Page 53 of The Whispering Night
Why did you just scream at one of the most important members of the Martedì clan?
Because will-o’-wisps lure their prey with lights! That’s why!
Winnie’s toes inch forward. Her second instinct is to turn tail and run. Just text Fatima an apology and seek refuge once more in the bathroom. Not because Winnie is scared of Caterina Martedì (although, let’s be real: she is), but because the woman loses all her manipulative sway if Winnie neverseesher asserting dominance over Winnie’s friends.
And that’s clearly what’s happening here: the Crow wants Winnie to know she can andwillget to every one of Winnie’s closest friends.Wednesday morning will be here soon enough.
That’s when Winnie feels it: a heat against her sternum. Her locket is warning of magic, warning of the Crow. Martedì knows Winnie is here, even if Fatima hasn’t noticed yet.
The Crow looks up. Her eyes meet Winnie’s, and she smiles. Then her hand, currently placed on Fatima’s shoulder, tightens. It’s a movement that could be interpreted kindly, supportive, endearing by anyone on the receiving end. But Winnie knows it for what it really is.
She knows because she feels a whisper of power scrub down the back of her neck. Feels her locket blare all the hotter. AndseesSignora Martedì’s smile turn threatening.
Then Martedì straightens. Withdraws her hand from Fatima. And in a swirl of black shawl and silver hair, she pivots away.
Which is when Fatima finally spots Winnie too. She waves, eyes brightening. “Winnie! I got a sandwich for you. Hope you like veggie medley because that’s all that was left.”
Winnie shambles forward, her eyes locked on the Crow’s retreating back. Her shawl gives her the look of wings, and Winnie would bet big money that’s intentional. Slowly, Winnie’s locket cools.
She drops down next to Fatima. Her heart is giving her snare-drum teeth a run for their money. “Hey, who… was… that talking to you?”
“Oh? Signora Martedì? She’s the Tuesday liaison, and wow! She’ssonice, Winnie. She told me she studied fashion for a few years in Milan, when she wasn’t sure if she wanted to stay in the Luminaries or not. Andthenshe said she’d come look at my Masquerade Ball designs this afternoon. How cool is that?” The gleam in Fatima’s eyes is decidedly heart-shaped as she continues gushing.
And Winnie finds herself caught once more in the Crow’s feathery clutches. She can’t warn Fatima; she can’t scream,STAY AWAY!But there’s also no way in hell she’s going to gush alongside her friend and say,Oh yeah, Martedì is the absolute best. I just love her!
So Winnie sits there instead, mouth bobbing and heart drumming, and tries to find a way to veer Fatima away from praising a villainous Dianawho wants to ruin Winnie’s life.Tick tock, tick tock. Wednesday morning will be here soon enough.
T minus forty-four hours.
As Fatima continues to recap everyawesome wordthat Caterina Martedì uttered (which included so many compliments on Fatima’s own style), Winnie shoves a veggie sandwich down her gullet. It’swaytoo much mayo. Her tongue sticks to the roof of her mouth. But when Fatima pauses to bite into her own sandwich, Winnie leaps at the chance for a subject change.
“I thaw”—gulp, swallow—“some really cool inventions today. Maybe you can incorporate them into one of your designs. Like, there’s this one armor that covers only the chest—but it can be extended downward over the thighs with the simple push of a button.”
Now Fatima is the one to gulp and swallow. “Whoa. How does that work?”
Excellent.“The layers of the armor are modeled after the keratinous shell on turtle-wyrms, but specifically the head flap. Here, I’ll show you.” Winnie grabs a napkin, Fatima hands her a pen, and in seconds, Signora Martedì is forgotten.
Or at least, she’s forgotten for Fatima. Winnie hasn’t forgotten the Crow at all, and it’s probably not a coincidence that she and Fatima end up designing a costume they nameThe Hunter…
Which is a gown stylized after the ancient Roman goddess Diana. Yes,thatDiana whom the witches are named for—but who was actually a symbol for the Luminaries on the hunt before that.
Winnie isn’t backing down from the Crow. She isn’t going to let Martedì scare her. And with a real hunting bow in one hand and a real knife sheathed on a jeweled belt at the waist, Winnie’s sketched figure with Fatima’s design overtop is pure, unadulteratedbadassery.
Winnie is just finishing the sketch (okay, the model’s hands kind of look like popcorn) when Fatima’s phone dings. Winnie’s too. When they look, they find messages from Bretta. Except on Fatima’s phone, it’s a group chat that also includes Emma. On Winnie’s… Well, it’s just a message from a number she hasn’t saved yet.
Party tonight at the old museum. We going?
“Hmmm.” Fatima glances Winnie’s way, frowning. “Do you want to go? Because honestly, I’d rather stay home and work on my designs.”
Winnie hesitates. She wants to respond:If we go, would that keep you from meeting with Martedì this afternoon?But this is silly, so Winnie instead shakes her head. “Naw, I’m tired. I’ll just turn in early.”
“Really?” Fatima’s eyes narrow. “Is that really your reason?”
“Um, yes?”Oh crap, that sounds like a lie.“Why wouldn’t it be?”God, that sounds even worse.
“It’s just…” Fatima runs her tongue over her braces. “You’ve felt kind of distant lately. And you’ve been hanging out with Erica Thursday a lot. Which is fine, you know, but we canallbe friends. You don’t have to choose her over us.”
Winnie stares at Fatima. She feels sick. She feels guilty. Worse, there’s sovery littleshe can actually say to explain what’s going on. “It’s not like that,” she insists—and because this is true, it comes out with the necessary amount of emphasis. Of friend-shaped panic. “I promise it’s not like that, Fatima. Erica and I—it’s just… there’s some stuff I have to do with her, okay? But you and Emma and Bretta are still my best friends. I promise.”
