“Oh.” Lisbeth brushed a hand over her head. “Well, thanks.”
“No problem. So, what’s for dinner?”
Lisbeth groaned. “Anything that can be delivered. I just want to take a shower and find a soft place to sit for a few hours. That okay with you?”
“Sure. Whatever.” As long as Lisbeth didn’t plan to grill her about Matthew, Claire couldn’t care less. The two of them headed inside, and Claire made a beeline for the kitchen drawer where they kept the delivery menus. Even though she was pretty sure that the twisty feeling in her stomach had as much to do with Matthew as it did with being hungry, Claire browsed the China Palace menu and listened to the distant thrum of the shower. Outside, the whistle of a breeze through the treetops called to her, sharpening the hunger in her belly and bringing with it a desire to run.
Claire stared out at the woods and wished that a jog around the neighborhood would satisfy her. Somehow, she knew it wouldn’t.
Lisbeth went to bed when it was just barely all-the-way dark outside. Claire tried to call Emily—she wanted to know if her parents had come to their senses yet—but it went straight to voicemail. Claire flopped down on the couch. She flicked through the TV channels until she couldn’t stand the pinpricks of restlessness in her legs anymore. She had to get out of the house. She was dying to get into the woods, to stretch her legs and run, to see what else she could do. She might as well go practice. Maybe if she learned to control the werewolf stuff better, she’d be able to focus on something normal again.
It was just after ten when she slipped out into the backyard and hurried across the lawn to the hidden opening in the wall. She knew that it was risky to sneak out two nights in a row, but with Lisbeth sleeping like the dead and her mom still in Chicago, it was too good an opportunity to waste.
The forest seemed less strange tonight. The invisible paths that wove between the trees looked familiar, and the scent of leaves and dirt smelled heavenly. It was easy to find the same spot where she’d practiced the night before: the two huge pine trees surrounded by scrub oak. Claire sank down onto the ground and let the feeling of fur slide over her hands and ears. Willing it to come.
Even though her eyes were closed, Claire knew she’d transformed—the sounds of the crickets and mosquitoes were suddenly twice as loud. Her senses might have been sharper than a normal person’s before, but in her wolf-form, they were almost painfully sensitive. Everything seemed very close to her, sharp and immediate. She could feel the texture of the ground beneath her through the cotton of her workout pants. I should probably start taking them off when I transform. One of these days, I’m going to grow a tail and rip right through them. The thought of having a tail made her a little queasy, and she took a deep breath.
The forest scents were strong enough to make her dizzy. Leaning forward, Claire rested her head on the cool ground and closed her eyes, trying to acclimate to this new world where nothing was hidden.
Maybe I should take this just a little slower.
A sludge of disappointment sat in the pit of her stomach, weighing her down. Since she’d already done it once, she’d somehow expected that changing would be easier. Instead, she was just as uncomfortable as she’d been last night.
When the assault on her senses had stopped making her nauseous, Claire sat up again. Her fur went a little farther up her arms tonight. She reached up and felt her ears, which were larger than before, and pointed at the tips. Her feet had transformed into something a little more cramped and pawlike. Mostly, though, she still looked human.
Getting unsteadily to her feet, she walked a little way into the woods, wondering if she could find the clearing where she’d met the others. She wove her way through the trees, surprised at how many landmarks she remembered. When she’d come here with her mom, it had seemed like she was just stumbling through the forest, too dazed to really notice anything. But there was the big fallen oak they’d climbed over. And a little ways farther on, the gnarled tree whose trunk twisted into the shape of an S.