Claire de Lune (Claire de Lune #1)

The words came automatically. “Sorry. I—”

“You can apologize later. Drink that, and then go get in a cool shower.” Lisbeth yanked a mug of tea off the counter, sloshing pepperminty water on the floor. While she was wiping it up and muttering something about job security under her breath, Claire took her water and slunk upstairs.

She locked her bedroom door, and then went into her bathroom and turned on the shower, letting the water run cold over her shoulders. Claire stood under the icy spray, feeling the anger in her gut pull into a tighter and tighter knot until it was a little ball of blue-white rage.

She tried to call Zahlia, but her voicemail picked up. Fine—all she had to do was find her address and go over there.

It was not as easy to figure out where Zahlia lived as it had been to locate Beatrice and Victoria. By the time Claire had an address—an apartment in a sketchy part of town—her hair had dried. It was too far to bike. She’d have to take the bus. Claire dumped a handful of quarters into her pocket. Always be prepared, right? As casually as she could, Claire went downstairs and rummaged in the kitchen for some lunch.

Lisbeth stood in the doorway, glowering. “I hope you didn’t have any plans today, missy, because you are not leaving this house until your mother gets back from her trip.”

Her words brought a rush of bile into Claire’s mouth. How was she supposed to get her mother home if she couldn’t leave the house?

“I said ‘sorry,’” Claire started.

“Not good enough this time. Besides the fact that you scared me half to death, I had something I really needed to take care of this morning, but I was too busy waiting for you to go anywhere. You’re sixteen years old now. Old enough to start taking other people into consideration once in a while.”

Claire ducked her head. “I didn’t know you had plans. You didn’t have to wait for me. I’m old enough to let myself in the house when I get home, you know.”

Lisbeth sighed. “That’s not the issue here. Now, I’m going to go see if there’s any news on that monster they caught last night, but I will be checking on you, Claire. And you had better be where I expect you to be, every second, do you understand?”

Lisbeth was usually so Zen about things, meditating on problems and coming up with what she liked to call “gentle solutions.” Claire opened her mouth, ready to apologize again, and stopped short. The smell that filled her nostrils was unmistakable. Underneath Lisbeth’s anger, she smelled of fear.

Claire’s mouth snapped shut when she took in the way Lisbeth was standing—arms crossed over her chest, fists clenched. She really was freaked out about me being gone. Crap.

“I know I screwed up big time.” Claire automatically twisted her head to one side, baring her neck a little. Lisbeth might not know the signs of submission the way another wolf would, but it couldn’t hurt. “I really am sorry, Lisbeth. If it’s okay with you, I’ll just go upstairs and eat in my room.”

“Fine.” Lisbeth uncrossed her arms. “But don’t get crumbs on the carpet. I just cleaned, and I’m not revacuuming that pigsty you call a room.” Claire could see her anger fading.

“I’ll be careful.”

All I have to do is wait. Just a day or two. Then I’ll go find Zahlia.

True to her word, Lisbeth checked on Claire every couple of hours, even setting her alarm clock so she could do a few middle-of-the-night bed checks. Claire tossed under her covers, feeling the frustration of being trapped, jailed.

Two worry-filled days later, Claire and Lisbeth ate a silent dinner together in the kitchen. Lisbeth sat glued to the news, which was nothing more than footage of Marie pacing in her cage, mixed in with statements by Dr. Engle about what “great progress” they were making and an occasional weather report, just so that they could mention the drought again. Claire couldn’t wait anymore. She had to go find Zahlia. The only good news was that with Dr. Engle announcing that the werewolf had been caught, there should be plenty of people out after dark, so no one would notice her on her bike.

When she finally heard snores coming from Lisbeth’s bedroom, Claire snuck in and turned off Lisbeth’s alarm, and then slipped out of the house the same way she had almost every other night for the past several weeks. A loneliness that Claire wasn’t used to feeling sliced through her. She could feel a howl building inside her, the urge to voice her feelings almost too strong to push away.