And then the Mysteriessa said, “Congratulations. You are now the proud owners of Straygarden Place. The house will look after your every material need.” A pause sounded through the office. “And,” she added, “you will never sleep again.”
The paper in front of Mayhap became littered with unreadable, rain-soaked images.
Mayhap sat in the chair, shaking, stroking Seekatrix’s back. “Seeka,” she whispered. “The grass isn’t the one who takes things from the families who live here. It’s the Mysteriessa.” Seekatrix pushed his nose under her elbow, as though wanting to hide. “If the grass isn’t the one who took sleep from us, Seeka, then maybe the grass isn’t the one making Winnow sick. Maybe it’s her.”
Mayhap dragged the chair closer to the desk. “I want to ask a question,” she said.
A pen and a fresh piece of paper appeared before her.
She scribbled seven words: Why did the Mysteriessa give us droomhunds?
The pages of the contract swirled.
They showed the Mysteriessa standing in the silver grass at night. She whistled a tune, a song of four notes, and five droomhunds came bounding toward her. They were small as kittens. The Mysteriessa gathered the bundles of fur into her arms — black as night and squirmy as earthworms. She carried them to the girls’ nursery, where baby Pavonine was bawling, red-faced, and toddler Mayhap was lying in bed, rubbing her scratchy eyes, and small Winnow was curled up, feverish. Their parents were stooped over Pavonine’s cot, their skin as ashy as cold fireplaces. They obviously hadn’t slept since they’d arrived at the house, and neither had Mayhap and her sisters. The Mysteriessa placed a little black ball of furry darkness — a droomhund — into each of the girls’ beds and then gave one to Cygnet and one to Bellwether.
“But why?” breathed Mayhap. “I want to know why.”
The contract shivered as though bristling. Be patient, it seemed to say.
It showed the Mysteriessa watching from the door as the droomhunds found their way into their new owners’ minds. She watched as each Ballastian slowly closed their eyes. She watched as each fell into a heavy, heavy sleep.
“I love you,” she said, so softly that Mayhap barely heard the words scraping past her lips.
Mayhap looked at Seekatrix as the images disappeared. “She gave us droomhunds because she loved us?”
Seekatrix whimpered, still tucked against her with his face hidden.
And then the door to the Office of Residents’ Concerns began to rattle.
The pages of the contract fluttered like frightened bats. As they spread apart, Mayhap grabbed the last page — the one her parents had written on. Their note was torn, ruined, but this was also something from them, something they had touched. She folded it up and tucked it into her sleeve. She tied the ribbon around her wrist so that nothing would fall out. Then she stood, holding Seekatrix.
“Who’s there?” she called out.
The door only jangled more. Seekatrix was trembling, his heart pounding beside her heart.
The door’s juddering grew louder and more insistent.
“This is ridiculous,” said Mayhap. “It’s a door, for sleep’s sake.” She pulled it open — fast — expecting to see the Mysteriessa.
But on the other side of the door was Pavonine, her face stricken and splotchy, Peffiandra shivering beside her.
“I followed the crinkles in the carpet,” whimpered Pavonine. “Except the door was locked, and I was so worried. I’m sorry for fighting with you, May —” She looked behind Mayhap into the Office of Residents’ Concerns. “What — is this place?” she asked.
“Remember I told you about The Book of Records?” said Mayhap. “The book about the families who lived here before? Well, this is where they made their agreement with the house official, signed the papers. Once they’d signed, they found out what had been taken from them.”
Pavonine stepped past Mayhap, Peffiandra at her heels.
“I’m sorry,” said Pavonine again, bursting into tears. She covered her face with her hands. Peffiandra licked her ankle as if to comfort her. “I just don’t know what to do.”
Mayhap put her arms around her sister as Seekatrix curled his body around Peffiandra in a sort of droomhund hug. “Pav, is Winnow sleeping now?”
“She’s not sleeping exactly. But she is lying still. She keeps saying your name. She’s trying to tell me something, but she can’t get it out.”
Mayhap looked into Pavonine’s tired eyes. She couldn’t help but think of the contract’s memory, of how they had all been so desperate to sleep. They had to look after themselves if they were going to figure this out. “Are you hungry, Pav?” she said.
“I am hungry.”
“I thought you might be. Why don’t we go to our bedroom and ask the house for a nice breakfast. Anything you like. And I’ll tell you about all the things I’ve found out. And then afterward, we can have a nap with Winnow, all right? And maybe, when we wake up, we can find a solution together.”
It seemed wrong to eat and sleep when Winnow was still so ill. But even people fighting to keep their sisters alive had to eat and sleep. Otherwise they wouldn’t be able to help. Pavonine nodded in a determined, stubborn way that made Mayhap want to kiss her cheeks.
She decided then that she really would tell Pavonine everything — Mysteriessa and all. The Mysteriessa had lied to her. The Mysteriessa could not be trusted. Mayhap was not going to leave Pavonine out of anything from now on. From now on, they had to work together.
Winnow was lying in the sisters’ crescent-shaped bed. Her eyes flicked open and closed, and her lips moved soundlessly. Her face and neck were completely silver. When Mayhap looked at her, a numb cold took over her body, and she couldn’t feel her fingertips.
So she looked at Pavonine instead.
Pavonine sat on her chaise longue, and Mayhap followed suit. Their droomhunds lay at their feet.
The wallpaper in their bedroom had always shown figures against a backdrop of silver, but now Mayhap found herself peering
