“Go upstairs and put your clothes where Lisbeth won’t find them. Then you must shower and go straight to bed. We will talk more tomorrow.” She smoothed back a hair that had escaped her bun. “You did well tonight, Claire. I’m proud of you.”
Claire watched as her mother slipped up the back staircase. She sighed. When she was little, she’d wished her mother were around more, that they could spend more time together. This wasn’t what she’d had in mind. And even worse—there didn’t seem to be any way out of it. The sudden feeling of being trapped wrapped itself around Claire so tightly that she had trouble catching her breath. She forced herself not to think—to walk up the stairs one step at a time and get into the shower like nothing was wrong.
When she’d washed away the smell of the campfire and stashed her filthy clothes, Claire crawled into bed. The sky was already streaked with pink, predawn light, and she fell into an exhausted sleep as soon as she tugged the comforter around her shoulders.
Chapter Four
IT WAS THE only house on the block without a porch light on, the only one with enough darkness to hide in. She’d hoped to get one of the Engles’ neighbors, not just someone who lived on the same street. Still, it would be enough to rattle some teeth, shake some bones … wake them up. She wondered if they would notice if she took a little memento. The house felt cool against her flank when she pressed into the siding. Inside, everyone was breathing the breath of sleep.
She opened her jaws and keened so high and thin that only the dog—the one she could smell sleeping at the foot of the bed—could hear. The barking was sudden, frantic, afraid. She snuffled with pleasure. Dogs. Smart enough to be scared, stupid enough to lure the humans to their sharp-toothed end.
She huddled by the back door. When it creaked open, she watched the fool dog streak out into the yard. Watched the human step out after it. And then she sprang. His body held the door open nicely. She stepped around his twisted-necked form and padded inside.
“Claire? It’s time to wake up—c’mon, sleepyhead.”
The memory of the night before bubbled to the surface of Claire’s mind, and her heart sank before she’d even opened her eyes. Welcome to My Life As a Monster, Day One. She swallowed hard.
“Are you feeling okay?” Lisbeth frowned. “You look sort of … green.”
“I’m fine. I just didn’t sleep very well,” Claire lied.
“You could’ve fooled me, since you slept till noon. Anyway. Your mother—she asked if you would meet her in her darkroom.”
Claire’s mouth fell open. No one was allowed in Marie’s darkroom. Ever. Not even Claire.
Lisbeth shrugged. “It surprised me, too.”
“Yeah, well, thanks for waking me up.” Claire stretched.
Lisbeth headed over to Claire’s closet. “I’m doing a load of darks—I’m gonna grab your dirty stuff to fill it up.”
“No!” Claire jumped up, throwing off her sheets. She’d stuffed her smoky clothes underneath a massive pile of shopping bags, but Lisbeth had a nose like a bloodhound.
Lisbeth put a hand on her hip and stared at Claire. “What? Why?”
Claire took a deep breath. “I don’t think I have any dark stuff dirty, that’s all. Anyway, I should probably start doing my laundry myself, you know? I mean, I’m sixteen—I don’t need someone else to fold my T-shirts.”
A little wrinkle of suspicion grew between Lisbeth’s eyebrows. “You’re sure there isn’t maybe something in your laundry you don’t want me to find?”
Claire swallowed hard. She stalked over to her closet and yanked out the laundry basket. With her heel, she nudged the door shut.
“You want to go through my pockets? Fine. There’s nothing there, Lisbeth. I can’t believe you don’t trust me.” She was wound so tightly that it made her voice shake. She thrust the basket at Lisbeth.
“Okay.” Lisbeth held up her hands like a surrendering criminal, leaving Claire holding the laundry. “Sorry. After three years of pulling wadded-up tissues and Diet Coke bottle tops out of your jeans, I’d love a break. It just seemed sort of sudden, that’s all. I’ll be watching the news if you need help.”
That was too close. As soon as she leaves I’ll find a better spot to—
Something in Lisbeth’s voice stopped Claire midthought. “The news? Is something going on?”
Lisbeth looked at Claire, her eyes scared and sad. “There was another … attack last night. Three doors down from the Engles’ house. That—that monster killed some guy by his back door and then snuck into the house and killed his wife.” She shook her head. “I don’t for the life of me know why people don’t just stay inside with the doors and windows shut like the City keeps telling us to. Anyway. It’s been on the news nonstop all morning. The police don’t know what to do, and the FHPA just keeps saying that it’s an ‘ongoing investigation,’ whatever that’s supposed to mean.
“When I think how close we were yesterday … we drove right by it. I just hope they catch that thing, and soon.”