Sometimes By Moonlight (15 page)

I glanced at the map behind his head. Austria was, at least, in the right direction. “That’s good. I’ll take it.”

“So to confirm, you want to go to Austria, not Muldania?” He raised his eyebrows at me. “You’re sure?”

“Yeah. My, uh, grandma has a house in Salzburg,” I fibbed. “She wants me to come there for the holidays. She’s pretty lonely and I don’t get to see her often.” I shoved the money through the little slot and gave him a smile.

He shrugged like he didn’t really care, printed out my ticket and then went back to reading his book. I sighed with relief. In a little while, I’d be on my way out of town.

The train station’s gift shop looked out toward the town’s main shopping drag. There were a few students milling about outside the beautifully decorated window, but I kept out of sight. Unfortunately, their technology section was pretty crappy. Not a charger in sight. When I got to Austria, it’d be morning in America. I’d find a pay phone and try to phone my friend Ariel, whose family knew Austin’s dad. Maybe she’d be able to help me get in touch with him. It was worth a try, anyway.

Near the door, I paused in front of a Christmas display, thinking about my dad and what kind of present I would have sent him if I hadn’t been forced to spend my gift money on a train ticket. I picked up a snow globe that featured Santa Claus and a sack of gifts and shook it, watching the sparkly flakes swirl around and land at his booted feet. My heart constricted in my chest. I wasn’t going to see Dad for the holidays, and when he found out I had run away from school, who knew what he’d think of me, or where we’d stand. Then again, how was he going to feel when I told him I was a werewolf?

I sucked in a deep breath and stepped out onto the street.

Marie-Rose stood near the door, eating something from a paper bag. “You didn’t buy the snow globe? It was really pretty.”

“Nah.” I shrugged.

“I bought some cookies for us. I feel badly about the last few days. I want us to be friends.” She held out the bag, and I got a whiff of gingersnaps.

“Hey, those smell just like the ones at school,” I said.

“They should. They’re from Frau Blumen’s bakery.” She pointed with the cookie bag toward a shop down the street.

I glanced at the storefront and the Blumen Bakery sign and saw something that made my blood freeze in my veins—the raised steed insignia of The Seven Horsemen. Forcing myself not to panic, I reasoned that maybe it was something the whole town displayed. But when I glanced from shop sign to shop sign, only hers showed the coat of arms. The Seven Horsemen were alive and well in Steinfelderburg, and Frau Blumen wasn’t afraid to let everyone know she belonged to the group.

“Wait a sec—that’s how you got the cookies the first time,” I said, taking a step back from Marie-Rose. “Omigod! Frau Blumen’s the one that hired you to watch me.”

Marie-Rose cheeks turned pink. “Why would you think that it was her?”

“Just tell me the truth. I won’t tell anyone that I know, okay?” I said. “If you’ve ever really been my friend, you have to tell me.”

“You’re right.” Her eyes were downcast. “It was her—and Kovac.”

“The sketchbook,” I murmured. Kovac probably faked Austin’s sketchbook. It had been her drawing skills that had seemed so familiar on the art room wall that day, and she was certainly obsessed with the duke’s silver dagger. As far as the note, Frau Blumen, with her access to the kitchen, could have written it and taped it to the tray. They’d done things to make me long for Austin, to draw him out into the open at the school. He’d been right about everything, and it had cost him his life.

“I didn’t think I was doing anything wrong. They just wanted me to make sure I knew where you were all the time. Let them know if you were trying to sneak out or cause any trouble. Tell them if I saw any sign of your Austin hanging around.”

“But why would you do that?”

“I needed the money in case
Maman
goes through with her threats to cut me off, Shelby. And I was watching over you like a good friend would, anyway. It’s no big deal, right?” Judging by the concerned look on her face, I figured she had no way of knowing she’d helped the ones who’d probably killed Austin, who were going to try to kill his family, and maybe me.

“Well, actually,” I began, considering how much to tell Marie-Rose, when an arm suddenly looped through mine.

“I need to show you something in the yarn store, Locke. The perfect color for your baby sister or brother,” Mrs. Lemmon said as she yanked me down the street.

“Uh, can it wait a minute? I was talking to Marie-Rose.”

“Nonsense, that conversation can wait.”

“You don’t understand. I really, really need to talk to her.” I tried to pull free, but Mrs. Lemmon gripped me tightly.

“Come on now.”

Together, we barged through the yarn store’s door. The scene inside overwhelmed me. The colors all seemed to swirl together, and I felt a little faint.

“Now, do you know the sex yet?” Mrs. Lemmon said, dragging me to the wall of neat shelves and baskets.

“No, I—”

“Well, not to worry. You can do just about any color. In fact, I bet they have some special shades in the back.”

I looked at her, trying to read what I felt in her tone. Then, I glanced out the yarn shop’s front window and saw Marie-Rose suddenly swarmed by Miss Kovac and a woman in a baker’s apron who had to be Frau Blumen. Marie-Rose really was working for the bad guys!

I couldn’t breathe. I glanced around the shop, feeling trapped. They were going to find me and kill me, just like they had Austin. I was dead almost-wolf meat.

“Shelby, in the
back
. Are you listening to me?” Mrs. Lemmon’s hands were on my shoulders, turning me around physically.

And then I saw what she was trying to show me.  The open door.

Chapter Eleven

“Go now, there isn’t time!” Mrs. Lemmon pulled a plastic sack from her knitting bag and thrust it at me. I looked at her, trying to understand what was happening. “Damn it, girl, run!”

My feet obeyed. I zipped out the back of the yarn shop, realizing that it was just down the block from the train station. I could hide a while, and then pop onto the train. Mrs. Lemmon, whatever her motive was, would stall Miss Kovac, and then I’d get on the train to Austria. The old bag had just saved my life!

Tears started to roll down my face as I jogged down the brick alley, dodging a fat cat sleeping on a broken chair and a recycling bin. I could see the side door to the train station at the end of the alley—I was almost there. But just as I was about to cross the lane, a black car pulled up, nearly smacking into me.

I jumped back and looked down the alley for another escape as a mustachioed man in dark glasses stepped out of the car. “Shelby?” he said.

I didn’t answer. All I knew was this guy and his sedan were in the way of my freedom. I was about to go all TV cop and roll across the hood of the car, but he reached out and snared my wrist.

“Shelby Locke?” he said again, a heavy accent lacing his pronunciation.

“Let me go!” I struggled to get free, but his grip was tight and unyielding.

“In the car,” he said.

“I’m not going anywhere with you!”

With his free hand he reached out for the door handle. “Inside,” he commanded, throwing me into the back seat.

It was dark in the car, way too dark. The tinting on the windows was probably illegal.  Then again, kidnappers probably don’t worry about those little details. I slid across the leather seat, intending to get out on the other side, but quicker than I could have imagined, we were pulling away. The auto locks engaged with a sharp click, but I pulled on the door handle anyway, out of desperation. I was trapped again.

“I am sorry to be so strong with you,” he said.

“You’re going to be sorry,” I said, reaching forward to swipe at him just as a clear glass partition rose in front of my face. “You have no idea who you are dealing with!”

He laughed then, a strange but familiar laugh. Even through the glass, I could hear him dial a phone and then start speaking in a foreign language. He was calling whomever he was working for. Great. I really was dead meat.

“What is going on?” I yelled when he clicked the phone shut. “Are you part of the Seven Horsemen? Are you going to kill me? Where are you taking me? Can you just let me know? Because I’m getting sick of this crap. I have people sneaking around, spying on me, probably killing my boyfriend. This is not okay!”

“Promise you will not try to strike me again,” the driver said via an intercom.

“Yes, fine. I won’t try to hit you.” My fingers were crossed, but he didn’t need to know that.

He lowered the partition, and I could see out the front windshield that we were leaving the town and heading toward a mountain highway. “I am a friend,” he said, turning his head slightly, so his bushy mustache stood out a little.

“A friend?”

“The bag,” he said. “Look inside.”

I had almost forgotten about the plastic bag Lemmon had shoved into my hands in the yarn store. I reached inside it and pulled out a change of clothes, my make-up bag, my toothbrush, and a pack of gummy worms. Mrs. Lemmon had packed stuff for my getaway! She had known the shopping trip would play out like this, that this black car would show up in the alley.  She must have arranged it all.

“You’re working for Mrs. Lemmon?”

“
Sì,
Harriet.” The driver winked at me. “
Mi amore
.”

“Wait… you’re Massimo? Lemmon’s Internet boyfriend?”

“
Sì,signorina
.” His eyes flashed with a silvery glow.

“Holy crap. You’re a werewolf?”

“No, no,” he said with a dismissive wave. “I prefer blood.
Sono un vampiro
.”

“A vampire?” Mrs. Lemmon’s boyfriend was an Italian vampire? I felt no fear, only relief. He drank blood, but he wasn’t a bad guy. At least, I didn’t think so.

“The Bridges are my friends.” Massimo lowered his glasses and focused on driving as we gained speed up the mountain highway.

“But wait! We can’t leave town,” I said. “We have to go to the woods and find Austin.”

“No need,” he said. “It is too late.”

“Too late?” My heart crushed in my chest.

Massimo nodded and we barreled around a big curve in the road. The tires slid a little on the icy pavement. Ahead, I could see signs for an airfield.