Page 37 of The Whispering Night
“Good morning.”
Winnie whirls about to find Erica gliding toward her, dressed in all black. With her signature steel-toed boots, she channels Sophisticated Catwoman—and she cringes at Winnie’s own outfit of emerald-green sweater and black jeans. “You’re very bright.”
Before Winnie can snarl,You helped me pick this out yesterday, remember?, Erica squares toward the Sunday estate and sets off.
Right. So they’re back to this version of Erica. Marcia 2.0: all business, all ice, and glares for miles. Winnie wanted to open the morning with some good-natured ribbing on the fact that Erica wasn’t her standard six minutes early. Instead, she scampers to catch up—and waits until they’re almost behind the estate to ask: “Hey, have you talked to Jay today?”
Erica gives her a look that says,Why the heck would I?
“It’s just I forgot about his show at Joe Squared last night. You and I were at the cabin, and it slipped my mind. Then he never called me afterwards. So now I’m worried—”
“Whatever.” Erica rolls her eyes and slides out her phone. “Text him.”
“Thanks.” Winnie tries for a grateful grin, but Erica isn’t looking at heranymore. Although she does say, in a deceptively flat way: “Jay doesn’t like me, does he?”
Winnie swallows. “Um…” She reaches for the phone.
Erica doesn’t release it. “That’s what I thought.”
“He doesn’ttrustyou. There’s a difference.”
“Is there?”
“Sure. I mean, you and those witches went into the forest to kill him eleven nights ago.”
“Except I tried to help him,” Erica points out. “I led the Dianas the wrong way.”
“And he knows that. I’ve told him lots of times.”
Erica doesn’t respond to this. Instead, she fastens her dark eyes onto Winnie’s and asks, point-blank: “Doyoutrust me?” They are both still holding the phone.
“Yes,” Winnie answers, and to her surprise, this assertion doesn’t sound like a lie. Itshouldbe a lie because she told Jay yesterday morning that she, Winnie, was too loyal. But then… well, yesterday afternoon sort of changed things, didn’t it? The Crow showed up; she bewitched Winnie and set her an impossible task; and then Erica and Winnie spent the whole day following clues, buying clothes, hiding in the cabin under a bedsheet, and finally, making a plan that has led them here.
Now Erica is the one to visibly swallow. She finally releases the phone to Winnie’s custody. “Thanks,” she murmurs, and although she offers nothing else before resuming her stride toward the school, it’s enough. Because, just like Winnie’syesa moment before, it felt real. It felt true.
Thanks.
With awkward thumbs, Winnie quickly types out a message to Jay.This is Winnie on Erica’s phone. I am sorry I wasn’t there lass tnight. We have al ot to catch up on. Meet me at thefloating carnival?She hits send and then almost trips on a step because she’s staring so hard at the screen, telepathically begging Jay to respond. She missed that they were to the stairs leading up to the locker rooms.
“You coming?” Erica calls. Her voice drifts down the stairs before getting sucked into the nearby stretch of muddy track that leads to a maze of high walls where Luminaries train.
“Yep.” Winnie scurries after, and once Erica has pocketed her phone, they finish the climb to the locker rooms. From this height, on the hill where the Sunday estate resides, she can see the entire obstacle course and training lake beyond. The indoor pool with its glass roof—and the edge of the soccer field too.
Erica pushes open the door. “Anyone in here?” she calls.
Only echoes respond. So she thrusts all the way in, Winnie right behind, and warmth sleeks over them from a vent. “How did you know the door would be unlocked?” Winnie whispers.
“Lucky guess,” Erica replies, her voice its usual volume, and Winnie can’t tell if Erica is being serious or sarcastic. Either way, she clearly isn’t frightened about getting caught, and she moves with the practiced ease of someone who has done this before.
Winnie can practically hear Jay saying,Maybe you should be worried about why she’s so good at this.But Winnie shoves that caution aside.
In seconds, she and Erica reach the locker room exit. This time, Erica doesn’t call anything, but before she can slip through the swinging door, Winnie stays her with a hand. “Wait,” she whispers. Then she grabs her locket, tucked beneath her green sweater and white under-tee.
The gold is warm from natural body heat and nothing more. If the Crow is here, Winnie’s locket isn’t giving its usual warning. “No Crow,” she wants to say, but instead declares, “Also called the praying mantis of the forest, vampira move on stilt-like feet that rest atop the soil.”
“Yes. Yes, they do.” Erica frowns. “About your condition, I had an idea last night.”
Winnie waits for Erica to elaborate, to regale, to spin a tale worth listening to, except nothing more comes. “Um,” Winnie nudges. “And?”
