Sometimes By Moonlight (14 page)

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Authors: Heather Davis

BOOK: Sometimes By Moonlight
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Marie-Rose perched on the edge of her bed, looking for a moment like she wanted to say something. Maybe she wanted to tell me the truth about what was going on with her. Or maybe she wanted to ask me why I was I was crying. But after a moment of sitting there, she got under her covers and turned out the light.

 

She had the decency to let me begin my night of worried, dreamless sleep.

 

Chapter Ten

 

 

 

 

 

I woke up with a feeling of dread in my bones, deeper than anything I’d ever felt before. I was filled with the fear that I would never see Austin again.

 

I hadn’t slept but a few moments the whole night. And my dreams of running after prey and singing to Mother Moon were replaced with dark, tumbling nightmares wherein I was trapped in a wolf’s body with no knowledge, no home, no guidance. Those nightmares led to paralyzing realizations as the morning dawned.

 

I was going to be a werewolf orphan. I was going to change alone.  And then what would I do? I had no access to serum. I didn’t even know where, exactly, Austin’s family castle was. Would I just show up in Muldania in the hopes that they would help me? 

 

I went down to breakfast, moving as slow and fecklessly as a zombie. Seated in front of my bowl of cereal, I ignored the gossip flowing through the room and buzzing around our table. It felt like my life was over. Really over.

 

Around eight o’clock, when most of us were hanging out in the living room again, Madame LaCroix swept in with Hans and a handsome, blond man in uniform.

 

“Girls, we have a report on the incident,” she announced, and then she turned to the policeman, smiling. “Herr Eppler will give us an overview, so that if any of you, or your parents, have questions, you will know what to say.”

 

Of course Madame LaCroix’s main concern was for Steinfelder’s cash flow. One whiff of a shooting at the academy and all of us would be gone, along with our parents’ money.

 

Herr Eppler cleared his throat. “There is no imminent danger. Security detected an intruder and fired his weapon to deter the perpetrator.”

 

“I sent off several warning shots,” interjected Hans.

 

The policeman gave Hans a pointed look. “On investigation, we found a blood trail. The perpetrator was hit at least once.”

 

Blood trail
.
The words echoed in my mind. Was Austin out there hurt, hiding in the woods? Had the shock of the bullet forced him to change into his wolf self? Was he even alive? Panic rose in me like a terrible wave. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine he was out there, recovering from a mere graze, but the truth was that he could be dead. And my fears of losing him, of losing us would be coming true.

 

Next to me, Patricia raised her hand. “Who was it? This perpetrator?”

 

“I saw a dark figure,” Hans said. “A man, I am pretty sure, moving fast near the fence.”

 

I couldn’t help but ask, “Was he armed?”

 

Hans glowered at me. “There are clearly posted signs for several kilometers around the perimeter of Steinfelder, warning intruders they will be shot. This has always been a deterrent, up until now.”

 

“You shot an unarmed subject?” Patricia gave him a funny look. “I don’t see how that is ethical.”

 

Madame LaCroix tut-tutted. “This is private property. Trespassing is not taken lightly here.”

 

“We Swiss have well-armed citizens. Our right to defend ourselves is an important part of maintaining our neutrality,” said Herr Eppler.

 

“If we’ve exhausted all the questions, I think we should return to our normal activities,” Madame LaCroix said.

 

“Just stay away from the fence,” I muttered.

 

Hans gave me a sideways smile. “Exactly.”

 

“Gentlemen, thank you. Teachers, let’s have a brief meeting in the staff dining room,” Madame said, before stalking off.

 

The gathering dissolved, some girls retreating to the library, others going to hang outside for awhile. I curled into one of the armchairs near the living room fire, pondering my options. There were three choices as far as I could see. I could go out into the woods to search for Austin and possibly get shot by the overzealous and now probably paranoid Hans. I could rally some help from the outside—Muldania. Or I could run away from Steinfelder altogether. Maybe I would do all three.

 

For my second and third options, I needed to get to a laptop or a cell phone and my passport. All of those things were in Madame LaCroix’s office, and she and the teachers would be wrapped up in a meeting for the next few minutes. I glanced over to Marie-Rose, who was helping Patricia with a crossword puzzle. I didn’t know if she was watching over me for Austin or the bad guys, but I didn’t need a shadow now, not when it really counted.

 

I got up with my water glass, pretending to walk to the kitchen, but took a turn down the administrator’s hallway. As I passed the display case of Duke Steinfelder’s collection, I shuddered with the knowledge that the silver dagger must have been used to kill werewolves.

 

When I reached Madame’s office, the door was open. I ditched my water glass and went straight to the desk. It was tempting to try the laptop first, but I figured finding my passport would be pretty easy. One of her desk drawers was locked. I tried to picture her key ring in my mind. I didn’t remember there being a small key like the one this drawer called for, so it had to be hidden nearby. Madame definitely underestimated her students’ bravery. She’d assume no one would be dumb enough to break into her office and rummage in her desk. 

 

I pulled open the unlocked drawers and felt for keys taped beneath them. Nothing. And then my eyes lit on the candy jar on the desk. I found a tiny key there, taped to the bottom of the lid. When I opened the locked drawer, I found the typical contraband: chocolate bars, some cigarettes, and a couple of cell phones. I pocketed one that looked like it could be mine and relocked the drawer.

 

“Where are you, passport?” I murmured, moving out from behind the desk.

 

Against the far wall, beneath another portrait of the duke, stood a file cabinet. That might make more sense for official documents. The drawers were locked, of course. I tried a few more hiding places for a key, but came up empty. Then I spied Madame’s very sharp mother of pearl letter opener. I’d learned many things at Red Canyon from the kids on the brat camp circuit, but picking a simple lock was by far the most useful. The important thing was to try to damage the lock as little as possible so that no one knew you’d worked it over.

 

By the time I jimmied it open, the lock’s keyhole was a little bent around the edges, but still worked fine. I rifled through the drawer. There were thick files of notes on all the students, and I was really tempted to pull mine, but there wasn’t time. At the back of the manila files, I found a shoebox filled with passports. I slid mine into my pocket and relocked the file cabinet drawer just in time to hear someone coming down the hallway. I’d never been more thankful for my improved senses.

 

“What are you doing skulking around here?” Mrs. Lemmon said, meeting me near the glass cases in front of the office. Her tone wasn’t unkind, but there was an edge to it.

 

“Oh, me?” I glanced up into her wrinkled face, willing her not to ask any more questions. “Just bored,” I said.

 

Mrs. Lemmon cocked her head and gave me an appraising look. “This is a section of the building where you could get into real trouble. I should report you to Madame LaCroix right now.” She walked over to Madame’s office and pulled the door shut with a click.

 

“But you won’t, right?” I asked softly.

 

“Locke!” Miss Kovac stalked up to us, her eyes narrowed. “Is there a problem?”

 

“Yes,” Mrs. Lemmon said. “I caught Locke lollygagging around the glass cases.”

 

My mouth dropped open at the lie. Mrs. Lemmon was covering for me.

 

“The dagger!” Miss Kovac whirled around to check it was still there, which, of course, it was.

 

“I didn’t touch it. Really,” I said.

 

Mrs. Lemmon pointed at me. “Off with you now, before you get into mischief,” she said. “You don’t want to miss the shopping trip to town today.”

 

Behind her, Miss Kovac gave me a tight smile.

 

I rolled my eyes, as any annoyed kid would do, and walked way.

 

“If ever someone deserved that dagger,” I heard Kovac mutter.

 

“Now, now,” Mrs. Lemmon replied. “None of that talk in front of the students.”

 

The hair on the back of my neck stood up, but I didn’t turn around. I didn’t even pause. The last thing I wanted either of them to know was that I’d heard anything at that distance. No matter how awful it was.

 

When I got around the corner, I pulled the stolen phone out of my pocket and hit the power button. I need to try to call someone, anyone, for help. My first thought was my friend Ariel, whose family knew Austin’s. Even if she didn’t know the family’s dark secret, maybe she’d have their number in Muldania.

 

I glanced down at the screen of the phone again, waiting for the power to kick in, but nothing happened. My heart sank as I realized the thing was completely out of power. And the charger was probably at the bottom of Madame LaCroix’s drawer.

 

***

 

A few hours later on our shopping trip into the town of Steinfelderburg, I stared up at the Departures sign in the tiny train station, looking for any name that could be Muldania written in German. I needed to get far enough away from school so I could figure out my next move. And with any luck, I’d be able to find a cheap phone charger in town before I left.

 

I felt the small bundle of bills in my pocket again. We’d each been given the money sent by our parents for Christmas shopping. My dad had only sent a hundred Euros. It wasn’t nearly enough to buy presents and pay to ship them back to the states, but a hundred Euros might save my life, and maybe Austin’s.

 

I walked up to the ticket window. “Hi, do you speak English?”

 

“Of course,” the man said, reluctantly turning down the page of the paperback in front of him. When he shut the book, I saw it was an American romance novel.

 

“So, uh, I need to buy a ticket to Muldania,” I said.

 

He squinted at me. “What did you say?”

 

“Muldania—it’s by Yugoslavia.”

 

“Yes, I know where it is, Miss.” He turned to a keyboard and typed away. “There is one train. It leaves tonight. The price is two-hundred-and-five Euros.”

 

“Oh. So, what other trains leave today?” I said in as casual a tone I could muster. “I have, like, a hundred Euros,” I admitted.

 

He wrinkled his nose. “Do I understand that now you don’t want to go to Muldania?”

 

“Yes. I mean, where can I go for one hundred Euros?”

 

“One hundred?” he said, scratching at his stubbly chin. “There is a train to Salzburg, Austria. It departs in one hour. Eighty-five Euros one way.”

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