"You're—you're going to Yolanda's?" Claire blinked in confusion. She hadn't known that. Yolanda's parties weren't usually Emily's thing.
"Yeah, I know. They're usually a little bit too jock-beer-fest for me, but Amy really wants to go, and so I thought, what the hell, you know? I need a date, and it's the perfect hunting ground. Plus, I know Matthew's usually more into that stuff, so I figured maybe I could actually spend a Friday night with you for once."
"That sounds great." Claire's sandwich suddenly tasted better. She didn't even mind the stray sprouts. Having Emily at the party would make her feel a lot better about abandoning her practice plans.
"Awesome!" Emily took another swig of her drink. "So, are we still on for coffee Saturday afternoon?" Her eyes were jumping around in a way that made Claire instantly suspicious.
"Yeah, we're still on. Why?" She kept her voice light.
Emily spun the soda can around in her hands. "So, um, the thing is, Amy heard us making plans last weekend, and I sort of ended up inviting her along. Is that okay? She's never been to The Cloister. Can you believe it? And since she heard us talking about it, she's dying to see what it's all about, so . . ."
"No, that's fine. Whatever you want. I'm sure she'll . . . She'll . . . I mean, I can't wait to hear what she thinks of Yolanda's famous parties." Claire bit her tongue to keep herself from saying anything else. She shifted in her seat, trying to shake off the irritation that spread through her like a thorn-covered vine, pricking her ribs as it grew. She knew Amy was Queen of the Nice Girls, but suddenly it seemed like she'd pushed herself into every corner of Claire's life. She couldn't exactly get mad at Emily for changing their plans, though, especially when it sounded like Amy was doing everything in her power to get Emily to bring her along. Claire had been unexpectedly changing plans on Emily for months.
"Thanks." Emily looked relieved. "I really think it'll be fun." The first bell rang, and she shotgunned the rest of her soda. "Caffeine for lunch. Yummmmm."
Claire laughed.
"Okay, I'm off to the torture that is Spanish class. I'll text you later, and we'll figure out what we're wearing to Yolanda's."
Claire faked a smile. She couldn't care less what she wore to the party. It would be clothes, not fur, and that was all that mattered.
"That sounds great." She stood up and grabbed her bag. "Talk to you later."
Emily waved over her shoulder and swept out of the cafeteria, which had turned into a mass-exodus.
Claire turned and headed for class. A few more days. One lousy party. Then she could get through the new moon gathering and back to normal life.
At least, as normal as a werewolf 's life ever got. That night, Claire was planning to slip off into the woods, but her mother eyed her running clothes with suspicion.
"Are you going for a run or into the forest?" she asked.
Claire hesitated.
"You are ready for the gathering, yes?" she asked.
"Yeah," Claire said, with more confidence than she felt. "I mean, I'm sure it's going to go fine."
She didn't want to see the disappointed look that she knew would appear on her mother's face if she admitted she was having trouble.
"All right. Well, enjoy your exercise."
"Thanks," Claire mumbled, slipping out the door.
She ran the long way into the woods, jogging a couple of miles down the road to a quiet spot where the trees strayed close to the pavement. It was a perfect cover—she'd be able to tell her mother, truthfully, that she'd been for a run, but she could still go make sure that she was ready for the new moon ceremony.
She hurried to the main clearing, the one where they met for the gatherings. It was closer than her practice spot. She stepped into the open space beneath the trees, which was darker than usual since it was lit only by a thin arc of the crescent moon.
Only, she wasn't alone.
Chapter Five
"OH! I'M SORRY." Claire froze at the edge of the clearing.
Victoria was sitting on a log, her arms wrapped around her enormous belly. She looked up at Claire. "Don't be sorry. I heard you coming, and you're allowed to be here as much as I am." Her voice was flat, lifeless, and Claire began to worry. Victoria had always been so nice—timid, maybe, a little nervous, but nice.
"Are you okay?" Claire asked.
Victoria shrugged. "I guess. Mostly. I can't sleep anymore—that's why I walked over here. My hips hurt, and I get heartburn and—" She stopped suddenly, looking up at Claire with a miserable smile on her face. "Sorry. There's no way you want to hear about all this pregnancy stuff."
"No, it's fine," Claire protested as sincerely as she could. She didn't really want to hear about it, but she didn't want to make Victoria feel any worse than she obviously already did.
"Nah," Victoria said. "It's boring. But it's completely taken over my life, and I can't think about anything else." She sighed. "I feel like I'm barely part of the pack anymore—I can't do half the things I'm supposed to."
"But you're pregnant." Claire protested.
"Exactly!" Victoria huffed. "That's all I am anymore. 'The pregnant one.' I miss being just me. I miss participating." She shook her head. "My mom's so nervous, and now your mom's nervous. It's like it's a requirement for being the Alpha—that suddenly you have to be paranoid about everything. It feels so awful to watch everyone else run off to hunt while I'm left behind. You must've felt the same way last summer. I can't stand seeing the rest of the pack doing all the things I would be doing if I weren't stuck behind this belly."
Victoria had never been this honest with Claire. Claire lowered herself onto the hard ground and stared over at Victoria. It made her miss Zahlia, being with Victoria, just the two of them. Not the crazy, death-hungry wolf that Zahlia had turned out to be, but the friend that she'd seemed like in the beginning. Claire missed having a wolf friend. Someone she could talk to—really talk to—who knew what it felt like to be in wolf-skin. To change back and forth. To feel the pull of the moon.
"I'm sorry," Victoria said. "I shouldn't be dumping all of this on you. . . ."
"It's okay," Claire said. "I understand. I—" She hesitated. If she was honest with Victoria, Victoria might run straight to Marie, making Claire look like even more of an idiot.
But maybe she wouldn't do that. The possibility of being Victoria's friend glittered in front of her, close enough to touch. Dazzled by the idea, Claire reached out.
"I've been having some trouble, too. I know how it feels to watch the other wolves doing something you know you should be able to do." Her voice was barely more than a whisper. "I haven't lit the ceremonial fire. I tried for weeks and weeks, and I finally made some twigs smoke the other night . . . but that's the only time."
Victoria's mouth fell open. "But everyone can do that."
Claire felt her face crumple like a used tissue.
Victoria caught herself. "Sorry. I—does your mom know?"
Claire stared up at the sky, her eyes going everywhere except to Victoria's shocked, sympathetic gaze. "I didn't want her to be disappointed. And I've been sort of embarrassed about it. I mean, Judith already looks at me like I'm some pigtailed kid who's tagging along for the ride. I didn't exactly want to reinforce that idea, you know?"
Victoria made a scoffing noise. "Judith just has a hard shell. She's been through some difficult things. Last summer didn't exactly make it any better."
"Well, anyway, I don't mind if you know, but you won't say anything, will you?"
Victoria shook her head. "I know what it feels like to be the Alpha's daughter. Everyone expects you to be perfect, and there's always the threat of someone running to your mother." She smiled. "I'll make you a deal. I won't tell your mom about your trouble with the fire if you won't treat me like some sort of delicate flower just 'cause I'm pregnant."
"Deal," Claire said.
"You know, if you want, I could help you with the lighting—give you some tips," Victoria offered. She looked excited for the first time i
n ages.
"Sure," Claire said, though her palms were damp with selfconsciousness.
"Awesome. Let's find some kindling."
They made a small pile of twigs, and Claire crouched in front of it while Victoria sat back down on the log. Claire focused on the wood in front of her, trying to block out the humming of her nerves and the itchy feeling of Victoria's watching eyes. She tried to remember the sensation of the branches rubbing against one another—the heat that came with it.
But nothing happened.
Victoria waited. Claire felt a fresh bead of sweat form on her brow.
"Maybe"—Victoria paused—"try in your wolf form. It's easier, I think. You don't have to fight through that human layer."
Claire hadn't thought of that. Since she'd have to do it in her human form at the ceremony, that's how she'd been practicing. But Victoria's idea seemed worth a shot, since all the things that she did in her wolf skin had come easily, as though she'd always known how to do them.
She transformed quickly, feeling a little awkward about being unable to communicate with Victoria, who sat patiently in her human form while Claire bent her snout to the twigs. They were more real to her in her wolf form—more complex. Like their matter wasn't as set as it seemed when she was a human.
She reached out with her thoughts, pushing the sticks to light, to burn.
The clearing stayed every bit as dark as it had been. There was no fire.
"I feel you working at it, but something's just off," Victoria said. "You have to push them to transform, but the fire's already in there. The way your wolf self 's always inside you, even when no one else can see it. Like this." She narrowed her eyes, and the pile in front of her burst into flame so quickly that it was more like an explosion than an ignition.
Claire made a low noise in her throat to show that she understood. It was the closest she could come to talking. "Transform back," Victoria suggested, "and try again." She stacked up a new pile of small branches while the other fire crackled and died, already using up its meager fuel.
Claire pulled on her smooth-skinned form, slipping quickly into her clothes. "At least that felt different," she said. "It's like I can see what I need to do but I can't quite reach it."
Victoria pursed her lips, thinking. "Maybe I can try with you." She lowered herself to her knees across from Claire. "Okay, just do what I do, step by step." She stared into the tiny pile of tinder. "Look right into the middle. I think it's easier if you keep your eyes open. Focus on putting a layer of fire over the top of it the same way you put a layer of fur over your skin."
For several long moments, the twigs lay cold and dark in front of Claire. Panic rose inside her, ugly and prickly. But then she felt something tug at her, like the wind tugging at the leaves.
And a spark caught.
The sudden light broke her concentration. The crackling of the twigs spread like a whisper through the clearing.
Claire rocked back on her heels, shaken and uncertain. Her eyes met Victoria's across the flames.
"Did I do that, or did you?" she asked.
Victoria's surprised expression mirrored hers. "I really don't know. That was weird. I mean, it was like it sucked the fire out of me or something."
Something inside Claire twisted. "So, that's not how it's supposed to feel?"
Victoria pushed her hair back off her face. "It's not how it feels when I do it, but maybe that means it was you? Or . . . maybe it was because we were both trying?" She stretched. "Ugh. I'm getting knotted up from sitting too long."
Claire's eyes went straight to Victoria's enormous belly, and she suddenly felt ridiculously selfish.
"You've stayed out way too long, and it's all my fault. I'm sorry. You should get home."
Victoria frowned. "I don't want to leave you when it seems like you're so close to being able to do it." She rubbed her hips like she was testing them.
"No, it's fine. I think I get it. Really. Besides, I need to head back before my mom gets suspicious," Claire said, standing up and brushing off her pants.
Victoria waddled over and gave her an awkward, sideways hug. "This was really nice," she said. "Having someone else who knows what it's like to be the Alpha's daughter—it makes me feel a lot better about things."
"Me too," Claire said, returning the hug. "Be care—"
Victoria gave her a sharp look.
"I mean, have fun getting home," Claire finished.
Victoria laughed. "You too."
Claire turned and jogged back through the woods, heading for home and praying that her mother would believe she had just been for a really, really long run.
* * *
Friday night, Claire sat in her room, staring at herself in the mirror and trying to decide if big silver hoops were too fancy for the party. As she got dressed for Yolanda's, she grew more and more excited. She was ready for the new moon gathering, and without that stress, she was dying to see Matthew and Emily.
There was a knock at the bedroom door and Lisbeth poked her head into the room and glanced around.
"Your mother's not in here, is she?"
Claire shook her head. "I have no idea where Mom is."
"Huh. She was looking for you—I figured I'd find you together. Anyway, I'm leaving for the weekend. Mark actually cooked eggplant curry from scratch, and I sort of have to be there to eat with him." She sighed.
"You don't sound all that excited about the eggplant curry." Claire wrinkled her nose.
"'Vegetable' is not a bad word, Claire. Mark just likes to spend a lot of time together. I'm not used to it, I guess. I miss hanging out with you." Lisbeth looked at her, the rejected clothes splayed on the carpet, the tube of opened-but-unapplied lip gloss in Claire's hand. "But it doesn't exactly look as though you're going to be sitting home pining for me."
Claire rolled her eyes, ignoring the nostalgia that was inching its way over her. "Just because I'm not 'pining' for you doesn't mean that I forget you exist the second you walk out the door or anything."
"Especially not when I leave you with these as a reminder." Lisbeth opened the door a little wider and revealed a plate full of chocolate heaven. "Triple fudge nut brownies. Can I come in?"
Claire nodded and sat up. She really wanted to finish her makeup in peace, but Lisbeth's brownies were impossible to turn down. Besides, she needed to get ready to go, and Lisbeth was likely to leave her alone a lot sooner if she said yes.
"Is anything special happening at the party tonight?" Lisbeth slid the brownies onto Claire's vanity and pulled one off the stack.
"Just too many people gossiping too much with too many camera phones involved. You know, the usual," Claire said, picking up a brownie and taking a bite of the dense, still-warm chocolate.
"Well," Lisbeth said around the food in her mouth, "if there's ever anything going on—or going to go on—or that you're . . . thinking about, you can come talk to me if you want to. I promise not to freak out."
Claire choked on her brownie. She didn't know whether Lisbeth was talking about drinking or sex or what, but she didn't want to find out.
"Well, I'd better go. Apparently, Dr. Engle's taking some new fancy researcher on a tour of the woods tonight, so I've gotta drive home the long way to get around the news vans."
The words closed around Claire like a cage. Penning her in. Trapping her. The burned-out fires she'd left in the woods blared in her mind like a warning siren.
Lisbeth gave Claire a quick hug. "Mark's probably already wondering where I am. I'll see you on Monday, okay?"
Claire's phone chirped at her, and she picked it up. There was a text message from Emily.
Claire waved, focused on Emily's text, while Lisbeth closed the door. The message started off with OH MY GOD!!!!!!!
Emily liked to text in all caps. She said it gave her messages more excitement.
Claire glanced at the clock. It was a little after seven thirty, which meant the party had probably just started picking up. This should be good.
She opened the message. It said, simply, THE STREET IS ALREADY FULL! WHEN ARE YOU GETTING HERE???
"Is everything okay?" Her mother appeared in the doorway.
"Just Emily. About the party." Caught off guard, Claire put the phone down.
"Ah. You look . . . stressed. Is everything all right?"
Claire hesitated. The two choices hovered in front of her, waiting. She could either tell her mother and deal with the fallout of Marie knowing how much trouble she was having with the fire lighting, or she could sneak off into the woods alone and hope that she didn't get caught by some eager reporter or research-happy lycanthropist.
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