Page 72 of The Hunting Moon
Worst of all, they have been coasting totally free for these last four years while Winnie, Mom, and Darian have had to scrape and grovel andendure,and while Dad has been god knows where in the world beyond.
All this time, a Diana has been walking around Hemlock Falls laughing at what they got away with.
And what they got away with might very well include the Whisperer.
Winnie finds the family bike leaning against the front porch. Mom must have used it today and never returned it to the shed. (Why put it up, if I’monly going to use it tomorrow?) Winnie hops on and with muscles powered by cold fury, she kicks off into the night.
Once, when Winnie and Erica were eleven, they watchedThe Empire Strikes Back.They’d seen it before, of course, but this was the first time it really hit Winnie that Luke was abandoning his training too soon.
Like sure—Darth Vader was horrible and he had Han Solo as a hostage, yada yada. But Yoda also made it very clear that leaving the training was a bad way to go.If it were me,Winnie told Erica,I would keep training until I knew I was strong enough to defeat Vader. After all, Han Solo is frozen. He can wait.
Except if you wait,Erica pointed out,you won’t care about winning anymore. Your Jedi heart will be able to forgive, and then Vader will forever go free.
Well, then that’s even better,Winnie replied.I will be above revenge and anger. Sounds like a great way to live.
No, actually. Winnie can see very clearly now that itdoesn’tsound great. That forgiveness is the way of failure. Thatjusticeis what actually matters in the end.
She already lost the training part—the Dagobah system and the Yoda guide were taken away from her by a ten-year outcast sentence. As such, Winnie has had no chance to learn how to fight for the light side of the Force. Instead, there has only been one failure after another, one misstep after another.
All because of a Diana.
Literally,allof it: Dad disappearing, her family becoming outcasts, four years of misery and training on her own, and then a Whisperer chasing her off a waterfall. Every one of those Ping-Pong balls can be traced back to aWforWitch.ADforDiana.Even Winnie’s stupid, ridiculous hope circles right over to this Diana.
Winnie boils in her leather jacket. Sweat slides down her back, where her pack is pressed against her. She checks constantly to see if anyone follows, but the night is empty. She pedals from one streetlight to the nextuntil there are no more and she is racing onto a gravel driveway she can see somewhat clearly thanks to the crescent moon beaming overhead.
No clouds mar the sky.
The Friday estate glooms before her, settled as a crypt unopened for years. Winnie knows people are home. It’s eleven thirty. Lizzy is no doubt asleep, and maybe Jay is too.
Not for much longer, though.
Winnie tries the doorknob on the mudroom that leads into the kitchen. It’s locked, as she knew it would be, but a slight lean with her arm, a slightshovewith her shoulder, and she can get the latch bolt out of the strike plate. The door pitches wide, still locked but now useless.
So much for keeping bad Luminaries outside.
With long strides, Winnies crosses the ancient entrance area into the kitchen. Her legs vibrate and wobble from the bike ride; it feels as if she is still pedaling as she runs across the amber tiles into the hallway beyond. Vaulted ceilings echo her footfalls back to her.
She reaches the stairs that lead to the estate’s living quarters and races up. Jay carried her this way two nights ago; she had no idea it was happening. She barely notices now.
On the third landing, Winnie slows. Then halts when she spies light pouring out from Lizzy’s lab. The doors are wide open. It startles Winnie becausewhyis Lizzy up at this hour—and in her lab no less? She is the opposite of a night owl.
No light comes from Jay’s door, but Winnie strides there anyway. She knocks. Her breath sucks in…
But nothing happens. No sounds, no stirrings, no response.
She knocks again. Her heart beating faster. “Jay?” she murmurs against the door. Then louder, “Jay? Are you in here?” She nudges the door, and its hinges carry it open with no resistance.
The room is empty, yet it’s also thick with a residual staleness that can only come from hours of uncirculated air.
Winnie crosses inside, gaze scouring like a hunter’s. Jay hasn’t come home yet. He must have left Joe Squared and gone… somewhere. Not hunting because he missed the meetup time for that. And not here to sleep like a normal human.
So… partying. That is sort of the only other possibility.
A fresh flare of anger rises inside Winnie at that realization. She knows it isn’t fair—Jay can’t have known she would come here to check that a Diana hasn’t stolen his phone. He can’t possibly havepredictedthat she would come to him again and say,Jay, please help me.
But she is angry all the same.
Footsteps thump behind Winnie. She whirls around, heart surging into her throat. But where she hopes-hopes-hopesto find Jay striding into his room, it’s only Aunt Lizzy.
