Page 57 of An Invocation of Monsters

I finally managed to unglue my tongue from the roof of my mouth. “But… where is Desirée now? What about Tasha?”

“Desirée died some years ago,” Mary told me. “The Lodge was willed to us, the Society, upon her death, so that we could continue this work.”

“And Tasha… perhaps its fate as well, but she vanished in much the same way as the original Deepwater settlers.” Joseph’s smile was unsettling. “Perhaps we will all die in strange ways, having spent our lives steeped in shadows. But we found that with fewer people living here, the quieter the paranormal activity became. It was at its height when the Society numbered five; we determined that the best way to continue would be to always maintain five going forward.

“When Tasha disappeared, Kase joined us shortly thereafter. And upon Desirée’s death, we found Willow through sheer good fortune. But when Gigi passed away… it was quite clear to us that the fifth member could only be her daughter, a woman of her own blood.”

“And so we invited you,” Mary added. “And not one of us was surprised when a door opened for you so easily. I expect you will find more before the final rites of induction.”

A cold gust of wind blew my hair over my shoulder, raising goosebumps on my shoulders and arms. I inched a little closer to the dying fire, ignoring the sparks that the gust had sent flying.

“I still have so many questions,” I said, rubbing my arms. “Why did my father visit? He wasn’t one of you.”

Mary stared at me blankly for a moment. “Where did you hear this?”

“There was a picture of him here, in my mother’s belongings. You and Joseph were with him.”

Understanding crept into her gaze. “Oh, indeed. Yes, Benjamin did visit a time or two after Tasha’s disappearance. He was a native of Dunwich, always clinging to Gillian when we made grocery runs. For a very brief time we thought he might fill Tasha’s place, but… your father did not have the breadth of thought necessary to make contact with the paranormal. He was never invited to share in the Society’s secrets.”

“Then how did my mother end up marrying him?” I wondered aloud.

Joseph held up a finger, wagging it at me. “Ah-ah. The window of opportunity is closing.” He gestured at the full moon, already sinking below the tree tops. Soon it would be the dark of night in the forest. “That is a tale for another day, Elle. But I promise you… before your final rite, you will know all.”

As though the universe were collaborating with Joseph’s desire for grandiosity, the wind gusted again, extinguishing the last flame clinging to the fire.

In complete, eerie silence, the four members of the Wendigo Society rose in unison.

I stood as well, taking a place in line behind Kase, my thoughts racing as Mary and Joseph led us back down the treacherous ridge in the dark.

For all the talking they had done, they hadn’t talked nearly enough.

And I had a gut feeling that a whole hell of a lot of it had been lies.

18

Elle

It wasn’t until after we passed through the ruins of Deepwater that I began to see the shadow fluttering at the corner of my eye.

It remained just out of sight, and with nothing but electric lanterns to light the way back, I did consider that I was just imagining things.

But then a little gray moth landed on the back of my hand. Nobody was watching as I raised my hand to my face, squinting in the darkness to make out a delicate pattern of lacy white spots on the moth’s soft wings.

I wanted to touch his soft, fuzzy antennae, but the moth turned, taking flight into the darkness of the woods.

Dropping back several steps, I smiled and waved at the darkness. Just in case.

When we reached the Lodge, everybody split, going their separate ways in silence. I made it as far as the door, then stopped.

Kase, the second-to-last person, walked upstairs without a backwards glance.

I backed away one step, then two, then slipped back into the night.

I didn’t let myself chuckle out loud for a solid five minutes, wanting to be absolutely sure no sounds would carry back towards the Society members. But once the chuckle escaped, it was followed by an all-out bray of laughter.

What a bunch of dweebs, painting their faces with fake blood and having processions through the woods like a bunch of monks with Coleman electric lanterns. Mary literally could have told me all of that over the dinner table the night before without any of the pomp and circumstance.

But my laughter died quickly, and not just because I was actually irritated with their inflated sense of self-importance.

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