Page 25 of In the Garden of Monsters

Dalí and Jack protested, but Gala only muttered something in Russian that I thought was probably akin togood riddance.

I stumbled back toward my room, the effects of the wine hitting me even harder after I stood. Thecastellowas creepy at night, silent, the fixtures in the hallways far enough apart that there were little dark spots between the splashes of light. If I hadn’t drunk the wine, I probably would have been terrified. I wasn’tdrunk, not like I had been at some of the art school parties I had attended with Lillian. But everything around me was slightly fuzzy, and as I neared the library, I decided it would be a good idea to retrieve Giulia’s diary and take it back to my room with me. The curtains were open and there was just enough moonlight for me to see the switch on the wall. I pressed it and went to the shelf, and although there was likely no one in the castle that might have taken it, I was still relieved to see it there. I had just shut off the light and was turning the corner when I ran smack into Demetra.

“Oh!” I exclaimed, angling my body so she couldn’t see me slide the journal into the deep pocket of my wide-legged trousers. For some reason, I didn’t want her to know I had borrowed it.

“It’s rather late to be in the library, signorina,” she said, her voice devoid of emotion.

“I thought to borrow a book to read in bed, but they’re all in Italian.” I wasn’t about to tell her I could read a little of the language.

She pushed past me and shut the door to the library, staring at it intently for a moment. Then, without another word, she headed down the hallway.

Back in my room, I locked the door behind me. I considered looking out the window to see if the mysterious green glow was there again but decided I would rather not know. Instead, I pulled on my pajamas and settled into bed with the journal. If only I had an Italian dictionary with me. So many of the words were unfamiliar, though I understood enough to glean that Giulia’s stories sounded an awful lot like they were about the monsters in the garden. I reread the pages a few times and determined that she was perhaps dreaming them, not describing the statues in theboschetto. One phrase in particular jumped out at me:Abbiamo preso il passaggio segreto per il boschetto. We took the secret passage into the little wood.

Secret passage? Many castles of the time period had subterranean passages to enable the nobles to escape if the keep was besieged.

A knock on the door startled me. I sat up in bed, my heart pounding.

“Julia?”

At Jack’s voice, I breathed a sigh of relief, slid the journal into my nightstand drawer and opened the door to find him leaning inward on the frame, one arm above his head. He had a sweet drunken smile on his face. “Julia.”

“What are you doing here, Jack?” I asked. “Where are Gala and Dalí?”

He waved a hand down the hallway toward their room. “I had them go ahead.”

“But they’re expecting you,” I said. It wasn’t a question so much as a request for confirmation.

“Gala is always expecting me. But I don’t always give in to her.” He looked down at me with a wide smile.

“I see,” I said, backing up a step as I realized that he was at least a foot taller and could easily see down my top, which was rather revealing. He took that as an invitation to come in, but I put a hand on his chest to stop him.

“I can’t stop thinking of you kissing Gala,” he said. “There is nothing wrong with you. She’s a fool.”

“Humph. I think I might be the fool,” I said, the humiliation of that moment coming back to sting me. Worse, I knew she was right, not about me being a bad kisser, but about there being something wrong with me. The blackness of my past covered me like a cloak.

Jack cupped my cheek with his hand. “Would I be a fool if...?” He leaned down to kiss me, and I decided to let him.

His kiss was different than Gala’s—harder, more purposeful, but still tender. He wrapped his arm around me, pulling me close, then laced one of his big hands in my hair, heightening the moment’s intensity.

When the kiss broke, he looked at me with a goofy grin. “Not the fool,” he said.

I knew he was hoping to step farther into the room, shut the door, and take me to bed. And a large part of me wanted that too. Gods knew I didn’t like sleeping alone in that room. But I had just met Jack, and I needed more time to assess his worthiness for my bed.

“Not the fool,” I agreed. “But not tonight,” I said, keeping my hand firm on his chest.

“One more?” he asked. “For the road?”

I had to laugh. “Just one.”

It was a long, lingering kiss. I almost gave in. Perhaps next time I would.

7

I woke before Demetra could rouse me. It was another fitful night, my mind full of Jack’s kiss and the weird events of the previous day. I opened the curtains to a gorgeous dawn. The garden below was blissfully silent.

After dressing and hiding the journal in the bottom drawer, deep underneath my clothes, I slipped into the hallway. Not hearing anyone bustling about, I forged ahead, making my way down to what I thought might be the servants’ stairwell at the end of the corridor and descending the narrow staircase.

I was intensely curious about the secret passage to theboschettothat Giulia had mentioned in her journal. If I followed it, it may lead me toward something that could explain more about Giulia, but also more about me.

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