Page 133 of The Whispering Night
“Oh, go away.” Winnie glares. “That was mean, E!”
“No,thatwas hilarious.” Erica winks. “See you soon, Winona.” In seconds, she and her cat ears disappear into the crowds.
Leaving Winnie all alone. The night air breathes cold against her bare arms. It smells like dry ice and gas heaters. Like the rose garlands that cover the cypress trees. And like the distant forest, forever feasting on detritus and carrion in the north.
“Hey,” a voice says, and Winnie torpedoes aroundonce more—but this time, when her heart balloons, it gets to stay that way. Because Jay reallyisthere, slipping into her corner from the main lawn. Crystalline light casts shapes across him; his eyes glow moonlight silver.
“Ugh, Jay!” Winnie declares as she takes in his lanky form. “You’re not in costume!”
“I know. I’m sorry.” He lifts his hands, wincing. “A tux was the best I could do. Plus, if I’m being honest, it feels weird to dress up like a nightmare, when… you know.”
“Right.” Winnie reaches him. “Well, good thing you look so sexy in a tux, then.”
He flushes right up to his hairline. “I, uh, like your costume. Very sleek.” He flicks a finger at her jeweled knife sheath. “Very dangerous.”
“That’s in case you turn into a wolf, Mr. Friday. I have to be ready to defend myself.”
He chuckles now, skimming a hand over Winnie’s waist before furling his fingers into her back. “New glasses, too, huh?” He tugs her close to him. He is warm. “They look good. Those frames suit you. But…” He reaches up. “May I?”
“Always,” she answers. Then her glasses are off, and she and Jay arekissing. It is not the wild, desperate kissing they shared on Wednesday, after the dust settled and they could finally,finallyconsider all they’d been through. These are tender kisses. Little promises trailed along Winnie’s jaw or traced along Jay’s neck that say,The forest can’t have you. I am here to keep you safe.
The Lead Hunter who is also a nightmare.
The Luminary who is also alegatum.
A buzzing in Jay’s phone finally pries them apart. “That’ll be L.A.,” he groans, and sure enough, his phone readsMOST IMPORTANT MEMBER OF THE FORGOTTEN(she labeled herself in Jay’s contacts, of course).
He sends the call to voicemail. Then he gives Winnie one more lingering kiss filled with promises. “I’ll find you on the dance floor, okay?”
“Does that mean you’re going to dance?”
“No.” He grins. “But I’ll definitely find you.” One more kiss, this time on the cheek, before Jay Friday slips into the crowds. Into the lights.
After twelve selfies, two requests for an autograph, and a quick interview from the same Sunday blogger who drove the pontoon boat (Winnie can now appreciate how hard that swan is to steer), Winnie finally reaches her mom and dad. And Mom was right: Winnie had no trouble finding her.
Because Mom is dressed as a very—likevery—furry black bear with a green sash across her chest. So is Aunt Rachel, who stands beside her at a fountain spewing punch. Dad, meanwhile, is dressed like a gardener, in coveralls and a goofy bucket hat, his old water canteen strapped at his waist, and with an old,oldpair of glasses perched atop his nose. (Because of course, four years ago, he lost his glasses before turning into a crow.)
He looks like the dad Winnie remembers.
But he is also someone totally new. Because this Bryant is tired. He has aged. And he is just a little bit furtive after too many years in avian form.
“Thisis your costume?” Winnie demands. “Dad. This is even worse than Jay phoning it in with a tuxedo.”
Dad laughs—and okay, it might be the best sound in the world. “I know, Winnie Benny.Mea culpa.” He slings an arm over her shoulder. “But I spent so many years as an actual bird with actual feathers, I just want to feel human for as long as I can.”
Winnie can’t argue with that. Especially since it’s basically the same argument Jay just gave.
“Well, can I have your hat then?”
“Uh…”
Winnie doesn’t give him a choice. She swipes the bucket hat off Dad’s head, revealing gray-streaked auburn hair (Address me as “my lord.”), then plops it over her own auburn waves.Much better.She has already tugged on her leather jacket for warmth, so now—she hopes—she won’t stand out once she pushes again into the crowds.
Fatima is going to kill her. Winnie definitely looks less Badass Hunter from Ancient Rome, and more Angler Who Left Her Bait Kit at Home.
Gone Fishing,she thinks.
Dad studies her new ensemble, his expression as pained as it used to be when she made, in his opinion, poor clothing combinations. But wisely, he offers no criticism. Instead, he says: “I guess nowneitherof us will detract from your mom’s display of loyalty. She’s really proud of that costume, you know.”
