“This is Zahlia. Zahlia, I greet you.”
“And I greet you, Marie.” She licked her lips and nodded at Claire. “Claire, I also greet you.”
“I greet you, Zahlia,” Claire said, more smoothly this time.
They went through the same ritual with the last two women, Judith and Katherine, two middle-aged women who both greeted Claire without even really looking at her. Claire’s mouth went nervous-dry at the same time that her jaw clenched in irritation. It was like being paraded around in front of some of her mother’s important clients—their eyes skimmed over her politely, but it was obvious that they couldn’t care less about meeting her.
It’s not like I asked to be here.
The dark-haired woman—Zahlia—caught Claire’s eye and gazed pointedly at Judith and Katherine before rolling her eyes. Claire fought to keep the smile off her face. Okay, so not everyone thought she was just some dumb drag-along of her mother’s.
Marie caught sight of the amused expression on Claire’s face and gave her a sharp look.
“Sit.” Her mother pointed to an open space next to Victoria, the blonde. “And listen.”
Claire sank down onto the dirt next to Victoria. She wrapped her arms around her legs and squeezed out the desire to run back through the woods, go home, crawl into bed, and pretend none of this had ever happened.
Beatrice stood up and shuffled close to the fire. She raised her arms and began to chant in a clear, youthful voice that surprised Claire. This can’t seriously be happening. Maybe it’s just some really screwed-up dream I’m having. Claire pinched her palm with the nails of her left hand. Crap. Not a dream. Victoria scooted closer and grabbed Claire’s hand, making her jump.
“It’s okay,” she whispered. “I was scared at first, too. Don’t worry.”
Claire’s mom shot them an impatient look and Victoria fell silent. Claire couldn’t understand most of the chant, and it seemed to go on forever. She heard something about the wind and the Goddess, and heard Beatrice calling each of their names … except for Claire’s.
“Close your eyes,” said Victoria. “It’ll be easier.”
Claire shut her eyes and leaned forward, resting her forehead on her knees. The crackle of the fire filled her ears. A low moan moved through the circle. It changed and grew until it became a howl—no, Claire realized, six howls. She opened her eyes with her forehead still on her knees. On the ground next to her, she saw two brown paws, bigger than any dog’s, in the exact spot where Victoria’s sandaled feet had been. A cold, wet nose nudged Claire’s ear.
Claire lifted her head and jumped when she saw the enormous, mottled brunette wolf in front of her.
An anxious whine rattled the wolf’s throat, somewhere just above Claire’s head.
It’s okay now. It’s over.
As a wolf, Victoria was bigger than Yolanda Adams’s St. Bernard—almost the size of a pony. Everyone knew that werewolves were larger than regular wolves, but Claire hadn’t really grasped just how big they really were. Claire spun around. In the spot where her mother had been stood a silvery-gray wolf. She was a little taller and darker than the two next to her, who must have been Judith and Katherine.
“Mom?” she squeaked.
Yes, Claire? The silvery wolf’s mouth stayed shut tight, even as her mother’s voice rang in Claire’s ears. Claire blinked.
I’m—reading her mind? Werewolves have ESP?
Not exactly, her mother said, sniffing the air. You are reading my body language, the same as I am reading yours. And you can smell the chemical changes that come with shifting emotions. You’re just translating it in your head, the way I do from English to French. It’s part of the heightened senses that you will have from now on—even in your human form.
A low growl interrupted them.
We are already late. It is time to hunt. Zahlia’s pure-black fur shimmered against the flat dark of the forest shadows. She was huge—the same size as Marie, with pale flashing eyes.
Claire’s mother nodded. Zahlia is right. Claire, you must stay here with Beatrice. We will be back as quickly as we can.
“But—” Claire started to protest, but Zahlia stepped in.
Oh, Marie, why not let her come? She might as well start learning.
Claire’s mother gave Zahlia a look that could’ve frozen lightning. You know that training does not begin until after one’s transformation is complete.
Judith sniffed. Beatrice must make the decision. And I’m getting hungry.
Zahlia shrugged her dark-furred shoulders, tilting her head slightly to one side in a gesture that clearly said Whatever you want.
They all turned to Beatrice.
Marie is right. Beatrice sat tall and still on the ground next to the fire. This is not the right time. Go, the five of you, and hunt. Claire and I will wait here.