on the forest floor as well as she could and picked up the shreds
of fabric from the clothes she’d been wearing. She wished her mother had been well enough to help them, but it was obvious that walking home was going to drain whatever strength Marie had left.

The memory of Beatrice, hiding in the woods like a coward, distracted Claire. As the Alpha, she was the one who should have killed Zahlia. She was the one who should have dealt with the evidence. Claire blinked away the anger that clouded her vision. There would be time to think about that later. She hitched up the too-big soccer shorts that Matthew had found for her in his car and took one last look around the clearing. It was good enough.

She and Matthew put the dead werewolf in the trunk and crawled into the car. They drove in silence. Matthew had snapped off the stereo when he started the car. It didn’t seem right to listen to music with Zahlia dead in the trunk. When he turned onto the road that led to his father’s lab, Matthew reached over and squeezed Claire’s hand.

“This is the right thing to do.”

“Yeah,” said Claire, “but it’s still hard, you know?”

“Yes. I do know.” His voice was serious, and Claire was pretty sure he was talking about something more than just what they were about to do with Zahlia. Matthew parked the car in the shadows at the end of the facility and popped the trunk. He walked around to the back of the car. After a deep breath, Matthew reached in to grab the blanket, but Claire
stopped him.

“I can carry her faster on my own,” she said gently. “I’d let you help, but if we get caught …” She trailed off.

“It would be really bad,” Matthew finished. “Okay. Go ahead.” He turned away, but not before Claire saw the relief that crossed his face when he realized he wouldn’t have to touch Zahlia.

Claire wrapped her arms around the body and gagged as the smell of death filled her nostrils. She craned her head as far away from Zahlia as she could and lifted her out of the trunk.

“Go open the door,” she panted.

When the faint squeak from the metal door echoed between the buildings, Claire ran as fast as she could. She darted into the darkened lab and nearly collided with Matthew.

Clearly, he hadn’t expected her to be quite so fast. Inhumanly fast. The shocked expression on his face made Claire’s chest ache. Adjusting the blanket-wrapped body in her arms, Claire eased past the lab equipment and headed for the cage. Matthew followed behind her. Claire could hear his almost-silent footsteps. In order to get Zahlia in the cage, Claire had to go in, too. Being inside the bars made the skin on her back crawl. As quickly as she could, Claire dumped Zahlia onto the floor and backed out of the cage. The sight of Zahlia’s body lying on the concrete floor made Claire’s mouth go dry.

Don’t start freaking out now. It has to be this way. Mom would be able to do this calmly. We’re all a lot safer with Zahlia dead, and covering my mother’s tracks with her body doesn’t hurt her any.

“Do you think your dad will call the police?” she asked.

Matthew shook his head. “He thinks cops are idiots. And he’d be totally humiliated if Lycanthropy Researchers International ever found out that his security sucked bad enough that someone could just break into his real lab. Not to mention the government. … Even if he realizes that another werewolf killed her, there’s no way he can tell anyone without losing his credibility. I guess he might try to find the wolf that did it, but dad won’t call the police, and he’s not going to be able to find any of you by himself.”

Claire trusted him. She had to, especially considering how much faith he had in her.

“Okay.” It was more of a breath than a word.

Matthew looked away from the body and let out a long breath. “Let’s get out of here.”

Claire hurried over to the freezer and grabbed the key from its dish. She locked Zahlia’s body in the cage. After a silent moment, Claire wiped her fingerprints off the cage door and the key with the hem of the sweatshirt, put the key back into its dish in the freezer, and hurried out of the lab.

Matthew slid into the driver’s seat and leaned his head against
the steering wheel. Claire looked at the back of his neck, the set of his shoulders. She could see what they had just done in the way he held himself. And it was all her fault.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, and cursed herself for crying
again
. “I wish I’d never—” With his head still resting against the steering wheel, Matthew turned to look at her.

“Don’t,” he said. “I’m not going to keep telling you that I don’t regret this. I’ll admit, when I first noticed you, first hoped you’d go out with me, this wasn’t exactly how I envisioned things going. But I still wouldn’t trade it.” He leaned over and kissed her.

Claire backed away, leaning into the door behind her. “Matthew, being with me almost got you killed. Listen, I’ve wanted to date you ever since I first saw you, too.” Admitting it made her blush. “But after all of the horrible things you’ve been dragged into because of me, because of what I am … I don’t want to ruin your life. And that’s exactly what I’m doing. So I think—I think maybe we shouldn’t be together.” The words burned like acid in her mouth.

Matthew pulled back and looked at her. “You are not ruining my life. I chose to be here tonight, didn’t I? I know you’re a werewolf, I know what it means, and I don’t care. After everything that’s happened, you can hardly say I don’t know what I’m getting myself into. So, give me one good reason we can’t be together.”

Claire hesitated.

“Unless
you
don’t want to?” He sounded surprised and a little hurt.

“It’s not that! It’s just—I don’t know what’s going to happen. I don’t know how things will be now that I am … what I am. I have to hide, all the time, and lie, to everyone, and—”

“But not to me. You don’t have to hide from me and you don’t have to lie to me because I
already know
. And I love you anyway.” He took her chin in his hand and tipped her head up, holding her gaze with his. “I’m not asking you to marry me, Claire. Can’t we just work things out as we go along? See what happens? Be a couple?”

The idea stretched out in front of Claire like a stream, shining with possibility. He was right—he already knew everything. There was no reason not to try. And just like that, all the feelings she’d kept wrapped up so tight burst out of their seams and filled her chest.

“I love you, too,” she said. But what she really meant was
yes
.

The next morning, Claire crawled into her mother’s bed. “Mom?”

“Mmm?” Her mother cracked open one eye. “Is it done?”

“Yes.” Claire buried her face in the pillow, overwhelmed by the memory. She felt her mother sit up next to her.

“Tell me what happened.”

Claire told her the whole story, including the part about
seeing Beatrice in the woods. The only thing she didn’t mention was the last conversation she and Matthew had. Her mother narrowed her eyes and looked at Claire.

“You are leaving something out, yes?”

Claire reburied her face in the pillow to hide the heat that rose in her cheeks. “I dunno,” she mumbled.

“You want to see him,” her mother guessed.

Claire felt her shoulders tense, and her mother sighed as she read Claire’s body language.

“Well, it’s not like it’s dangerous anymore. It’s not like he’s going to guess what I am and tell his dad. Matthew chose, Mom, and he chose
us.
So why shouldn’t I?” Claire turned her head just enough to peek at her mother.

“Oh,
chérie
.” Her mother sighed and ran a hand over Claire’s hair. “I just think love always ends badly, whether or not you are human. But maybe I am too cynical. And most everyone seems to survive heartbreak, at any rate. I am sure you will too, no matter what happens.” She gathered Claire in her arms and hugged her tight. “You grow up too fast, you know that?”

“Mo-oom,” Claire protested—but she didn’t try to escape from her mother’s embrace.

After a final squeeze, her mother let go and gave Claire a gentle shove in the direction of the door. “Now, go shower and ask Lisbeth to fix us something to eat. I could eat a horse.”

Claire lifted her eyebrows into a question, teasing.

“Very droll, but how would you get it up the stairs?
Non,
for now, I think an omelette will do nicely. I am going to call Beatrice. She will not like it, but things have gotten out of hand, and something must be done about it.”

“Okay.” Claire walked out of the room. She leaned against the closed door for a moment, feeling something she hadn’t felt in months—hope that things just might work out after all.

Buoyed by her optimism, Claire convinced Lisbeth to drive her to Emily’s house. She wanted to see Emily, but preferably somewhere without any werewolf evidence stashed in the closets.

Claire bounded up the walk, knocked at Emily’s front door, opened it, and stuck her head in.

“Helloooo,” she called. “Anyone home?”

“Claire? Hang on a sec. Crap!” Emily’s voice floated down the stairs, followed by a series of banging noises. “Oh my God, you’re here!” She came flying down the stairs, the hems of her jeans dripping wet, and squeezed Claire into a tight hug.

“Is everything okay?” Claire asked, while Emily’s jeans dripped on her toes.

“What? Oh, yeah. I spilled some watercolors. You surprised the hell out of me! God, I’ve been
dying
to see you.” Emily’s enthusiasm made Claire smile.

“So, do you have time to do something?”

“Um, of course! Do you mind waiting while I get the paint
cleaned up? It shouldn’t take long.”

“Em, I’m even willing to help. Where’s the carpet cleaner?”

Emily turned and headed for the kitchen. “Have I mentioned lately that you’re the best friend ever?”

Claire followed her, still grinning. Things with Emily wouldn’t ever be the same as before, but maybe she could make something new. A friendship that was good in its own way, even it if wasn’t normal.

That afternoon, the local news interrupted the regular talk show. Claire had to turn it up—downstairs, Lisbeth had her music on loud enough that Claire could hear it in her room. The camera cut to a very pale Dr. Engle, his tie crooked and his hair a mess. Claire noticed that the building behind him wasn’t the same lab where he’d imprisoned her mother.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, thank you for coming today. I am sorry to tell you that when my colleagues and I arrived this morning, we found the werewolf deceased. We are working to determine the cause of death, though we believe some sort of parasite—perhaps a nematode—may be involved. Of course, we are deeply saddened that we were unable to cure this, erm, creature. Its death marks a blow to our research and also to the small group of …”

Claire clicked off the television and walked over to her closet. Bitterness coated the back of her throat. She could taste it on her tongue like medicine. He hadn’t even said that Zahlia
had been killed. She’d guessed that he wouldn’t. After all, if the public thought he couldn’t keep his “research” safe, why would they trust him to keep the werewolves away?