Whisper (Whisper #1)(30)

A choking noise is all I can manage. He’s wrong. No one can help me.

When it becomes clear that I have no intention of responding, his lips form a firm line and he shakes his head, stepping onto the street. Still bound to him, I follow as he strides over to Abby’s motionless body and swiftly plucks her out of harm’s way. She is as stiff as a mannequin in his arms, her limbs rigid and inflexible.

Once we’re back on the sidewalk, Ward places her on the ground in front of us and turns to me.

I wait for him to say something, do something, explain something, but all I can wonder is why, why, why is he moving freely when no one else is?

As with everything else when it comes to Ward, it makes no sense that he is somehow able to withstand the impossible power within me.

“Whenever you’re ready,” he tells me.

I have no idea what he’s waiting for. No idea what he expects me to do.

He takes in my expression and raises his eyebrows. “You don’t know how to undo it?”

I shake my head, hoping he can read the gesture as helpless. I don’t just not know how to undo it — I don’t even know if it can be undone. I have no idea how it happened in the first place. All I know is that it’s not the first time my words have changed the world — or my world, at least.

Ward looks astounded. “No one’s told you how Speaking works? What about —”

He cuts off mid-sentence, choosing not to finish his question. If I were willing to risk causing more damage, I would beg him to continue, to help me understand. Clearly, he knows much more than he’s saying. Instead, I just shake my head again.

“Wow.” He blows out a breath. “Okay. Um. Wow.”

He releases a burst of laughter — but it’s not filled with humor. It’s almost like he’s having trouble believing me.

“That explains a lot.”

He looks stunned, like he’s not sure what to say or do. That makes two of us.

“I always wondered why my uncle asked me to take on your case,” he says, rallying his thoughts. “I just had no idea that you had no idea. I presumed you kept silent just to be stubborn. This, though … complicates things.”

What kind of a person doesn’t speak for over two and a half years simply because she’s stubborn? Then I blink when I realize that technically, he’s right. It was stubbornness that kept me silent — because I alone understood what the consequences could be.

“There’s a lot to tell you, especially if you don’t know anything. But I need to talk to Falon and find out what the hell is going on before we have that conversation, so that means you need to fix this —” he waves an arm, indicating the motionless world “— so we can get back to Lengard.”

I’m pretty sure we already decided that a few minutes ago. Ward must be in shock or something.

“I need you to concentrate,” Ward tells me, looking deep into my eyes. “You’re a Creator, which means your words are filled with creative potential. Literal creative potential. As a Speaker, what you say, happens —” this much I already know, unfortunately “— so you need to use your imagination and focus on what you want to happen. In this case, I want you to think about unstopping the world. Think about life carrying on as normal. People moving, talking, going about their usual business. Close your eyes and see that picture in your mind.”

I send him a skeptical look, but he returns it with a “just try it” gesture. So I follow his instructions, closing my eyes and visualizing the world doing what it’s supposed to be doing.

“Now, I want you to Speak.”

Ward’s voice is soft enough not to disrupt my mental image.

“Say whatever comes naturally. The words don’t matter as much as their intent. Just … let go and feel it.”

Let go and feel it? Is he for real?

Despite my fear that I can’t undo the damage I’ve caused, I at least try to do what he’s asking. With my mental image well in hand, I open my mouth and speak for the second time in over two and a half years. The sound I make is barely a whisper, but the power behind it knows no bounds.

“Go.”

I’m not sure why I used that word. Maybe because, while Ward claimed that the actual word wouldn’t matter, in my head “go” is the opposite of “stop.” I would have felt strange saying something like “burrito” in an attempt to make the world move again.

Especially since it worked.

Sounds inundate us once more, the most invasive of which is the blaring horn from the bus driver. Through the windshield, I can see his face is as white as the seagulls again soaring overhead. But there’s no need for the driver to look so ashen, not anymore. While the bus is still screeching on its brakes, Abby is back on the pavement beside us.

My head is whirling. Somehow Ward coached me into undoing what I’d done — a miracle in and of itself — but there are consequences. Not the least of which is a relieved bus driver, baffled onlookers, and a terrified and confused little girl.

“Landy?” Abby looks up at him, visibly trembling.

He scoops her into his arms. “You’re okay, sweetheart.” He looks at me and says, “Make them forget.”

My eyes widen with disbelief.

“Preferably before that cop gets over here.”