Keeper of Reign

10. Keeper

THE MESS IN the living room still upset Jules and his company as they came tiptoeing out of the closet door.

“We can’t,” Saul said, brusquely, “lose any more time. Without her Book your mother cannot hide from Gehzurolle. Would you have any clue as to where she might hide such a Book?”

“But I’m hungry and thirsty,” Tst Tst announced.

“A little hunger never killed anyone.” Saul said, as he dragged Miranda by her arm out of the home.

“But where could Mom be?” Tst Tst asked.

“I’ll go ask the Laceworks if they’ve seen your mother.” Saul shook his head and tsk-tsked all the way to the tottering door.

“Miranda can stay here with us,” Jules quickly added.

Saul cast him a murderous stare. “Miranda comes with me. You stay here and wait. Don’t go out—it’s dangerous.” He stalked out the door dragging Miranda behind him. She seemed helpless in the old man’s grip.

Jules wanted to ask why he’d leave since danger lurked outdoors, but the old man stomped out with much speed and slammed the tottering door behind him.

“What are we going to do if Mr. Saul doesn’t find Mom?” Ralston asked.

Tst Tst and Tippy started crying, and Jules shot him a glare and pulled him aside. “I think we should look for Mom’s Book. We might find answers.”

Ralston said, “Answers to what?”

“To what’s happened. I know Mom’s been very careful not to let any- one know she’s the Keeper.”

“But you told Mr. Saul.”

“Mr. Saul already knew. He and Grandpa were buddies before their fallout. Besides, the last time I saw that Book was when Grandpa showed it to Mr. Saul and they sat right there.” He pointed to the chairs near the fireplace.

“You think Mr. Saul ratted on us? Told spies and they told the Scorpents, and they—”

“Stop! I have to think.” Jules rummaged within his cloak and came upon his grandpa’s old contact journal he’d found.

He rubbed his fingers over the dark brown leather cover, smooth from constant touch, and even though two or three cracks ran across the leather, it still felt supple and exuded a leathery smell. Typical of most contact journals, Leroy’s contained names of hundreds of Elfies he’d known in his long life.

Jules showed Ralston the journal. “I found this the day after Grandpa disappeared, under my pouch in that hearth hiding spot. Maybe he meant for me to have it. But I wonder why.”

Ralston took the journal, leafed through the pages and handed it back to Jules. “But there’s a gazillion names in there.”

“But only one is circled.” He shoved the page for Ralston to see. “And in red, too.”

“Mosche Falstaff? Who’s he?”

“Can’t you remember anything? Falstaff. That’s the name of the last Keeper who disappeared with Petra, the gift, centuries ago.”

“So? That Falstaff can’t possibly be alive.”

“Maybe this Falstaff’s related to that other Falstaff. Also, Mom said Grandpa wanted to look for Mosche Falstaff but he wouldn’t elaborate— just that it was better for us not to know details.”

“But why would Grandpa want to visit him?” Jules drew a deep breath. “It was my fault.” “What?” “Never mind. Grandpa wouldn’t have gone if it hadn’t been for me.

And I know he wanted to visit Mosche—I overheard something.” “What?”

“Tell you later—now, we have to figure what to do, in case we don’t find Mom.”

“Could we look for Dad?” “He could be anywhere. But that’s a possibility.” “If Mosche Falstaff’s from the ‘accursed’ family, was it safe for

Grandpa to visit him?” Jules nodded. “That’s what Mom said. But Grandpa said we’re all affected anyway.” “I hate to break up your party,” Bitha said, joining the two. “But we need to feed Tippy. She’s eating the floor.” Tippy and Tst Tst both sat cross-legged under the kitchen table, having successfully scooped the potato chunks from somewhere and placed these in the walnut dishes.

“Stop!” Jules smacked the dish in Tippy’s clutch and the contents spilled onto the floor. “If Scorpents stepped on these they could be toxic.”