Free The Night Has Teeth by Kat Kruger Page A

fare in cash, the taxi screeches away before I can even
fully close the door.
    I’m left standing on the sidewalk in front of
Madison’s boarding house. Maybe it’s my imagination, but the
mansion is cast in an eerie light. The sun won’t be up for another
hour at least. There’s a gentle breeze that hushes through the
trees. As I enter the premises, the front gate groans open. I don’t
really know what to do next. Ringing the doorbell is obviously not
an option. Of the dozen dorm rooms in the place, I have no idea
which one is Madison’s. Breaking and entering isn’t exactly on my
Top 10 Things To Do Before You Die list, but considering death is
at my proverbial doorstep, what choice do I have? I creep among the
shadows, my socks dampening with the dew of early morning, until I
reach a point of entry at the side of the mansion. A staircase
leads up to the balcony out back, and I take the steps cautiously.
Hopeful though I am, the French doors are locked from the inside.
Taking stock of my options, I am considering ways of breaking glass
without making a noise when I notice one of the windows on the
floor above is open. Desperate times call for desperate measures. I
climb up the side of the wall, using a combination of the masonry
and the wrought iron balustrade for grip. Somehow I make it in
through the window without killing myself.
    In the first bit of luck all night, it turns out to
be Madison’s room. There’s nothing about the space itself that’s
telling. In fact, it’s a very traditionally decorated room with a
distinctly princessy feel about it. But beneath a lavender bed
canopy is her bright red hair. She’s lying on her side. At some
point she must have tossed off the sheets, because I can see that
she’s dressed in flannel pajama bottoms and a camisole. I’d almost
say she looked angelic, if her eyebrow ring didn’t have a
skull-and-crossbones at the end of it. In any case, file this under
the “do not attempt at home” category. As I reach out to gently
shake her awake, she springs on me. In a few quick motions, I’m on
the cold hardwood floor pinned down with her knee on my throat.
Really, I should have known better.
    “What are you doing here?” she manages to whisper
in a way that still sounds like she’s yelling at me.
    I answer in the only way I can: flailing my arms,
wildly trying to get her off my larynx. Her eyes widen as it dawns
on her that the instinctive reaction to crush my windpipe was
overkill. She leaps back, gesticulating as though she’s not sure
what to do with her hands.
    “You can’t be here, Connor!”
    “I―”
    “Shh! Madame Lefèvre is going to freak out if she
finds you here. I’m already in trouble enough for breaking
curfew.”
    I sit up on the floor in front of her, quietly
insisting, “I didn’t know where else to go.”
    “How did you get in here anyway?”
    With a shrug, I tell her, “I broke in.”
    She blinks. Then she reaches back to her bedside
table for her cell phone and starts typing quickly. I stare at her
incredulously, about to berate her, when a few seconds later my own
phone vibrates in my pocket, and I pull it out. A text from Madison
reads: KISS .
    “W ― what?” I ask, completely
dumbfounded.
    “Keep It Simple, Stupid,” she hisses, with
emphasis on the last word. “Next time, just text me.”
    I guess that would have made a lot more sense than
what just happened. Not very much else is sensible at the moment,
though. Through the open window I hear the long, lonely howl of a
wolf and spin around with a gasp. A pillow goes over my mouth and I
try to push Madison away. She’s surprisingly strong for a petite
girl.
    “It’s just the wolves from the zoo,” she murmurs
into my ear.
    When I calm down, she releases her grip on the
pillow and pulls it into a hug instead. There are a million things
I want to tell her right now. A few of which are completely
irrational. Where to start, though? There are things that shouldn’t
even