Sometimes By Moonlight (8 page)

“Shelby, she’s a werewolf. A cousin of mine, actually.”

“Oh.” I gave him an apologetic smile. “Well, why didn’t you say so?”

He hugged me again, taking in a deep breath. “You didn’t give me a chance to.”

“I still don’t understand,” I said, pulling back to look him in the eyes. “What couldn’t you put me at risk for?”

“For being found out.” He leaned against the counter and regarded me with a serious expression. “I’ve been watching from a distance as often as I could. And I had a friend at the castle in Muldania hack into the video chat system, so I’ve seen your calls home to your parents.”

“Muldania?”

“Our homeland. I finally convinced Dad we should get away from the London paparazzi. He bought the ancestral castle in Muldania. It’s near the border between Romania and Yugoslavia…” His voice trailed off and he held a finger to his lips.

Somewhere, I heard the squeak of floorboards. I glanced toward the door.

“So, you hear it, too?” Austin asked.

I nodded.

“Your hearing is as good as mine now,” he said, his eyes darkening. “Doesn’t that tell you something?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Let me see your arm.” He reached out and pulled up the sleeve of my hoodie, until he’d exposed the scar I’d gotten the summer before.

“It’s fine. I mean, it’s ugly, and it itches sometimes, but I guess someday I could have it repaired. My stepmom knows lots of plastic surgeons, after all.”

Austin lowered his head to my skin and kissed the scar. “Love, don’t you see? The scar, your improved hearing, your hunger, your eyes—”

“What about my eyes?” I said.

He led me over to the shiny chrome fridge in the corner of the kitchen. I could see our reflection in it. Austin’s eyes were silvery, reflecting the drops of moonlight around the room.
And so were mine.

“Holy crapola,” I said, backing away from our reflection. “That’s a trick of the light.”

“Shelby, that night in the forest at Camp Crescent—”

“You saved my life. That cougar would have shredded me. I would have been serious wildcat chow.”

Austin didn’t smile. “Think back. After the cougar attack. Remember when I was still in wolf form? You bandaged my injured shoulder and I snapped at you.”

“I already forgave you for that. You were hurt. You didn’t mean to do it.”

“Reflex or not, my teeth punctured your skin.”

“I told you I don’t care about the scar. It adds character,” I said with a little laugh.

“Shelby, I’m dead serious. This isn’t funny.”

I didn’t like the edge in Austin voice. “Okay, I’m listening,” I said.

“You’re going to change. You’re becoming like me.” He held my face in his hands. “I’m so sorry, love. It was a terrible accident. I would never wish this on anyone. Especially you.”

“You didn’t, okay? Dude, I’m so not becoming a werewolf.”

“You are. Or at least, you will be. It’s only a matter of time.” Austin froze again, listening to sound of floorboards that I heard, too. “You need to get up the back stairs to your room,” he said, releasing me. “I want you to be very careful.”

“Careful? I told you there’s nothing wrong with me.”

Austin leaned in to give me a last, luscious kiss on the mouth. “You can deny it all you want, but I see it happening before my eyes,” he said. “We’ve got to get you out of here before you change completely.”

I felt my face get hot. “I’m not going to change. And I can’t just bail on this place. Can you imagine what Honeybun and Dad would do if I ran away? They’d freak.”

“I have to go, but when it’s safe to meet, I’ll leave you a true sign, something only you and I know, under your pillow. When you find it, come to the old carriage house that night.” He touched my palm with the cheek of his hand again, and backed away toward the door. “Until then, be on your guard,” he said. “Don’t trust anyone. I know it sounds dramatic, but there really are forces seeking to expose our kind.”

I nearly stamped my foot on the ground. “I’m not your kind. And
People Magazine
isn’t hanging around Steinfelder, okay?”

Austin gave me a last sad look, blew me a kiss, and eased out the kitchen door.

I crept down the hallway toward the back staircase, fully realizing the need to evacuate. Just as I mounted the first step, I heard the squeak of swinging doors and the click of the kitchen light going on. More stealthily than I thought possible, I bounded up to my room and shut the door.

All the love I’d felt for Austin was swirling around with the scarier feeling that what he’d said was true. I stared into the mirror, trying to summon the silvery eye effect, but it wouldn’t come again. That gave me some comfort. Enough to tuck myself into bed, at least.

But I dreamed of running through thick woods that night. I dreamed of awakening in a wolf’s body on top of a rock cliff, howling at Mother Moon. I dreamed of doing things that were physically impossible for Shelby Locke, human girl. I woke up in a cold sweat, realizing the only thing I could do was to choose not to believe in anything Austin said. If I didn’t believe in it, maybe it would never happen.

With a heavy sense of dread, I forced myself up out of my bed and into the dawn of another day at Steinfelder, not sure of anything anymore, except that moonlight could be more dangerous than I’d ever suspected.

Chapter Six

“Where were you last night?” Marie-Rose stepped into the bindings of her cross-country skis next to me and lowered her sunglasses.

“What?” I worked the zipper of my jacket and then pulled a knit cap on over my sloppy ponytail.

“I woke up and you weren’t in our room,” she said.

“Oh.” I pushed away from the staging area and started gliding down the trail, toward the rest of our gym class. Several of the girls, who’d skied since they were toddlers, were already disappearing around the first bend. Our teacher, Mrs. Einhorn, waved at the stragglers like us to hurry up. Some kind of former Winter Olympian, the lady had us students outside a lot, when most of us would have preferred to run laps in the gym.

I’d never really skied very much, but after a few weeks of Mrs. Einhorn’s instruction, I’d gotten the hang of it. Marie-Rose, whose family owned a ski chalet somewhere, was an expert in both cross-country and downhill. If I hadn’t known her, I might have hated her for her perfectly prissy, annoyingly cute matching pink ski coat and pants. My own skiing get-up was a mish-mash of what I’d brought with me and a few things I’d purchased in town.

“Come on, where were you? And don’t say the bathroom,” Marie-Rose said, catching up to me. “I checked.”

I adjusted my hand on my poles and pushed harder so I could take advantage of the slope of the hill. “You were asleep when I came back,” I said.

“Yes, I was tired of waiting for you. So, tell me.”

We both tucked slightly, riding the downward momentum. “You asked me to keep you out of trouble, so I’m keeping you out of it. I’m doing things on my own.” I didn’t mean for the words to sound harsh, but the look on Marie-Rose’s face showed me I’d failed.

She stroked harder with her legs, passing me on the straightaway and then attacking the lead of the other girls.  Breathing was difficult in the frigid air, but I kept pushing myself, wanting to catch my roommate. The trail led around more trees and to another incline. At last, I caught her on the hill.

“I thought you wanted to be alone,” Marie-Rose said, as we huffed our way upward.

“I was just following your instructions. You told me—”

“I don’t want you to get in trouble! Can’t you see that I’m worried about you?” She dug harder, passing me on the hill for the moment.

“Haven’t you heard? Trouble is my middle name.” I smiled grimly.

We’d caught up to the other girls now, and Marie-Rose threaded herself through the pack like a pro. Our breath poured out in white clouds as we coasted down the slope toward another flat section.

“You don’t have to worry about me, okay?” I told her.

She grunted. “How can I not when every risk you take affects me?”

I didn’t see how that was true, and it kind of pissed me off that all Marie-Rose seemed to care about was that I might get her into trouble. I’d been right not to trust her with everything going on with Austin. She’s probably keel over if she knew I’d seen him.

“Your recklessness is very selfish, you know,” she continued.

My mouth dropped open.
Recklessness?
She had no idea how hard I’d worked to keep myself in check at stupid Steinfelder thus far. Blood rushed to my cheeks, but rather than saying what I really wanted to, I lowered my chin and skied harder.

Within a few minutes, I’d left Marie-Rose far behind. Fueled by my anger, I pumped my arms and nudged my tired legs onward. I wanted space and distance and quiet. The snow started to fall gently down all around me, slowing the trail, but I kept skiing, gazing up at the big white sky and marveling at the beautiful evergreen trees lining the path. I couldn’t hear anyone else anymore—no chatter from the girls, nor the sound of their skis on the snow. I could only hear the forest.

But then I saw a flash of something moving in the trees. Something all white that blended in with the snow. Drawn to investigate, I stopped and snapped off my skis. Without even thinking, I was suddenly following the creature through the spruce trees.

I thundered down a barely noticeable trail, wanting—no, needing—to get to this thing. Thoughts of Steinfelder gone from my mind, I barely felt my ski boots and heavy clothes as I tore after my target. My breath came in jagged gulps as I dodged the trees and ducked around bushes in my path. The movement of the thing was erratic, terrified, and that only made me want to catch up to it more.

My body was on autopilot, but all my senses were engaged. I paused to sniff air, trying to catch its scent. And the thing raced ahead, a flash of white against the white, white snow and the pale tree trunks. I rushed on, sure I was close. Before long, I reached a frozen pond, barely skidding to a halt in time.

There, on the other side of the ice was an alpine hare, chest heaving, eyes nervous. I’d been chasing a bunny.

“Holy crap,” I muttered, plopping down onto my butt in the snow. “What is wrong with me?”

But I knew. “He can’t be right. He can’t be right,” I chanted like a mantra. I sat there, breathing in and out, fighting against the realization that was coursing through my body.
I had chased after a hare. I had tried to catch prey.

I shuddered. “I’m sorry, little guy. I probably gave you a heart attack,” I called out to the hare, who was statue-like on the other side of the pond, waiting, watching. “It’s not normally like me to do that.” I rose to my feet. “I’m just a regular girl, okay?” I dusted the back of my snow pants off, trying to pretend that I wasn’t freaking out.