Claire de Lune

by Christine Johnson

  “Yeah, I’m here. So, your dad—he thinks this was like, some sort of warning?”

  “I guess. Or taunting, more like. Like that thing thinks it can’t be caught, that my dad’ll never get him.” He laughed. “It was like waving a red cape in front of a bull. He’s more determined than ever to find the werewolf. Then he’ll be able to use his cure—like Superman saving his own town, you know?”

  Claire managed a weak chuckle.

  “Do you want to meet at the club tomorrow? It’s too hot for anything but swimming, anyway.”

  The thought of Matthew standing at the edge of the Brookshire Country Club pool in his swim trunks made Claire’s fingertips tingle. She swallowed hard.

  “I—I can’t. I have to keep the day open for Emily tomorrow, in case she has to leave.” It sounded lame, even to Claire, but there was no way she could see him right now. Not when there was a chance she might sprout fur with no warning. “Maybe some other time,” she added, before she could stop herself.

  “Oh, yeah, sure.”

  “Listen, I’ve gotta go, but, um, I hope things settle down over there soon, okay?”

  “Yeah, thanks.”

  Claire could hear the confusion in his voice. This is so unfair! Someone like Matthew Engle is actually interested in me, and his stupid dad is ruining it. Well, that and the fact that I’m the spawn of the wolf-woman. There’s no way I can see him until I figure out how to keep the werewolf crap in check. Her head throbbed. She could be as sarcastic as she wanted, but it was still true, and it still sucked.

  “Okay, well, uh, I’ll talk to you soon.”

  “Okay,” he said, his voice brightening considerably.

  They hung up and Claire stared at the phone in her hand. She just had to avoid him for a little while, that’s all, until she had a better handle on what was happening.

  That night, Claire lay awake for hours, waiting for her mother. As soon as Marie got home, Claire was going to confront her. Make her explain why fur had just appeared on her like that, and how to keep it from ever happening again. She listened for the sound of the Mercedes speeding up the drive, but it never came.

  She watched the late news, and then the Late Show. With each minute that passed, she got angrier and angrier. It was so like her mom to just disappear at a time like this. And Claire didn’t even know how to find any of the other women she’d met last night. When a rerun of the news started, she checked the clock—two a.m. She threw off the covers and padded across the room. The door creaked when it swung open and she winced. She poked her head out and peered down the hall. Lisbeth’s door was shut and Claire could hear her snoring even more loudly than usual.

  She wandered down into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. She pulled out a plate of steak left over from dinner.

  “Still awake, chérie?” Her mother’s voice came from the darkened dining room, making Claire jump. The plate of food tipped in her hand, and she barely managed to hang on to it.

  “Jesus, don’t do that. When did you get home? I didn’t even hear you come in. God.” Claire’s heart thudded away in her chest, and the sharp smell of adrenaline wafting up from her body made her eyes water. Why can I smell that?

  “There is no God, Claire. I thought I had explained that.”

  “It’s just a figure of speech, Mom.” She sniffed the air—as her heart slowed the sour tang faded. In the dark her mother smiled approvingly.

  “Your sense of smell is developing. That’s good.”

  “Something else you forgot to mention, I guess,” Claire muttered.

  Her mother tensed. “Is something the matter?”

  “Oh, no, not at all.” Claire couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of her voice. “Not only am I a freak of nature, but it turns out that it’s not just once a month. I could sprout fur at any second. It’ll probably come in real handy in the winter. Except that it might make it pretty awkward to be with, you know, people, I guess. Man, I just can’t wait to find out what other superfabulous things are going to happen to me next.” Tears brimmed in her eyes, making the food in front of her seem to waver. She knew she’d get in trouble for talking to her mother that way, but right then she couldn’t have cared less. How could things get any worse, anyway? What’s she going to do, ground me?

  A look of surprise crossed her mother’s face. “It is very unusual that you should transform like that. Most who are as new as you don’t have the ability to change on their own. They need the strength of the full moon to do it.”

  “So I’m strange even for a monster? Great.”

  “You are not a monster, Claire. Stand still.” Marie put a firm hand on Claire’s shoulder. “We must transform at the full moon. The Goddess, the One who created us, makes our true natures so strong on that one night that we must reveal them. But once a werewolf matures into her powers, she is able to change at any time.”

  Under her mother’s grip, Claire’s skin felt tightened, pulled, and her senses dulled.

  “There. Returned to your human form,” her mother said.

  Claire could still smell her mother’s surprise. She could hear the filament buzzing in the lightbulb above the sink.

  “If I’m human, how come I can still smell and hear so much?”

  “Because you are truly a werewolf, Claire. This skin is just a disguise. You have passed the first moon of your transformation and from now on, your senses, your strength—they will always be more sensitive and intense than a human’s. Even when you look the same as everyone else. I understand that this is new, and that it is not easy, but you must try to be patient.”

  “Patient! You left me on my own, looking like Grizzly Adams. Was I just supposed to hang out looking like that until you got home? I didn’t know how to get rid of it! What if Lisbeth had seen me?”

  “It is not like regular hair. It is a mark of the Goddess, and no human invention can permanently remove it. Not even a razor.” A trace of amusement laced her mother’s words.

  “How did you know?” Claire crossed her arms.

  “I didn’t imagine you had transformed back into a human on your own this afternoon. And,” she admitted, “I could smell your embarrassment and also shaving foam. It is a gift, Claire. What we are. And as soon as your transformation is complete, you will learn all you need to know—how to do everything we are able to do. In the meantime, there is no need to panic. What happened today is unlikely to happen again. It was probably because we were still so close to the full moon.”

  “Oh, yeah, don’t panic. No problem. I’ll just keep some Nair in my purse,” Claire sniped. “Is there anything else I should be carrying around? A file for my claws? A dog brush?”

  “That is enough,” Marie said sharply. “I have told you that you will learn what you need to, and at the proper time. We have been training New Ones for many generations. Our traditions, our methods, are not without reason.”

  Claire scowled.

  Her mother watched her evenly. “I know it is difficult for you right now.”

  “Really? Because you’re sure not acting like it.”

  “Claire, stop. I think you should go to bed now. When you are fully transformed, you will be better prepared to learn. Until then, you must be patient, and watchful. That is the best way to keep yourself—to keep all of us—safe.” Her mother moved noiselessly across the kitchen toward the stairs. “It will get easier, Claire. You must trust me.”

  Without even saying good night, her mother glided up the stairs, leaving Claire alone in the kitchen.

  Claire shoved the plate of leftovers back into the fridge, her appetite gone. She stared across the lawn, her gaze traveling over the brick wall at the edge of the property. The thick woods beyond the wall twitched in the night breeze.

  If her mother wasn’t going to teach her anything, then maybe she would just go figure things out for herself. After all, no one had said she shouldn’t do anything, just that they wouldn’t show her how yet. She leaned against the counter, thinking. It sure as hell hadn
’t felt like it was the moon that made her change today. When the fur had come, she’d been thinking hard about being a werewolf. That could have been what triggered the change. Maybe her mom wasn’t giving her enough credit. Maybe she could transform on her own, if she had a chance to try.

  Well, there’s no time like the present to start.

  She just needed somewhere to practice where her mom or Lisbeth wouldn’t walk in on her. Somewhere big, and private.

  Somewhere like the woods.

  Outside, the humidity pressed against Claire’s face like a wet handkerchief. A film of sweat popped out on the back of her neck. She turned to look up at her house. The windows were all dark.

  A warm breath of air tickled her ear and she spun away from it, dropping down into a crouch on pure instinct. The space where Claire had been only a moment before was empty. She blinked at the vacant yard, surprised at how fast she’d moved.

  From inside the pool house, she could hear the faint, chirrupy whisper of the ceiling fan. Crap. She’d left it on again. If Lisbeth saw it, she would freak about how much energy Claire had wasted. She hurried over to the little building, and then stopped short. A squeak escaped her mouth before she could stop it.

  Oh my God, I could hear that all the way from the back of the house?

  She’d known her hearing was better than it had been, but this was crazy.

  Realizing she’d made a noise, she looked back up at the house. All the lights were still off.

  Claire hurried across the lawn, wondering if her mother was going to realize she was gone—if she was about to come and stop her. The nerves in her fingertips tingled in time with her breathing as she tiptoed through the yard. With every step the smell of the grass being crushed beneath her feet flooded into her nose, carrying with it the sharp scent of chemical fertilizer. When she eased through the opening in the brick wall, the more natural, less uniform odor of the forest washed over her like cool water, and she sighed in relief.

  Her nose twitched. She could smell everything. The squirrel hiding in the fir tree. The dry dirt and pine needles on the forest floor. And—her mother. She could smell her mother.

  Crap.

  Claire ducked under the low branches of the evergreen next to her and held her breath. How could she have missed the fact that her mother had followed her? She waited, frozen, her heart thudding against her ribs. The squirrel above her took off through the trees and Claire let out her breath.

  When she breathed in again, she realized that the scent was faint and stale.

  Oh my God. It’s from last night! I can smell where she walked last night.

  She slid out of her hiding place and tried to shake the jumpiness out of her shoulders.

  She took a deep breath. If she was going to be stuck like this, she was damn well going to learn to control it.

  She focused on the nearly invisible tree trunks in front of her. They shimmered the tiniest bit, like ink on black paper. Huh. I can see in the dark? That’s … helpful. She tried to concentrate, to remember the feeling in her hands and ears when she’d changed before.

  The thick fur blanketing her hands and ears was so strong in Claire’s mind that it may as well have already been on her. A wave of dizziness swept over her. Unable to keep her balance, she reached out to grab the closest tree, misjudged the distance, and landed hard on her knees with her fist empty and her head spinning. Her gut ached and her lungs burned, like someone had punched her in the stomach.

  As quickly as the feeling had come, it passed. She reached out one shaky, fur-blanketed hand and stroked her ear. The silky fur slid underneath her fingertips. I just shaved it off this afternoon—but damn, it doesn’t feel like I ever even touched it.

  Still, it was not horror that she felt when she looked at her fur this time—it was relief. I did it. I can control it. Oh, thank God, uh, Goddess, I can control it.

  Success glowed in Claire’s chest like an ember. She checked to see if she was any different than she had been last night, but everything looked the same. Furry ears, furry hands, and human-looking everywhere else.

  But still, she needed to be able to change back. And she’d done that before only with her mother’s help. Now she had to figure out how to do it on her own.

  She sat down, folding her legs underneath her, determined not to be knocked over by the force of turning human, the way she had been when she tried to become a wolf. She sucked a breath deep into her lungs, smelling a deer somewhere to her right, deep in the forest. The surprise of the scent—so clear and so far away—shook her concentration, and she let the breath slip back out in a quiet oh.

  Claire twisted to face a thick stand of trees. She could see the individual grooves in the bark of each tree. The sharp, musky scent of a scared doe wafted out between the branches. It was definitely in there.

  Claire clenched her fists. A desire to hunt swelled in her chest. It blotted out everything else. She could barely keep herself from slinking off into the trees, following the deer’s scent. Her stomach grumbled.

  She forced herself back onto the ground. Without meaning to, she had risen up onto all fours, ready to run. What the hell am I doing? She shook her head, clearing it, and pulled in another deep breath. If she was hungry, she’d go home and get a snack like a normal person. Jesus. I was actually going to chase down a deer. …

  The most important thing now was getting rid of her fur. Drawing herself in was trickier, but she held her breath and focused on being normal—being with Emily, hanging out with Lisbeth, hearing Lisbeth laugh at something she said.

  “… right now, no … I can’t. Think how suspicious that would look!”

  Lisbeth’s voice rang in Claire’s ears and she gasped, opening her eyes and staring wildly at the trees around her. It had sounded tinny, like a bad phone connection, but it hadn’t been in her head. It wasn’t the same echo of Lisbeth’s voice that Claire heard when she left the water running while she brushed her teeth, or when she threw her clean laundry in a pile on the floor.

  She had actually heard Lisbeth. Talking. Here.

  What the hell?

  Claire closed her eyes again. Had she made that happen, somehow? She’d been focusing so hard on Lisbeth, on hearing her. She kept the sound of Lisbeth’s voice fixed in her mind. It felt sort of stupid—but then, it had happened before.

  “You know I didn’t mean for things to go like this! But it’s too late. I can’t go back and change—”

  Excitement flooded through Claire and her concentration wavered. Lisbeth’s voice was gone again, but she didn’t care. She could hear her.

  Immediately, she wondered if it would work on anyone else. She tried to think about Emily the same way she’d been thinking about Lisbeth. She wrapped her arms around her knees and listened hard. Nothing happened. Well, it was the middle of the night—Emily was probably asleep.

  “Oh. Shit.” Her voice sounded loud in the quiet forest.

  If Claire couldn’t hear someone unless they were actually saying something, then that meant Lisbeth was awake, which put Claire one bed-check away from being in deep trouble. Who on earth was Lisbeth talking to at this hour, anyway?

  Oh, God, what if she’s talking to Mom? Okay. This is not the time to panic. All I have to do is change back and then get home. It can’t be that hard to transform. It just can’t.

  Claire pressed her fur-covered hands against her eyes. She focused on the memory of the skin, smooth as an egg, that she’d worn every day for sixteen years. She wanted it—wanted to be back to normal. To be human.

  The feeling of coming back into her skin was claustrophobic, like wriggling into a dress that was too small. The smell of the deer faded and she couldn’t see as clearly. The trees were just shimmers in the black night. Claire could tell she’d changed back, but panic rose in her chest. She didn’t feel like her usual self. Being in her regular body didn’t feel better than being a wolf. It was just as uncomfortable, only in a different way. Tears welled up in her eyes.

 
How could anyone adjust to this? Her breath hitched painfully, and her lungs felt slow and thick in her chest. Maybe this was why her mother was always so closed off. Maybe that made it easier.

  A tear slipped down Claire’s cheek and she brushed it away. She didn’t have time for this now. Once she’d gotten home without Lisbeth catching her, she’d have all the time in the world to cry.

  Claire pulled herself to her feet. Her muscles ached and her stomach was rumbling. As she hurried home, she listened with her human-dulled ears to the tiny pops and cracks of the bracken that crunched beneath her feet. When she squeezed back through the wall onto her own lawn, the ache in her chest eased. The lights were off—Lisbeth must have finished her conversation and gone back to bed. The house was quiet. The ceiling fan still buzzed in the pool house. Claire crept over and turned it off. Surely if Lisbeth had discovered she’d been missing, there would be lights. Noise.

  Claire had snuck out and gotten away with it. Relief coursed through her, washing away the sadness she’d felt in the woods. A grin spread across her face.

  She slipped into the silent house and walked to the refrigerator. If Lisbeth heard her in the kitchen, who cared? She was allowed to get a midnight snack if she wanted. Claire pulled out the plate of leftover meat, picked a limp slice of steak from the plate, and put it in her mouth. Before she could stop herself, she thought how much better the deer would have tasted.

  Chapter Six

  THE YAWN WAS jaw popping. Lung cracking. Exhaustion ringed her thoughts like smoke, making everything hazy and indistinct. Morning had come so soon. It had been too much in one night—hunting for food, and then stalking the youngest one, the brand-new wolf. Tracking her while she stumbled through the woods like a human. She’d gone home so proud of herself. Fool enough to think that because the lights were off, she hadn’t been seen. Been caught.

  Too young and stupid to think there might be other eyes watching her.

  The phone rang six inches from Claire’s ear. She rolled away from it, throwing the covers over her head. Who the hell was calling at—she cracked an eye and checked the alarm clock—9:33 in the morning?