Claire De Lune by Christine Johnson Read Free Book Online Page A

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What am I going to say to him?—Yeah, I’m fine, glad it was the neighbors and not you? I had a great night, and guess what, I’m a werewolf ?—Oh my God, no wonder my mom hates his dad so much! Dr. Engle’s freaking
hunting
her.
    The voicemail alert flashed, and then the phone went dark in her hand. Of course, Emily would probably call any second, looking for details about her date with Matthew. Claire dropped the phone back onto her vanity and pulled on herclothes, throwing her hair back into a messy ponytail. At least her ears had quit itching. They were as smooth and pink and normal as they’d been every other day before her sixteenth birthday. Which just made everything she’d seen last night seem even more like a bad dream.
    She hurried into the hall, headed for the back stairs that led down to the basement—and the darkroom.
    Claire knocked on the thick oak door as softly as she could. Her mother appeared, her hair slicked back into its usual tight bun. A tiny, cupboardlike room was all Claire could see behind her mother—and another door, this time painted black, like the walls and ceiling. Overhead, a dim red bulb glowed, like a warning.
    “Come in,” her mother said and stepped back into the tiny room. “And shut the door behind you.”
    Claire crowded close to her mother and did as she was told. The room was so small that the doorknob poked into her back and its little twist lock dug into her spine. Her mother led her into a huge room, lit entirely by the same ruby light. Rows of metal tables lined the walls. Wire shelves held bottles and jugs of the chemicals that smelled so familiar—her mother’s scent. Some moms wore Chanel, Claire’s mom doused herself in developing fluid.
    Claire spun around slowly, staring at the vast room. Camera equipment covered the wall behind her. Lenses and cases,camera straps, tripods, and, of course, the cameras themselves, lay cased in gray foam.
    Marie gestured to a tall wooden stool. “You may sit.”
    Claire perched on the edge of the seat and dragged one toe across the concrete floor. A million questions all crowded together in her head, but being in the darkroom was like going into a country where she didn’t know any of the customs. If what she said wasn’t right—if she asked the wrong thing—she might get kicked out. The quiet settled over her, surrounding her. She felt trapped.
    Her mother picked up a pair of tongs and swirled a blank sheet of glossy paper down into its first chemical bath. “I suppose Lisbeth has already told you what happened last night—the Engles’ neighbors?”
    “Yeah.” Claire swallowed hard.
    Marie sighed and dropped the tongs back onto the table with a clatter that made Claire jump.
    “Our pack—we have been trying to find the cause of these horrible deaths. But we must not be exposed while we do it. It makes searching … difficult. And the longer these things go on, the more dangerous our lives become. The constant chattering of those
people
”—she spat out the word—“on the television … It just makes everything worse.”
    Claire was pretty sure that by “people” her mother meant Dr. Engle.
    “This is not the first time that our kind have beenthreatened. We will find out who—or what—is causing this. You do not need to concern yourself with this. There must be other things you’re wondering about? Questions you have?”
    “So, Lisbeth really doesn’t know about any of this?”
    Marie shook her head sharply. “Of course not. Lisbeth knows I have a job that takes me away at a moment’s notice—a job with odd hours, strange comings and goings. I couldn’t leave you here alone when I was off in the woods, any more than I could when I went to Dubai. Lisbeth … filled in the gaps. I know it will be hard for you to keep this from her, but you must find a way to do it.”
    The reality of the situation slammed into Claire. It was like being kicked in the chest. Claire forced back the moisture that