Winnow fought, but the Mysteriessa was strong with magic.
Then the white-eyed girl took Evenflee into her arms and stroked him lovingly, speaking his name as though it were a spoon of elderflower syrup on her tongue.
Winnow held out a hand. “Don’t hurt him, please —”
“I’m not going to hurt him,” said the Mysteriessa. The next two words were growled: “Lie back.”
“Please,” said Winnow. Tears dribbled out the sides of her eyes as she jerked her head onto the pillow. “Don’t hurt him — or Pavonine. Please.”
“I would never hurt my sisters,” said the Mysteriessa. “I love my sisters. I love them so much.”
And with those words, she shoved Evenflee into Winnow’s mind.
While Evenflee squirmed and fought and scratched inside Winnow’s head, the Mysteriessa placed a hand over each one of Winnow’s ears. When she pulled them away, Winnow’s ears were leaking silver.
Sitting in the hallway a day later, Mayhap opened her eyes.
“Pav was right, Seeka. It’s Evenflee,” she said. “But he’s not gone. He’s caught in her mind. He’s stuck. He’s panicked. He’s trying to get out. That’s why she’s in so much pain.”
Seekatrix whined.
And, like clockwork, Pavonine opened the door.
Pavonine stood in the doorway, holding Winnow’s hand. The house had dressed them in warm coats and leather boots. Pavonine wore every shade of gray. Winnow was in emerald.
Mayhap and Seekatrix got to their feet. “Pav,” said Mayhap, breathless. “I know you’re angry with me, but I have to tell you something.”
Pavonine stood protectively in front of Winnow, who was barely awake on her feet and all silver. “Angry with you?” she said. “I’m not angry with you, Mayhap. I feel nothing for you. Nothing. You’re a liar. You’re a lie.” Fear sparked beneath her anger. Mayhap could practically see it. She stepped aside as Pavonine took Winnow’s hand and dragged her down the hallway.
“Where are you going?” she called. “Pavonine — please. You were right. About Evenflee. He’s making her sick. He’s trapped in her mind —”
Pavonine turned around, holding Winnow’s hand tightly. “You are the one who made Winnow sick! Do you really think I’m going to listen to another word you say about how to make her better? Evenflee is gone. You probably got rid of him, just like you got rid of the real Mayhap and her droomhund.” Mayhap stepped toward Pavonine, but Pavonine shouted, “Stay back!” and began to run. Winnow ran with her. Peffiandra followed.
I told you, said a voice. The Mysteriessa’s voice. The truth is a terrible, terrible thing. You’ll never be loved by your sisters again. But at least, dear creature, you have me.
Mayhap clawed at her chest, angry tears spilling onto her flushed cheeks. The Mysteriessa slinked like cool satin inside her heart.
You know where your sisters are going, don’t you? In their pretty coats?
No.
They couldn’t be.
But Mayhap had seen the fear in Pavonine’s eyes, and she knew it was true.
By the time Mayhap and Seekatrix arrived at the entrance hall, it was too late.
The enormous door was open, banging on its hinges. The silver grass hissed its tendrils against the wallpaper and the vaulted ceiling.
And Winnow and Pavonine were gone.
Mayhap stood before the open front door.
The wind howled, and the grass howled, and she howled, too.
“Pavonine! Winnow!”
No good could come from stepping out into the grass — unless that good was saving your sisters. Unless that good was showing them you loved them more than anything, even if you were made of bats’ lungs and soil and ground-up coffee beans.
Mayhap stood on the threshold between inside and out — between what she had always known and what lay waiting for her. The silver gathered around her. Her heart throbbed.
Something squeaked and shuffled behind her, and she turned around, thinking Seekatrix was up to something. But it was Tutto, circling on his wheels. Mayhap had never seen him outside the library before.
“Tutto?” she said. “What are you doing here?”
“Mayhap — don’t go out there. You’ll get hurt — your parents said not to go outside —” Tutto rammed back and forth.
“I have to, Tutto,” she said.
“But you’re not supposed to go outside,” he said again. “It’s one of the rules.”
“Pavonine’s out there, Tutto. And Winnow. I have to make sure they’re —”
“You are not supposed to go outside!” he screeched.
“Tutto?” said Mayhap. “Are you all right?”
Tutto began to spin again, even quicker, his drawers rattling. His eyes split down the middle like dropped opals. He hummed and quivered.
“Tutto!” said Mayhap. “Tutto?”
She watched in horror as his body came apart in unraveling slices of silver, his drawers sliding out of his torso, the catalog cards flittering around him, until he was only coiled ribbons of metal, and little springs, and four wooden wheels dropped on the floor.
You should have listened to him, someone said within her.
The Mysteriessa.
Mayhap went numb.
She remembered Winnow’s story about Tutto coming to life.
And she knew: the Mysteriessa had given Tutto life.
She had done it so that the hippopotamus could read Pavonine stories, could show the girls small kindnesses. Could nuzzle their hair and tell them everything would be fine.
The Mysteriessa had made him, and now she had destroyed him.
Mayhap screamed, running and kicking at Tutto’s scattered parts.
She scooped Seekatrix under one arm and wrestled the grass away from the door, making an opening.
She leaped into the silver.
The grass twisted its silvery twines around Mayhap’s waist. Next: her ankles, her wrists. It tugged Seekatrix out of her arms.
To her surprise, though, she found it did not seem to want to hurt her or her droomhund. She had thought about screaming, but before she’d been able to, the grass had taken her up so carefully that she’d had nothing to scream about.
So she let the sea of it take her, carrying her into the sky, high and higher, until the roots of the wanderroot trees brushed her forehead like a blessing.
Mayhap kept her eyes open — open for Pavonine’s gray coat, for Winnow’s green one. She hoped the grass was handling them kindly, too. For a few long seconds, Mayhap could not see anything but rolling silver. But then she glimpsed a snatch of dark hair, a spot of emerald beside it.
“Pavonine,” she said, under her breath. “Winnow.”
The grass seemed to swallow them then, and Mayhap’s stomach sank, because she had thought the grass had been peaceful — she had been so sure. But actually, now that she thought about it, it seemed — hungry.
It shimmered around her, smiling in its sly, silvery way. Mayhap knew that it was smiling. And it wasn’t a friendly smile, either. It was the sort of smile you had on your face before you bit into something delicious.
“Pavonine,” Mayhap tried to say, but her mouth was filled with grass, and she choked on it, spluttering.
“Ours, ours, ours,” it hissed.
And it took her into its mouth.
The grass had swallowed Mayhap.
And now the grass spat her out.
She landed on her back. On a surface as hard as marble. She felt her droomhund licking her face.
Pavonine spoke beside her. “Where are we?”
Mayhap wanted to see if Pavonine was all right. She wanted to talk to her.
She sat up, forced her eyes open.
And saw steps leading up to a large door. A grand house leaned over them, like a person inspecting an insect. Its hundreds of windows glimmered with moonlight. Pavonine was sitting, rubbing her elbow. Winnow was lying next to her, whimpering, still so silver.
The grass had brought th
em back to Straygarden Place — all three of them.
It had given them a chance to begin again.
Mayhap was about to speak when the door before her flew open, and a man and woman appeared, light spilling out with them. Their faces were older — more tired — but Mayhap knew them instantly. Her mother’s wide-brimmed hat, her long skirt, the freckles beneath her right eye, which were so much like Mayhap’s, like specks of splattered coffee. Her father’s tweed, his shiny leather shoes, his thick black lashes. Her parents. Her not-parents. Their droomhunds sat beside them, peering at Mayhap with knowing eyes.
And behind them stood a girl who looked exactly like her — another Mayhap — with a little black dog of her own.
The silver grass toyed at Mayhap’s back, threading its strands through her hair.
“Ours,” it said. “Ours.”
Cygnet and Bellwether Ballastian were kneeling beside Pavonine, only a giant’s hand away. They were speaking softly, cupping Pavonine’s cheeks as she whispered to them. They were taking Winnow’s hands and kissing them. Bellwether had one arm around the other Mayhap.
So here Mayhap was, with everything she had ever wanted. Her parents, arrived back. Her parents — home. But it was as though she had been given a gift and been made to stand on the other side of a pane of glass, looking at it for all eternity.
She would never sit on her mother’s lap. Her mother would never stroke her hair. She would never even have a mother.
Mayhap bit her tongue. She cuddled Seekatrix, burying her face in his scruff.
The Mysteriessa stirred in her chest, where she had always, always been — for seven years she had been living there — and Mayhap felt completely wretched.
She heard the click of shoes. She smelled lavender.
The girl who looked exactly like her — the first Mayhap, the only Mayhap — peered down at her, holding her droomhund.
The droomhund from the photograph, thought Mayhap. The girl from the photograph.
Lit by the moon, the curves of the girl’s face were exactly the same as Mayhap’s — the slope of her narrow, long nose, the deep bow of her lips. To Mayhap’s surprise, the other Mayhap smiled at her. It was an awkward smile but a smile nonetheless. She held out a hand, and Mayhap, still sitting, took it. She said, “Can I tell you a secret?” Mayhap didn’t have time to answer before she whispered, “I have always wanted a sister. Especially a sister who looks just like me.”
Maybe it was that simple. Maybe she would be a part of this family now, and she would have a new sister. An other-Mayhap. And everything would be fine.
But then the shouting came — Cygnet’s stringy cries. “Mayhap Cecily Ballastian! What do you think you are doing?”
Mayhap Cecily Ballastian, Mayhap thought. Of course. That was her name.
Bellwether took other-Mayhap by the elbow and pulled her away, tugging her up the steps. Pavonine stood at her mother’s back, and Winnow hovered at her side. Their droomhunds all scuttled behind them, like little shadows with eyes and feet.
Mayhap wanted to break into pieces. Her bones felt as brittle as burned sugar.
The whole family stood together, looking at her.
“I was only trying to be nice,” said other-Mayhap.
“You don’t know what she’s capable of,” said Cygnet. “She —”
“What did she do?” asked other-Mayhap.
She doesn’t know, thought Mayhap, feeling the Mysteriessa shift in her chest.
“Never you mind, darling,” said Cygnet. She crouched and brushed a hand on other-Mayhap’s cheek.
“But I want to know,” said other-Mayhap softly. “You never tell me anything.”
“We don’t tell you because it would hurt you,” said Bellwether. “Now, go inside and finish your dinner.”
Other-Mayhap frowned, but she obeyed. She seemed younger than Mayhap, more like Pavonine but less stubborn. Mayhap could see the two sides wrestling within her: the desire to please her parents and the desire to know the truth.
Bellwether trained his eyes on Mayhap. “What are we going to do, Cygnet?” he said. His droomhund scratched at his leg.
Pavonine looked out into the grass with teary eyes.
Winnow was transfixed by the ground.
“She can’t stay at the house,” said Cygnet. “She’s dangerous. Obviously.”
“Obviously,” said Bellwether.
“We can’t leave her out here, though,” said Cygnet. “It’s cold. And it’s dark. She’s just a child.” She stared into Mayhap’s eyes as she said the words, and Mayhap was struck by the sadness in them. “We’re going to take you inside,” she said, enunciating the words slowly.
“But we can’t, Cyg. It’s not safe,” said Bellwether.
“We can lock her in the upstairs sitting room,” said Cygnet. “Until we decide what to do.”
Bellwether nodded.
Mayhap wanted to cry out. She wanted to say that she was their family, that she wouldn’t hurt anyone, that she hadn’t known. But she couldn’t form the words.
Winnow was crying.
“You can lock me away,” said Mayhap. “But I need to tell you something first. The reason Winnow is sick — it’s Evenflee, her droomhund —”
“We know her droomhund’s name,” said Cygnet bitterly.
“He’s trapped inside her mind,” said Mayhap. “You need to get him out before —”
Before he scratched away at everything that made Winnow Winnow.
Mayhap was afraid that her sister would die if Evenflee stayed there for much longer.
But Cygnet and Bellwether Ballastian only stared at her.
Mayhap swallowed and continued, “I know the Mysteriessa —”
Cygnet stiffened. “You don’t know her,” she said, misunderstanding what Mayhap was about to say. “You are her.” She looked at Mayhap’s breastbone as though she were searching under the fabric of her nightgown for the white-eyed girl. “Don’t think I don’t know you’re in there,” she continued, the words vicious. “You have already torn our family apart. Telling us we could find Mayhap if we left and then keeping us from Pavonine and Winnow once we had. The grass wouldn’t let us through, no matter how much we fought it.” She rolled up the sleeve of her cardigan. There were scars on top of scars on her forearm, as though the grass had burned her skin over and over again. Cygnet’s voice cracked. “No. We will deal with this problem on our own. We will find a cure for Winnow on our own.” She put a hand on top of Winnow’s dark head. Bellwether touched Cygnet’s shoulder, clenching his jaw.
Mayhap looked down, ashamed. She wanted to look up. She wanted to deny it. But she carried on staring at her feet. The silver grass swayed around her gently, but it didn’t reach out for her. Perhaps even the grass didn’t want her anymore.
Cygnet said, “Now, let’s go inside.” She nodded at Bellwether, putting her arms around Winnow and Pavonine.
Bellwether took Seekatrix away from Mayhap and grabbed her arm.
“No,” said Mayhap. “No! You can’t take Seeka!”
Bellwether didn’t listen. He handed Seekatrix to Cygnet, and she held him fast, even as the droomhund squirmed and cried.
“Pav —” said Mayhap. “Please look after him. Pav —”
Pavonine wouldn’t even look at her.
Mayhap kicked and pushed against Bellwether, but she wasn’t strong enough to get free.
He dragged her into the house and up the stairs, and Mayhap was so upset that she nearly didn’t notice that the house wasn’t her Straygarden Place but a perfect mirror image of it.
The Mysteriessa sent other-Mayhap here, she thought. And then Cygnet and Bellwether. A second Straygarden Place.
Bellwether pushed her through a door and slammed it behind her.
The room — a sitting room with tapestries adorning the walls — was so quiet that all Mayhap could hear was her own breath and Bellwether’s receding footsteps.
She had never been so alone before. She had never been locked away
before. She had always had Seekatrix by her side. Her heart rattled in her chest with every breath, like an empty bowl, spinning.
She banged on the door. “Let me out!” she called. “Let — me — out!”
But if they heard her, they did not listen.
They were afraid of her, and so they had locked her away.
Without Seekatrix, Mayhap’s heart ached as though it had been trampled. She pressed against her chest with her palm to see if it would ease the pain, but it didn’t. She spent some time lying on the floor, staring at the ceiling. She spent some time calling through the keyhole.
Nothing happened. No one came.
After scratching at the door until she had splinters in her fingers and screaming until she was hoarse, Mayhap finally lay down on one of the velvet sofas. The house did not tuck a blanket around her. When she asked it for water, a glass did not appear.
This was their house. It was supposed to look after them, not her. Her eyes filled with tears. She missed her house. She knew that house. This house was a stranger to her.
Lying still, Mayhap could feel the Mysteriessa against the tender muscle of her heart. She thought that maybe the girl would unfurl — appear to her, talk to her — but she stayed within Mayhap’s chest, stubborn as ice on a window.
Mayhap wanted to sleep. She wanted to forget about all of this — who she was and who she wasn’t — for only a short while.
But they had taken Seekatrix from her, and so she couldn’t.
Unless.
She wasn’t a Ballastian — not technically. The Mysteriessa had made her. Maybe she hadn’t been robbed of sleep after all. Maybe she’d had the ability to sleep all along.
If she hadn’t lost sleep, though, how had the house’s magic touched her? She didn’t know. But she’d had something else taken from her: a piece of her heart, like a bite out of an apple.
She held her eyes shut, waiting for the white, searing heat to fill the chamber of her mind, bracing for pain.
But it didn’t come.
The Sisters of Straygarden Place Page 9