Page 29 of The Hunting Moon
“Thank you,” Winnie says somewhat breathlessly. “You didn’t have to do that.”
A single shoulder shrugs. “As a councilor’s daughter, I can’t usually go around telling people what I think about them, but sometimes, if it’s in service to someone else…” Her smile stretches another half inch.
And Winnie desperately racks her brain for something to talk about. Literally anything will do. They’re only ten steps away from the front of the room; they will split up and this moment of almost kindness will pass. Then Winnie’s eyes drop, and she spots something she hadn’t noticed before.
“Oh my god, you found it!” Winnie grinds to a halt and claps her hands. “You found Jenna’s locket!”
Erica also stops, and for a fraction of a second—just a tiny, almost imperceptible flash of time—her eyes widen. Her lips part. Then it’s over. So fast, Winnie thinks she must have imagined it.
“Yeah.” Erica reaches up to pat the gold locket resting against her collarbone. “I need to get it cleaned.”
Winnie leans in, and sure enough, there’s a brownish speck beside the moon. There’s something familiar about that speck… although Winnie can’t quite place why. Her own locket is completely clean.
“That’s wild,” Winnie says, drawing out her own chain. “They look identical. No wonder you thought I’d stolen it. My locket belonged to my grandmother on my dad’s side apparently. How did Jenna get hers?”
Erica’s lips purse and she rears back from Winnie’s proximity.
Winnie’s face heats up. She is clearly invading herex–best friend’s personal space—and her personal business. “Sorry,” she mumbles, retreating as Erica tucks the locket into her blouse. “I don’t mean to pry.”
Erica bears a tight smile. No teeth. No crinkle in the eyes. And although she says, “You weren’t,” Winnie can tell it’s a lie.
So she backs away a full step, screaming inwardly as she does.Why did you mention Jenna? Why did you ruin this moment?It’s like Winnie has gotten so spoiled by all the popularity and attention from the rest of the Luminaries, she has forgotten that four years of antagonism still yawn between her and Erica.
And it’s not merely those four years. Erica isn’t the same person now that she was back then. Old Erica was all mischief and banter and devilish,sideways smiles—and gentle too, just like her dad. She always had her raven hair in a ponytail, and although she dressed with style, it was never so sharp-heeled or straight-edged as it is today.
Now she is Marcia 2.0, even if Winnie cannot fathom why.
“I’m glad you found the locket,” Winnie makes herself say as she watches the wintery force field rise up around Erica again.
“Me too,” Erica agrees. Then she bows her head and steps away to get her blood drawn.
Winnie’s heart hurts watching her leave.
CHAPTER15
After Sunday training, Winnie spends a few hours with Fatima, Emma, and Bretta in Fatima’s room at the Wednesday estate (it is still so weird that Winnie can walk in and out of the estate at will), and Winnie is able toalmostfinish a paper due for Ms. Morgan. She is also able to burn so brightly shealmoststuns herself into forgetting that everything else in Hemlock Falls is going wrong.
Clusterfuck? What clusterfuck?
She lets herself ooh and aah over Fatima’s designs for her Nightmare Masquerade gown: to complete the look for her siren costume, she has a sequin-lined hijab that will lookjustlike flickering scales beneath the Saturday chandeliers.
The twins give Winnie a ride home in their dad’s van, and when Winnie hauls her tired self inside the house—she has been upso longbecause somehow today is still Monday—she finds a plate of ham sandwiches on the kitchen table and a note from Mom.
Early shift at the Daughter tomorrow. Staying at Darian’s tonight. Left the Volvo for you. Keys by the door.Then it finishes in all caps with two underlines:LOVE YOU SO MUCH. YOU’RE MY FAVORITE DAUGHTER EVER.—MOM
Winnie snags a sandwich before hurrying upstairs. The silence in the house is blessedly welcome, and she spends a full five minutes simply standing at the center of her room noshing away at her dinner.
There is a faint smell like rotting moss, but Winnie isn’t ready to let her phoenix flames vanish. She would like to bask in the glow of Fatima’s dress plans for a few moments longer, please.
Eventually, though, the sandwich is swallowed and there is no more avoiding the grocery bag hidden behind the box of summer clothes. Winnie’s hands tremble as she crouches beside her bed and tows out the dampener. Bloodstained birch trees fill her mind—and smoky gray eyes too. Jay wasn’t at Sunday training today; she doubts he’ll ever come back again. Why would he, now that he’s Lead Hunter?
Once the grocery bag is removed, Winnie wipes the tin down with a washcloth and then transports it to her desk. She has already cleared off all her sketchbooks, within which hide her drawing of Dad’s map and the X that derailed her entire week… and possibly her entire future.
The birthday cards, meanwhile, are stowed in the attic where she first found them.
A flip of the switch on her desk lamp sends yellow light flooding over the cookie tin. It glitters just as it had in the stream thirteen hours ago, and Winnie’s hands are still shaking as she once more wrestles off the lid. Then the moss is revealed, damp and imprinted with a deep circle.
That circle is where a source used to rest, and after digging around in the stinky, sloppy moss, she finds a fishhook.
