Page 6 of The Luminaries
The other two nightmare bodies they retrieved are manticore hatchlings, which look like dog-sized scorpions. Winnie picks them up basicallyevery other week, and they’re easy to draw. All carapace and legs. Simple, clean lines.
Maybe it’s because Winnie’s attention is so focused inward, her gaze so locked on Tuesday tire marks, or maybe it’s simply because the forest has a plan, but when Winnie reaches a familiar hill with a familiar red stake in the ground, she notices something out of place beyond.
Two feet.
Or rather, what’s left of two feet. These are bloodied, pale, and missing toes.
She hits the brakes. The four-wheeler stops, mud splattering over the red stake that marks the farthest spot that nightmares might appear. Each night, when the mist rises, the nightmares form. Most stay within the heart of the forest, near the sleeping spirit, but some try to walk outside. Some leave in search of humans for their nightly meal.
Which is why the Tuesdays have sensors to detect when a nightmare crosses into the wider world. Intheory.But clearly a nightmare crossed the boundary and left feet here—which Winnie definitely needs to tell someone about. She also needs to get those feet.
She hops off the four-wheeler and grabs an old grocery bag from under the seat. It presumably held someone’s snacks, but for months now it has served as nothing more than a crinkly annoyance she’s been too lazy to remove. Now it will serve as a crude body bag. Or… foot bag.
With her hand in the bag, she picks up the two corpse remains like she used to pick up Erica’s dog’s poop. Crinkle, crinkle. One foot. Two. They’re surprisingly heavy, and there’s hair on the bridges surrounded by deep, bloodied gashes, almost like they got caught in a lawn mower.
A wave of nausea hits Winnie. She hastily closes the bag. She’d mocked Marcus only an hour ago, and now she’s on the verge of puking herself. It doesn’t bode well for tonight’s trial.
You’re hungry,she tells herself.And sleep-deprived.Even Mom and Grandma Winona must have felt woozy from time to time, and they were both Lead Hunters for the Wednesday clan.
Winnie shoves a stick into the spot where the feet were. Red clay crunches up. The stick breaks at the tip, but it’s a good enough marker. Mario at the Monday lab will be able to find it.
After depositing the feet beside the nightmares and nons in the four-wheeler’s flatbed, she sets off once more. This time, she doesn’t pay attention to the Tuesday tread. She just drives. Fast. Until at last she reaches the edge of the Monday estate.
Cold blusters against her without the forest to protect. The grounds are quiet, the grass crispy with frost. Two crows take flight as Winnie thunders by.
It’s like a college campus. Or at least what Winnie imagines a college campus might look like, based on what she’s seen on TV. Ahead is the main building, with its brownstone and crawling ivy that’s more like rattly spaghetti without its green coat. Then surrounding the original estate are all the annexes, seven in total: three laboratories, two libraries (historical and scientific), a hospital, and an office building for all the Mondays working to expand Luminary knowledge.
Intellect at the fore. Knowledge is the path.That’s their motto, and not for the first time, as Winnie passes the two library buildings, she kind of wishes she had been born a Monday. It wouldn’t have changed what had happened with her dad, but at least then she, her mom, and her brother wouldn’t bequiteso hated. The Mondays are always polite to her; the Wednesdays never are.
After all, the Wednesday motto isThe cause above all else. Loyalty through and through.What could be more disloyal than living with a Diana? Those witches who steal magic from the sleeping spirits around the world? Who want towake upthe spirits and unleash nightmares on humankind?
As far as the Wednesdays are concerned, ten years as outcasts isn’t severe enough for Winnie’s, Mom’s, and Darian’s crimes. And frustrating as it is, Winnie can’t even blame them for that. The Dianas are bad. Her dad is bad. End of story.
Used to be, back in the early days of the American Luminaries when the spirit here had only just awoken, the Dianas fought to gain a foothold in the forest. They would bury their sources all around—the crystals, metal spheres, wooden talismans, animal bones—hoping to absorb magic from the spirit into them. Then they would use their devices to craft spells.
It seemed like sources were everywhere in those days, tucked under roots or into stone crannies, draining the forest bit by bit. Often it wasthe kids on corpse duty who found them—and often the sources were booby-trapped.
Winnie’s own great-grandfather lost his thumb that way.
In the end, though, the Luminaries of Hemlock Falls had been stronger than the Dianas. The witches hadn’t been able to claim the spirit’s magic, and so they’d gone back into hiding around the globe while the old siren installed downtown to warn of Dianas had stopped its frequent howling.
They’re still out there, though. The Dianas. They still want to take control of the spirits and overrun the world. They still sneak in sources and steal magic whenever, wherever they can. Winnie’s dad is living proof of that, and her family is living proof of what can happen when vigilance slips.
Winnie drives past the main Monday estate, and though she waves at two people in lab coats, they ignore her. Once she reaches the hospital, she circles behind to the morgue entrance. The lead nightmare researcher, Mario, meets her.
He nods at Winnie, his always-in-the-lab pale skin alight in the morning sun. A pink bubble pops from his lips. “Ugh,” Winnie groans. “I thought we’d agreed no gum while I’m around.”
“And I thought we’d agreed you would be on time.” He taps his watch. “A guy’s gotta fill his life somehow.” He blows another bubble.Pop!
Winnie cracks a smile. She likes Mario. He never acts like she shouldn’t be here, never rolls his eyes at her or ignores her wave. Maybe it’s because his nephew Andrew and Winnie’s brother Darian are boyfriends, or maybe it’s because he was tight with Winnie’s dad before theincident,but either way, she appreciates having an ally—even if she’s never allowed to follow him into the morgue or exam rooms.
And even if he is like a walking piece of bubble wrap, always pop-pop-popping to the great annoyance of literallyeveryone.Even his mother, when she visits from the Italian branch of the Luminaries, scolds him.
“I found something.” Winnie cuts the engine, hops to the pavement, and holds up the grocery bag. Blood is visible through the plastic.
Mario squints. “Are those… feet?”
“Yes.” She hurries toward him, waving with her free hand toward theflatbed. “And I found them outside the boundary. I’m pretty sure they belong to the halfer. No,” she amends once she reaches him, “I’m positive they do. You know what this means, right?”
