Page 7 of The Whispering Night
Erica: Jenna has been dead for four years. There’s no magic left inside her source.
Winnie: Stop it, you two. Enough squabbling. And yes. [She extends a hand.] We have a deal, Erica.
[Erica shakes Winnie’s hand, firm and businesslike. Jay simply digs his hands into his pockets and turns away.]
[End 6:16]
After that, the spy games began. Although admittedly it has mostly been only Winnie and Erica participating. Partly because there really isn’t much that Jay can contribute. But mostly because he still doesn’t trust Erica, even after eight days of proving herself useful to them.
And it’s fine.
Yep, it’sfinebeing caught in the middle.
Winnie didn’t expect the WTF gang to become besties again overnight. Sure, she’d hoped for it. (Hope is the thing with feathers!) And yeah, she still daydreams of easy camaraderie, but even her loyal bear heart knows she has to approach this Erica alliance with wide eyes and hunter senses turned to max.
So for now, Winnie will be the W in a WT angle… and in a WF angle too. And maybe one day—hopefully sooner rather than later—those two corners will slot back into the three-sided shape they’re meant to be.
CHAPTER
3
Nightmare Masquerade: An annual tradition introduced in the 1970s by Tessa Tuesday in which global Luminaries are invited to explore Hemlock Falls. Over the course of a week, each clan hosts an elaborate event showcasing their clan’s hard work and virtues.
The high school rises before Winnie, with cars and jeeps and trucks and bicycles pulling into the parking lot. Students converge, ejected from parental vehicles or disgorged from their own. The morning is cold, but the sun peeks up from the high school’s south side. The days are stretching longer now; a reminder that the forest can’t steal everything; that even summer comes to Hemlock Falls eventually.
Casey Tuesday drives past in his red Wrangler and howls at Winnie.
Because of course he does.
Four more howls reach Winnie as she coasts through the parking lot and toward the bike rack at the front door. She doesn’t acknowledge the howlers, and they’re almost static at this point.Cosmic microwave background.Now that the werewolf is presumed dead by the entire city—now that Winnie knows the truth of that wolf and what really happened to her under the crushing waterfall waves with the melusine and Jay…
Well, hope is the thing with feathers and she’s feeling a lot of it these days.
She doesn’t even get annoyed by the giant Nightmare Masquerade banner fluttering beside the school’s front door.Enjoy the celebrationsand delight in the Floating Carnival!it declares in swirly golden script that Darian spenthoursagonizing over.Festivities begin Sunday April 21!
That’s only two days away now, and there’s a dramatic illustration of a midnight-blue basilisk coiling around the Ferris wheel that floats on the Little Lake…
Okay, maybe Winnie does get a little bit annoyed. That basilisk has its poison glands in the wrong positions along its crown, and the tendrils coming off its cape are not accurate at all. Winnie would know, having seen one up close right before her glasses turned to stone.
Number of basilisks killed a month ago? Zero. Number of basilisks killed now? One.
She huffs a sigh and charges into the school. She is not going to let a poor anatomical representation of a nightmare ruin her day. She has new notes in her pocket from Erica to study later, and although her own just-delivered intel was nothing more than a rehash of things they already know, as far as secret alliances go, this one is working out quite well—and she really hopes Jay will recognize that soon.
When she passes Erica’s locker on her way to homeroom and Erica happens to glance her way, Winnie offers only a nod. Which Erica returns in an identical interaction to what they would have shared a few weeks ago. Because they are not friends. They are barely acquaintances.
“WINNIE!”
The voice that screeches this is so loud and so close, Winnie is not prepared at all for the explosion in her eardrums. Or how very near Bretta Wednesday is when she flings her arms around Winnie and starts squeezing. Winnie is not a small person, and Bretta is not a large one, but Bretta easily lifts Winnie off her feet as she embraces her with all the ferocity of a Wednesday bear.
“WE DID IT!” This is a new voice and a second set of arms now squeezing.
“Did… what?” Winnie grunts out as Fatima’s golden hijab presses against her left cheek.
“WE PASSED OUR THIRD TRIAL!” This comes from both Bretta and Fatima simultaneously, and it takes Winnie several seconds to take their jubilant screeching—which isvery loud—translate it into words, and then process those words.
But eventually the neural pathways connect, and suddenly Winnie isscreeching too. And jumping. They’re all jumping. “OH MY GOD, YOU PASSED YOUR THIRD TRIAL! YOU PASSED YOUR THIRD TRIAL!”
“LAST NIGHT!” Bretta shouts.
