When her sobbing had slowed enough that the she could see again, Claire crept through the hole and went home to wait for her mother. She slipped into the house, halfheartedly washing the tear streaks from her face. Even though she was sure she wouldn’t be able to sleep, Claire climbed into bed. She lay there and stared at the ceiling. Eventually, her exhaustion won out, and she dozed off.
When she woke, sunlight streamed through her window, and her neck was stiff from being in one position for too long. In the hall, Claire could hear her mother and Lisbeth talking, but she couldn’t make out what they were saying.
There was a soft knock on her door before her mother peered in. Tight lines ringed her mouth and dark circles curved underneath her eyes. Marie glanced back at Lisbeth’s room before she began to speak.
“When you’re up, would you come down to my darkroom, chérie? I’d like to get your opinion on something.”
Her voice changed the setting on Claire’s heartbeat to panic.
Claire slid out of bed. “Just let me brush my hair, and I’ll be right down.”
Chapter Fourteen
CLAIRE HAD HER hair halfway into a ponytail when the phone rang. It was Emily.
I so do not have time for this right now.
Even though she was desperate to hear what her mother had to say, Claire couldn’t ignore the guilt that poured through her, thick and sticky as honey. She picked up the phone.
“Hello?”
“Oh my God, Claire I am seriously having the worst week ever,” Emily groaned. The connection fizzed with static.
“Lean more toward the window,” Claire instructed. “You’re breaking up.”
“Sorry. But you’ll never guess what Dan did.”
“Dan?” Claire adjusted her ponytail in the mirror.
“The guy? Mr. Wholesome? Come on, Claire.” Emily sounded hurt.
“Right, sorry, what happened?”
“He tried to give me his freaking class ring last night. Can you believe it?”
Claire scowled at her reflection in the mirror, confused and antsy. She sort of wanted to care about Emily’s guy problems, but she just … didn’t. “That’s sort of 1986 of him, huh?”
“It’s worse than that! We’ve only been hanging out for a couple of weeks—I mean, we’ve barely even, you know, fooled around, and he’s trying to—like, claim me or something. It totally freaked me out, and then when I wouldn’t take it, he actually teared up. God. That was the one good thing about being stuck in this hellhole and now it’s all screwed up.”
“That sucks, Em.” Claire glanced at her watch.
“What am I going to do now?” Emily moaned.
“Don’t freak out. We’ll think of something. Listen, I totally hate to do this to you, but my mom’s waiting to talk to me. Can I call you back in a couple of hours and we’ll figure it out then?”
Emily made a disgusted noise. “Fine, leave me all alone in my misery. Maybe I’ll go ask the stupid chickens what they think I should do.”
“Emily—,” Claire protested.
“No, it’s okay,” Emily relented. “I’m just pissy. Go talk to your mom and call me when you’re done. I’m going to go eat some chocolate or something.”
As soon as she’d hung up, Claire tossed down the phone and sprinted for the door. If the worst thing that had happened to me all summer was some nice farm boy trying to give me jewelry, I’d be freaking ecstatic.
Claire ignored the jealousy that wound its way around her neck like a snake and swung open the darkroom door.
Things were bad. Claire knew it before her mom said a single word. The table in front of her mother held four cameras, neatly arranged. There was no film on the table. There were no prints. Behind her, the computer monitor cycled through its screen saver—no digital shot filled its wide frame. Her mother was just sitting there, her dark-circled eyes staring into space. She never did that.
“Mom? You, uh, wanted to see me?”
“Yes. Claire, I don’t want to scare you unnecessarily, especially at such a … vulnerable time in your transformation. But I really don’t see how I can keep this from you.”
Claire sank onto one of the high stools that surrounded the table, her heart jumping up and down in her chest.
“I have little proof—only suspicions, but I went back out alone after you were in bed last night, and what I found … Claire, we are in much more danger than any of us had thought. Until I know for sure that I am right, I won’t say anything else. It would be unfair. But you must be incredibly careful, Claire. I am no longer sure who—or what—to trust. Please, you must promise not to go out at night without me until I say.” Her mother took Claire’s chin between her long fingers. “Promise me.”
Claire nodded. “All right. But, Mom, what—” A faint ping interrupted Claire midsentence.