Page 61 of The Luminaries
Winnie drags up her head as Mario moves to the mic next. With no preamble, he launches into a dense, borderline unintelligible assessment of the werewolf situation. He has spit out his gum, although he pats at his pockets every few minutes like he wishes he could grab another stick.
Winnie listens, but not closely. Mario knows about the Whisperer.Surelyhe has spoken to Dryden about it—and this time with Lizzy, a councilor, to back him up. So why is no one raising the alarm about it?
“During the werewolf, erm…attackseventeen years ago,” Mario says, “we found no werewolf plasmids typically transmitted via bite. In other words, the local nightmare mutation isnotcontagious. But admittedly, our sample size was small, and we’re going off old observational data, which isn’t ideal. If you know any werewolves open to a randomized trial, let me know.” He gives a gruff laugh and grins at the audience.
Winnie blushes on his behalf while her eyes home in on Dryden Saturday, perched at the stage’s edge. Theoretically, she could talk to him. He’s right there, and there’s nothing to stop her from walking right up and addressing him directly.
Mario clears his throat. “Now, uh, contrary to what you might have read in your abridged Compendiums, this isn’t unheard of. All Asian Luminary branches have seen this sort of wolf, and it was recorded in a European were-stag population as well. Which is actually what’s most fascinating about this current werewolf: the DNA we managed to get from a fur sample has some overlap with the—”
“Very good.” Theresa Monday shoves back in to the microphone, essentially hip-bumping Mario aside. “Thank you so much, Dr. Mario. I’m sure many of the students have questions for us, so if you please, raise your hands and…”
As one, almost every student in the room raises a hand. And every single teacher too. Councilor Monday looks mildly ill. Mario looks even more so. He pats again at his pockets.
“Well, then.” A huff of unhappy laughter from Theresa. “Let’s get started. You there, in the plaid jumper?”
“Who is it?” the girl asks. “The werewolf—is it someone we know?”
As one, almost every other hand drops back down again. Yet before Theresa can answer, Dryden Saturday strides back into the fray. “No, we don’t know. Which is actually why we’re here. The first step to catching this daywalker is to test everyone in Hemlock Falls. We’ll begin with the students as soon as we have enough tests, since you are already in a contained space and easily organized for blood samples.”
A few more hands leap up at that.
“Then we’ll move to the rest of the city. We’re already setting up a mass testing site on the boardwalk near the dam.”
Three more hands rise, four drop.
When will you start testing?
What if we don’t like needles?
Why hasn’t the siren downtown gone off?
What if we think we know who it is? (Cough) Casey. (Cough)
As Dryden, Theresa, and Mario move through each question, Winnie’s teeth tap like a machine gun and she keeps removing and replacing her glasses. She is definitely going to talk to Dryden. As soon as this assembly is over, she’ll corner him and make him listen. Surely Mario will back her up—and Darian too.
This is her best shot to get someone to take the Whisperer seriously. She has to take it.
Her moment comes when the bell rings, marking the end of class. There are still raised hands, but Dryden promises they’ll all be answered at the public forum tonight. Winnie is already on the move, having leaped from her seat the instant the bell began its toll. And by the time she reaches the front row, Darian is out of his seat and heading for the stage.
“Hey.” She grabs his sleeve.
He smiles at her tiredly. She only saw him a few hours ago, but he looks like he has endured a week in that time. “Hey, sister mine. What’s up?”
Winnie swallows. “I need to talk to Dryden.”
His eyebrows rise. “Uh…”
“Let me rephrase that. I’mgoingto talk to Dryden.”
“Wait,” Darian tries, but Winnie isn’t listening. She scoots for thestage steps right as Dryden begins his descent. A few feet behind, Mario is shoving a piece of gum into his mouth.
“It’s not a werewolf,” Winnie says without preamble, moving into Dryden’s way so he can’t exit. “The thing that’s been killing hunters and nons and nightmares. It’s not a werewolf.”
“I beg your pardon?” Dryden looks at Winnie like she has turned into a harpy fledgling. “Who are you?”
“She’s my sister.” Darian hurries to Winnie’s side. “She just completed the second trial, and she saw something—”
“And Isawwhat has been killing everyone,” Winnie interrupts. “It’s not a werewolf. It’s a Whisperer.”
