The Whispering Night (Luminaries #3)

Chapter 28

CHAPTER 28

There’s no one there.

That’s what Winnie sees when she reaches the long gallery that once held Luminary historical portraits. There are dark spots on the gray wall that mark where frames used to hang. There are couples in discreet shadows. And there’s a small group at the farthest end of the room sitting round robin and playing cards.

As for the bathrooms—both of which Winnie can see from here, along with the closet between them… Well, there’s no one there. Absolutely no one .

She hovers at the edge of the wide archway into the room. The party pulsates behind her; lights flash stochastically against music she can’t quite hear. It’s just bass and boom and bodies.

She checks her phone again. Nothing.

She checks the locket again. It’s unchanged. Closet by the bathroom. Now. Winnie’s face screws up. Is there another bathroom on the second floor? Or could this message mean the first -floor bathrooms? Do they have a closet nearby too?

She propels herself onward. Step, step, step. A rhythm that doesn’t match the party. She adjusts her glasses three times. Step, step, step.

Nothing happens.

There’s still no one there.

Winnie gets all the way to the ladies’ restroom with its doorless entry into darkness and a stick figure in a dress (that someone has modified to be gender neutral by removing half the dress). And there, right next to it, is the closet door.

It’s about as innocuous as a door can get. Rectangular. Wooden. A brass knob on the right. It’s the sort of door you’re not supposed to notice, and there’s not even a sign on it to indicate what, once upon a time, it might have been for. Storage? Cleaning supplies? Secret portal to Narnia?

Winnie stops walking now. By her estimation, she is ten steps from the closet—and there is still no one. She doesn’t hear water running or toilets flushing. (Although, to be fair, she’s not sure the pumps are operational.)

Her phone quakes.

Her heart blasts into the stratosphere.

And with clownish fingers that have forgotten how to mobilize, she bumbles her phone from her pocket. It’s Erica. Where are you? Did you leave the roof window?

Crap. Winnie’s previous text to her didn’t go through.

She looks again at the closet. Again at each bathroom door. Then again at the round-robin crew twenty yards away. Someone just got a full house; they’re howling their joy into the gallery.

No, she types out. 2 floor bathr—

She doesn’t get a chance to finish. Not before a figure oozes from the bathroom like an oil spill. They are small, yet shapeless in a gray robe.

On their head is a hound mask.

Winnie drops her phone.

She doesn’t mean to, but seeing that mask transports her straight into the forest. She is once more watching as golden arrows fly and phoenix fire ignites to roast two witches alive.

Canēs: These are the lowest level in the Diana hierarchy, specialized in hunting nightmares for spells and spreading the Diana cause.

“Winnie,” the voice says. “Winnie, these are for you.” The hound offers something that smears the shadows with red.

Winnie’s eyes track down. And although her glasses slide, she manages to find what the witch is holding.

Red envelopes. One, two, three, four, fanned out just like Winnie fanned them out when she confronted Mom. Two have Winnie’s name. Two have Darian’s.

This person is not Dad, though. Whoever stands before Winnie is half a head shorter and with robes that billow like a Sith Lord’s. They are not Winnie’s dad.

“Who,” she begins, without taking the cards, “are—”

No.

Heat erupts from Winnie’s locket like a gunshot. A cry cuts loose from her lungs. Her knees wobble beneath her.

No, the voice that isn’t a voice repeats in Winnie’s brain. It has no gender, no shape, no weight. It’s just a word slicing through her mind like a guillotine. It’s just fire blazing on her chest like a poker.

Yet Winnie knows that voice belongs to the Crow. Her locket never responds to anyone else this way.

The hound stares down the gallery, their snout aimed at a distant window Winnie would have sworn was closed only a few moments ago. Then light spears through that open window, and the hound tackles Winnie.

Sagitta aurea: These spells are used to kill or maim a target. Just as the Dianas are named for the Roman goddess of the hunt, these spells are modeled after Diana’s preferred weapon of golden arrows.

Winnie and the hound crash against the closet door. Screams erupt across the room. Light flares, golden as a summer sun and overwhelming Winnie’s vision. Then smoke scores into her nose.

Because the golden arrow has hit a nearby wall, and now that wall is burning.

The hound grabs Winnie’s arms, frantically tugging her to her feet. “Run,” they say, shoving the red envelopes into Winnie’s hands. “Winnie, you have to run!”