Claire de Lune (Claire de Lune #1)
Christine Johnson
For my husband, Erik,
whom I love beyond description
Claire de Lune
Prologue
SHE KILLED HIM in the darkest part of the night, before the dew had settled on the grass.
It was easy. He came to the window when she’d tapped her claws against it. It was exactly what she’d hoped he would do. Sliding up the square of glass. Sticking his head out to investigate. Like an idiot. Like prey.
One less moron in the world. She licked the blood off her mouth, the coarse whiskers sliding against her tongue.
He didn’t even have time to scream. He was no different from any of the others. His eyes had gone round as coins, his cheeks turned fish-flesh white.
It was when their mouths made that terrified O that she sprang.
It was the perfect moment. They saw her coming for them. They knew what was about to happen. But none of them ever had a chance to make a sound.
Except when their necks snap. That makes a sound, she mused.
She’d expected to feel more fear, breaking the rules like this. Instead, she’d discovered that she liked it. The power of deciding who and when. Letting her instincts take over without worrying about the consequences.
After all, she wasn’t the one who would take the blame for killing these sad little rag-doll humans. She wouldn’t get caught—she was too good. Too careful.
It was the other one who would pay.
Dizzy with success, tantalized by the so-close gleam of revenge, she disappeared back into the woods.
Chapter One
THE SMOOTH MIRROR of the pool’s surface shattered as three boys cannonballed into it at the same time. Shrieks erupted from the cluster of girls who got splashed.
“Claire, this is the best party!” Emily gushed, nibbling on a potato chip.
Claire scanned the crowd in her backyard. Bikini-clad girls and soaked boys in swim trunks perched on the patio furniture, drinking soda and laughing. Anyone’ll come to your party if you have a pool, she thought. She scratched the backs of her hands against the sharp edge of the table and wished they’d quit itching. It was like the worst poison ivy ever, only there weren’t any bumps and it wasn’t red.
“Yeah, I guess,” she said. Claire had known most of these people since elementary school, but aside from Emily, she had never been close with any of them. It was the hottest June since 1910, and the huge pool in her backyard had made Claire instantly popular. Which still wasn’t saying very much—more than a few people at the party had been surprised to find out it was Claire’s birthday. Oh, well, I guess having people come just to use the pool is better than not at all. Yep. That’s me—glass always half-full. She sighed.
“What do you mean, ‘I guess’? Aren’t you having fun?” Emily’s mouth curved into a worried little frown.
“No—I mean, yeah, it’s fun. I just don’t know a lot of these people so well.”
“But they’re here, right? And I heard Yolanda saying that she’d missed you since school let out. People do like you, Claire. You just don’t want to believe it.”
Emily grabbed another chip. “So, you really didn’t get a car, huh?”
“Nope. I was hoping Mom was just trying to make me think that she was leaving me stranded, but I got a pair of sapphire earrings from her this morning, so I think she’s serious.” Claire rolled her eyes. It wasn’t like they couldn’t afford for her to have her own car. Her mom just didn’t think she needed one.
Claire’s ears itched like they were on fire, just like her hands, and she pushed back her shiny brown hair so she could rub them.
“What are you doing?” asked Emily. “Matthew is totally watching you! Act normal!”
Claire dropped her hands, feeling the tingle of a flush in her cheeks. Matthew Engle gave her a little wave, and rolled his eyes in the direction of the giggling group sitting behind him. She smiled at him, and he grinned back. A shock of electricity shot through her as he motioned for her to come over. Besides being one of only two guys in the entire school who wasn’t an immature jerk, he was cute. Really cute. Turn-your-brain-to-mush cute.
“It’s not like I have a chance with him, anyway,” Claire said, turning back to Emily.
“Of course you do! You’re smart, you’re funny, and you look totally amazing in that bikini. You definitely need to go talk to him.”
“Only if you come with me.”
“Oh, fine. But you don’t need me. You’d be okay on your own. ” Emily grabbed her soda and pulled Claire to her feet.
Claire took a deep breath and strolled over to Matthew.
“Hey.” Wow, Claire, way to impress him with your conversational skills.
“Good party,” he said.