The Mysteriessa laughed sweetly. “Of course I do, silly. I know everything about you girls.”
“I don’t understand,” said Mayhap.
“There, there,” said the Mysteriessa. “You do not have to understand. Not everything, anyway. You only need to listen to me, and everything will be fine. Your sister will be fine.” She reached out to touch Mayhap’s hair.
Mayhap closed her eyes ever so briefly and shook her head. “How did Winnow get sick?” she asked.
“You know the answer to that,” said the Mysteriessa.
“She went walking in the grass.”
The Mysteriessa gave a solemn nod.
“Then why haven’t I fallen ill, too?” asked Mayhap. “I went looking for her.”
“Winnow was out in the grass for almost an entire day. You were there for minutes.”
Mayhap looked at the Mysteriessa’s silver-streaked hair. “Did it hurt you, too?” she asked.
“Yes, once,” said the Mysteriessa. “But I overcame it. Your sister can overcome it, too. But only if you listen to me. Otherwise —” She paused and blinked her white, white eyes. “Too much silver,” she said, “and she won’t survive it.”
Mayhap swallowed. She was feeling increasingly exasperated with the tone of the Mysteriessa’s words, the way she looked at Mayhap as though she were supposed to have answers instead of questions. “I need her to get better.”
“Then you’ll have to listen to me. You’ll have to follow my every instruction. The first is this: do not tell Pavonine about me. It will only complicate things.”
Pavonine probably wouldn’t appreciate Mayhap keeping something like this from her. But she couldn’t risk disobeying the Mysteriessa. Her little sister would have to understand. It was for Winnow’s sake.
Mayhap swallowed hard, then answered, “All right.”
“The second is this, Mayhap: you must leave Winnow to sleep. The silver will pass through her eventually. If you let her rest.”
“Pass through her?”
“It is like any other fever,” said the Mysteriessa. “It can abate.”
The girls had had fevers before, and coughs, and runny noses. The house had always taken care of them, giving them broth and covering them with blankets and running steaming baths for them when they got the shivers. But the house was not doing any of that for Winnow now. It seemed as though it didn’t know what to do. This was different.
“But she’s not asleep,” said Mayhap. “She’s in pain. She’s screaming, sobbing. I can’t just leave her like that.”
The Mysteriessa looked worried, but her voice sounded certain. “Do not let the grass touch her again. The more she is exposed, the worse she will get.”
Mayhap thought about the grass opening the window, curling through it. She shuddered. “Fine,” she said.
The bats were swaying, making the branches of the wanderroot trees creak. The silver grass hugged the glass from outside, as though it were listening closely.
“Is she . . .” said Mayhap. “Are you sure she’s going to be all right?”
“We can only hope and wait,” said the Mysteriessa. Then she turned and began to walk away.
“Wait!” cried Mayhap. “Come back, please! I want —”
Mayhap didn’t even know how to finish the sentence. She wanted to know everything. She wanted answers. She wanted the truth.
But the bats swarmed her again, and by the time she’d fended them off, the Mysteriessa of Straygarden Place was gone.
A rusty scrape sounded from above.
Mayhap looked up.
One of the crescent-shaped windows in the glass ceiling was open.
The bats flew, screeching, to hide among the branches of the wanderroot trees that hovered inside the room.
And Mayhap watched, horrified, as a tangle of silver grass threaded its way into the room and around one of the bats. She gaped as the grass stole it, as it struggled and squealed, as the others cowered.
Fear leaped through her like a thousand crickets, and she ran out of the conservatory, Seekatrix grazing her calf. The grass could be doing the same upstairs — grabbing at Winnow, making her sicker.
Please be all right, she thought. Please.
But when she arrived at the room she had left Winnow and Pavonine in, it was empty.
The window — the one the grass had opened before, the one Mayhap knew she had closed tightly — was squeaking on its hinge again. The sound made Mayhap nauseous.
She ran up the hallway. “Pavonine!” she called.
Pavonine stepped out of one of the house’s many bedrooms. Peffiandra stood beside her. “Did you find Evenflee?” Her voice was full of hope.
Mayhap tried to speak, but her tongue was so dry she couldn’t form the words. “Water, please,” she whispered hoarsely. A delicate glass appeared in her hand. She sipped the cold, clear liquid. “Pav,” she said once she had swallowed. “Where’s Winnow?”
“I left her in bed,” said Pavonine.
“She’s gone,” said Mayhap. “She’s not there anymore.” She held out her empty water glass, and the house disappeared it. “I found the door open, and the window —”
“What?” Pavonine ran, and Peffiandra sprinted after her.
The room was as empty as Mayhap had left it. The window sang a mournful tune. Seekatrix whined along with it.
“Pav, what happened?” said Mayhap.
Pavonine was close to tears. “She was just lying there. I thought she’d rest for a bit, and I could look around for Evenflee.”
“Well, now we’ve lost Winnow, too,” said Mayhap.
Pavonine was about to reply when there was an earsplitting scream. It was so loud that it curled the wallpaper, as though the house were cringing and covering its ears.
Pavonine and Mayhap followed the sound of their sister’s voice, their droomhunds scampering beside them. They followed it to their parents’ old bedroom.
Winnow, now silent, stood on the far side of the room, at the windows, looking out at the grass with her back to the door. She didn’t even notice Mayhap and Pavonine. She was holding something in her hands. In the feeble light of the lamps, Mayhap couldn’t quite make out what it was.
“Winnow?” said Mayhap. “Are you feeling better? We were worried.” She tried to go to her sister, but Winnow moved away, pinning herself against the wall. Mayhap held out a hand. “Winnow, did the grass come for you again? Did it touch you?”
Winnow only bared her teeth, hissing at Mayhap. Up close, Mayhap could see what she was holding: their parents’ letter, taken down from their bedroom wall, still in its frame, tucked safely under glass.
Pavonine touched Mayhap’s shoulder.
“Let me,” she said. She turned her attention to Winnow. “Winn,” she said, “what are you doing with Mamma and Pappa’s letter? Did you want to read it again for comfort? I always do that when I’m not well —”
Winnow threw the frame onto the floor and stomped on it with a bare foot. The glass shattered. Blood dripped from her heel.
“Winnow!” said Pavonine. “What are you doing?”
The frame had been bent. The glass was in shards.