Page 33 of An Invocation of Monsters

“Yeah, I’ll be there!” I called, stretching my sore back.

I left everything where it was, but brought the box of letters into my bedroom and hid it in the bottom drawer of a dresser. I didn’t want that evidence falling into anyone else’s hands.

Then I pulled a brush through my hair, tied it up, and pulled my gloves back on before meeting Kase.

Everyone was gathered at the massive dining table when we arrived, but there were so few Lodge members that it looked empty.

Joseph sat at the head of the table, with Mary to his right. There were two empty place settings to his left, the glasses already filled with wine.

Kase and Willow sat past that, and Kase gallantly pulled out my chair for me.

“Who are the empty seats for?” I asked, glancing at them curiously.

Mary looked up from sipping her wine, and I examined her drawn face. She didn’t look like she was in pain, but she did look tired.

“Those are for those of us who are lost and missing,” she said. “Gillian and Tasha. Gone from our table, but no less forgotten.”

I’d read in one of Juno’s books as a kid—when I couldn’t stop annoying my cool older cousin and she’d manage to get some peace and quiet by tossing me a book—about ‘dumb suppers’, or the invitation for the dead to dine with the living.

That night I’d tried to put out a bowl of food for my puppy who’d been hit by a car, but my mother had screeched, and that was the last time I’d ever attempted it. Juno had taken the blame and helped me clean it up.

The empty place settings brought that memory back in full force. I missed Juno more than I could say at that moment.

The minute we were seated, Tater appeared in the dining room door with a cart.

He placed a covered dish in front of everyone, revealed the plates with flourishes, and announced, “Prime rib au poivre.”

There was a moment of silence, and then Mary raised her fork with a smile. “What are we all waiting for? Dig in.”

I didn’t need another sign. I ate rapidly, unable to help my eyes ping-ponging towards Joseph every once in a while.

What else was he hiding beneath that placid exterior?

After two more courses, Tater returned with delicately-plated spiced apples topped with a lattice of crunchy caramelized sugar, and I was finally so full I literally couldn’t cram more in.

But now everyone was sipping their wine, and I hoped the combination of full stomachs and booze would go a way towards easing the current company.

“So, how many of you are members of the Wendigo Society?” I asked, keeping my tone conversational. “And how does one join, exactly?”

The silence was so thick I could’ve cut it with a knife.

Joseph cleared his throat, but it was Mary who spoke first. The wide, welcoming smile she’d worn upon greeting me had been replaced with a far more cautious one, her eyes glittering.

“Well, there’s a certain way we go about things here,” she said, fingers flexing on the stem of her wine glass. “Very rarely do people arrive at the Lodge knowing about us. In fact, you might be the only person who has ever arrived with prior knowledge.”

I nodded, though I didn’t entirely understand why they would have signed their letter as the Wendigo Society if they weren’t entirely willing to be up-front about it.

She answered my unspoken question a moment later.

“Though there were disagreements, you are the daughter of one of the founders. We felt it would be… more diplomatic to allow you a broader glimpse into your mother’s life, including the Society. It would have been her wish for you to be brought into the fold if at all possible.”

“And… is it possible?” I asked, as politely as I could manage, even though my hands were trembling with anticipation in my lap.

Mary’s smile stretched wider. “You see, it’s not for us to decide. The Ones on the Other Side must decide if you’re worthy.”

I clenched my fist so tightly my nails dug into my palm. “You mean the denizens of the Void.”

Willow let out a squeak and dropped her fork. The clatter cut through the tension in the room, and Joseph let out a small laugh.

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