Page 107 of The Whispering Night
“No, but Teddy might, and I’m the one who has her phone number.”
Winnie groans. Her adrenaline is kicked up to eleven, and her blinders have been so firmly slotted on, she can’t see anything but the path ahead—which goes right into the carnival tent. The flaps are lowered. Winnie thrusts them aside.
Where she almost gasps because all the lights are on. It’s like stepping into a snow globe. A crystal ball. A fairy land of gold. Winnie thinks of bioluminescence and photons. She thinks of the guiding lights of downtown.They’re all here, sparkling inside this tent.
“Look. There’s the phone I was talking about.” Ms. Morgan points to a nearby booth. It’s a first aid station, only a few steps away. And sure enough, there’s a corded phone on the outside wall, glittering like it’s made of gold.
“I’ll call Teddy now.” Ms. Morgan is still half gasping. “And you can… send a message to your grandmother with the locket.”
“I don’t want to send a message to my grandmother.”
Ms. Morgan frowns. Her cheeks are shining. “Winnie, now is not the time to be upset she missed Christmas dinners—”
“That isnotmy reasoning.”
“Are you sure about that?” Ms. Morgan’s lips purse, but she says no more before retrieving the phone and hammering in a number.
Winnie doesn’t join her teacher. Instead, she stares into the glittering lights of the tent—a booth selling handcrafted jewelry, a stand for tarot card readings, a food truck offering frozen treats. Her eyes sink out of focus, like she’s turning the knob on Professor Samuel’s telescope to blur out the night sky. She pretends there are no Tuesday boats zooming across the water or Hummers revving down the streets. No Crow with a stolen source or Erica held prisoner.
And above all, no Jay trapped inside a Whisperer that isn’t afamesspell.
Guess I have all the evidence Mario needs now, Winnie thinks, fighting off a bitter laugh. She might not understand how a werewolf seventeen years ago became Jay’s father—or how a wolf’s jawbone appeared under Jay’s pillow—but she can’t deny what’s right in front of her. It doesn’t take a genius to draw the connecting line.
TheIncantamentum Purum Correquires someone with a “nightmare father, gone and slain” and a “lantern mother, spirit’s bane.” Jay’s father was a werewolf; his mother was a Luminary. That makes Jay the “son of forest, the son of pain.”
Pure Heart. There you are.
“Teddy?” Ms. Morgan pants into the phone. “It’s me. Sorry to wake you, but we’re in big trouble. Like,bigtrouble.”
Winnie slips off her glasses. Another telescope knob turns. The lights become bulbous, as if they are bubbles under the water. All Winnie has to do is press a hand over her mouth and she can follow them.
Follow them where, though?
“No, not with the Tuesdays,” Ms. Morgan is saying from twenty thousand leagues away. “With the Dianas. It’s theIncantamentum Purum Cor.”
A plastic trash bin hovers to the left beside a stall selling homemade soap. It’s blue like poppies. Blue like Erica’s gloves.
“Yeah,” Ms. Morgan continues nearby, “Winnie doesn’t want to contact Harriet, but I agree: we have no other choice. You can send the message, if she won’t.”
Winnie won’t. She absolutely won’t. For four years, Grandma Harriet didn’t help her family. Neither did Ms. Morgan or Professor Funday. Or Aunt Rachel. Theonlyperson who helped was Dad, albeit in the most convoluted way possible.
Although Winnie understands why he had to use codes and maps anddrawings. He must have been trying to hide the source from Martedì so the Crow couldn’t finish theIncantamentum Purum Cor.And he did a really good job of it. No one ever found anything until Winnie started poking around a month ago. And the only reason she ever poked around was because Darian gave her a locket byaccidenton her sixteenth birthday.
But there’s one big question Winnie still hasn’t answered: Why leave the clues at all? Why not let Jenna’s source stay hidden forever?
There’s something important there. Something Winnie is still missing. Thewhyat the heart of her Venn diagram.
“Yeah, Teddy, I’m almost positive Winnie is under averba circumvolensspell. Still, I’ve managed to piece together the important parts—and that we’re probably dealing with alegatum.”
Winnie stares again at the blue trash can. Her ghosts are far away; she is an emotionless robot; her fingers don’t itch to draw. She just needs to keep thinking, keep following the bubbles.
Right now, Ms. Morgan has drawn the conclusion:This whole town is in danger. The sleeping spirit is about to wake up.
The Tuesdays, meanwhile, have decided:This whole town is in danger because Winnie Wednesday is a Diana who is casting spells and killing people.
The Luminaries Council has decided:There is no danger worth disrupting the Nightmare Masquerade for.
And Winnie, meanwhile—well, what has she decided? Where is her data leading her? Or for that matter, what conclusions is Signora Martedì making right now? The Crow has a witch and a source, she has the son of forest, the son of pain…
