Page 33 of The Whispering Night
We are one in sleep and dreams.
CHAPTER
16
While Winnie and Erica buy an entire wardrobe of clothes, actual progress regarding what happened at the breakfast or getting this spell off of Winnie’s words—that goes absolutely nowhere. Winnie tries writing words on paper, spelling them out in sign language with her limited knowledge of the ASL alphabet, and even singing them.
Nothing works. Nightmare Compendium factoids reign supreme.
At least, though, throughout each experiment, Winnie’s furious spite cranks back into place. Then crankseven higherbecause dammit, she will not let the Crow win. She willnotbe a weak target for the Crow to crap on. And it is that spite that delivers Winnie and Erica to the cabin after sunset.
Together. At thesame time. No hiding. No sneaking. No secret spy messages to trade off.
And over the course of an hour, they form a plan. One that Winnie actually feels good about, because Erica is not only a Thursday, but also one of the smartest people Winnie knows. Plus, they now have the photos from Isaac’s phone—which is the first real clue they’ve acquired in over a week.
Mostly, Winnie feels good because this plan is a real middle finger aimed at that Diana.You want to threaten me in the maze my dad built? You want to keep me from talking about you and turn me into an audiobook narrator for the Nightmare Compendium? Well, then I’m going to find every Diana in this town and reveal them. Every single one.
“Okay,” Erica murmurs. “So it’s hard to see on my laptop screen, but…” They are in the dark with a sheet draped over their heads like they usedto do as kids. If anyone walks in, hopefully they just assume Winnie and Erica are making out or something. Not studying images of witches.
The scent of cut grass is especially sharp thanks to a mowed lawn that afternoon. It feels like childhood. It feels like safety.
“Still, it’s better than the phone.” Winnie crooks her neck toward the screen. Her heart is lodged somewhere in her throat. Her glasses creep down her nose. For the last hour, she has mostly been able to talk unimpeded by the spell. No wasps in her ears. As long as they stick to Jenna or Dad topics, she is a fully functioning Winnie Winona Wednesday.
The first of Isaac’s photos loads. There are seven in total, and this one shows a blurred and blackened streak of earth. Probably an accident as he tried to surreptitiously get the phone high enough for a secret shot.
The next photo is a foot. The rubber on the shoe melted, and Winnie hears Erica swallow at the sight. She swallows too. Her throat hurts with her heart stuck there. Her stomach is wound up tight. Her teeth start clicking.
The third photo is the whole corpse, and Winnie can’t help but gasp. A wheezing sound because she killed this person, and it’s impossible to pretend otherwise when faced with the vivid, full-color evidence. When she left the burned scene, the mist had not yet risen—which meant the sun hadn’t either. There wasn’t much to see, and her body was pumped so full of adrenaline… Well, she hardly stuck around to explore the scene.
Only now is she realizing how much of a blessing that really was.
“It was self-defense,” Erica murmurs, her eyes fixing on Winnie for several seconds. Then she clicks her trackpad, and the next photo pops up.
It’s both bodies at once, charred and smoking. The masks that were once shaped like hounds are melted into near nothing. Only plastic ears remain on the left body, only part of a snout on the right.
“You did what you had to do.” Erica rests a hand on Winnie’s shoulder. Then a second hand on Winnie’s arm. It is meant to be comforting. Winnie wants to flinch it away.
She closes her eyes instead.
“Do you see anything recognizable?”
“No.” Erica withdraws. Her voice softens as she angles back to the screen. “But that’s not surprising. We’re taught to never give anything away. Ourfaces, our voices, and even our bodies—they’re all hidden or modulated. And like I told you, this was one of the only nights where I actually met anyone. Usually everything I learned came in messages from the…”
“The locket.” Winnie forces her eyes open. In all the chaos of the last twelve hours, she has forgotten untilright nowthat she put a message inside her own.
Not that it did anything. When she quickly pops it open, the wordsIs anyone there?stare up at her. She snaps it shut again and returns her attention to the screen. The bodies look the same as they did before; they’re just bodies. Inanimate as the nightmares she collects on corpse duty. As the nons she has seen mutilated and ruined countless times.
Death is a part of life. Death is a part of life.
“Can you zoom in?”
“Yeah.” Erica clicks a few times and the details expand, expand. It’s not a high-quality photo—there wasn’t enough light—but at least zoomed in, it’s easier to emotionally detach. Winnie is a scientist seeking answers. She is a detective looking for clues.
For several minutes, Erica scrolls over the photo, moving side by side in organized rows. She begins at the melted shoes. Up, up they go. There is nothing specific. Nothing to stand out. So much is burned and shapeless. Whoever these Dianas were, they are nothing more than overcooked meat in this photograph.
Death is a part of life. Death is a part of life.
The air under the sheet feels heavy. The grass smell is sickening.
