Winterborne Home for Vengeance and Valor

by Ally Carter

  Then, in a flash so smooth she could have missed it, he pulled a knife from his boot and cut away the net, and then he was up and prowling closer. He had the look of a man with absolutely nothing left to lose—of someone who would leave no witnesses—no survivors—and April scrambled backwards.

  Her foot must have gotten tangled in the floss, though. She must have lost her balance. All she really knew for sure was that one minute she was looking at a dead man, and the next she was skidding, sliding, falling through the air until, suddenly, she wasn’t.

  Hands gripped her shoulders just as a voice called out, saying, “Hello? Is anyone there?”

  There was the sound of soft footsteps on the stairs, and suddenly those hands were picking April up and pressing her against the bottom of the staircase just as the words “Who’s there?” rang out from overhead.

  It was Ms. Nelson’s voice. April recognized it. But she wasn’t the only one. They were standing face-to-face, and April looked into eyes full of rage and frustration, hunger and fear.

  “Who’s there?” This time, Ms. Nelson’s voice was a warning.

  He squeezed his eyes shut, and the hands on her arms went slack. April broke away and stumbled into the light, but the words didn’t come.

  “It’s”—Gabriel Winterborne!—“just me,” she said instead, for reasons she didn’t quite know.

  Ms. Nelson wore white silk pajamas with a matching robe, but her slippers had been hand-knitted out of rainbow-colored yarn, and the right one was two sizes bigger than the left.

  “April.” She pulled her robe tighter and exhaled like she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding her breath. “You scared me.” She looked around. “Who were you talking to?”

  April couldn’t help herself; she glanced at the base of the stairs again—right into Gabriel Winterborne’s cool silver gaze.

  She watched him shake his head once—twice—slowly. And she thought about how he had broken a vase and gotten her in trouble.

  Then she thought about how he might be a very good person to owe her a favor. Finally, she thought about what it must be like to have—and lose—a family and then come home to find out a bunch of kids like April had taken over your house. Plus, she knew exactly how it felt to go to bed hungry. No one—not even werebillionaires—deserved a fate like that.

  “No one. Myself. I was talking to myself.”

  “Why?” Ms. Nelson asked. “What are you doing up?”

  “Oh?” April didn’t mean to make her voice crack. She didn’t want to cry. Maybe she was just too tired, but when she saw the puddle of empty net and floss and cords, springs and Slinkies and pulleys, it was just too much somehow—like the thin string of hope that had been holding April together for far too long was on the verge of breaking too.

  Softly, Ms. Nelson descended the stairs and saw the mess that lay on the floor.

  “I wanted to make an invention. Like Sadie. Everyone likes Sadie. I wanted everyone to like me too.”

  April didn’t try to burst into tears. She was just that good, she supposed. There couldn’t have been any other explanation.

  The woman’s arms were around her then, pulling her into the soft silk of her shoulder. And when April looked back at the shadows, Gabriel Winterborne was gone. Again.

  It wasn’t until she was back upstairs and under the covers that she began to wonder if she’d even caught him at all.

  13

  A Different Kind of Problem

  Five million dollars.

  In the classroom the next morning, April sat down with a piece of paper and wrote out all those zeroes, one after the other. She’d never dreamed of having that much money, and she tried to wrap her mind around what it might mean—how much it could buy. But she didn’t even know where to begin.

  Five thousand. Five million. Five billion. They were all the same to April. And only one fact really mattered: no amount could bring her mother back.

  “April.” The word cut through the fog in April’s head, but April just kept staring at those zeroes. “April!” Sadie shouted this time, and April bolted upright. She was on the verge of yelling, I’m awake, when Sadie reached for April’s paper.

  “Smithers said you did very well on your tests, and . . . Ooh, are you doing math? What kind? Where’s the problem?”

  The problem was 1 missing billionaire + 1 missing mother + 1 mysterious key / 1 really huge mansion. April hadn’t actually done the math. She didn’t have to, because there, staring her in the face, were five million reasons to stop trying. Except . . .

  “April?” Sadie’s voice was soft. “What’s wrong?”

  “Gabriel Winterborne’s worth five million dollars,” April blurted without thinking.

  But Sadie simply rolled her eyes. “Oh, he’s worth way more than that. Five million is just what Evert’s willing to pay to get him back. Gabriel’s the sole heir to Winterborne Industries!”

  “What about his uncle?”

  “Oh, Evert’s in charge while Gabriel’s missing. But it all belongs to Gabriel. Or that’s what Smithers always says whenever Evert comes around.”

  April thought about the way Evert had been lovingly caressing a wall when everyone was supposed to be at breakfast. True, April had never had a home before, but she was pretty sure that wall caressing wasn’t exactly normal, so she asked, “Does Evert come here a lot?”

  “I guess so.” Sadie shrugged. “He just kind of shows up sometimes and wanders around for a while.”

  “Why?”

  “I think he’s sad. If Gabriel’s really dead, then he’s the last of the Winterbornes. That’s gotta be lonely, you know?”

  April did know. And if Sadie was living here, then she probably did too. But April didn’t want to think about that, so she focused on how Evert had appeared in the corridor when everyone thought he’d already gone home. How Evert had been skulking around like a ghost. But he definitely wasn’t the only one.

  “If it’s Winterborne House and he’s the last surviving Winterborne, why doesn’t he live here?”

  “Because, technically, Gabriel’s missing. Not dead. So, legally, things are exactly like they were when Gabriel disappeared. Which means Smithers is in charge of this house and Evert has to live in his own house down the shore. It looks a lot like Winterborne House. But it’s smaller. I don’t think he likes that random kids get to live in his family’s mansion and he’s stuck in the mini mansion, but whenever he comes around, he acts like Colin and I aren’t even here, so . . .” Sadie gave a shrug like it didn’t really matter. And maybe it didn’t. But there was something that did, and April didn’t quite know how to ask.

  “Hey, Sadie . . .” April said gently, “how long have you been here?”

  “Two years.” If Sadie was bothered by the question, it didn’t show. “My parents had a car accident when I was little. I lived with my grandma for a while, but then she got sick, and then, since my parents worked for Winterborne Industries and my dad was Gabriel’s tutor and all, Ms. Nelson said I should live here.”

  “And Colin came a year ago?” April asked. Sadie nodded.

  “His mom came, and . . . well . . . he stayed.” Sadie seemed a little sad at that memory, but she brightened when she said, “And now you’re here! And Tim! And Violet! It’s so nice . . .” she started, but trailed off, as if maybe she didn’t trust April enough to say what came next.

  “What’s nice?” April prompted.

  Sadie looked a little embarrassed but admitted, “Not being alone.”

  April had spent most of her life in group homes, sleeping six girls to a room and waiting thirty minutes for the bathroom. She couldn’t imagine being the only kid in a mansion that creaked and moaned and was half dark even in the middle of the day.

  She’d never, ever been alone. But she’d always been lonely. So she looked at Sadie and said, “I’m glad we’re here too.”

  On the other side of the room, Colin was typing on a laptop and Tim was reading a book. Violet was off somewhere,
talking to a doctor that Ms. Nelson had brought in just because she thought it might help her feel more at home. April had never been in a house where you got to see a doctor if you weren’t bleeding really, really badly.

  “Sadie, what would happen if Gabriel Winterborne came back?”

  “Well,” Sadie said slowly, as if—for once in her life—she wasn’t quite sure about the answer, “I guess that depends on Gabriel Winterborne.”

  14

  The Butler Totally Didn’t Do It

  “Hello, Smithers.”

  “Hello, Miss April. How may I be of service?” He was wearing a white shirt with an apron and black sleeves that went up over the arms of the shirt. Like someone had decided to turn a long-sleeve shirt into a short-sleeve shirt and that was the part that was left over.

  But he didn’t seem worried that he was wearing leftovers. Nope. He seemed like the happiest guy in the world as he stood on the rolling ladder on the main floor of the library, a feather duster in one hand, humming the kind of song that April highly suspected didn’t even have any words.

  “Smithers, I was wondering if you might help me.”

  “I will do all that I can, miss. What seems to be the problem?”

  “I’d like to do some research.”

  Smithers practically beamed. “Excellent. And what, might I ask, are we researching?”

  “Gabriel Winterborne.” April didn’t mean to blurt it out, but it was too late. The words were ahead of her, and she had to hurry to catch up. “I mean, I was just wondering . . . Have you worked here for a long time? What was he like? What was his family like? Did he have any hobbies?”

  She thought Smithers might tell her to mind her own business, but he just climbed down the ladder and said, “I had the honor of serving Master Gabriel, yes. And his siblings and parents.” He studied April. “Is there a reason you are asking?”

  “Well . . . yeah . . . I mean . . . I’d like to know more about him. And them. Since I live in their house and all, I’d like to . . . know them.” April tore her gaze away from his. “If that makes any sense.”

  He gave her an approving smile. “That makes more sense than anything I’ve heard in quite some time.”

  So April sat down at the big wooden table in the center of the room while Smithers went to work. He gathered scrapbooks and notebooks, old wrinkly newspapers kept in plastic, and photographs pressed into pages.

  She saw pictures of babies in hospitals and kids on Christmas morning. She listened to stories about riding bicycles and broken arms. But eventually the pictures stopped. And the stories changed.

  TRAGEDY AT SEA

  SUMMER STORM DEADLY FOR LOCAL FAMILY

  LITTLE BOY FOUND

  The oldest newspapers had taken on a yellowish hue that reminded April of how she felt one time after eating tuna salad that had been sitting on the counter way too long. They showed pictures of a smiling, happy family and a big, pretty boat, but they used words like explosion and wreckage, search and rescue.

  But one word popped up over and over: survivor.

  April studied the pictures of the little boy who washed up on his family’s shore a long time ago, but the man April had met the night before was still a long, long way from home.

  And that’s how April came to feel sorry for a billionaire.

  “It’s been twenty years,” Smithers told her. “But, honestly, it feels like yesterday.”

  Then he handed her a different book and started putting things away while April flipped through page after page of pictures. April watched the little boy change and grow. It was like he got stretched out. His eyes and smile stayed the same, but everything else got bigger.

  She watched him morph from a sad little boy to a young man who had a smirking grin and fancy clothes. There were pictures in the society pages with gossip about what girl he was going to take to which gala and how many fancy cars he’d wrecked already that year.

  And then the pictures stopped.

  And the stories changed.

  SOLE SURVIVING WINTERBORNE HEIR MISSING

  WINTERBORNE STOCK PLUMMETS AS LEADERSHIP REMAINS UNCERTAIN

  LITTLE BOY LOST

  The world wanted to know where Gabriel Winterborne went, but as she sat there, newspapers and pictures and magazines spread around her, April asked a different question: Why did he come back now?

  “Is everything to your satisfaction, Miss April?”

  She looked up at Smithers, who had traded his feather duster for a broom.

  There was one more newspaper clipping—newer and fresher than the rest. But Gabriel wasn’t in it. Instead, Evert Winterborne stood in the forefront. In the photo, he was wearing a tuxedo. His hair was slicked back, and his arm was around the waist of Ms. Nelson.

  April scanned the headline: WINTERBORNE FOUNDATION NAMES NEW HEAD—NEW MISSION.

  But Gabriel Winterborne wasn’t mentioned again. As far as the world was concerned, he was just . . . gone.

  Only April knew better.

  “Do you know where he went, Smithers?”

  “No, Miss April, I do not.” He shook his head. “If Master Gabriel is gone, then it’s because he wishes it to be that way, and it is my job to see to the wishes of the Winterborne family. If Master Gabriel is dead . . .” His voice cracked. “Then I don’t want to know.”

  “What’ll happen if he doesn’t come back?”

  “Don’t you worry about that, April. You have a home now.”

  April’s home was with her mother. But April had to find her first, and finding her meant finding whatever her key opened. Which meant staying in Winterborne House as long as possible.

  “If Gabriel’s declared dead, then his uncle will inherit everything, right? What happens then, Smithers? To the house? To you? To me and Violet and Tim and Sadie and Colin?”

  “Ms. Nelson is in charge of the Winterborne Foundation now, April. You’ll be fine.”

  “But we might have to leave Winterborne House?”

  Smithers studied her for a long time before he spoke again. “I assure you, Isabella and I will never put you out on the street. Does it really matter if you live in this house or another?”

  April fingered the key that dangled around her neck and didn’t say what she was thinking: that, to her, it mattered a whole lot.

  15

  You Can Catch More Ghosts with Honey

  Turns out, supposedly dead billionaires who have been missing for ten years are slippery.

  After that first night, Gabriel never fell for one of April’s traps again. He must have jumped over every threshold and slid through every crack, because he was like a mouse who, night after night, walked away with the cheese without ever getting caught.

  It was extremely disappointing.

  Because, as far as April could tell, the key to finding her mother was the actual, literal key. And the key had something to do with the Winterbornes. And Gabriel was the only Winterborne she knew besides Evert. And April didn’t like Evert, even though she didn’t really know why.

  April needed Gabriel Winterborne to help her find her mother!

  So eventually April gave up on the trap.

  And started focusing on the cheese.

  When April was six, she’d had a really nice foster mother who’d told her that she’d “catch more flies with honey,” so April started there. She took as many biscuits as she could from the breakfast table and a jar of peanut butter from the pantry and a plastic bear full of honey, which seemed appropriate considering how fond Gabriel Winterborne was of growling and all.

  She left it all on the table where the vase had been before Gabriel broke it. And then she hid. That night, she tried as hard as she could to stay awake in the tiny alcove with the umbrellas, but when she woke up the next morning, the food was gone and in its place was a note that said Leave me alone.

  Well, when the honey didn’t work, April moved on to cheese, since that was the preferred food for traps it seemed. She left a big wedge of cheddar on the back stai
rs with a bunch of bread and a bottle of lemonade, but that disappeared too, even though April swore she never even fell asleep that time.

  Every night April tried, and every night April failed, but every time she missed him, she learned something. Sadie had been trying to teach Tim and April about the scientific method, and April told herself she hadn’t really messed up—she’d just found a half a dozen ways not to catch a billionaire. So she decided to focus on what she’d learned:

  Gabriel Winterborne was somewhere in the mansion (which was a good thing).

  The mansion was enormous (which was a bad thing).

  It was easy to imagine him living in an attic or under the floorboards or in a closet even Smithers didn’t know about. If April could just find out where he was hiding . . . After all, she didn’t need to catch him. Not exactly. She just needed to find him.

  Which was when April got her best idea ever.

  She wasn’t sure what she was expecting when she threw open the door to the big storage closet where Smithers kept the supplies. What she found was shelf after shelf of clean white sheets and fluffy folded towels—so many that April knew one would never be missed. So she started with a pillowcase and a set of the softest sheets that April had ever felt. Next came a bar of soap and some shampoo that smelled like vanilla, a nail file, a comb, and a ponytail holder, because April always felt way better when she could keep her hair out of her eyes.

  She also threw in four hard-boiled eggs, three chicken legs (though where Smithers had found a three-legged chicken April had no idea), two apples, and a bottle of water that had bubbles in it and made you burp but in the good way.

  And salt. April never, ever ate hard-boiled eggs without salt.

  Or so she told herself.

  She left the pillowcase, stuffed completely full and smelling like barbecued cake, in a place she knew he would see it. And then she went upstairs and climbed into her real bed, safe and sound. When she woke a few hours later, she ran downstairs and found the pillowcase gone. But, this time, April smiled.