of Seekers. Archie’s mother had been dead since he was a child, and Catherine guessed she had taught him nothing of his heritage, or perhaps she’d decided it was safer not to be a Seeker at all.
“Edward was my grandfather,” Archie said thoughtfully. “Or, no, great-grandfather.”
“On your mother’s side?”
“Yes. The Harts are all from my mother’s side. It’s her name. My father changed his when they met, though he was a distant cousin of hers.”
“What happened to Edward, your great-grandfather?”
He studied the letter again. “I think he’s the one who died in a traffic accident before I was born. I have no idea what sort of arrangement his parents are talking about.”
Catherine’s mind was putting pieces together. Seekers had been attacking Seekers, probably for a very long time, and yet this was not a letter written by a willing killer, but rather a reluctant participant…in what?
She said, “It sounds as though they were forced into doing something they didn’t wish to do. Maybe something violent…and then they disappeared?” Is that what happened to Emile? she wondered.
“You seem very knowledgeable about my distant ancestors, for a girl I just met.”
He was taking this lightly, but Catherine was not. “Archie, I’m afraid our families might have certain things in common.”
“What do you mean?” he asked. “Disappearing relatives?”
“Maybe,” she said soberly.
“You sound so serious.” He glanced at her, then back to the helmet. “What is this thing?”
“It’s called a focal,” she told him, “and as far as I can tell, no one’s seen one for about a hundred years.”
“What do you mean ‘no one’s seen one’? Were people looking for this thing?”
“Yes.”
Archie started to pull the helmet onto his head. She caught his hands quickly.
“Don’t,” she said. “It’s not…well, it’s not frivolous. We need instructions.”
“Catherine, will you please explain what the hell you’re talking about?”
“This helmet, this focal, is a tool for Seekers,” she told him. “But the focals have been missing. Like the ancestor who wrote this note perhaps went missing as well. Lots of things, and lots of people, have gone missing—maybe they’ve been killing each other, or maybe missing some other way.”
“Am I supposed to know what a Seeker is?” he asked.
“It’s why our parents want us married, I suspect. My parents must have known yours was a Seeker family that might still have…well, things like this helmet. Actually, I suppose it was my grandmother Maggie who thought this through. She seems to know everything about everyone.”
This focal, Catherine now understood, was all that remained of a once great Seeker house, the house of the stag. Archie’s mother had been a Seeker, and his father had perhaps known something about it.
Archie looked like he was running out of patience. “Catherine, are you going to tell me what a Seeker is—and how you know this—or do I have to beat it out of you with the shoes you’ve thrown all over the floor?”
She drew herself into his lap.
“I’m a Seeker,” she told him. She held both sides of his face and kissed him lightly. “And you, it seems, were supposed to be one too.”
The Young Dread stood with John on the thoroughfare of the Transit Bridge in Hong Kong. He glanced at her, nodded to tell her he understood his assignment, and then turned and joined the foot traffic. Maud watched for a few minutes as he disappeared down the roadway, and then she herself turned and walked off the Bridge and into the streets of Kowloon.
She’d brought him here to see Quin. The Young Dread did not much understand romantic love, but John obviously loved Quin—or at least couldn’t stop thinking of her. And because his wishes and Quin’s wishes were at odds, John lived in a state of deep distraction. He was distracted by many other sources besides Quin—particularly his mother and his grandmother—but Quin was different; she was alive in the world right now, capturing his attention by her very existence.
He was welcome to his love, but it was not possible to train him further unless he could rule his own thoughts. The Young Dread had brought him to the Transit Bridge to find Quin and discover if he was capable of doing so.
She moved through the side streets of Kowloon until she found a secluded spot at the end of a foul-smelling alley. There, with John’s athame, she brought herself to the top of a very high building. It was windy on the roof. Not far away, the bulk of the Transit Bridge was visible where it