Whisper (Whisper #1)(29)
No one argues after that.
*
It’s the perfect afternoon.
After strolling casually along Market Street — and purchasing ice creams along the way — we arrive at the park and sit around the Archibald Fountain to enjoy our treats. By my calculations, there’s only a month left until winter hits, so it’s not ideal weather for ice cream. But as Abby reminds us all, any time is ice cream time. So, enduring the wind and the spray of the fountain, I enjoy the food, and the company.
The kids are delighted to be outside — almost as much as I am. They run, they jump, they squeal with joy. And when they’ve had enough of the park, we end up walking to the harbor after all, crossing the Pyrmont Bridge over Cockle Bay and then meandering our way back along the waterfront. A troupe of street performers doing acrobatics holds our attention for some time, and later a group of traveling magicians amazes the children so much that Ward and I eventually have to drag them away. But that’s also partly because Abby starts telling anyone who will listen that “my mummy makes magical pictures when she doesn’t know I’m looking.”
I’m not the only person in the audience who smiles at her indulgently as she makes her claim, though it does grow old rather quickly, which is why we don’t linger after the magicians finish their performance.
When the sun falls across the horizon and the light of the day begins to dim, I know the end of our outing is fast approaching. I don’t want to go back, not after the explosion of wonder I’ve experienced this afternoon. It hasn’t mattered that I’ve been cuffed to Ward — the children have kept me so entertained that I’ve barely noticed. But they’re beginning to droop now as their energy wanes, and I know it’s time we returned them home.
As if sensing my thoughts, Ward says, “We’d better start heading back to Lengard.”
I nod in agreement and he sends me a compassionate smile, almost as if he understands that I’m trying not to think about this being my last chance to experience the outside world. There are still three days left; maybe he’ll bring me out again. I hold on to that thought — it’s the only thing keeping me together as we begin the journey back to the tower.
The children are unwilling to end the day, regardless of their exhaustion. But after a few words from Ward — and the promise of food back at their suite — their grumbles turn into resigned acceptance. They trudge along, knowing that they’ll get to come out again at some stage in the future. I, however, have no such guarantees.
Especially given what happens next.
CHAPTER TEN
We’re halfway along Market Street and nearly back to the tower when it happens. One minute the kids are three steps in front of us and chittering about the magician show, and the next Abby is screaming, “HORSIE!”
Startled, I look up just in time to see the mounted police officer on the other side of the road, and then the world shatters around me as Abby leaps into a sprint — and hurtles right out onto the street and into peak-hour traffic.
“ABBY, NO!” Ward yells, surging forward and yanking me with him, heedless of the oncoming vehicles.
Suddenly, Abby stutters to a halt in the middle of the street. She takes her eyes off the horse and sees the city bus headed straight at her, screeching on its brakes. I react without thinking.
I throw out my free arm, I open my mouth and, in a voice hoarse from lack of use, I scream a word that wells up from an anguished place deep within me.
“STOP!”
At my command, the world freezes.
People halt mid-walk; they pause speaking mid-talk. Birds heading to their nests for the night rest suspended in the air. All noises cease. It is eerily quiet, eerily still. As for the bus that is now a hairbreadth away from Abby, it’s immobile, trapped in place by stoppered time.
My heart is pounding, my breath trapped somewhere between my lungs and my throat. I force myself to release a strangled gasp of air, but it brings me no relief. There’s nothing that can help me now; I am consumed by the terror of what I have done.
I reacted on instinct, and while I may have saved Abby’s life, it was stupid. So very, very stupid. Because in saving one life, I may have just frozen the entire world — forever.
“It’s true.”
I jump nearly out of my skin and whip around to find Ward staring at me. And blinking.
My mouth opens in shock, and I don’t have the capacity to close it. How is he not frozen when everyone else — and everything else — around us is? I want to ask, but the words are stuck in my throat. It’s been so long since I’ve said anything. And for good reason. Because when I speak, the world listens. When I speak, things happen. Like when I call out “Stop” — and the world simply stops.
“You’re a Speaker,” Ward says. He takes his eyes off me and glances around at the silent, still landscape. “And not just a Speaker. You’re a Creator, aren’t you? Vanik was right.”
I have no idea what he’s talking about, but my pulse skyrockets even more at the mention of Vanik.
“We need to get out of here,” he states, still looking around the paused world. “We need to get you back underground.”
He returns his gaze to me then, and whatever he must see in my expression causes his tense features to soften — if only slightly.
“Thank you for saving Abby. I mean that — really. But you should have said something about what you can do sooner. I would have been able to help you.”