Page 43 of The Whispering Night
“Grazie,”Martedì says as the attendant lowers a bar across them.
The Ferris wheel engine kicks on. The wood and metal groan. Winnie and her enemy begin to rise up from the fog.Pick your nightmare, spin the wheel! Or you’ll end up a Diana meal!
“Where is he?” These are the first words out of Winnie’s mouth. “What have you done with him?”
“You will have to tell me who you mean, Winnie.” The witch has lost her accent again. She stares with calm curiosity over the lake and Hemlock Falls expanding before them. Two weeks ago, Winnie thought all the lights of downtown were liars. Swamp fires pretending to be fairies. Now sheknowsit’s true.
There is no safety in Hemlock Falls. There is only death and Dianas and monsters.
“Cut the act.” Winnie leans toward the Crow. A scent like lavender cuts into her nose. “I know that Jay was with you last night, and that he never showed up for his band’s show. So where did you take him?”
“My, my.” The Crow clucks her tongue. “You are making a lot of assumptions here. Yes, I spoke to Jay Friday last night—just as I spoke toallthe Lead Hunters.” She motions to the crowds. They are high enough now that everyone has become miniature. “But Jay left along with the rest of them—including your aunt—the moment we were finished. If he disappeared after that, well…” A shrug of her shawled shoulder. “That had nothing to do with me.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“I don’t really care if you do. Have you found Jenna’s source yet?”
Winnie recoils. Wind sweeps against her face. It smells like funnel cake and a lingering tendril of dry ice. “Of course I haven’t.”
“And why not, Winnie?”
“Because you only gave me the task yesterday.”
“But you were searching long before that. And as you know, every minute you waste is one more minute that the Whisperer can use to kill people.”
“Is that a threat?”
“Of course it is.” The signora grins. “Do not mistake me for a patient Sunday swan, willing to wait untilyoudecide you’re frightened enough to make a move.” She motions to the swan pontoon, regal and bright next to an array of colorful floats from the parade. “I am a Tuesday scorpion, and there’s venom in my sting.”
“You’re a cartoon villain, is what you are.”
The signora chuckles. Wind flings her hair across her face, but she lets it flutter there, unbothered. “I’m giving you until Wednesday morning. If I don’t have Jenna’s source by eightA.M., then your boyfriend reallywilldisappear—along with everyone else you care about.”
Wednesday morning.Winnie feels sick. The Ferris wheel moves too fast. The lying lights of Hemlock Falls melt together.Like hound masks.
“That’s not enough time,” Winnie croaks.
“For someone as industrious andillustriousas you? Surely it is.”
“I… need help, then.” Winnie can’t believe she’s squeezing this out. Shecan’tbelieveshe’s sitting here giving this woman what she wanted all along: Leverage. Power. Control.
“You wantmyhelp?” The signora’s thick eyebrows rise in mock surprise. “Well, you certainly aren’t very polite about it.”
“Get rid of this spell on me. Let me tell Erica about you. And Jay—let me tell him too.” For the first time since leaving the maze, Winnie can say all of those things freely. No trivia replaces her words.
“You’re cute, but no.”
“Why not? Clearly you can turn the spell off at will, right? You’re letting me talk freely right now.”
“I can, Winnie, because it’s helpful to me. It isnothelpful to me if you talk to your friends. Or anyone else, for that matter.”
“Okayfine,” Winnie powers on. “You’re a Tuesday, so can you get me records of the night my dad vanished? That would help.”
“That I certainlycannotdo.”
“Cannot or will not?” Winnie stares down at the carnival, oblivious and gorgeous.And a bunch of sitting ducks.“Then… then tell me what happened. You were there that night, clearly.”
“And I wasn’t the only one.”
