Sometimes By Moonlight (7 page)

I heard a phone slam down in Madame’s office. Not wanting her to find me loitering outside her door, I hurried down the hallway, passing the glass cases that housed the duke’s collection of antiquities. The cootie-covered dagger, I noted, had been put back in its display area, atop a red velvet cloth. Its blade gleamed under the case’s display lights.

“Don’t even think about it.” Miss Kovac’s rasp seemed to be right in my ear.

“Think about what? As if I’d want to steal some old guy’s knife.”

“It’s very valuable,” she said, swooshing down the hall past me.

“Valuable?” I repeated. “It’s not like it’s made of gold.”

“No,” she said, glancing over her shoulder. “It’s solid silver.”

Chapter Five

You know how, in those scary movies, the wind is always blowing and the tree branches are always brushing up against the window? That could never happen at Steinfelder. The duke had planted poplar trees around the perimeter of the chateau grounds, but had wanted the interior grounds bare. In keeping with that tradition, later generations had added shrubbery and the formal gardens, but there were no trees near the building.

So believe me when I say I couldn’t have heard any branches doing their thing against our dorm room window that night, but I had heard something. I got out of bed, careful not to make any noise that would wake Marie-Rose, who was sleeping soundly, a frown worrying her forehead. I pulled back the sheer curtain a little, letting in the glow of the moonlight.

I listened for the scratching sound I’d heard a minute before, but it was gone. Maybe I’d just imagined it, or maybe it was one of the noises from the forest that had seemed to become louder over the last few weeks. The Alps really were coming alive with the sound of…something. I let the curtain fall back into place, and then I slid my legs back inside my covers and willed my eyes to close.

Instead, I lay there, blinking at the ceiling. And then my stomach started to growl. All I could think about were the forbidden gingersnaps. I’d barely touched the mushy
spaetzle
and boiled cabbage dinner they’d tried to feed us that evening. And, down in the kitchen, the cookies were just hanging out, waiting to be consumed by our privileged teachers whenever they wanted. It was so unfair.

With a guilty glance toward Marie-Rose, I slipped out of bed again. Quietly, I threw on yoga pants and pulled a hoodie on over my sleep shirt. The only socks in reach were my fuzzy microfiber ones, but they’d do for Operation: Covert Cookie. My gurgling stomach was totally overruling Madame LaCroix and her threats. I couldn’t see her calling anyone’s parents over a stolen cookie or two, even if I got caught. Anyway, Madame and the other staff occupied the east wing of the building, leaving Lemmon the only teacher monitoring this floor of the dorm. No video chat sounds were coming from her room. I hovered near the door, hearing only her snoring. It reminded me of my dad’s. It was totally the kind of heavy-duty snoring you could ease out of the house to.

As I tiptoed past her door, that old feeling of sneakily won freedom coursed through my veins. Back at my house in Beverly Hills, I had found it pretty easy to slip outside without anyone knowing. It had been especially sweet when Honeybun had been the only one home. In a way, maybe I had been trying to underscore to my dad that she was never going to be a suitable parent. Or maybe I’d just liked the challenge of trying to get away with something, at least for a little while.

In my slippery socks I zipped toward the front stairs, almost crashing into the balustrade.
Must calm down
.
I used the hand railing and forced myself to go step by step, Duke Steinfelder gazing sternly down at me the whole way. I was sure no one ever kept cookies from him when this had been his castle.

I covered the short distance to the kitchen in a few long glides on my microfiber socks, skating across the worn wooden floor. As I rounded the corner to the kitchen, the scent of the gingersnaps seemed to be wafting in the air, calling me. That was the extent of my hunger, that it could smell cookies at one hundred paces.

I eased through the swinging doors ahead of me. Except for the sound of a fan on somewhere, the kitchen was silent. Metal counters that looked more like fixtures from a morgue ran the length of the room and an enormous blackened stove dominated the back wall. Over by the sink area, long windows overlooked the poorly lit side yard of the chateau. The pungent smell of cooked cabbage hung in the air, but underneath I still got the hint of ginger. The cookies were nearby.

I ducked into the pantry and hit the jackpot. On a rolling rack filled with metal trays, gingersnaps rested alongside fresh bread loaves. My stomach growled, claiming victory. I shoved two cookies into the pocket of my hoodie, and then carefully fanned out the rest of the cookies on the tray, hiding the empty spot I’d created.

Out in the kitchen, I leaned against a counter and took a bite of one of the gingersnaps. It was slightly chewy, with just the hint of a crunch on the edges, and it had a little bit of sugar sprinkled over the top. I devoured it in three big bites. Then, as I sat there pondering whether to go for the other cookie in my pocket or to grab another one from the tray, a shadow moved across windows.

I froze.

So did the shadow.

I ducked down next to the sink and crawled over to the Dutch door to take a peek outside. I figured it was probably Hans on patrol, now that he couldn’t trust his Dobermans. I didn’t think he could be bribed with cookies. I was probably busted. Slowly, I rose to peek out the glass half of the door and meet my fate.

And I found myself face to face with Austin.

His gorgeous amber eyes gleamed as he pulled back the hood of his black ski jacket. He smiled widely, his lustrous dark hair falling in waves around his face.

My heart lifted in my chest. I reached up to wipe away any cookie crumbs on my mouth and then waved shyly at him through the glass.

“Open,” mouthed Austin, pointing down at the handle of the door.

“It’s not locked,” I whispered, letting him in.

“Brilliant. And all this time I was trying to figure out if I’d trip an alarm.”

“All this time?” I shut the door quietly. “But weren’t you out in the well house?”

“What? No.” Austin pulled me to him. “It took me weeks to figure out getting through the fence,” he said. “Otherwise, I would have come before.” He bent his lips to mine and kissed me. I drank in his affection like a girl dying of thirst in the desert. He could never kiss me enough.  “Mm, gingersnaps,” he said, smiling as we caught our breath.

“Yeah. I got hungry.” My heart was beating in a strange rhythm as Austin held me in his arms. I lifted my chin against his neck, comforted by the smell of his skin. It was so good to be in his arms again. I almost didn’t care that I wearing a stupid hoodie and yoga pants and had no make-up on.

“How are you feeling, Shelby?” he whispered into my messy hair. The sound of him saying my name, with his British accent and slight growl, made me want to sink into him deeper. I didn’t think there was a sexier voice on the planet. Or that my name had ever sounded better.

“I’m fine now,” I said.

“No, love. I mean, how are you feeling?” He untangled his arms from mine and put a hand under my chin to lift it to the light. His eyes filled with concern as he searched mine.

“I feel fine, I guess,” I said. “Why?”

“You said you got hungry. Are you hungrier than normal lately? Are you hearing things more sharply?”

“I heard something earlier. A scratching sound.”

“Yes. Those were my new friends out in the guard house,” Austin said, releasing my chin.

“They do seem like nice dogs.”

He smiled grimly. “Actually, they’re trained killers.”

“But I was out there yesterday and all they did was whine and scratch at their cages.”

Austin nodded. “Dogs can be charmed,” he said, eyeing me with concern again.

“Well, I heard the scratching noise tonight and then my stomach was growling so I came down here.”

“The hunger,” he murmured.

I patted my pocket. “Yep. Gingersnaps.”

“Oh.” Austin let out a slow breath. “So no meat tonight?”

“Huh? What is this? I mean, are you here to see me or to check in on my eating habits?”

“No, I—”

“And what do you mean about it taking weeks for you to get in here?” I asked, shaking my head. “You sent me the note at dinner. You left your sketchbook in the well house for me to find. You posted the picture of the dogs in the art room.”

Austin’s face paled. “I did none of those things, love. I swear to you this is the first time I’ve been over the fence.”

“No way.”

“I couldn’t get to you, but I called to you in the night,” he said, holding my gaze. “I hoped that somehow you would hear me.”

“I did,” I said. “I heard your wolf’s cry. I heard your voice, too.”

He kissed me again, and I felt warmth moving through my body. His lips were so soft while his arms, encircling me again, were so strong. I never wanted him to let go.

“Those other things you mentioned,” he said slowly. “Someone here at the school must have done them.”

“Why would they do that?”

Austin released me from his embrace and leaned against the kitchen worktable. “I think they were hoping to encourage you to draw me here to Steinfelder.”

“How could I do that?”

“We have a bond stronger than you realize.” Austin began to pace the kitchen. “Who here is aware that you know me?”

I gulped back embarrassment. “Um, like, everyone.”

“Ah.” Austin’s cheeks colored. “You talked about me…”

“Well, of course. I mean, I’ve been sad! What do you expect when you don’t write to me? I started to worry that the summer was all a stupid camp fling or something. And then, I saw you in that magazine with that Eva Maleva chick and I didn’t know what to think.”

“I couldn’t write to you,” he said. “I couldn’t put you at risk.”

“At risk for what? A broken heart? Too late,” I said, hitting him on the arm.

“No, I didn’t want to risk anyone knowing that you associated with me.”

“Oh, I get it, you’ve got to protect your image and Eva Maleva is like, the perfect, glamorous girlfriend or something.”

“No, Eva is—”

“I don’t want to hear it.”

Austin grabbed on to my arms, stilling me. “Listen—she’s like me. She’s our kind.”

“Yeah, rich and famous,” I said. “I get it. I know that I’m not fancy or anything but—”