Claire De Lune (25 page)

“Hello?” Sleep thickened his voice, but Claire was more focused on the fact that he was still breathing.

She glanced at the little clock on the computer. It wasn’t even eight o’ clock yet. “Oh, crap, I didn’t realize it was so early, Matthew. I’m sorry—I’ll call—I mean, why don’t you just call me later?”

“No, Claire, it’s fine. Really. The reporters start calling my dad at eight, anyway. I can’t sleep with the house phone ringing off the hook like that. I’d much rather wake up to you than
to the
Daily Herald
.”

Claire blushed.

“Hey, do you still want to do something Saturday night?”

“Yeah, that’d be great.”

What I have in mind is probably not what you’re planning, though.

“Cool. Listen, I should get showered before the reporters start breaking down the front door. Is six o’clock okay?”

The idea of Matthew showering made it hard for Claire to focus on her answer.

“Sure. I’ll have Lisbeth bring me over on her way to yoga.”

Claire tried to focus on the thought of seeing Matthew, instead of dwelling on the fact that she’d be lying like hell the entire time.

On Saturday, Claire had Lisbeth drop her off two blocks away from the Engles’, in front of Yolanda Adams’s house. Fortunately, Lisbeth was running late enough that she didn’t wait to see if Claire got into the house before she drove away. Once the car was out of sight, Claire walked over to the Engles’. As she paced up the front walk she noticed the front flowerbeds were dotted here and there with little statues.

Garden gnomes. Exactly like the one on Zahlia’s desk. The rage that filled Claire stopped her, gluing her feet to the cracked concrete path. Zahlia hadn’t just threatened Matthew. She’d been here. Watching. Planning. Claire struggled to
control herself, to unclench her jaw. She was already late—if Matthew saw her like this, it could throw off the whole night. She’d deal with Zahlia later. And as long as she and Matthew were together, she’d make damn sure that no out-of-her-mind werewolf came within swiping distance of him.

Claire took a couple of deep breaths and walked up to the door, which had been left ajar. It was six fifteen on the nose when Claire walked into the Engles’ kitchen. At the table, Matthew and his dad sat eating sandwiches and what smelled to Claire like canned soup. Dr. Engle smiled at her with too many teeth and waved to an empty chair.

“Claire, welcome. Please, sit and have a little bite with us.” He was clearly trying to be hospitable, but he still creeped Claire out. “I made enough for three, but Mrs. Engle isn’t feeling well.”

The look on Matthew’s face said that she had interrupted something—Dr. Engle’s expression said he was glad that she had.

Claire slid into the chair. “I’ve already eaten, thanks.” Under the table, she clenched her hands into tight fists. The urge to throttle the egotistical jerk until he admitted he’d been wrong about her mother was almost more than she could bear. The effort of holding herself in check made her bones hurt.

“We can go as soon as I’m done.” Matthew’s voice was acidic. He shoved a large corner of sandwich into his mouth and chewed like he wanted to hurt it.

Claire looked from Matthew to Dr. Engle.

“Ah, actually”—Dr. Engle stirred his soup, focusing on the letter-shaped noodles that floated to the surface—“Channel Six will be here in a few minutes. They’d like a family member to be in the story, and I think it’s a good angle. I was hoping your mother would be able to participate, but that’s obviously not a possibility. It won’t take long—I’ll just need a few minutes from you, and then you and Claire can go. I’m sure Claire won’t mind waiting a bit, will you?” He turned the piranha-smile on her again, and Claire felt her lip curl in response.

I know how to play you.

She turned the curled lip into a simper and tilted her head to one side. “Oh, Dr. Engle, I couldn’t possibly say. Whatever Matthew wants will be just fine with me.”
Gag.

He beamed and licked his lips. “See? What a help she is! So, it’s settled. You’ll do the interview.”

Matthew tossed his sandwich crust back onto his plate and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Sure, I’ll do it.” He shot Claire the tiniest look. “But you know what I’ll be telling them.”

“Wha—now. Matthew. I thought we were finished
discussing
the issue.”

The look in Dr. Engle’s eyes chilled Claire. The fury of the self-righteous nestled there like ice.

“You’re right. I am done discussing it. You’re wrong about the werewolf, Dad. You’re not going to listen to me and I’m
not going to listen to you. But I’m sure the thousands of people watching Channel Six tonight will be very interested to hear what I have to say. And I bet that someone from Lycanthropy Researchers will be watching too.”

Dr. Engle stood up. “I will not tolerate you defending that soulless creature for one more second. It doesn’t have the right to live among humans—it’s a mistake, a mutation. It should never have existed at all!”

The snarl rose in Claire’s throat before she could stop it. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” She stood and faced him, nostrils flared.

Matthew’s mouth fell open.

Dr. Engle gave a short, hard laugh. “Of course not. I’m only one of the most innovative lycanthropy researchers in the nation. I’m part of the Federal Human Protection Agency. Why would I know what I’m talking about?” He looked up at the ceiling as though he could find patience in its smooth, white expanse.

Claire bit her lip.
Oh, crap. I really should have kept my mouth shut. What if he figures out that my mom is the wolf that he captured?
From underneath her lowered eyelids, she scanned his face. It held plenty of anger, but no suspicion.

“And you”—Dr. Engle turned to Matthew—“would do well to remember that it is never wise to bite the hand that feeds you.” He threw his napkin down onto the table. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go prepare for the news crew.”

He stalked out of the room, and Claire heard a door slam in another part of the house.

Matthew pushed away his plate. “God, I’m sorry he’s such an ass.” He looked at Claire. “I can’t believe you stood up to him like that. Everyone else just buys his crap without even thinking about it.” Admiration shone in his eyes.

“Buyer beware, right?” Claire grinned. Tonight was going to be her night. Matthew was furious enough with his father that she was sure she could convince him to show her where the lab was. Once she knew how to get in, all she had to do was figure out how to sneak her mother out without being seen.

Maybe once she got her mother back they could start their own pack, just the two of them. Let Beatrice and Victoria clean up the mess Zahlia had made. Her mother shouldn’t have to sneak around doing the work that their Alpha was too scared to do. That was the only reason she’d gotten caught, after all. If Beatrice had kept Zahlia in check, her mother never would have been captured.

“Ready to go?” Matthew asked.

Claire nodded. She blinked hard, clearing her head, and followed Matthew out to the car.

They drove around aimlessly while Matthew ranted about his father. Claire’s senses strained as she tracked his scent, his expression, the way he held his body. Carefully, she fed his rage, using little comments and almost unnoticeable gestures.
The last thing she wanted was for him to think that she was egging him on.

“It’s just ridiculous!” Matthew pounded the steering wheel with the heel of his hand. “I mean, you should see this wolf, Claire. It’s the most gentle thing—I know it’s an animal, but, dammit, there is nothing evil about it!”

Her surge of adrenaline was strong enough to be painful. This was the moment.

“I wish I
could
see it,” she said softly. “If it’s really as gentle as you say …” An image of her mother ripping at a newly dead deer flashed through her mind.
Well, she’s gentle where people are concerned, at least.

Matthew turned to her, his eyes ablaze. “You can!”

Success leapt through Claire. “Really?” She kept the excitement in her voice to the tiniest glimmer.

“Yes. Dad’ll be busy with the freaking media for hours, and no one goes to the lab at night, anyway.” His face turned serious. “You’d have to swear never to tell a soul that I took you.”

“Of course,” Claire said.

“Okay.” Matthew’s grip on the steering wheel turned purposeful. “It’ll only take us about ten minutes to get there. My dad”—he snorted—“hates long commutes.”

T
HE
BUILDING LOOKED
exactly the same as the ones on either side of it: a long stretch of cinderblock, punctuated with corrugated metal doors. Far above, a lighted sign announced to the highway self storage! first month free! Claire stared at Matthew. In the eerie light of the mercury lamps, his face looked drawn.

“Why are we here? Isn’t your dad’s lab at the university
somewhere?” She kept her voice to a whisper.

Matthew shook his head. “He has two labs. That one’s mostly for show. He kept the werewolf there long enough for the news crews to get their shots, but then he and his lab techs brought it here. This is where he does all of his actual experiments and stuff. No one knows about it, except for him and the techs. And Mom and me, obviously.”

Claire trembled at the thought of what must be going on in this building if Dr. Engle needed to keep it so secret. The two of them pressed against the damp stone wall, waiting, watching. On one side of the facility, the highway wound past in a concrete ribbon, but the other side was bordered by a copse of trees at the edge of a farm. Finding her way back here later would be easier than Claire had hoped.

“No one’s going to catch us sneaking in, right?”

Matthew shook his head. “It’s Saturday. Everyone leaves at five on Saturdays, and they don’t come back until eight o’clock Monday morning. My dad’s always going on about how Sunday’s a ‘day of worship and rest.’”

We’ll have a whole day’s head start after I get her out.
But all she could think to say was, “Oh, okay.”

It was nearly impossible to be patient when her mother was so close. She had to do something to quiet the itching in her limbs. “So, which door is it?”

The corner of Matthew’s mouth turned up. “All of them. He had the building converted. He rents this one, all the way
down to the end. As long as he keeps sending the owners a fat check every month, I don’t think they care what he does.”

Claire’s mouth fell open as she did a quick calculation. The lab was nearly a city block long.

“Okay, I think we’re clear. We’ve gotta get down to the fifth door. The lock’s broken on that one, but no one knows it. When I say go, we run.”

“Got it.” Claire’s breath quickened and she bent her knees.

“Go,” Matthew whispered and took off at a sprint. He was no match for a werewolf, but the hours of soccer training showed in the way he ran. For a human, he was fast.

He glanced back at Claire in surprise, one hand on the door handle. “You should go out for track,” he said, wrenching open the metal with a twist. “You’re wicked quick.”

You have no idea
.

Claire grinned to herself as they slipped into the lab and the scent of her mother washed over her.

In the darkness, the instruments glimmered like stars. No papers littered the counters, no school pictures stood next to the computer monitors—it was as bare and soulless as Zahlia’s apartment had been. Claire grimaced at the memory of the dog lying on the black wolf’s bed.

“I don’t want to turn on the lights,” Matthew whispered, “just in case. Can you make it through in the dark?”

Claire squelched an urge to snort. Her eyesight was good enough to read the brand names on the lab equipment. “Yeah,
I’ll be okay,” she said. She could smell her mother at the far north end of the lab.
Make an effort to seem human, Claire.

“So, um, where’s the cage?”

Matthew took her hand, and Claire cursed the little electric tingles that shot up her arm.
This is not the time. I’m here to find my mother. I can ignore my hormones.
She repeated it like a mantra as he pulled her clumsily through the lab. He made it so hard to focus. Standing up to his father like that made it difficult for Claire to remember that he would run away screaming if he knew what she really was.

Claire’s breathing grew ragged when she spotted the silver bars of the cage at the back of the lab.

Matthew peered over his shoulder at her. “Scared?” There was no taunting in his voice, just concern.

Claire shook her head. “Just, uh, trying not to trip.”

The cage came into full view and Claire struggled to keep from whimpering.

Her mother lay curled up in the corner of the cage with her nose tucked underneath her tail. Misery shimmered around her like an aura.

Without thinking, Claire took a few quick steps toward the silver wolf.

A strong arm caught Claire across the chest. “Easy,” Matthew whispered. “I don’t want you to startle it.”

Claire nodded and forced herself to move more slowly. In her human form, she couldn’t communicate with her
mother silently. Marie lifted her head and stared straight at Claire for a moment before she slunk to the front of the cage and pressed her flank against the bars. Ignoring Matthew’s astonished gasp, Claire knelt down and pressed her forehead against the soft fur of her mother’s neck. The wolf whimpered too softly for human ears to hear. Hot tears leaked out of Claire’s eyes and dripped down onto her mother’s pelt. Claire stroked her mother’s haunches, feeling the bones underneath. On top of everything else, Dr. Engle wasn’t feeding her enough.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. Matthew was only a few feet away, so it was hard to talk quietly enough that he wouldn’t hear, and there was so much Claire wanted to say. “I’m going to get you out before the full moon,” she murmured, fighting off the dragging weight of her sadness.

Matthew’s shoes squeaked on the linoleum when he finally walked up to the cage. “You really aren’t scared of anything, are you?”

Claire looked up at him. “I’m not scared of this wolf,” she said. “I can’t believe anyone thinks it’s okay to treat her like this.”