Well, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. Your mom’s really smart and all, but she expects a lot of everyone. You especially. Just ’cause she thinks this is normal doesn’t mean you do, you know?
Claire nodded, her clenched teeth opening the smallest bit.
Zahlia’s mouth opened in a wolfish grin. When my mom dragged me into the woods on my sixteenth birthday, I totally panicked and ran halfway to the interstate before Beatrice caught up with me. And then I didn’t speak to my mom for almost a month. The fact that you’re here and not tearing through the woods like a screaming lunatic tells me you’re doing pretty damn great.
“How long did it take before it didn’t freak you out anymore?” Claire whispered.
A year, maybe? I guess it’s different for everyone. I’m nineteen now, and this all seems more normal than being human ever did. So, you know, there is hope.
Claire managed a tiny smile. “So, where’s your mom?”
Zahlia looked into the fire. Gone. It’s a long story. Anyway. The pack—it’s all about tradition and rules and history, right? But sometimes that stuff doesn’t give you what you really need. So … you let me know if you need something, okay?
“Um, okay. Thanks.” Claire could hear the confusion in her own voice. She didn’t know what Zahlia was talking about, but she was obviously trying to be nice.
Victoria and Marie slipped back into the clearing. Claire could see the surprise and suspicion that crossed her mother’s expression when she saw Zahlia sitting with her, but she couldn’t tell what her mother was thinking. It was like Marie had intentionally blocked it, somehow.
Claire, it is time to go, her mother said.
Claire nodded and got stiffly to her feet. Finally. She was dying to get out of here—to get home. Claire’s mother shook her silvery fur and sighed. Her form shimmered and stretched, patches of skin appearing over her pelt. Claire tried to look away, but a horrible fascination kept her eyes glued to her mother. Until she realized that her mom was naked. Claire’s cheeks burned and she turned away. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her mother stretch out a pale, elegant arm and grab a bundle from underneath a shrub. In a flash, she’d pulled on clothes and twisted her dark hair into its usual tight bun.
The firelight skimmed over her mother’s high, pale forehead and straight nose. It was the face Claire had always known—what still seemed like her mother’s real face. Claire scratched at the back her hand, startled and relieved when her nails clawed across smooth, hairless skin. They were back to normal—both of them.
“Thank God,” she whispered. “I changed back!”
Her mother leaned close to her. “From now on, you should really say ‘thank Goddess,’ chérie. And you are not yet able to change back on your own.” Her mother’s low, barking laugh disappeared into the undergrowth. “So impatient. I pulled you back with my own transformation. Mothers can do this for their children—it is a protection. To change back, you must hold your breath and feel yourself being pulled in, like putting your fur back under your skin, like stuffing a blanket back into a drawer. But there will be time to learn that later, after you have completed your devienment, your ‘becoming.’ For now, you must learn to wait.”
Behind her mother, Claire saw Zahlia roll her eyes while she adjusted the collar of her shirt.
Marie continued. “The most important thing, Claire, is that you must never say anything about who you are. To anyone. Obviously.”
Claire bristled. She hadn’t given her mother any reason to treat her like a six-year-old. “I’m not a moron. I wasn’t exactly going to run off and post it on the Internet.”
Marie pursed her lips. “Mistakes have been made before. I am just trying to keep you safe.”
Claire stared numbly at her mother. “You have blood on your chin,” she said.
Her mother rubbed her shirtsleeve across her chin.
“You seem distressed. Are you all right?” She brushed the twigs and dirt from the front of her shirt.
All right? Was she all right? A flame of anger licked at Claire’s insides. Her mother had just turned her world completely upside down and she didn’t understand why Claire might be upset. Was she serious?
Marie waited, her arms crossed in front of her.
“I, uh—didn’t think about the clothes,” Claire finally stammered.
Her mother nodded. “One must always take off the first outfit before putting on the second, yes? This is the same thing”—she paused—“only different.” She shrugged. “A body is just a body. Now. Let’s go.”
Claire trailed through the woods behind her mother. They crawled back through the hole in the wall, sneaked back across the yard, and then they were safe inside the house. Her mother flipped the bolt on the kitchen door and turned to Claire.