Page 11 of The Hunting Moon
“Sure you don’t.” Winnie withdraws a very tiny black T-shirt, and her jaw sags. “Good lord, ladies, this is way too small.”
Bretta snorts. “That is literally the point.”
“If you got it,” Emma agrees, “flaunt it!”
“I don’t think I got it then.” Winnie squints at the shirt. It’s so small, she’s not even sure it will stretch beneath her boobs.
“Everyone’s got it.” Bretta flips on the turn signal; the van slows at a gap in the night-dark trees to their left. “It’s a state of being, Winnie.”
“Then IknowI don’t got it.”
“Ah, but”—Emma wiggles her eyebrows in the rearview—“youwillas soon as you put that shirt on. Trust us. You’re the Girl Who Jumped, and all eyes deserve to be on you.”
All eyes deserve to be on you.That is exactly what phoenix-Winnie wants, even if it suddenly seems terrifying. Like truly: Who willingly shows thismuch skin? As far as Winnie can tell, it’s just more places for nightmares to slash their claws into.
“If we were in the forest, yes,” Bretta replies when Winnie voices her concerns aloud. “But this is a party, Winnie. A Luminary party. And trust me: that shirt is enormous compared to what some people will be wearing.”
Bretta isn’t lying. When she pulls them into the museum’s old parking lot, Winnie instantly spies at least three people wearing what can only be described as bikini tops.
They must be freezing.
Bretta pulls the van into one of the few spots left. If Grayson would have been pleased by the turnout at his funeral, then he would be positivelythrilledby the turnout at his party. Music and lights and teenagers—and older people too, like Darian’s age—spill out of the museum’s front doors.
Decades ago, this was the first city hall in Hemlock Falls, housing the original Council. But when the new, modern hall was built, this Art Deco building was handed off to eager Sunday professors determined to turn it into an educational experience for the town…
Until they abruptly shut it down six years ago. No one ever learned why, but the rumor waspolitics—namely that Dryden didn’t like how much better the Nightmare Masquerade events at the museum were than the grand finale ball at the Saturday estate, so he made sure not only to shut down the Sunday party… but then to shut down the entire freaking establishment.
Peak Dryden, right there.
The museum’s tall arched windows are gray and boarded up, and the glass dome in the center of the roof is dark, save for the occasional burst of light to blast through. A distant beat thrums, while the scraggly hedges now lean and sway against the gray walls as if they’re as drunk as the partiers within.
Winnie hastily changes in the van’s back seat. The shirt isn’tquiteas small as she feared, stretching all the way to her midriff. While the black jeans also included in the duffel reach high enough to leave only two inches of skin exposed. When she pulls on her leather jacket again, it covers anything she doesn’t want seen. A few necklaces and bracelets await at the duffel’s bottom, but Winnie doesn’t take those. Clothes are easy to keep track of; jewelry, however, she’s genuinely afraid she might lose.
By the time she tumbles from the car, freshly dressed, it’s to find that Fatima has joined the twins. She holds up a brush. “Allow me.”
Winnie sighs, but doesn’t argue. She even musters a laugh—albeit tiredly—when Bretta points out, “I believe I won ten bucks.” Sure enough, Fatimahasbrought clothes for Winnie to wear.
Black, of course. Everyone, Winnie now sees, is in black. She actually would have stood out more in her original outfit than she will in this Barbie-doll-sized tee.
“We’re just smoothing the frizz,” Fatima assures as she drags the brush through Winnie’s hair. “And adding some braids… and a little hair spray…” A cloud of chemicals envelops Winnie like forest mist.“Et voilà!”She grips Winnie’s shoulders and swivels her around to stare at her reflection in the car window.
Winnie doesn’t lookthattransformed, but the frizz is gone, and Fatima has braided a few strands of hair on one side. It’s part fairy princess, part hippie earth goddess, part subtle way to keep the hair out of her eyes.
Winnie doesn’t disapprove.
“Thanks.” She gives Fatima a shivery grin—it’s socoldstanding out here—and Fatima beams back. The braces on her bottom teeth sparkle in the colorful lights from the museum.
“Let’s go,” Bretta declares, scooping her arm into Winnie’s. The velour of her long-sleeved shirt seems to shimmer against Winnie’s leather. “Emma, if you take too long on your crutches, Iwillleave you behind.”
“I expect nothing less!” Tonight, Emma’s crutches have black scarves to match her knee-length dress. Fatima, meanwhile, struts along in black high-heeled ankle boots and a long, fitted black sweaterdress. If the twins look like they’re here to party and dance, Fatima looks more like she has come to read poetry and nibble crudités.
For all Winnie knows, maybe you can actually do that here. The museum is so muchbiggerthan she remembers—and far more crowded than any time she ever visited as a girl.
They pass people outside, chattering away while vape smoke and regular smoke coil around them. Some hold bottles, some have cans, some clutch bright red Solo cups, and Winnie is pretty sure she spots nightmare contraband passing around too. Melusine scales, ground phoenix feathers, and maybe even diluted banshee tears.
Where do they get it?she wonders, trying to keep abject horror off her face. She is cool. She is hip. She is a Luminary and it is justtotallynormal to break the rules on the use of extracted nightmare parts.
Another part of her wants to go study all that contraband. After all, you can use powdered phoenix feathers as an alternative to gunpowder in a pinch, and melusine scales?They provide all the euphoric feelings of melusine blood,the Compendium says,but with only limited active healing properties.
