The Whispering Night (Luminaries #3)

Chapter 51

CHAPTER 51

It will go down in history as the greatest Nightmare Ball that ever was. Everyone who attends—be they local or foreign—will agree that never in all of Luminary history has the society shined so brightly.

It’s not the false glow of people trying to outrun the night, trying to pretend the ghosts don’t haunt them when they close their eyes or that all they have to do is eat enough pizza. This is the glow of people who saw the ghosts. Who opened up their compartments and pizza boxes and let the nightmares run free.

Winnie Wednesday shines the brightest of them all. She and her fractal arrive at the ball as an entourage, tumbling out of the twins’ dad’s van like they are real nightmares tumbling from the mist. Somehow Bretta’s branches do not get crushed, nor do Emma’s skirts get flattened. And when they pull up to the awning, Dryden’s old assistant Cindy leaps over to valet park for them.

Because oh yes—didn’t you hear? Darian quit his job. He was offered a new position in Italy with the Mercoledìs, so he and Andrew are moving there in a month. It’s going to be very exciting. Especially since Dad was able to warn Darian of a certain Martedì to watch out for.

Not that anyone really expects to see her again.

The Saturday estate is bedazzled to a whole new level for the ball, the dramatic decorations from the breakfast now applied to the entire estate. Even the damaged maze has been decorated with lights and baubles that give it a distinctively Wicked Fairy Tale vibe.

The main lawn is also transformed, the Nightmare Stage complete and a massive temporary dance floor assembled on the grass. Crystalline torches (which also act as heaters) flicker with real flames, while nightmarish ice sculptures lurk in secret shadows made from towering cypress trees. Dry ice seeps outward in lazy spirals.

Because the Hunters’ Feast was canceled this year, the various globally imported ensembles who were scheduled to play that day were unable to perform. So now all those bands get to play on the Nightmare Stage instead, while the usual four-string quartet has been punted over to the maze. Explore the Wicked Fairy Tale and enjoy some Mozart!

When Winnie and her friends reach the lawn’s edge, a band from the Pakistani branch of the Luminaries sings in Urdu while hundreds of costumed “nightmares” dance and laugh and gleam.

At Winnie’s request, the group huddles in one of the dark corners protected by cypresses. Dry ice pumps around them and a wyrm ice sculpture snarls menacingly. Winnie isn’t ready to be recognized; she isn’t ready to abandon the shadows. Johnny Saturday called her the Hero of Hemlock Falls , and thanks to her cousin Marcus, everyone has turned the previous Aroo! into a Herooo!

“Ooh, there’s Xavier.” Fatima points toward a collection of juniors at the closest refreshments table. “ Wow, his costume is awesome.”

“Seriously,” Bretta agrees. “How did he get his hood to look so much like a banshee?”

“Let’s go ask him.” Fatima grabs Bretta’s arm, then Winnie’s wrist. “Come on. We can’t hide here forever.”

Winnie doesn’t come on. “You all go without me, please. I’ll join you in minute. I need to, um, find someone else first.”

“Ooooh, Winnie wants to find her boooooyyyyfriend .” Bretta hip-bumps Winnie. Then curses when one of her branches gets stuck in Winnie’s hair.

“No,” Winnie insists while she and Bretta disentangle. “I actually want to find my mom… and my dad.” It’s strange to say that word. But also amazing.

“Aw,” Emma coos, her posture melting and her phoenix flames sparkling. “Are they dressing up tonight?”

“I don’t know. All my mom said was that I’d have no trouble finding her.” Which, in Francesca Wednesday speak, could mean just about anything.

“Well, good luck.” Fatima’s eyebrows bounce. “We’ll talk to Xavier and then head over to the stage.” She grabs Bretta again, this time latching onto Emma instead of Winnie. Then the three girls—and Katie and Angélica with their swinging tails—hurry off.

Which leaves Winnie alone in her secret corner with Erica. Her Thursday friend takes two steps toward the lights. Then pauses. Then looks back and gives a high-pitched, self-conscious laugh. “So this is… uh, kind of weird, right? I mean, all of us just being friends like it’s totally normal?”

“If by weird, you mean it’s awesome .” Winnie dips closer. “Then yes. Yes, it is.”

Erica blushes. But it’s a happy sort of blush, even as she rolls her eyes. “Okay, Winona. Don’t get too Wednesday on me.”

“Oh, you love that I’m a Wednesday.” Winnie bats her eyelashes and leans in even closer. “Bears, after all, give the best hugs.”

And now Erica gives a very round, very real laugh—one that bubbles out more brightly when Winnie wraps her arms around her friend and squeezes.

“Oh my god,” Erica says between giggles, “you really haven’t changed in the last four years. Same old Winona ignoring all my boundaries.”

They both know that’s not true, of course. Not even a little bit. Winnie herself erected such vicious boundaries that no one got past the tarps or barbed wire for four years. And for all that Erica has, quite literally, let her hair down tonight…

She’s still got the Ice Queen inside her. She still has too much grief to simply shed in a few days.

Still, Winnie knows what Erica is actually trying to say. She hears the harmonic overtones, and she agrees. Because although neither girl is who they used to be, there are still pieces of them that haven’t changed. That never will. After all, culture runs thicker than blood in Hemlock Falls.

And so does family. So do friends.

“Go find Jay,” Erica commands, still laughing as she finally shimmies out of Winnie’s hug.

“I’m really not looking for him, though!” Winnie tosses her hands. “Why does no one believe that I want to find my mom and dad?”

“So what if I say I see Jay right there?”

Winnie spins around, fast as a torpedo and with her heart ballooning. But of course, there’s no Jay. There’s absolutely nothing at all except an ice wyrm.

“ Man, Winona!” Erica gives a full-blown guffaw, clapping like the trickster she is. “You should have seen your face just now.”

“Oh, go away.” Winnie glares. “That was mean, E!”

“No, that was hilarious.” Erica winks. “See you soon, Winona.” In seconds, she and her cat ears disappear into the crowds.

Leaving Winnie all alone. The night air breathes cold against her bare arms. It smells like dry ice and gas heaters. Like the rose garlands that cover the cypress trees. And like the distant forest, forever feasting on detritus and carrion in the north.

“Hey,” a voice says, and Winnie torpedoes around once more —but this time, when her heart balloons, it gets to stay that way. Because Jay really is there, slipping into her corner from the main lawn. Crystalline light casts shapes across him; his eyes glow moonlight silver.

“Ugh, Jay!” Winnie declares as she takes in his lanky form. “You’re not in costume!”

“I know. I’m sorry.” He lifts his hands, wincing. “A tux was the best I could do. Plus, if I’m being honest, it feels weird to dress up like a nightmare, when… you know.”

“Right.” Winnie reaches him. “Well, good thing you look so sexy in a tux, then.”

He flushes right up to his hairline. “I, uh, like your costume. Very sleek.” He flicks a finger at her jeweled knife sheath. “Very dangerous.”

“That’s in case you turn into a wolf, Mr. Friday. I have to be ready to defend myself.”

He chuckles now, skimming a hand over Winnie’s waist before furling his fingers into her back. “New glasses, too, huh?” He tugs her close to him. He is warm. “They look good. Those frames suit you. But…” He reaches up. “May I?”

“Always,” she answers. Then her glasses are off, and she and Jay are kissing. It is not the wild, desperate kissing they shared on Wednesday, after the dust settled and they could finally, finally consider all they’d been through. These are tender kisses. Little promises trailed along Winnie’s jaw or traced along Jay’s neck that say, The forest can’t have you. I am here to keep you safe.

The Lead Hunter who is also a nightmare.

The Luminary who is also a lēgātum.

A buzzing in Jay’s phone finally pries them apart. “That’ll be L.A.,” he groans, and sure enough, his phone reads MOST IMPORTANT MEMBER OF THE FORGOTTEN (she labeled herself in Jay’s contacts, of course).

He sends the call to voicemail. Then he gives Winnie one more lingering kiss filled with promises. “I’ll find you on the dance floor, okay?”

“Does that mean you’re going to dance?”

“No.” He grins. “But I’ll definitely find you.” One more kiss, this time on the cheek, before Jay Friday slips into the crowds. Into the lights.

After twelve selfies, two requests for an autograph, and a quick interview from the same Sunday blogger who drove the pontoon boat (Winnie can now appreciate how hard that swan is to steer), Winnie finally reaches her mom and dad. And Mom was right: Winnie had no trouble finding her.

Because Mom is dressed as a very — like very— furry black bear with a green sash across her chest. So is Aunt Rachel, who stands beside her at a fountain spewing punch. Dad, meanwhile, is dressed like a gardener, in coveralls and a goofy bucket hat, his old water canteen strapped at his waist, and with an old, old pair of glasses perched atop his nose. (Because of course, four years ago, he lost his glasses before turning into a crow.)

He looks like the dad Winnie remembers.

But he is also someone totally new. Because this Bryant is tired. He has aged. And he is just a little bit furtive after too many years in avian form.

“ This is your costume?” Winnie demands. “ Dad . This is even worse than Jay phoning it in with a tuxedo.”

Dad laughs—and okay, it might be the best sound in the world. “I know, Winnie Benny. Mea culpa. ” He slings an arm over her shoulder. “But I spent so many years as an actual bird with actual feathers, I just want to feel human for as long as I can.”

Winnie can’t argue with that. Especially since it’s basically the same argument Jay just gave.

“Well, can I have your hat then?”

“Uh…”

Winnie doesn’t give him a choice. She swipes the bucket hat off Dad’s head, revealing gray-streaked auburn hair ( Address me as “my lord.” ), then plops it over her own auburn waves. Much better. She has already tugged on her leather jacket for warmth, so now—she hopes—she won’t stand out once she pushes again into the crowds.

Fatima is going to kill her. Winnie definitely looks less Badass Hunter from Ancient Rome, and more Angler Who Left Her Bait Kit at Home.

Gone Fishing, she thinks.

Dad studies her new ensemble, his expression as pained as it used to be when she made, in his opinion, poor clothing combinations. But wisely, he offers no criticism. Instead, he says: “I guess now neither of us will detract from your mom’s display of loyalty. She’s really proud of that costume, you know.”

Yeah, Winnie can tell. Mom is preening and declaring to the third person in the last ten minutes: “I’m going back on the hunt. Have you heard? Rachel, tell Archie here.”

“Yep,” Rachel indulges. Also for the third time. “Our Frannie’s a hunter again, Archie. Though she’ll have to work her ass off if she’s hoping to take back her old title.”

“Oh, I’m coming for ya, baby sister.”

“Bring it on, old lady. Especially since you’ve got your daughter over there to contend with.” Rachel grins Winnie’s way. Her bear ears seem to wiggle. “Everyone’s saying you’re headed for Lead Hunter one day, kid.”

Winnie smiles back. First at Archie, who looks about as interested in this conversation as he would be in Chrysomya megacephala on a corpse. Then Winnie smiles at Mom, and lastly at Aunt Rachel. And to her sur prise, it’s not the false, pained grin she’s used to wearing whenever Rachel talked about the hunt.

No, Winnie hasn’t exorcised her ghosts. She hasn’t learned to differentiate between compartmentalizing and accepting that ghosts are a part of her… But she’s confident she’ll get there one day. Just like Mom, just like Rachel, just like Grandma Winona. Because the hunt is in her blood.

And the forest is, too.

Plus, working through the ghosts is exactly what her future therapy sessions are for, right?

Dad gives Winnie another sideways hug. A quick squeeze that says, Yeah, I get it, Win-Ben. Then they’re all moving, abandoning the fountain (Mom has had way too much punch) and aiming for the Nightmare Stage.

Winnie’s latest disguise works beautifully, except for one awkward moment halfway across the lawn when she runs into Jeremiah. Like literally runs into him because he’s the most phoned-in of all the costumes at the ball. He wears his usual black fatigues and even has a black cap too, so he fully blends into the shadows. Winnie doesn’t see him until she steps on him.

He coughs. Jumps back. Then a scowl tugs at his red eyebrows. “Ms. Wednesday.”

Mom shoves in before Winnie can answer. She stares daggers. “Piss off, Jeremiah. No one wants you here.”

“Fran,” Dad says tiredly. Then in a voice that’s way nicer than Jeremiah deserves, he adds, “Hello, Councilor.”

“Hello, Mr. Silvestri. Thank you again for all the information you gave us last night. We’re grateful for your insights.”

“I mean it, Jeremiah.” Mom bares her teeth now. “Piss. Off.”

“You heard the lady,” Rachel inserts, her own eyes shooting death rays. “No one wants you here.”

This time, Jeremiah does depart. But not without a frown. Not without a disdainful sniff.

“Pickle breath,” Winnie mutters after him.

And beside her, Dad sighs. “My ladies and their tempers.”

“It’s not a temper,” Mom counters, “if the target deserves your outrage—”

“Oh come on,” Dad cuts in, now slinging his arms around her instead of Winnie. “Let’s not let a silly Tuesday ruin our night. Onward! To the stage!”

“To the stage!” Rachel cheers. (She has also had too much punch.)

“To the stage!” Winnie agrees, although she does tug her hat a bit lower, just to be safe. Minutes later, when they reach the thickest clots of crowds, Winnie separates from her family, searching, searching until she finds her fractal of friends.

“Winnie, no!” Fatima screeches as soon as she spots her. She yanks the bucket hat from Winnie’s head. “How could you?”

“I’m sorry.”

“This has to go too,” Emma insists, grabbing at the zipper on Winnie’s jacket. “And not just because you should be showing off Fatima’s creation, but because it’s also really freaking hot down here.”

It is really freaking hot, so after stuffing the hat in the jacket’s pocket, Winnie ties the leather awkwardly around her waist—and just in time, too. Cheers go up a second later. A spotlight winks on. And there’s L.A. Saturday on stage dressed in a purple velvet dress made to look like a dracon. Her tulle skirt is navy and violet, and as she strides toward a mic, it flickers like blue flames.

On her head, the Midnight Crown’s ouroboros seems to slither.

“Hello, Hemlock Falls!” L.A. shouts into the mic. “You may know me as your Midnight Crown—the second and more deserving of the Midnight Crowns this year.” She grins cheekily; the audience laughs on cue, including Winnie. “But in case you’ve yet to experience my beauty and talent, I’m L.A. Saturday, lead singer of the Forgotten. And oh my, have we got a show for you tonight.”

Two more spotlights snap on. First onto Trevor, dressed in a leaves-nothing-to-the-imagination unitard of sequins that matches Fatima’s gown. Then the final light snaps onto Jay, in his aggressively dull tuxedo. Not that anyone in the audience seems to care. They holler and wail for him like the adoring fans they are.

“Okay, okay,” L.A. shouts into the mic. “We get it: you love us. But before we begin, we do have to give a special shout-out to a girl who—I can’t believe I’m saying this—actually deserves all the hype.”

Oh, awesome, Winnie thinks as a spotlight now locks onto her. She grimaces. The entirety of the ball starts screaming. Her friends are loudest of all, and as they boogie up right next to Winnie, the only one who looks even a little apologetic—and only a little —is Erica.

Winnie’s family also claps and hoots nearby. There’s Darian, dressed as a spidrin with eight spindly legs—and with Andrew as his silk-spun prey (honestly, he looks more like a mummy). There’s Ms. Morgan and Mason, dressed as matching ghost-deer with antlers and white face paint.

Oh, and there’s Funday too, festooned as the most colorful harpy that ever was. More like a parrot, really, than a nightmare. She beams at Winnie—and winks.

And you know what? Fine. Winnie is going to let her friends and family have this. Her fellow students, too. Even Casey. Even Peter. Even Dante and Marcus and everyone else she so bitterly resented for the last month.

She’s done being a line. She’s ready to embrace the fractal.

Winnie grits out a smile. Muscles out a wave. Then finally the light snaps off her and hundreds of rapt Luminaries rocket their attention back to the stage.

“Winnie Wednesday, this song is for you,” L.A. declares. “It’s a new composition I think you’re going to like called ‘Wolf Girl’—”

“No.” Jay lurches toward L.A. His head is wagging. “No, you said we wouldn’t do this one, L.A.”

“Shut up.” L.A. tries to elbow him aside.

“Oh my god, Win.” Jay finds her in the crowd. His eyes are nearly as white as the spotlight. “I’m sorry. I told her we shouldn’t do this one—”

“Enough.” L.A. full-on shoves him. “You’re just the boyfriend, and no one cares what you think. We don’t, right?”

“NOOOOO!” the audience roars.

“That’s what I thought. Trevor? Give me that beat.”

Rocking with laughter, Trevor complies. He shoves a boot heel onto his drum machine. A raucous rhythm blasts out, sending the pitch of the crowd toward feverish. Until even Winnie finds she’s laughing just as much as everyone around her.

Oh, there’s a Wolf Girl,

(Heroooo! Herooooo!)

She jumps off of waterfalls

(Don’t you know? The heroooo!)

She saves our town!

(Heroooo! Herooooo!)

The lyrics continue on in similarly absurd fashion, but Winnie can’t deny the tune is catchy. Before she knows it, she’s howling Heroooo! Heroooo! along with all the rest of the ball. And when the song ends, she claps so hard her hands hurt.

Then it’s on to the next song—about a siren—and Winnie loses herself to the darkness, darkness, light. To the heat and the joy. To the complex geometry unfolding around her. Ghosts might float forever below the surface, but that is what makes these moments so lucent. So alive.

Winnie do-si-dos with Bretta, she hops around with Emma, and at one point, she and Erica twirl like ballroom dancers. Mom, meanwhile, bounces with Dad the whole time—even when she is dripping sweat and has to peel off the top half of her bear costume.

Winnie’s favorite part comes halfway into the show when the Forgotten perform “Backlit.” Jay doesn’t sing this time, instead letting L.A. keep the limelight. But he does find Winnie in the crowd, he does watch her while his fingers move over the bass and his body sways.

His gunmetal-gray eyes grow hard, intense in that way only he can manage, and by the second verse, Winnie stops dancing. By the third verse, Jay does too. His body tightens, tightens, like he is a bow being aimed. Only his fingers keep moving.

He does not blink. And Winnie wonders when the bowstring will finally snap.

Never surprise a nightmare, she thinks. Then she smiles because she can’t help it. It’s Jay. The Friday sparrow she trusts completely. “I love you,” she mouths at him—because she hasn’t actually said that to him yet. She hasn’t shared this final truth.

And it would seem that was the trigger he needed. Suddenly he has slung off his bass and is shoving it into L.A.’s hands. He leaps off the stage and strides right up to Winnie. He lifts her off her feet, which jostles the leather jacket off her waist. Then while hundreds upon hundreds of Luminaries shriek their heads off, he kisses her.

I miss you more now, L.A. keeps singing. Now that it’s been so long.

Winnie kisses Jay back. With all the torment, all the strength, all the need that he offers and then some. She doesn’t care what people think or how they’ll absolutely talk about this tomorrow at Sunday training. How Bretta will probably start singing, K-I-S-S-I-N-G! in the van later. Or how Erica will use this moment to maximize her teasing.

Jay is her nightmare; Winnie is his hunter; and the forest north of Hemlock Falls is that magic, secret place they will always share.

“I love you too,” Jay says, when he eventually pulls away. He is having to yell to be heard over the whistles and the laughter and the howls. “Like I really love you, Winnie.”

“Good,” Winnie yells back. “But there is one more thing I need from you to make this moment perfect.”

Jay laughs, one of his raspy laughs. “Homeostasis?”

“Ah, Jay.” She kisses him again. “I love you.”

The crowd’s pitch passes feverish. It reaches boiling. It reaches the Planck temperature. Until L.A. finally gets impatient and declares into the mic, “Okay, you guys are getting annoying now. We need our bassist back, please, Wolf Girl.”

More laughter, more howls, more applause, and finally Jay withdraws. Seconds later, he’s on stage again, his fingers once more flying across his bass. But now with his cheeks a violent pink, and his lips too.

The song croons on, L.A.’s sultry voice at the fore. Beneath it—the microwave cosmic background to so much light—are the Luminaries celebrating the start of spring. Celebrating that the forest and its sleeping spirit haven’t gotten them yet.

That’s why we’re called the Luminaries, Winnie. We are lanterns the forest can never snuff out.

The sounds of music and revelry carry onto the river. Upstream they flow, gliding over the Little Lake like fireworks. Then farther upstream, until they hit the thunderous falls. But even that roar cannot kill the reverberations from the party. The sound rises to the top of the hill. Drifts onto the Big Lake, where the pure heart of the forest still resides.

Nightmares smile from within the blue spruce and silver maples, from within the balsam firs and hemlock trees. Hunters too, even if they’re bummed to miss the party.

The last person the soundwaves reach is a single Diana, stalking northward through the forest—and even she can’t keep a tiny smile from twitching across her face.

For they are one in sleep and dreams.

Although for now, there will be no waking.