FROST BEGAN TO CREEP UP THE WALLS.
Transfixed, I watched lines of frost lace their way across the stone of the north towerâs records room. The pattern swept up from the floor, covering the wall, even icing the ceiling with something flaky and white. A few small, silvery crystals of snow hung in the air.
It was all delicate and etherealâand completely unnatural. The roomâs chill cut deeper than my skin, down to my marrow. If only I hadnât been alone. If somebody else could have been there to see it, I might have been able to believe it was real. I might have been able to believe I was safe.
The ice crackled so loudly, I jumped. As I watched, my eyes wide and breath coming in thin, quick gasps, the frost etching its way across the window obscured the view of the night sky outside, blocking the moonlight, but somehow I could still see. The room possessed its own light now. All the many lines of frost on the window broke this way and that, not at random but in an eerie pattern, creating a recognizable shape.
A face.
The frost man stared back at me. His dark, angry eyes were so detailed that it seemed as though he were looking back at me. The face in the frost was the most vivid image Iâd ever seen.
Then the cold stabbed into my heart as I realized: He really was looking back at me.
Once, I hadnât believed in ghostsâ
AT MIDNIGHT, THE STORM ARRIVED.
Dark clouds scudded across the sky, blotting out the stars. The quickening wind chilled me as strands of my red hair blew across my forehead and cheeks. I pulled up the hood of my black raincoat and tucked my messenger bag beneath it.
Despite the gathering storm, the grounds of Evernight still werenât completely dark. Nothing less than total darkness would do. Evernight Academyâs teachers could see in the night and hear through the wind. All vampires could.
Of course, at Evernight, the teachers werenât the only vampires. When the school year began in a couple of days, the students would arrive, most of them as powerful, ancient, and undead as the professors.
I wasnât powerful or ancient, and I was still very much alive. But I was a vampire, in a wayâborn to two vampires, destined to become one myself eventually, and with my own appetite for blood. Iâd slipped past the teachers before, trusting in my own powers to help me, as well as some dumb luck. But tonight I waited for that darkness. I wanted as much cover as possible.
I guess I was nervous about my first burglary.
The word burglary makes it sound sort of cheap, like I was just going to barge into Mrs. Bethanyâs carriage house and ransack the place for money or jewelry or something. I had more important reasons.
Raindrops began to patter down as the sky darkened further. I ran across the grounds, casting a few glances toward the schoolâs stone towers as I went. As I skidded through the rain-slick grass to Mrs. Bethanyâs copper-roofed carriage house, I felt the queasy pull of hesitation. Seriously? Youâre going to break into her house? Break into anyoneâs house? You donât even download music you havenât paid for. It was kind of surreal, reaching into my bag and pulling out my laminated library card for a use other than checking out books. But I was determined. I would do this. Mrs. Bethany left the school maybe three nights a year, which meant tonight was my chance. I slid the card between door and doorjamb and started jimmying the lock.
Five minutes later, I was still uselessly wiggling the library card around, my hands now cold, wet, and clumsy. On TV, this part always looked so easy. Real criminals could probably do this in about ten seconds flat. However, it was becoming more obvious by the second that I wasnât much of a criminal.
Giving up on plan A, I started searching for another option. At first the windows didnât look much more promising than the door. Sure, I could have broken the glass and opened any of them instantly, but that would have defeated the donât-get-caught part of my plan.
As I rounded a corner, I saw to my surprise that Mrs. Bethany had left one window openâjust a crack. That was all I needed.
As I slowly slid the window up, I saw a row of African violets in little clay pots, sitting on the sill. Mrs. Bethany had left them where they would get fresh air and perhaps some rain. It was weird to think about Mrs. Bethany caring for any living thing. I carefully pushed the pots to one side so I would have room to hoist myself through the window.
Getting in through an open window? Also much harder than it looks on TV.
Mrs. Bethanyâs windows were pretty high off the ground, which meant I had to kind of jump to get started. Panting, I began to pull myself through, and it was difficult not to just fall flat on the floor inside. I was trying to come down feet-first. But Iâd gone through the window headfirst, and I couldnât exactly turn around halfway through. One of my muddy shoes hit a windowpane hard, and I gasped, but the glass didnât break. I managed to lower myself the rest of the way and flop onto the floor.