Page 18 of The Hunting Moon
As Winnie stands there, her breath suddenly frothy and teeth suddenly grinding, a rapid-firepop, pop, pop!hits her ears.Mario.Just the man she wants to see.
She pushes away from the booth, weaves through more people and boxes until she finally reaches the scientist in charge of testing. “Mario,” she greets.
He glances up from a tablet, a pink bubble swelling before his face. Recognition sets in.Pop!“What are you doing here?”
Winnie sniffs. “It’s great to see you too this fine Sunday.”
Mario at least has the decency to flush, his olive skin darkening toward mauve. “Sorry. It’s just that only Mondays and Saturdays are supposed to be here.” His brown eyes sink into frustrated slits at the nameSaturday.It would seem Mario is about as pleased that the Masquerade continues asWinnie is. Likely even less so, since he’s the one having to cram in all this testing before the big event.
“I need to talk to you,” Winnie says. “It’s about… Grayson Friday.”
Mario’s bubble deflates mid-blow. “This is not a good time, Winnie. Or place.”
“I know.” She scoots closer. “But it’s important.Please.”
He sighs, chest rising against his white lab coat. “Fine.” He scowls. “This way.” He doesn’t wait to see if she follows (she does, of course) before swiveling toward the back of the tent. The navy-striped canvas opens onto the Little Lake. That’s where the Ferris wheel will go.
Wind sweeps over them as they exit. Mario cuts left, to where two portable toilets glow blue. Winnie is relieved tonotsmell them as Mario leads her behind one.
He slides his tablet under one arm and pats at his lab coat pocket. One heartbeat later, a fresh pack of gum appears. “So what’s up, Winnie? I don’t have much time.”
“I need to know what killed Grayson Friday.” Grayson’s face—blurry and unformed on a shadowy printout—comes to her mind… until it’s Jay’s face Winnie sees instead, with red-rimmed eyes and skin pale as moonlight. “It wasn’t really the werewolf, was it?”
Mario doesn’t respond. He just smacks his gum more loudly and bounces his weight from foot to foot.
“Well?” Winnie presses. “It’s a yes-or-no question.”
“Actually, it’s an ‘I don’t know’ question.” Mario glares at her. “Do I think it was your Whisperer? Yeah, maybe. The, uh…damageto Grayson is similar to what we’ve seen that thing do before.”
YourWhisperer. Winnie’s stomach constricts.
“But,” Mario finishes on a defeated sigh, “there were undeniable signs of a werewolf at the kill site too. Tufts of hair and bite marks on the body parts.”
Her stomach constricts even more. “But did… did Jay actually see it? The werewolf, I mean.” As much as Winnie wanted to ask Jay about it last night, she never worked up the courage. It felt too insensitive, too cold.Hey, I know your heart is breaking, but can you tell me what you remember while I hold your hand?
“Jay didn’t see the werewolf,” Mario says, “but he also didn’t see the Whisperer. So if you want my honest opinion…”
Winnie holds her breath.
“All signsdopoint to Whisperer.”
“Ah.” Winnie’s shoulders slump. She needed to hear that. Ohgod,she needed to hear that.
“The problem is,” Mario continues, “we are also dealing with a werewolf—and this town has a bad history with those.” He waves absently toward downtown, where the Diana alarm was refashioned seventeen years ago to warn of daywalkers too. “So Whisperer or not, I still have to catch thislupinotuum.”
“Okay, but how long will that take?” Winnie wags her head. “Everyone is already complaining the testing is taking too long to set up—”
“Oh really?” Mario scowls.Pop!“I hadn’t noticed.”
“And people are dying because of a nightmare no one but me… andyoubelieve in. Grayson Friday is dead.Ialmost died in the same way. Who else has to get hurt?”
Mario shrugs helplessly. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Winnie. By all means, if you’ve got a solution, then give it to me. We’ve got Alpha scorps combing the forest all day. We’ve got sensors and cameras and more sensors lined up throughout the forest.Nothingis turning up. Not a Whisperer and not a werewolf either. It’s like…” He pauses, eyebrows lifting as if what he’s about to say makes no sense. He says it anyway: “It’s like these nightmares only show up when you’re around, Winnie. Or like you’ve got some special power that only lets you see them.”
“Well, this power sucks then.” As Winnie utters this—and as she crosses her arms over her chest, half sullen, half defensive—a little spark ignites in the back of her brain. She can’t see it yet, but soon…
Soon it will take over. A bonfire on a cold spring night.
“If this new nightmare is out there, Winnie,” Mario assures her, “itwillshow up eventually. We just have to be patient.”
