Nocturne (19 page)

A hot yellow flame grabbed onto one of the branches deep in the middle, spreading itself out along the bark like a flag unfurling. There was a crackling. A pop. And then the heat poured out. It washed over Claire, unlocked her knees, and sent her tumbling to the ground.

"Claire!" Her mother exclaimed. "Are you all right?"

Claire lifted her head, staring at the roaring fire, and shook with joy and relief. It was over. She'd succeeded.

"I'm great," she whispered.

"Well. We've all seen that you can light the fire." A smile carved its way across Marie's face, and Claire could see her work to contain her happiness.

Victoria let out a little cheer, which startled the baby, who started to cry. Victoria glanced down, shushing her back to sleep.

Claire looked over at her and grinned, though the sight of the baby took a little of the glow off her elation. There was more at stake than just her, and she'd planted herself right in the middle of it.

Voluntarily.

She bit her lip, praying she'd done the right thing by trying to help Victoria.

"Let's proceed with the rest of the naming before the baby wakes again," Marie said. The women all scrambled into a circle around the fire. Victoria positioned herself in front of the carefully piled leaves, covering them with a flannel blanket before laying the baby on it. The baby was sound asleep again, her lips pursed and her lashes curling against her pink cheek.

Marie raised her arms, smiling at them all. "And now we begin. A beginning for this baby, a new beginning for Victoria, and a continuation of our pack. Victoria, please drink this." Marie handed her a thermos of something that wafted an herbaceous-smelling steam into the clearing. "The herbs will help you to heal from the birth and give you the strength to complete tonight's ceremony." Victoria took a cautious sip. A little smile spread across her face. "It's good," she said.

"Of course it is," Marie said. She looked like a hen ruffling its feathers. "Your body knows what it needs. Now drink up."

Victoria drained the thermos, her cheeks flushing pink with the heat of the tea. "Done," she announced. Her eyes looked brighter, and with her rosy skin, she looked better— healthier—than she had in months.

"Excellent."

Marie turned to the group and began to chant, calling all their names.

"You may transform," Marie announced.

The women became wolves in the blink of an eye, and there was a great deal of prancing and yipping—the excitement they were all feeling brought with it the instinctive urge to move. Claire paced restlessly, anxious about what was coming. The only two wolves who were completely still were Marie, who sat with her head cocked in amusement, and Victoria, who lay curled around the baby, who slept.

All right. Let us continue before anyone gets too carried away.
Marie stood, pacing closer to Victoria and the baby.

First, we will each give the baby our blessing—a wish for her
future. Katherine? Perhaps you would like to begin.
Marie withdrew slightly, still overseeing but giving the other wolves room to move closer to the baby.

Katherine walked forward, nuzzling the tiny bundle the slightest bit. Her nose left a wet mark on the pink blanket.
I
wish you health, Little One. I bless you with it.

She turned to Victoria.
She's beautiful.

Victoria thumped her tail on the ground wearily.
Thank
you. And thank you for your blessing.

Katherine went back to her place in the circle, looking pleased.

Judith came and stood near the baby, her posture serious, almost severe.
I wish you patience. You will need much of it in
your life. I bless you with it.

She turned and retreated without saying anything to Victoria—without waiting for a response.

Claire hung back, trying to figure out what to bless Victoria's daughter with. She didn't want to say something stupid. She wished she'd had more time to think about it, that her mother had told her about this part, too, and not just the giving-the-name stuff. She sighed.

While Claire was lost in thought, Marie bent over the baby and blessed her with strength, followed by Beatrice, who lay down close beside the baby and Victoria and very quietly offered her a blessing of love.

Seeing Beatrice and Victoria wrapped around the tiny baby made a wistful sort of longing rise in Claire's throat, halfchoking her. The feeling smelled so strong, she could taste it, like the bitter peel of an orange mixed with darkly sweet chocolate. The three of them looked so happy. Claire wanted what they had—wanted it desperately. That contentment. No one wanting the others to be more or less than they were.

She stepped forward, and Beatrice got to her feet, grimacing as one of her knees popped.

Your turn, Not-the-Littlest One.

Claire crouched near the baby, breathing in the milky pure smell of her breath, the scent of her skin.

I bless you with happiness.
She closed her eyes briefly, and when she opened them, she saw Victoria nuzzled in close to the baby, who had awoken.

Thank you. Thank you all for such amazing gifts. I'm sure she
will be all of those things—have all of those things—and more.

Claire backed away, watching Victoria and her daughter stare at each other, the infant's slate blue eyes studying the enormous wolf in front of her.

It is time for the naming.
Marie nudged Victoria gently. Ar
e
you ready?

Claire's heart began to thud again, her chest aching from so much stress in one night.

Victoria lowered her head.
I guess so. What . . . what do I . . .
She hesitated.

Marie sat down. Te
ll her the name you have chosen. The rest
will sort itself out.

Claire didn't like the sound of the second part. Forcing herself not to worry, not to think, she watched as Victoria bent low over her daughter. The movement drew the baby's atten tion, and she turned to look at her mother. There was a serious, determined expression on her little face, and her tiny rosebud lips sucked hungrily at the air.

Victoria's nose nearly brushed the earth.

Hi, Little One. You have good friends here. They have helped me,
and they will help you. And when they do, they will call you by your
name. And your name, my daughter, is Aura.

From deep in the forest came the roaring howl of an approaching wind thundering through the pines like an enormous animal. Victoria threw herself over Aura, and Claire braced herself instinctively just as the gale whipped into the clearing. It slammed into her side, rocking her. Fear and elation raced through her. Whatever was happening was either very good or very bad, but she had a clear sense that the naming had somehow made it happen.

The wind tore through the center of the clearing. Claire worried it would fan the flames of the ceremonial fire, scatter the sparks into the flailing, fluttering undergrowth, but it didn't. The fire simply died, blown out like a candle.

As quickly as it had come, the gust stopped, leaving the wolves shaken. They crouched in the dark clearing, their fur full of leaves and twigs. Stunned. Silent.

Marie shook out her coat, padding quickly over to Victoria.
Is Aura all right?

Victoria hesitated.
I think so. She seems to be.

On the ground, still swaddled in her blankets, the baby began to fuss in an empty, pathetic sort of way.

I would like to pick her up. To be sure. She sounds as though she
may be hungry. V
ictoria looked from Aura to Marie and back, her ears flicking wildly.

Of course. I would normally say a few closing words, but the
ceremony is—obviously—over. I have never—
she stopped. W
ell.
Let us transform. We can discuss it then, before Claire finishes
demonstrating her skills. We will have to relight the fire, but that's
as good a way as any to separate the two ceremonies.

Marie turned to the rest of the wolves. Claire eased out of her defensive stance, her muscles shaking in protest.

You may transform,
Marie announced.

Victoria was the only one who immediately changed form. She scooped Aura up and hurried off to find her clothes. The rest of the wolves ranged into the woods, searching for the clothes that had been scattered by the wind. It didn't take Claire long—the scents of detergent and human skin stood out in the forest. She transformed among the trees, dressing quickly and then reaching up to retrieve a last sock that had been caught in the low branches of a scrubby tree.

She hurried back to the gathering, wrapping her arms around herself against the cold, trying to shut out her confusion about what had just happened. She wasn't sure if she should be expecting celebration or condemnation in the clearing—she had either seriously helped Victoria or seriously misled her. The other wolves were already in the clearing, huddled

close for warmth. Victoria sat on a fallen log, nursing Aura.

"Claire's back," Katherine said.

The others turned to look at Claire. She waited, her heart pounding—pouncing—in her chest.

"You should be very pleased," Marie said to Victoria, pride glittering in her eyes.

"I didn't do it alone," Victoria said. "Claire helped me."

"Really?" Marie looked startled.

"I tried to," Claire said. "Victoria helped me so much with the fire—I was just trying to do the same for her." The frenetic beat of her heart let up the tiniest bit. "So—that was supposed to happen?"

Beatrice said "more or less" at the same moment that Judith said "Yes."

Beatrice snorted. "Come on, Judith, be fair. At every naming I've ever been to, we've watched the fire—and hard—for any sign that even a little part of it had gone out. Once, years ago, my mother spoke of a naming where a branch fell out of the fire, putting out its flames as it rolled."

Katherine shivered. "I've never seen anything even remotely like that."

Marie smiled. "You see, Claire, the Goddess takes part of the fire as her tithe—it is the sacrifice we make for the name. The story goes that the more fitting the name that is chosen, the greater the sacrifice—the larger the portion of the fire that is extinguished."

Claire turned the words over in her mind, happiness stretching inside her like a bent-winged bird. "So, since the whole fire went out—"

"Not just 'went out,'" Beatrice crowed. "It was b
lown out
, Young One."

"Yes," Marie said. "It means what you think it means. That the name was exactly right."

Victoria glowed. She stared down at Aura, and her whole body was suffused with light and happiness. Claire felt her throat tighten. There would be no bad luck for this baby. Not with all the blessings they'd given her. Not with a name that had gotten
that
sort of reaction.

"All right, everyone," Marie said. "It is getting late, and there is still much to be done. Victoria, perhaps you should take Aura. There is no need to drag her through any more tonight, and you cannot take her on the hunt, anyway."

Irritation briefly creased Victoria's features, but her face smoothed out when she looked down at Aura, who was such a tiny bundle in the black enormity of the forest.

"Yes," she murmured. "I think I will take her home." She looked up at Claire. "If you need me, you call. I'll come. You know that, right? You did so much for Aura—there's nothing I wouldn't do for you. N
othing."
Her gaze burned brightly enough to blind Claire to everything else.

"Thank you," Claire said softly.

Victoria nodded, standing up carefully so that Aura wouldn't be jostled.

When the two of them had left, Judith and Beatrice quickly built another pile of wood in the center of the clearing.

Marie turned to Claire. "You've already lit the fire. Do you want to do it again? You do not have to. Not tonight."

Judith's expression turned to flint, but Claire was still burning from the success of the naming and from Victoria's loyalty. She was scorching with it.

"I'll light it." She stepped close to the pile.

Marie lifted an eyebrow. She looked surprised.

She also looked very much like she approved.

Claire glanced at the wood, feeling the fire so strongly that it flared to life effortlessly. She could almost see the sparks leaping from her fingertips. The force of the sudden blaze created a breeze in the clearing, and Claire's hair drifted across her cheek.

She didn't even bother to look over at Judith. She didn't care what her reaction was. Her mother's square-shouldered pride was enough.

"Well, you've obviously mastered that skill," Marie said quietly. "Let's transform."

Claire's four paws hit the ground before anyone else's. Next to her, Beatrice let out a wolfy version of a chuckle.

Marie gave a silencing grumble.

Since you are transformed, you may show us your far-reaching
ability to hear.

Pleased at the surprised expression that lit Judith's eyes, Claire turned to face the fire, wrapped her tail close around her body, and let out a long, whistling breath through her nose. She shook out her fur, trying to relax her body enough that the other wolves would be able to read the voices she heard in her head in her posture and scent.

She decided to listen for Matthew—he was easy for her to hear. She imagined the sound of his voice, all warm, round vowels and the way his laugh rumbled in his chest.

"No, 's not like that. You don'
understand
."

Claire could hear a voice answering Matthew, but she couldn't quite make out what it was saying, and she couldn't figure out why his voice sounded slurred. She focused harder.

"Jus' drop it. Please. I'm going to get 'nother beer." Matthew again.

He was slurring because he was drunk.