Nocturne (15 page)

Nowhere she could run.

With her heart thudding and squeezing in her chest, Claire dug her paws into the rug and scurried backward into the corner where her nightstand met her bed. She lay there, trying to calm herself down. She'd never transformed indoors before.

There's no threat in here. Jesus, Claire, get a grip. It's your freaking room. This is all your stuff.

But the more primitive part of her brain, the one that had so much more reign when she transformed, screamed at her that it was human stuff. That anything human was dangerous. That the only safe place was a place she could leave.

That she was trapped.

It's. My. Stuff. I am
not
going to lose my shit over this!

She opened her mouth, panting. The taste of the fake-lemon furniture polish and faux-floral detergent coated her tongue, but it was more bearable than breathing through her nose. Feeling like she was within clawing distance of control, she closed her eyes, shutting out the borders and barriers of the room. She focused on the security of the furniture behind her—the protection of a corner, where at least she could see a threat coming.

Her heart slowed, though her flanks and whiskers were still trembling. She had two choices: change back or try to listen to Emily and Amy. She'd already tortured herself by transforming. She might as well try to get something out of it.

Claire concentrated on her barely contained desperation to escape. She took that feeling and used it to get her hearing to stretch beyond the walls of her room.

". . . not like that. I don't know." Amy's voice was thick, like she was talking around a mouthful of something.

Probably ice cream, Claire realized. She wanted to be having a late-night sugar binge with her best friend, not listening in on one from a terrified corner of her own bedroom.

"There's only one way to find out. I mean, maybe I should give it a try? It's not like anything terrible's going to happen if I do." Emily sounded thoughtful, but sort of excited.

"Yeah. Exactly. But if you care, then why don't you just ask her? There's nothing wrong with wanting an answer either."

Claire's ears went back, pressing flat against her head. They weren't really . . . was it possible they were talking about
her?
The fear that gripped her just brought the faraway conversation into clearer focus. She couldn't just hear Emily and Amy—she could hear the scrape of spoons against a paper carton. The tinny sound of Emily's bad speakers playing music in the background.

She was so far outside her body that she wasn't even sure she was breathing anymore.

"Well, whatever you do, I'll be behind you." Amy said.

Distantly, Claire felt something inside herself wrench. Twist. She was vaguely aware of a desire to scream.

What are they talking about? What the
hell
are they talking
about?

"I mean, it's just hair." Emily said.

Claire's relief stung like a slap. The sounds from Emily's room disappeared, and she was slammed back into the confined reality of her own dark bedroom.

She shook her head and stretched out, reconnecting herself to the conversation that was happening in Emily's room.

" . . . don't need her to tell you what to do with your hair."

"No," Emily said. "I know. It's not really about that."

Claire reached to the very edges of her ability. Right out to where it frayed into nothingness. Held herself there, and waited.

"I just—I can't get used to the distance between us." Emily's voice was quiet. Hesitant. "Claire and I never used to have any secrets, but now it's like she's always hiding something." She sighed.
Oh, holy shit.

Claire forced herself to wait. To listen. Not to react. After all, she'd already known that keeping her best friend in the dark was hurting Emily as much as it was hurting her. Hearing her say it out loud made it worse somehow, but what she really cared about was finding out what Emily thought her secret was.

"Oh, Emily." Amy's voice was quiet. Sad. Unsure. "I—I can't seem to get to know her at all, even though I want to. It does seem like
something's
going on with her—some of the stuff that happened this afternoon was pretty weird. But you're the one who's really her friend. . . ."

"No, I mean, I know." Emily sounded so lost. Sorrow pooled around Claire. "It's probably just the whole herhaving-a-boyfriend thing. I hope. I mean, if it's something besides that . . ."

"Then maybe you need to find out what it is," Amy suggested.

There was a pause.

"Claire will tell me if it's important," Emily said, finally. "I believe that. Anyway. Just—just forget I said anything. Let's see if there's anything good on TV, okay?"

She couldn't stand the sensation of being trapped for another second. Claire backed out of the conversation, pulling herself back into her own head. Her own room.

She transformed, relieved by the dulling of her senses that came with the return of her human form. A film of sweat covered her body, and she lay there, trembling and twitching, too exhausted to gather up her clothes and get dressed. She was elated and horrified at the same time. She'd known that Amy was making Emily suspicious, but now that she'd actually heard Emily say the words . . . they sat on her shoulders like angry birds, flapping their wings and pecking at her. The space between Claire and Emily was widening like a river in a flood. It stretched further with each passing hour, until eventually the distance between them would be insurmountable.

The thought strangled her.

Claire pushed herself up into a sitting position, wincing at the pain in her leg where her thigh had been pressed up against the sharp edge of her nightstand. One thing was for sure. She would never willingly transform indoors again.

Still shaking, she pulled on her clothes and went downstairs to find a cup of that magic calming yoga tea Lisbeth was always drinking. Claire had just pulled the scalding-hot mug out of the microwave when her mother appeared in the doorway, a frown tugging at the corners of her mouth. "It is very late, c
hérie.
Are you all right?"

"I . . . yeah." Claire twisted the hem of her T-shirt between her fingers. "You're up late too."

The corners of Marie's mouth tugged downward, deepening her frown. "Why do you smell of wolf?" She closed her eyes for a long moment "Do not answer that yet. I need a cup of tea first."

When Marie finally had a steaming mug in front of her, she turned to Claire.

"So? Have you been home the whole night?"

"Yes." Claire lifted her chin. She was telling the truth.

"But you have transformed. Recently." It wasn't a question. Marie had the sort of unnatural stillness about her that made Claire nervous. It was like the flatness of the sky before a storm rolled in.

"Yes," Claire said simply. She could feel the heat creeping into her face

"Claire." There was a warning in the word. "What happened?"

Claire half-shrugged. "It was no big deal. I was just . . . experimenting. I wanted to know what it would be like to transform indoors."

Her mother raised an eyebrow. "Why did you not check with me? I was here."

"Yeah, but you were in your darkroom and I didn't want to bug you. I just didn't think it was going to be a big deal."

"And how did you find it?"

"It was miserable," Claire admitted, her eyes glued to the floor.

Marie took a sip of her tea. "I could have told you that it would be, if you had bothered to ask." There was a laugh bubbling up underneath her words.

Claire tried to swallow, but her mouth had gone dry. She felt like she was at her breaking point—that one more thing would shatter her thin layer of control along some invisible fault lines, leaving her in a million shining pieces on the floor. And that couldn't happen. Because underneath that fragile shell, she was angry, and getting angry at her mother would mean being put on an even shorter leash. She didn't want any more orders. Any more wait-until-I-tell-you-what-to-dos. It wasn't like she'd done anything dangerous.

Claire unclenched her teeth. "Right. Of course." She stood up. "I'm pretty tired. . . ."

"Certainly." Marie waved a hand in her direction. "You should go get some sleep. We'll talk more soon."

She offered Claire a tiny smile. "I know that the desire to test your abilities is hard to ignore. But that's why I am here. So that you don't have to learn every lesson the hard way."

"Yeah. Okay. Thanks." Claire stumbled up the stairs, scared and exhausted and stewing all at once. As soon as she tried to do one little thing on her own, her mother took over, playing her Alpha card.

Running Claire's life.

She kicked herself as she crawled into bed. After all, Marie was just being Marie. What had she thought her mother would do? At least she hadn't forced Claire to tell her about her argument with Matthew. That was something her mother hadn't managed to grab away from her.

It was a start. On Sunday, Claire realized that she still needed to make predance dinner plans with Matthew. Talking about the ball actually sounded good. After all, that was the sort of thing that was still normal between her and Matthew. Something completely anchored in her human life. Like holding hands with her in the hallway. Kissing in his car.

"Hello?" he answered, interrupting her thoughts.

"Hey—are you busy?"

"Not really, what's up?" She could hear the quiet sound of the Engles' refrigerator opening. The crack of the metal tab on a soda can.

"Well, I was talking to Emily about the Autumn Ball yes terday, and I sort of forgot to ask you if it might be okay if she and Randy came to dinner with us."

"I don't see any reason why not," Matthew said. "I think everyone wants to go to Salvatore's, so, like, half the school is going to be there anyway. Two more won't make a difference."

Claire fidgeted in her seat. "I, um—actually, I think it'd have to be four more. Emily already promised Amy that they were going together, so . . ."

"Oh, that shouldn't be a problem. Everyone likes Amy."

Claire's chest tightened.

"I'll get Doug to tell Kate-Marie. She's sort of running the show," Matthew said.

"Really?" Sarcasm dripped from Claire's voice. "KateMarie running the show? There's a change of pace."

Matthew laughed. "True. But at least we have Doug for a buffer. It'll work out."

They talked for a few minutes about corsages and the restaurant and Emily's after party, which absolutely everyone was going to. By the time they hung up, Claire was feeling a little bit better. More grounded. The agony and weirdness of the night before began to fade, and Claire started to relax. In spite of being stressed about the naming, she did have some things to look forward to in the next couple of weeks. First the full moon gathering and then the ball.

As long as she could keep everything balanced, it would be the best of both worlds.

Chapter Thirteen

HALLOWEEN ARRIVED IN a rush of icy air. Winter was forcing its way into Hanover Falls, stripping the leaves off the trees with its frozen fingers and painting the ground with frost. The first snow would be falling any day, and as Lisbeth opened the door for yet another round of trick-or-treaters, Claire shivered in the cold breeze.

The kids in their masks and capes and dirty sneakers shouted their thanks as they bolted back down toward the street, clutching the prized full-size candy bars that Lisbeth handed out every year. It was the only reason anyone made the trek up the long and imposing Benoit driveway. Claire knew it made her mom uncomfortable, especially on a full moon night, when they needed all the privacy they could get. But even Marie couldn't manage to tell Lisbeth not to do it. Lisbeth looked almost as happy as the kids, beaming underneath the construction-paper circles she'd taped in a rainbow-hued vertical line to her all-white yoga clothes.

"What are you supposed to be, anyway?" Claire asked, looking up from her Spanish vocab sheet.

"I'm the chakras." Lisbeth held out her arms and looked down at herself. "You know—the energy centers of the body? It's a yoga thing."

Claire stared at her blankly. She loved Lisbeth, but she was totally weird sometimes.

"I know, you think I'm being bizarre." Lisbeth put her hands on her hips. "But this is a major holiday!
Someone
in this house needs to celebrate tonight." She peered into the candy bowl. "I'd better get some more chocolate bars out. It isn't even close to dark yet and we're already running low."

Lisbeth headed for the pantry, humming to herself. Claire followed her into the kitchen and looked out the window at the backyard, her gaze going to the edge of the property, where the woods met the lawn behind the border of the ivy-covered brick. The forest beyond looked starker, more serious, without the lush green of it's summer foliage or the party-dress reds and yellows of the autumn leaves. It matched Claire's mood, and she tingled with the anticipation of the full moon gathering. Things had been tense between Claire and Emily since Saturday, and though everything seemed normal between Claire and Matthew, something didn't quite fit anymore. Like a teacup that had been broken and then glued back together. Still functional, but not as perfect as it had been before.

Tonight more than ever, Claire needed the forest and her fur and a hunt under the round, pale moon. Lisbeth might be having fun passing out her chocolate bars, but she was far from the only one in the Benoits' house who would be celebrating Halloween.

By the time she and her mother slipped out the back door, the candy was gone and the trick-or-treaters had long since gone to bed. The wintry air made Claire catch her breath— next time, she needed to wear warmer clothes. She'd be plenty warm once she transformed, but getting to the clearing was another matter. Her ears were already stinging with cold.

The two of them tiptoed into the forest without speaking, all their focus spent listening for a footfall that didn't belong. Watching for an out-of-place shadow. As they worked their way deeper into the trees, Claire's shoulders loosened. The likelihood of anyone coming this far into the forest for a Halloween thrill was pretty slim. And besides, with the rich, green scent of the plants gone, a human scent would be obvious a mile away. Claire sniffed at the breeze, catching whiffs of rabbit and deer and something intensely musky.

"What is that?" she whispered to her mother, sniffing at the air.

Marie lifted her nose briefly. "Badger," she announced.

The word tingled in Claire's ears. She'd never seen a badger before, but she'd bet they were fun to hunt.

"They're smarter than you think, and mean beyond belief," Marie said, catching wind of Claire's enthusiasm. "We may hunt it, since it is so close, but you'd be wrong to underestimate them. And we need something tonight that is easily caught. Perhaps even a rabbit, though that is an awfully poor sacrifice. . . ." Her voice trailed off as they arrived in the firelit clearing. Victoria was already there, sitting on the trunk of a recently fallen tree that lay just outside their usual circle. Her slumped shoulders and pointed-in toes told Claire instantly that Victoria didn't want to be here. That she was dreading the transformation.

"Claire, Marie. I greet you both." Her voice was flat, her eyes dull.

"I greet you, Victoria." Claire hesitated, not sure what else to say. She edged closer to the warmth of the fire.

"And I also greet you, Victoria," Marie added, walking over to place a hand on the mountain of Victoria's belly. "I know this is going to be a difficult evening for you. We will make it as easy as possible—I am planning a very simple version of the ceremonies, anyway, as a precaution."

"Thank you," Victoria whispered, hanging her head.

Claire made her way over and sat down next to her. "You okay?" she whispered. Victoria nodded, her eyes still on the ground. "I'd say I'm desperate to be done with this pregnancy, but that would mean I'd need to have a name for the baby." She let out a long, quavering breath full of held-in tears. "But enough of my moaning. How's the fire stuff going?"

"Really well," Claire said, keeping her voice low. "I can do it every time and almost always on the first try. I'm just worried that my nerves are going to take me down—that I'll fold under pressure at the gathering, you know?"

"I know exactly," Victoria snorted. "I'm so nervous that I'm going to pick the wrong name—ugh. We're both dreading it, huh?"

Beatrice ducked into the clearing, smiling at Marie and Claire before looking worriedly at Victoria. Judith was right behind her, and they all exchanged greetings. Katherine came puffing into the clearing, all apologies as she struggled out of her voluminous fleece jacket.

"Sorry, everyone. There was a huge tree down across my normal path, so I had to cut across the gully." She put her hands on her hips, catching her breath. "How on earth did you get here so fast?" she asked Judith.

"I cut across the gully," Judith said dryly, arching an eyebrow. Katherine turned away from Judith, the scent of her embarrassment wafting through the clearing.

"Well," Katherine said, her voice quiet. "You always were the better runner."

Apparently, Claire wasn't the only one who fell short in Judith's extremely judgmental eyes, though after what had happened at the mall, Claire sort of didn't blame Judith for how she treated Katherine.

Marie glanced up at the sky, which was more visible than ever through the naked branches of the trees. "Everyone's here. That's all that matters right now. Let's begin." There was an unusual sharpness in her voice that made something deep inside Claire snap to attention. From the way the other wolves scrambled into place around the fire, Claire guessed she wasn't the only one. She drew in a deep breath, her lungs aching from the combination of the cold air and the wood smoke.

Marie raised her arms and began the opening chant. Her voice was quieter than usual, touching the edges of the clearing but going no farther. Casting no echo. Still, the words flowed over Claire, and her muscles loosened in response. She rose up on her toes and bounced, feeling relaxed and excited at the same time. For the first time in weeks, she was surrounded by people who were just like her. And even though she got along with plenty of people—human people—better than she did with Judith, there was still a comfort that came from knowing they didn't have to keep secrets from one another. That Judith didn't love her or hate her just because she was a werewolf— and neither did any of the other women around the fire.

Marie lowered her arms, a smile spreading across her face. "You may transform." The smile faded. "But quietly. Caution is required tonight." The rustle of fabric and the thud of paws hitting the ground were the only noises in the clearing. Victoria let out a thin and impossibly high whine. The noise would have been inaudible to any ears less sensitive than a werewolf 's.

It's the last time. It has to be the last time,
Beatrice soothed.

Claire snapped at the chill air, her teeth closing over the metallic taste in the wind that promised snow. She wanted to run. Was dying to run.

We'll bring you back something good,
she promised.

You'd better, V
ictoria twitched her tail in a pained sort of amusement.

Those who are able—
Marie's ears flicked in the direction of the deepest part of the forest—
let us go and hunt.

Everyone except Victoria swept into the woods behind Marie, though Claire could see the reluctance weighing down Beatrice's tail and flattening her ears as she ran.

The pack veered to the left, following a scent that Claire had been too distracted by Beatrice to catch. It was just a rabbit. Disappointment coursed through Claire. She'd really wanted to go after the badger. A rabbit was barely even a catch.

She forced herself to let it go—there would be plenty of full moons in the future, when the pack wasn't so worried about babies and Halloween pranks. She'd make sure they hunted a badger then. A streak of fear-scented heat raced past Claire's left side, catching her off guard and nearly causing her to stumble over a tree root.

The rabbit. Crap.
She'd been so focused on the animal she wasn't hunting that she'd missed the one they actually had a chance to get. She broke from the pack and wheeled around, following the hop-skip run of the rabbit. The rest of the pack was close behind her, and Claire reveled in the brief sense of being in the lead—nothing between her and her prey.

Soon enough, though, Marie tore past Claire and took her rightful place at the front of the pack. Claire fell back, just a pace or two, and Marie snatched the rabbit a slim moment before he disappeared into a hole in the ground. She killed him quickly and efficiently.

The other wolves skidded to a halt, and Katherine raised her head, the beginnings of a howl pouring from her throat. Claire cringed, knowing full well that this was exactly the sort of thing her mother had told them not to do. Judith turned and rammed her head into Katherine's shoulder, cutting off the sound as Katherine wobbled in surprise.

Marie said to be quiet!
Judith sat and scratched her ear.

Sorry. Katherine hung her head. I wasn't thinking. I—

You put us all at risk with your thoughtlessness. Marie put down
the rabbit and paced over to Katherine.

It won't happen again.
Katherine sank down onto the carpet of dead leaves, her nose buried between her paws.

Claire's heart began to pound. She'd seen that look—that posture—on her mother before. Not in her wolf form but in her human form. And it meant one thing. Marie wasn't going to let this go.

It certainly won't happen again tonight. You are no longer
welcome at the feast. You will go get your things. You will speak to
no one, and you will go home.
Marie stood over Katherine, who lay on the ground looking up at the Alpha wolf.

Katherine whined a pathetic, apologetic whine.

Marie leaned down and caught the soft flesh at the side of Katherine's neck in her mouth. Not hard enough to hurt— Claire could see the space between her teeth—but enough to make Katherine's eyes widen.

I will not be disobeyed.
Marie left Katherine shaking on the forest floor. She scooped up the rabbit and began trotting back in the direction of the fire, with Beatrice close behind her. Claire hesitated, staring for a moment at Katherine's pleading expression aimed at the retreating forms of Beatrice and Marie.

Judith brushed past her, following the others.
Get used to it.
There is no law except pack law. Let's go.

A sudden anger flared inside Claire. What Katherine did was wrong—stupid, even. This was no game—she'd seen that last summer. Every time they were in the woods it was a lifeand-death risk, but tonight they had good reason to be extra cautious. Her anger grew as she considered Katherine's recklessness. And over a stupid rabbit.

This was, she realized, exactly the sort of thing that made her mother think she had to control every inch of what happened in the pack. Which meant that Claire would suffer the consequences of Katherine's actions. There would be more rules, more commands, because it was the only way Marie knew how to keep them all safe.

Claire turned to go with the others, leaving Katherine alone in the heart of the woods.

They finished the rest of the ceremony quickly, the mood in the clearing gray and muted as a cloud.

Claire walked alongside her mother as they made their way back toward the house. Marie looked more tired than usual, the circles under her eyes shadowed nearly black by the moon, but she seemed as calm as ever. Claire watched out of the corner of her eye as her mother stepped carefully over tree roots and ducked under the low, leafless branches that reached for her hair like thin-fingered hands.

There was no scent of anger in the air. No reminder of what had passed between her mother and Katherine.

"Mom?" she ventured, too curious to stay silent. "Are you still—I mean, the thing with Katherine—" Claire fumbled around for the right words.

"The thing with Katherine is finished. There is no need to dwell on it." Marie's voice was quiet. Steady.

"So, you're not angry?"

"No. That is not our way. And it is especially not my way. She erred, and as the Alpha it was my duty to correct her. So I did. One cannot lead the pack by carrying grudges or playing favorites. That path only ends in chaos." Marie shrugged. "There is the law, and it must be followed. It is my job to ensure that. My feelings for Katherine—who has been a loyal and faithful member of our pack for many years—have nothing to do with it."

It was so similar to what Judith had said that Claire shivered. But it made sense. There was no room for error in a werewolf 's life. The kindest thing a pack leader could do was to keep those mistakes from happening—to keep all the wolves alive. Even when it meant being strict. Even when it meant being merciless. Even when it made the wrinkles in Marie's forehead deeper and made her eyes look tired.