Page 30 of An Invocation of Monsters

Could it really be so easy? I followed Joseph back downstairs, my heart a lump in my throat as he headed towards the private wing he shared with Mary.

“I’m sorry, but I have to ask you to wait here,” he said politely when we reached the hall designating their territory. “Mary is indisposed today.”

I nodded and settled into a convenient wingback chair to wait for him, doing my best not to thrum with excitement.

But thirty seconds into waiting, another frown creased my brow. I had laid hands on Mary only a day ago.

There was, in my experience, literally no way she could feel indisposed after a direct jolt of Elle to her body. Unless…

I exhaled, covering my mouth. Unless she had cancer, or a condition so extreme it was beyond me.

Perhaps Mary was dying.

And if one of the leaders of the Wendigo Society died, surely they would have a gap in their ranks.

Maybe this was not a visit, but a recruitment.

And who better than the daughter of one of their longtime members?

Joseph interrupted my thoughts with a literal bang when he dropped a heavy cardboard box on the table next to me.

“Sorry,” he said, actually sounding apologetic. “It’s quite heavy, I can have Kase help you—”

“No, it’s fine.” I smiled brightly, trying to cover my thoughts. I did not want to see Kase right now. “Part of the daily workout.”

Joseph slapped a hand on top of the box. It was dusty, the name Gillian scrawled on the side with Sharpie.

My throat tightened as I recognized the girlish, loopy handwriting that had always been at odds with my mother’s otherwise elegant persona.

But, as Joseph had once told me, the persona was only a mask.

This was an entirely different Gillian, a stranger to me.

“Gigi had donated quite a few books to the Society library,” he told me, his eyes softening. “She was a natural history buff. Looks like it runs in the family, eh?”

I had never once seen my mother crack the cover of a history book. Her idea of a good time was a Janet Evanovich novel carefully hidden from her book club friends and a glass of Chardonnay.

“She definitely passed it on to me,” I agreed, my fingers itching to pop that box open.

Joseph paused, his eyes on my mother’s scrawled name.

“She was an extraordinary woman,” he said quietly. “She was the glue that held us together, kept us going when others would’ve quit. I’m glad you accepted our invitation, Elle. I have a feeling you may turn out to be just as amazing as she was.”

My Creep Alert began rolling out the air raid sirens in the back of my mind when Joseph’s soft, misty gaze drifted up to me.

“Though you don’t know it, you are truly one of a kind,” he told me. “This isn’t all books, but some of her effects that were left behind. This hasn’t been opened in years. I hope you find what you’re looking for in here.”

“Thank you.” My heart was galloping as he cast one last glance at the box and then headed back into his shared quarters.

I picked it up the moment he was out of sight. It was heavy, but bearable. I heard books shift inside with a dry rustle as I scurried back to my room.

Sweat beaded my forehead by the time I was nudging the door shut behind me. I dropped the box on the sofa with a groan. “Ugh, you were heavier than I expected.”

But the first thing I did after wiping the sweat off my forehead was to take a picture of the box, labeled with my mother’s writing. I don’t know why I was compelled to do it; maybe I just wanted a record of this woman, this total stranger.

I collapsed on the sofa, gripping the box.

Maybe all of my answers were in here, or maybe Joseph was just sending me on a wild goose chase.

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