Nocturne (9 page)

She reached out and took his hand. The two of them headed for the kitchen, but the feeling of Matthew's warm fingers wrapped around her own wasn't sending the usual rush of sparkling-hot blood through her veins. The longer the little knot of tension held on, the more freaked out she got. She'd never felt this way around Matthew. Ever. If anything, she'd always been
too r
elaxed around him—too connected. She didn't understand what was happening. It was like everything had shifted just enough to make it hard to keep her balance. She didn't like this new, slant-floored world, but she wasn't sure how to straighten things out. Matthew headed straight for the fridge, pulling out a pan of lasagna that Lisbeth had made the night before.

"God, I love your house. There's always something amazing to eat."

Claire hopped up onto the counter and perched there. "I think Lisbeth just feels guilty that there's not as much for her to do around here anymore, so she cooks."

"Well, I still love it." Matthew hummed to himself as he slid the pan onto the counter. He moved in front of Claire. "You're blocking the plates."

"Oh. Yeah."

She hadn't exactly meant to sit in front of that cabinet, but the teasing intensity of the look Matthew gave her made her glad that she had. The tangle inside her melted under his gaze. Gently, he nudged Claire's knees apart and stepped closer, wrapping one arm around her hips and pulling her against him. His lips grazed her neck, tracing a path from just underneath her jaw to the top of her collarbone. She wrapped her arms around him as his mouth met hers with the sort of burning kiss that sent electric tingles through her every time.

"What about the lasagna?" she managed to whisper.

"Screw the lasagna." She wrapped her legs around him, and he lifted her off the counter. "Couch." He kissed her. "Now."

She laughed as he carried her to the den and dumped her unceremoniously on the deep, fluffy couch. She stretched out on the welcoming cushions, and Matthew lay down next to her, picking up exactly where he'd left off in the kitchen. Sometime later, Claire heard the faraway crunch of tires against gravel. She pulled away from Matthew, tugging down her shirt and sending up a tiny prayer of thanks that her mother had never paved the driveway. Matthew sat up blinking at her as she smoothed her hair. "What's wrong?" he asked. "Did I do something?"

Claire reached behind herself and flipped on the sidetable lamp. "My mom's home," she said, turning on the TV and searching for something she and Matthew could believably have been watching.

Matthew cocked his head, listening hard. "Are you sure?"

Claire raised an eyebrow at him. "Your hair is sticking up."

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, the unmistakable sound of the garage door opening rumbled through the house.

Matthew swiped at his hair. "I may never get used to your supersonic hearing." He grabbed a throw pillow that had fallen onto the floor and shoved it behind his back. "Right. So. What are we watching?"

There was a clank and a thud in the kitchen.

"Hello?" Claire's mom sounded tired. And vaguely grumpy.

"In here," Claire called back.

Marie poked her head around the corner. Her face was paler than usual, the contours of her cheekbones painfully sharp underneath her skin. She smiled when she saw Matthew, though Claire noticed her nostrils flaring ever so slightly. Claire willed herself not to blush. Other people only had to worry about not looking guilty when they got caught making out. Claire had to worry about smelling guilty, too.

"How was the shoot?" Claire asked. Talking about photography was the only sure way to distract her mother.

"Miserable." Marie pursed her lips. "They could hardly afford me, so the rest of their budget was nonexistent. The space was terrible, and the lighting was worse." She closed her eyes briefly.

"You okay?" Claire asked, concerned.

"Just tired and hungry. I noticed there's some lasagna on the counter. Have you eaten?"

"Um, not yet," Matthew admitted, a pink flush creeping into his cheeks.

"Well"—Marie cleared her throat—"Why don't you join me, then?"

Claire opened her mouth to say no, but Matthew, who was clearly experiencing some sort of embarrassment-induced insanity, leapt in first.

"Sure," he said. "I'm starved."

"Wonderful." Marie smiled. "I'll get the plates." The three of them sat in front of identical dishes of scaldinghot lasagna, the noodles hard at the edges from being microwaved too long. With the tines of her fork, Claire toyed with the fossilized cheese at the edge of the plate. No wonder her mother never cooked—she couldn't even heat things up without ruining them. Lisbeth's job was safe forever.

Marie eyed Matthew in a way that made Claire's stomach flutter to the ground. There was a thoughtful crease between her mother's eyebrows that Claire didn't like at all. "You know, Matthew, it has been some time since you've been to a gathering. Perhaps we should make arrangements for you to attend the special ceremony we have planned for Claire."

A needle of panic pierced Claire, making her bolt upright in her seat. Matthew was already being weird about the pack stuff, and now her mother—her A
lpha
—was inviting Matthew to the new moon gathering? To watch her demonstrate her abilities?

"Oh, I wouldn't want to—I mean, I'd probably just be in the way." Matthew was gripping his fork so tightly that his knuckles had turned white.

Claire froze. There was no way she could complete the test if he was there freaking out while he watched her transform. Not to mention the hunt.

Oh, holy crap. I cannot let him see that. It will totally push him
over the edge.

Marie spoke carefully, her voice carrying a note of command. "You won't be in the way. Quite the opposite—you're important to the pack, and I'm looking forward to seeing you there."

The words sent a shudder through Claire.

Matthew glanced over at her. "You okay?"

She forced herself to smile. "Yeah. Sure. Just not that hungry after all."

"How can you not be hungry for this—" Matthew's focus drifted over her head, and his face paled. "Oh my God, is it really eleven o'clock?" He picked up his half-empty plate and carried it over to the sink.

"I've got to get home or I'll be in serious trouble." He turned to Marie. "Thanks for dinner and all."

Marie waved her hand dismissively. "It was Lisbeth's doing. I'm glad you were here, though. It's good we had a chance to talk."

Matthew turned to Claire. "Walk me out?"

"Sure."

She slid off her seat, carefully avoiding her mother's toocurious gaze, and followed Matthew to the front door. He grabbed his coat from the little chair where he'd tossed it and shrugged it on. When she wrapped her arms around him, she breathed in a whiff of his warm skin mixed with clean wool and the faintest hint of woodsmoke—an autumn version of the Matthew scent she knew and loved. He didn't lean into her embrace, though. Claire noticed it and stepped back.

Matthew edged toward the door. "I'll call you, okay?"

"Absolutely." With a last, lightning-quick kiss, he headed for the driveway. The icy air that swirled in behind Matthew chilled Claire, but the sudden distance that had appeared between them froze her to the bone.

She had to find a way to rescind her mother's invitation. And she had exactly forty-eight hours to do it.

Chapter Eight

"WELL, CHÉ
RIE
, YOU'RE the one who talked with him about the new moon gathering." Marie stacked the rest of the dishes in the sink. "And he is a g
ardien.
It makes sense for a secret-keeper to stay reasonably well-connected to the pack. Strong bonds make for strong loyalties, after all."

Claire crossed her arms in front of her.

"Yeah, but he and I were just t
alking
about it. Inviting him to the gathering to see me change and stuff without even checking with me is not okay!" Though, to be honest, she was starting to think that she'd made a massive mistake when she told him about the gathering in the first place.

"I don't want him there while the pack is watching me— just me—like that."

It wasn't exactly true. But she wasn't going to throw Matthew under the bus by telling her mother that
he
didn't seem to want to be there.

Her mother turned to her. "He is part of the pack, Claire. Being a g
ardien,
a secret-keeper, ties him to us. It is not wrong for him to be there."

Claire scrubbed at her eyes, frustrated. "I know that! I mean . . . it's just sort of complicated."

Marie stepped closer to her, cupping the back of Claire's neck in her hand.

"It will always be complicated, c
hérie.
That is the nature of being what we are."

Claire narrowed her eyes and ducked out from underneath her mother's hand. Marie might be right, but Claire wasn't going to admit it. She stalked over to the stairs, looking back at her mother.

"He's not coming. I won't do it. I'll stand there and not do a single thing if he's at that gathering."

Her mother's nose twitched—an unhappy warning about Claire's commanding tone. She stared hard at Claire, the dominance of her position as Claire's Alpha and mother obvious in her eyes.

"You will absolutely perform as you are commanded. If you choose to disobey me, there will be extremely serious con sequences. Matthew will attend, and you will find some manner in which to cope with your feelings." Marie's language got really stilted, which meant she was about three words away from slipping into French. She was seriously angry. She turned away from Claire, dismissing her.

Claire drew in a deep breath, stomped up to her room, and threw herself onto her bed. She stared up at the ceiling. The unfairness of her situation swirled around her like a fog, clouding her thoughts.

I could lie. Tell Matthew that he wasn't allowed to come after all
and tell the pack that he got sick or something.

Claire wasn't above lying. She wasn't even uncomfortable with it anymore—not after months of living a life that was halftrue at best. But she knew that if her mother ever found out, there would be hell to pay, in a very literal sense. And of course, she'd never lied to Matthew. Not about anything that counted, at least, and deep down she knew she couldn't start now.

She rolled onto her stomach and pulled the pillows over her head. All she wanted was to keep Matthew home, where he belonged, far away from the dead-eyed gaze of the new moon. Monday morning, Claire stood at her locker, shoving the binders and books she needed into her bag.

A pair of familiar-smelling hands—freesia lotion and watercolor residue—snaked over Claire's shoulders and covered her eyes.

"Guess who."

"Hi, Emily." Claire spun around to face her. Emily's mouth was smiling, but there was something stiff and unhappy in her eyes.

"Wow. You sound cranky," Emily said. "And you never called me yesterday. What's the story with that, huh?"

Claire took a deep breath. True, she hadn't called Emily. But she'd been so worried about Matthew and the gathering, and then she'd gotten distracted with her homework—besides, she was the one who'd asked Emily to call
her
.

"Sorry," she said. "I was studying for my chem test."

Emily made a face. "Ew. Why? It's not until tomorrow. I thought maybe we could study together tonight."

With the gathering scheduled for late that night, there was no way Claire could make plans with Emily. Claire's mouth went dry as she searched for an excuse. "Um, I can't tonight. I have . . . Mom has a work thing, and I have to go help her with it."

It was such a thin lie that it was practically see-through.

A disbelieving crinkle appeared between Emily's eyebrows, and the little jingle that Claire's nerves had been playing all morning turned into a full-blown orchestral score. Today was not a day she could afford to screw up, and she was already making a mess of it. Lying practically counted as a werewolf ability.

She was failing before the gathering had even started. "You've been helping your mom an awful lot lately. Marie's never exactly been a TV-perfect sort of mother—why so much togetherness all of a sudden?" Emily asked.

Claire shrugged. "I think she wants me to follow in her footsteps or something. But you know I can't take pictures for crap. Can I come over on Wednesday?" she asked, changing the subject.

The crinkle disappeared, and Emily's eyes lit up. It made Claire feel so much better, seeing Emily so happy.

"Absolutely! Anything special you had in mind?"

"Yep." Claire nodded. "It's only a few weeks until the Autumn Ball. Since I've never been to a dance, I need to start thinking about a dress, and you know I'm no good at making these sort of decisions without you. I want to make a game plan before I start the misery of trying things on."

Emily let out a little squeak. "Yay! Of course!" She was practically bouncing. "You know, it's almost worth going with Randy—at least you and I will finally be at a dance together!"

The warning bell rang.

"I've got to get to history," Claire said. "See you at lunch?"

"Absolutely!" Emily turned and disappeared into the hurrying crowd.

Claire watched her go, dying for it to be Wednesday. For the gathering to be over and to be able to just do nothing with Emily.

As the day wore on, Claire got twitchier. Edgier. She tried to focus on the shopping websites Emily talked about at lunch, but she couldn't concentrate. She needed to think through everything she had to do one more time. How to light the fires. Transforming. Leading the hunt.

Werewolf 101.

At least she had the long-distance hearing. Not all wolves could do that, and it would probably impress Judith and Katherine. At least, a little bit.

She hoped.

Between classes, she looked for Matthew in the halls. She finally saw him ducking into physics, just before the bell rang. He flashed her a smile like sunlight, but she barely had time to return it before she dashed to Spanish. Disappointment rumbled through her. It was the last chance she'd have to see him before the gathering. She wished they'd been able to talk—it would have been nice to hear him say he was excited or proud or
something.

After her last class, Claire made it back to her locker and spun the lock, more than ready to escape school. Lisbeth was supposed to pick her up, and Claire wasn't even dreading the New Agey music that Lisbeth played in the car. She just wanted out of the hallway chaos.

But she hesitated before she pulled open the locker door. For years she'd watched other girls open their lockers and find flowers or balloons or tight-folded notes inside—wishing them luck on something or another. Kate-Marie's locker looked like a gift shop half the time. It was the sort of thing that Claire had always been jealous of—that kind of obvious attention. And it was exactly the type of thing she thought Matthew might do, especially since they hadn't had a chance to talk.

A hopping little anticipation started in Claire's middle, and slowly she pulled open the locker door.

And saw nothing. Just books, and a stray sweater shoved onto the shelf. No half-wilted carnation, no card. Not even a "good luck" scrawled on a piece of notebook paper. Claire sagged under the surprising weight of her disappointment. She grabbed her books, slammed the door shut, and practically ran for the parking lot.

"You okay?" Lisbeth frowned as Claire threw herself into the car and swung the door closed with more force than was necessary.

"Yeah. Fine." Claire slouched down in the seat and closed her eyes. "I'm just ready for it to be Tuesday."

Lisbeth put the car in gear and headed for the exit. "I can still tell that something's bugging you. You can talk to me about it, you know. I don't bite."

That was probably true. If Claire actually told Lisbeth about all the things that were bothering her, Lisbeth would be too busy running shrieking in the other direction to bite anyone.

"I'm stressed about my chem test tomorrow." It wasn't a lie, and it would probably get Lisbeth off her back.

"Oh. Well, at least you have a whole night ahead of you to study, right?" Lisbeth's voice was so perky-bright that it made Claire want to scream. Instead, she nodded.

Once they were home, Claire escaped to her room while Lisbeth tackled a mountain of laundry. Claire tried everything she could think of to calm herself down—listening to music, watching bad TV, reading her English assignment. Nothing worked. The minutes ticked by at an annoyingly steady pace. She resorted to pacing the room.

She was on the verge of going to ask Lisbeth to teach her some sort of magical yogic breathing, figuring she could blame it on pre-chem-test stress, when her mom appeared in the doorway.

"You look tense."

"Hi to you, too," Claire snapped. Of course she was tense.

"You have no reason to be worried." Her mother's voice was softer than a whisper—a vibration on the air. "You know how to do everything—more than everything, with your extra hearing abilities."

Claire tried not to dwell on the fact that that wasn't entirely true. She'd come really, really close to starting the fire, but that was far from a guarantee that she'd be successful enough to lead the hunt that night. Especially with her boyfriend staring at her while she tried.

"But everyone will be there. Watching." She eyed her mother resentfully. "Matthew, too." "You are my daughter." Her mother's voice was no louder than before, but it had a razor edge that cut Claire to the quick. "You are stronger than your nerves, and I expect you to be flawless tonight. Because I know you can be."

"Uh, thanks."

Her mother shot her a pointed look. "I will meet you downstairs at eleven thirty. That way, we will have plenty of time before the others arrive. I suggest you try to get some rest."

Marie turned and disappeared down the hall.

Claire walked over to the door, closed it, and resumed her pacing.

By the time eleven thirty rolled around, Claire had practically worn a bald patch in her carpet. With her nerves chattering, she threw on some old sweats and skittered down the stairs to meet her mom. Lisbeth had left hours before, after giving Claire a hug and a pep talk on the benefits of knowing how to balance a chemical equation. Claire and her mom had the house to themselves, but Claire still found herself moving quietly. She'd done so much sneaking in and out of the house over the summer that it had become a habit.

Her mother was waiting in the kitchen, dressed in hightech light-but-warm running gear.

"Ready to go?" her mother asked.

Claire hesitated. What she really wanted was to have a few minutes alone in the woods before she had to face the judging eyes of the pack. She looked at her mother and shook her head.

"You go. I'll be right behind you."

Marie gave her an appraising look, but there was no disappointment or suspicion in it. In fact, she looked almost understanding.

"Fine. Don't be long, though, c
hérie.
This is not a night to be late."

"I won't be." Claire crossed her arms, wrapping her hands tight around her ribs. She watched her mother slip out the back door and glide across the dark lawn, a shadow among shadows, all but invisible.

After giving her mother a few minutes' head start, Claire stepped out into the frosty night air. It was mid-October— soon they'd be starting the steep slide into the long, frigid winter. Overhead, the stars spit and sputtered in between a few wispy clouds, and there was a hole in the sky where the new moon hung, black and cold.

Claire stepped away from the house and faced the almost leafless arms of the woods. Her heart crashed against her ribs. This was it. Her night to prove herself as a wolf. She squared her shoulders and hurried across the grass toward the waiting trees.

Once she stepped through the ragged opening in the brick wall that ringed their property, once she smelled the dying-leaf scent of the forest, everything changed. The swirling chaos of nerves she'd been dealing with all day became a focused determination. This was where she belonged.

She took a deep breath and ran off through the trees, following the path around the underbrush, over the fallen pines. In the distance she could just see the clearing. Without the fire, it would be invisible to a human eye, but Claire could see the starlight that penetrated the now sparsely leafed canopy.

As she stepped into the clearing, Claire's attention went straight to the flat, empty circle in the middle. The place where the fire would be. There was a small pile of branches stacked haphazardly off to one side.

"I started collecting the wood for you," her mother said, emerging from the trees on the far side with her arms full of kindling. She passed the awkward bundle to Claire.

"You might as well begin building it. The others will be here soon."

"Yeah. Okay." Claire arranged the branches the way she'd seen her mother do it before, creating a perfect little pyramid of wood. Behind her, there was a
crunch-swish
of footsteps against the forest floor.

Beatrice stepped out of the woods, her white hair gleaming. She turned toward Claire's mother, baring the side of her neck.

"Marie, I greet you."

"As I greet you, Beatrice." Her mother nodded solemnly.

Beatrice turned to Claire, her face cracking into a wrinkled web as she smiled.

"Claire! I greet you," she said, reaching out a gnarled hand to help Claire to her feet. "I greet you, Beatrice." Claire got to her feet. "Where's Victoria?"