The Whispering Night (Luminaries #3)

Chapter 17

CHAPTER 17

They say the best party in the world is the Nightmare Masquerade in Hemlock Falls. Perhaps it’s because spring has finally sprung, elbowing in with green that’s lain dormant too long. Or perhaps it’s because here, April showers don’t bring May flowers so much as a softening inside the forest.

Oh, the monsters will still kill you, but they’ll do so with a gentler touch.

Of course this particular spring is already proving more deadly than any spring before, going all the way back to Hemlock Falls’ first founding a century ago. Funny how everyone seems to be sweeping that under the rug in favor of their beloved Masquerade…

It won’t stay funny for long—at least not for anyone but a certain cornīx .

The sun is halfway up the eastern horizon, just lifting over the enormous carnival that throbs and glitters along the Little Lake’s pier. The Ferris wheel—crown jewel of the Carnival—shines brightest of all, spinning on its floating platform. From where Winnie is, folded into the shadow of an oak tree on the edge of the Sunday estate, she can just see the wheel if she squints hard enough. It’s meant to look like a full moon; they even pump out dry ice to add to the grandeur.

Crowds seethe even though the Sunday Parade won’t start for another hour. The best places to watch—and catch tossed candy—are on the dam, where the boat parade begins, or along the western shoreline of the Little Lake, because all the boats and floats will loop there before ending their journey at the Floating Carnival.

When Winnie was ten, she created a petition to stop the littering that ensued from all the poorly flung candy. Either by bad aim or bad catching on the shoreline, it was certainly thousands of little sugary tidbits and their wrappers that sank underwater never to be seen again.

SAVE THE FISHES, her petition read, and the logo she drew looked a lot like the “Save the Whales” one on her hoodie—which yes, she already owned when she was ten. (It fit very differently back then.)

No one signed Winnie’s petition except Jay and Dad. Erica thought it was “embarrassing.” Darian said her fish looked like a whale (fair). And Mom… well, she simply said, “Later, hon,” and never got around to it.

Right now, as Winnie eyes the dam—where she must be in forty-five minutes so she can clamber onboard a swan-shaped pontoon boat next to Headmaster-and-Councilor Gina Sunday—she wonders if maybe she should start a second petition. After all, now that she’s “famous,” people would probably want to sign it just so they can breathe the same oxygen as Wolf Girl for fourteen seconds.

Hello, Signora Martedì. How do you feel about carp and sunfish? Would you be willing to sign this? And maybe remove this spell on me, while you’re at it?

“Good morning.”

Winnie whirls about to find Erica gliding toward her, dressed in all black. With her signature steel-toed boots, she channels Sophisticated Catwoman—and she cringes at Winnie’s own outfit of emerald-green sweater and black jeans. “You’re very bright.”

Before Winnie can snarl, You helped me pick this out yesterday, remember? , Erica squares toward the Sunday estate and sets off.

Right. So they’re back to this version of Erica. Marcia 2.0: all business, all ice, and glares for miles. Winnie wanted to open the morning with some good-natured ribbing on the fact that Erica wasn’t her standard six minutes early. Instead, she scampers to catch up—and waits until they’re almost behind the estate to ask: “Hey, have you talked to Jay today?”

Erica gives her a look that says, Why the heck would I?

“It’s just I forgot about his show at Joe Squared last night. You and I were at the cabin, and it slipped my mind. Then he never called me afterwards. So now I’m worried—”

“Whatever.” Erica rolls her eyes and slides out her phone. “Text him.”

“Thanks.” Winnie tries for a grateful grin, but Erica isn’t looking at her anymore. Although she does say, in a deceptively flat way: “Jay doesn’t like me, does he?”

Winnie swallows. “Um…” She reaches for the phone.

Erica doesn’t release it. “That’s what I thought.”

“He doesn’t trust you. There’s a difference.”

“Is there?”

“Sure. I mean, you and those witches went into the forest to kill him eleven nights ago.”

“Except I tried to help him,” Erica points out. “I led the Dianas the wrong way.”

“And he knows that. I’ve told him lots of times.”

Erica doesn’t respond to this. Instead, she fastens her dark eyes onto Winnie’s and asks, point-blank: “Do you trust me?” They are both still holding the phone.

“Yes,” Winnie answers, and to her surprise, this assertion doesn’t sound like a lie. It should be a lie because she told Jay yesterday morning that she, Winnie, was too loyal. But then… well, yesterday afternoon sort of changed things, didn’t it? The Crow showed up; she bewitched Winnie and set her an impossible task; and then Erica and Winnie spent the whole day following clues, buying clothes, hiding in the cabin under a bedsheet, and finally, making a plan that has led them here.

Now Erica is the one to visibly swallow. She finally releases the phone to Winnie’s custody. “Thanks,” she murmurs, and although she offers nothing else before resuming her stride toward the school, it’s enough. Because, just like Winnie’s yes a moment before, it felt real. It felt true.

Thanks .

With awkward thumbs, Winnie quickly types out a message to Jay. This is Winnie on Erica’s phone. I am sorry I wasn’t there lass tnight. We have al ot to catch up on. Meet me at thefloating carnival? She hits send and then almost trips on a step because she’s staring so hard at the screen, telepathically begging Jay to respond. She missed that they were to the stairs leading up to the locker rooms.

“You coming?” Erica calls. Her voice drifts down the stairs before getting sucked into the nearby stretch of muddy track that leads to a maze of high walls where Luminaries train.

“Yep.” Winnie scurries after, and once Erica has pocketed her phone, they finish the climb to the locker rooms. From this height, on the hill where the Sunday estate resides, she can see the entire obstacle course and training lake beyond. The indoor pool with its glass roof—and the edge of the soccer field too.

Erica pushes open the door. “Anyone in here?” she calls.

Only echoes respond. So she thrusts all the way in, Winnie right behind, and warmth sleeks over them from a vent. “How did you know the door would be unlocked?” Winnie whispers.

“Lucky guess,” Erica replies, her voice its usual volume, and Winnie can’t tell if Erica is being serious or sarcastic. Either way, she clearly isn’t frightened about getting caught, and she moves with the practiced ease of someone who has done this before.

Winnie can practically hear Jay saying, Maybe you should be worried about why she’s so good at this. But Winnie shoves that caution aside.

In seconds, she and Erica reach the locker room exit. This time, Erica doesn’t call anything, but before she can slip through the swinging door, Winnie stays her with a hand. “Wait,” she whispers. Then she grabs her locket, tucked beneath her green sweater and white under-tee.

The gold is warm from natural body heat and nothing more. If the Crow is here, Winnie’s locket isn’t giving its usual warning. “No Crow,” she wants to say, but instead declares, “Also called the praying mantis of the forest, vampira move on stilt-like feet that rest atop the soil.”

“Yes. Yes, they do.” Erica frowns. “About your condition, I had an idea last night.”

Winnie waits for Erica to elaborate, to regale, to spin a tale worth listening to, except nothing more comes. “Um,” Winnie nudges. “And?”

“And nothing.” Erica’s lips cinch sideways. “I’ll tell you more if I can figure out how to break the spell. Can we go now?”

Marcia 2.0 indeed. Winnie waves her on.

The estate is eerily quiet. It’s not a place Winnie has ever entered while empty—because it is rarely ever empty. The only reason there’s no teacher or student or colorful librarian here now is because all Sundays are expected in the same parade as Winnie. But once that’s done? They’ll head back here. Luminaries training happens every day. If the forest never sleeps, then we can’t either. And as Darian’s schedule revealed, the Luminaries will move around training hours to ensure their youths miss nothing.

Clan banners hang in shadow. The Wednesday bear looks particularly grumpy—as per usual—because he is perpetually displeased by Winnie’s choices. Bold of you to come here, girl. You did kill the man.

“Because he was going to kill me .”

“Huh?” Erica asks.

“Nothing.” Winnie aims pointedly for the stairwell at the hall’s end. She already has too many feelings to get to the bottom of—dead Dianas in the forest, the Crow at the breakfast, the spell currently choking her throat. Throw in a professor whom Winnie hated, and nope. Her brain really can’t grapple with that right now.

“Come on,” she commands when Erica lags. She clutches once more at her locket—still cool. “Let’s see what Professor Samuel was hiding.”