did she think of this? he wondered. And what is she thinking now?
Abruptly Maud turned away from the doorway and took a seat across the fire from John. Her gaze settled upon him. It was always uncomfortable, her direct stare, like being sized up by a leopard. Her long, light brown hair hung down around her shoulders, adding to the impression of wildness.
“I do not know those boys,” she said simply. “I am certain I have not seen them before. They are no Seekers I have ever met.”
The rabbit was done cooking. Silently John pulled the meat from the grate and handed her a portion on one of the rough boards they used for meals. The Young Dread received the food but held it out in front of her, as though not actually aware of its presence.
“Do you know every Seeker?” he asked her.
“I should be able to place them, by looks, by house. I should have some sense of the family to whom they belong.”
“How could you expect to know everyone?” he asked.
Maud couldn’t be much older than John. In fact, she looked younger. Even though her lifetime had spanned a great length of years, much of that time, she’d explained, had been spent There—hibernating, or sleeping, or “stretched out,” as she liked to call it—so the actual duration of her time here in the real world, of her time awake, could not be much more than John’s, could it?
She said simply, “If they were Seekers, I would know them, and I do not.” Taking notice of the food in front of her, she began to eat. After a few moments, she appeared to come to a decision, and she asked John, “What does your book say about the house of the boar?”
John tried to hide his surprise at this interest in the journal. “The boar? Why that one?”
“Those boys had an athame, and there was a boar carved upon it.”
“So…couldn’t they be Seekers from the house of the boar?” he asked.
“No,” Maud responded, “they’re not.”
When she offered no further explanation, he set his tray aside, wiped his hands carefully, and flipped through the book. In the second half of the journal there was a page with a boar sketched along the top. He held it up for Maud to see.
“She made a record,” he explained, “of places where the Seekers in the house of the boar were seen, places where their athame was seen. Like here.” He pointed to one of the earliest notes under the drawing of the boar. “1779, Spain, near the city of Valencia.”
“What is the last location on that list? The most recent place the boar athame was seen?”
His eyes ran down the next few pages.
“Here. Norway, eighteen years ago, in the possession of Emile Pernet, house of the boar.” He showed her the line of text. “No one saw the boar athame after that—until now, I guess.”
“Emile,” the Young Dread repeated.
“Do you know him?”
“I have heard his name once,” she told him. “And what is that, beneath the writing?” She’d moved closer to look at the journal, so they were sitting shoulder to shoulder.
“A sketch of someplace.”
Catherine had pasted in a drawing of a barren landscape with sharp rocks strewn across it and a low, dark cave in the distance. There were several such drawings in the journal. Maud took the book from him and gazed at this picture intently.
“Those are coordinates she’s written from an athame,” he said. “Do you recognize the location?”
Beneath the drawing were symbols from the dials of an athame—surely they were instructions for finding that cave. The Young Dread had begun teaching him about his athame and its symbols. They’d even used the device a few times, to travel from London to the estate and to other nearby locations, though she didn’t let him wield the ancient tool himself, and in fact kept him blindfolded during the process; he wouldn’t be able to use it until he’d taken his oath. But when he was a full Seeker, the athame would allow him to follow coordinates in the journal, retrace his mother’s footsteps to find those houses that had torn down his own.
The Young Dread was still studying the drawing. At length she said, “If that is a cave, I may recognize the location, but it makes little sense. If it is where I suspect it may be, it should have been a safe place for Emile—not the last place his athame would be seen before disappearing.” She kept