The Luminaries (The Luminaries, #1)

by Susan Dennard

a boy with flaxen hair that blends into ashen skin emerges from between two saplings. “Ugh.” Winnie scowls at him. “Jay.”

He is a burst of color in this forest made of gray, and Winnie suddenly wishes she still had on her leather jacket. Something about Jay requires armor.

Wednesday, Thursday, Friday. A perfect arrangement of clans that made the initials WTF, which never failed to make them laugh.

Archie barks, “Order up!”

Archie shouts in their direction, “Order up!”

“Order up!” Archie barks, louder now.

“Order.”

“Up.”

“Hellions and banshees, Archie, I freaking heard you!”

“Good morning.” Ms. Morgan waves a loosed-sleeved arm at the room. “Is everyone finished being a childish asshole yet? Because if so, I’d like to take attendance.” Dante chokes.

she does appreciate that he stopped to check on her. Somewhere inside all that lean haggardness, a heart still resides.

Darian swallows. His fingers—his middle finger bearing a ring on it that matches one Andrew wears—

Awww that’s so cute

Please convince her not to.” Then, at Winnie’s sputtering glare, he adds, “Sorry. We don’t keep secrets from each other.” He stalks to Andrew, rolls onto his toes to give him a peck on the cheek,

I love them

Oh.” He scowls. “That’s why you wanted to go to the library? I feel so used. Abused. And confused.” He yanks the cake away from her.

“And have you, ya know, trained any?” “Yes,” she says at the same moment Darian shouts from the bedroom, “Not properly, she hasn’t.” Then the man himself reappears,

“I wanted to be a hunter,” Andrew explains. “Or I thought I did, until I met Darian and realized maybe there were other things to live for than just the forest and the Luminaries.” “Psshhh.” Darian rolls his eyes—though Winnie doesn’t miss the blush creeping up his neck.

he’d made Winnie help him pick out all the blue plastic flakes that had sloughed off between the grains. It’s just micronutrients, he said. They’re good for us! Also, don’t tell Mom. They’d giggled through the whole meal that night, and to this day, Mom still doesn’t know why.

he seems so fun, why’d he have to suck

“I see.” Now his hands pause, resting atop hers. They’re warm despite the cold around them.

Interesante

Before he can inevitably protest, she snags a finger in his button-up and tugs him along. Her skin touches his undershirt. It’s warm like his hands were, and he doesn’t pull away. In fact, he lets her drag him all the way to the porch steps.

“I see you still don’t lock the front door.” Jay slumps in behind Winnie. “And I see you still have a problem with that.”

Jay, and you’re the only person I can trust to help me.”

Jay’s eyebrows rocket skyward. His posture straightens. For a split second, he looks like the old, animated Jay she used to know. “You trust me.”

you’ve known me a million years.” An exaggeration, but not a lie.

His tone is light, and there’s something that could almost be called a smile towing at his lips.

“Never surprise a nightmare.” He dips toward her until his face is only inches from hers and she can smell bergamot and lime. “Never,” he repeats, “surprise a nightmare.” Then he stalks for the door and leaves.

Sooooo, like, is he a nightmare ‘cause it kinda seemed like what he was getting at with his cryptic words

He has the decency to flush. “Sorry.”

The flush returns, brighter this time. And laced with something else. Something … empty. “Sorry,” he repeats, and he actually sounds like he means it.

“Her,” he corrects. His eyes are only inches away from Winnie’s, wintery and cold, mournful and lost. She feels like she is staring at the banshee all over again. “Yes,” he answers eventually. “I killed her.” Then he pulls his wrist from Winnie’s grasp.

she turns a wide grin onto Jay. He swallows. Clears his throat. Then quickly spins away

(RIP TV remote),

This is an expression she’s never seen before, his eyes laser-sharp. Intense,

before Winnie’s eyes, he seems to smear away. As if the forest is erasing him, leaving only wind and leaves and misty silence in his stead.

she finds something on Jay’s face, just pinching around the edges, that is almost sad, almost disappointed. And she realizes with a jolt that maybe he actually wanted her to go to the show. He turns away before she can confirm

Of course, now that her arms are around him and he’s steering them off the Friday estate and onto an actual paved road, she wonders if maybe holding on is a bad idea. Maybe the danger here isn’t actually the motorcycle—it’s a lot smoother than she expected, and Jay handles it with ease. More easily than he drives Mathilda, in fact. No, the danger is him. Seeing the shape of him in black sportswear is a lot different than feeling that shape. Even when he’d been pressed atop her in the forest, Winnie had been too adrenaline-fueled and skull-knocked to really feel him. Now, there is no escaping it. He is as muscled as he looks, and Winnie is utterly freaked out by it.

His face is stricken. An unusual expression for him, both in the fact that he has an expression at all and that this one is so fierce. “I’m so sorry, Win—”

“Here’s my number, in case you need something. I know you don’t have a phone, but…” He swallows. The faintest blush returns. Winnie takes the paper, so crumpled it’s almost soft now. The ink is faded too, like he wrote this a few days ago and it’s been sitting in his pocket ever since. “Thanks,” she tells him. Then again—because she actually means it: “Thanks. For this and for the training.” “Yeah, Win.” He turns away. “Anytime.”

“How about I pick you up after Sunday classes tomorrow? We can get some decent gear for you at the estate.” “Sure,” Winnie replies—

Uhhh double booked????

He glances back while he unlocks the door, a crooked twitch on his lips that almost seems to say, You adorable little human. Is that why you’re so mad?

Mom would never speed; Rachel clearly forgets a speed limit even exists. And pedestrians? What are those?

Except that when the mist finally subsides—the sun a sharp wink on the horizon—she realizes there is still a bulbous, bilious shape wandering through the trees. Smaller, yes, but undeterred by the mist. It prowls despite the day, and soon vanishes from sight.

I feel like it’s Jay maybe idk just a guess

“I like you in glasses,” Jay adds. His hands are down now, and he sets the bow onto the table. “Just so we’re clear on that. I, uh … really like you in glasses.”

… WINNE how can u not seeeeee

where she expects him to take the weapon from her, he instead moves in to adjust her stance and nock another arrow for her. Suddenly, she is painfully aware that, yet again, she smells like old sweat while he smells of lime and bergamot and forest. He braces his chest against her back and loops his arm over her shoulders, adjusting her grip and her stance and the angle of her body toward the target. Subtle movements that Winnie is pretty sure she won’t be able to replicate without his help.

Why are you so OBLIVIOUS, WINNIE

“But of course you can.” Erica’s gaze moves to Winnie’s face. For a split second, it feels like the banshee stare in the forest. “Your dad might as well be dead, Winnie, since it’s not like you’re ever going to see him again.”

“Sorry,” she hears herself saying, a distant sound as she stares at his silvery eyes. “It’s fine,” he replies, though he makes no move to help her find the present, nor any move to jerk away as her fingers move across the planes of his chest. His eyes simply stay fused to hers, unreadable. She can feel his heartbeat. When at last Winnie finds the gift beneath her fingertips, she eases it out—very slowly, because her muscles have become detached from her mind. She wonders if Jay’s eyes have always been this dark or if it’s just that his pupils have swallowed up everything. She thinks they might be trembling. Or maybe that’s his chest, still pressed against her fingers. Then her hand and the gift are free. “Sorry,” she repeats, voice strangely weak. “It’s fine.” His voice is not weak. His eyes are still on hers.

Darian would have cried (he likes to slowly peel off the tape, carefully unfold each line, and generally infuriate everyone waiting for him to just open his presents already).

His gray eyes—glowing pure silver in the twinkling lights—scan quickly over the crowd. She’s not sure what he’s looking for, but whatever it is, he doesn’t seem to find it. A tiny frown cinches his brow.

You dummy… i think, I hope

when Jay looks up. It’s exactly like it was at Joe Squared, like he has sensed her movement and his eyes instinctively know where to land. It takes him a beat to realize it’s her, though. She can see the confusion in his glinting eyes as he absorbs her makeup, her dress, her shoulders and neck so completely bared. Then recognition sets in. His lips part. He stops swaying to the music. Only his fingers still move, sliding up and down the frets as if attached to someone else entirely. She thinks, weirdly, he might approve of her current look. And she thinks, weirdly, that she’s pleased by it. Then he smiles, and she knows he likes what he sees. It’s a tiny smile that only lifts one corner of his lips,

And finally, Winnie stumbles back into awareness to find she is on cold silty ground, breathing air, while an old, damp blanket rests over her. It smells faintly of bergamot and lime.

Jay 😏

“Because it’s not a Luminary locket.

If it’s not a one of there’s then why did Erica’s sister have it and what does it mean if Winnie’s dads mom had it?

I. Was. Framed.

Yesssssssssssssssssssss… I mean not because he was framed but because he isn’t a traitor and liar