Pavonine sat on the floor, cross-legged, and called to her droomhund, and Peffiandra ran to her immediately. Mayhap wished Seekatrix would do the same, but something had come over him. He was running in zigzags so that she couldn’t pick him up. Just as she thought she’d cornered him, he ran past her so quickly that her fingers only brushed his fluffy back, grasping at air.
Frustration burned in her throat. “Seeka,” she moaned, standing straight with her hands on her hips. “Please. We don’t have time for this.”
She followed him behind the desk, where he sat panting. He barked twice and looked up.
“Seekatrix,” said Mayhap, “stop!” She stamped her foot.
He wouldn’t. He carried on growling, barking, growling some more. These were not warning sounds or sounds of fright. They were sounds that said, I have had enough of you being upset. I want to play.
“May,” said Pavonine. “Tell him to stop.”
Peffiandra was huddled in her arms.
“I’m trying,” said Mayhap. She kneeled beside her droomhund. “What is it, Seeka?” she said.
He looked up and whined.
Mayhap followed his gaze to the bat skeletons. “I think he wants the bones,” she said.
Pavonine only yawned.
Mayhap sighed. Perhaps if she gave him one of the skeletons, he would stop barking.
“All right, boy,” she said, dragging the armchair over to the shelves.
She stood on it and peered into the uppermost shelf. The bat bones were connected by wire as thin as strands of spiders’ silk. It made her shudder, touching them. Something churned within her. “Hmmm,” she said. “Which shall I choose?”
Seekatrix wagged his tail.
She looked into the second-highest shelf.
The bones were the color of piano keys, as delicate as twigs. They made her think of her own bones, and Seekatrix’s bones, too. Do droomhunds have bones? she wondered.
She put her hand over one of the little skeletons, saying a silent apology to her father.
And that’s when she saw the secret drawer at the back of the shelf: a square that sat apart from the rest, a little handle. She tugged at it, releasing a held breath when it opened easily.
Seekatrix whined again. Mayhap held the bat skeleton in her hand, and the droomhund hopped up onto the chair and took it into his mouth gently. He lay down on the rug and began to chew it.
Mayhap reached into the secret drawer. Her fingers found something glossy. She took hold of it and pulled.
“What’s that, May?” said Pavonine, who had come to stand beside the chair, holding Peffiandra under one arm.
“It’s a — photograph,” said Mayhap breathlessly, sitting down on the armchair.
Pavonine leaned over her. “A photograph? Of what?”
Mayhap held the photograph up for Pavonine to see. “It’s — me,” she said. “Me — with a droomhund.”
The picture showed Mayhap’s form, a brightness against a backdrop of shadows. The droomhund almost faded into the gray background.
“Is that Seekatrix?” said Pavonine, looking closer.
The photograph trembled in Mayhap’s hand. “No, this dog is different. Its eyes — it’s a different dog. A completely different dog.”
“Oh,” said Pavonine. The word sounded like a breath. “That must be your other droomhund, May.”
“My other droomhund?”
Pavonine took the photograph out of Mayhap’s hand. “Winnow told me. She remembers it. It was before Mamma and Pappa left — just before. When you were five, your droomhund died. And then you got a new one. Seeka. He just — arrived. They found him in your bed, curled up on the pillow. Winnow said she shouldn’t have told me. Mamma and Pappa told her not to tell us, because we would only be upset and worried. She asked me never to tell you.” Pavonine looked at Mayhap guiltily.
Mayhap snatched the photograph back and stared at it, as though doing so would explain everything. But the more she stared at it, the less she felt she knew.
“I don’t understand,” she said. “How did my droomhund — this droomhund — die?” Seekatrix and Peffiandra had fallen conspicuously silent.
Pavonine squinted. “Winnow said the grass took it. A window was open, and . . .”
Mayhap’s head was a pan of rising dough. Here was the smell-of-coffee feeling again. The feeling she’d had when Tutto gave her the catalog card with The Collected Diaries of Quiverity Edevane printed on it. She was being buried. She was swallowing too much soil. She couldn’t breathe.
Silver grass coming for her —
She remembered its tightness around her wrists, its softness against her cheeks.
Pavonine was looking at her with frightened eyes. “Mayhap? Winnow said it was only an accident —”
“No,” said Mayhap. “I don’t think any of this is an accident.” She stuffed the photograph up her sleeve. “Pav, go check on Winnow, please. Brush Peffiandra and get some rest. I need to do something.”
“Mysteriessa?” said Mayhap, stepping into the conservatory with Seekatrix.
Daylight shone through the grass outside, making the glass walls look like mother-of-pearl, and bats hung from branches overhead like ornaments on dainty chains. Mayhap thought of the bones in her father’s study. A tickle crept up her spine.
She untied the ribbon around her wrist and carefully removed the photograph, the last page of the contract, and the scraps of her parents’ note. She held them against her chest like playing cards, moving through the conservatory until she came face-to-face with the white-eyed girl.
“You found me,” said the Mysteriessa. In the pale light, her eyes looked waxy, as though they’d been carved from marble.
“What happened to my first droomhund?” Mayhap said, holding out the photograph.
The Mysteriessa squinted. “Where did you get that?” she said.
“Never mind where I found it,” said Mayhap. “Tell me what happened. Tell me the truth.”
The girl took the photograph from her and stared at it. “Lovely thing, he was,” she said wistfully.
“My sister says the grass took him,” said Mayhap. “Winnow told her. Why don’t I remember that?”
The Mysteriessa smoothed the front of her dress. She was still wearing the same glistening garment, and the silver thread caught the sun’s light. It hurt to look at it. Her hair was so white that it appeared translucent. “You
