Hester Thorndike entered the room and Sindy forgot about Nate. She had to consciously resist the urge to stand and curtsey. She half-rose anyway, but Hester held out a skinny hand. She might as well have put it directly on Sindy’s shoulder.
“Please, dear. No need for that.”
Hester Thorndike scared most people, but not Sindy. Hester had always been kind to her.
“Hello, Mrs. Thorndike.”
“To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“I was coming over to see Abby, but Bertram says she’s out?”
“Is she? I’m afraid she doesn’t tell me when she comes and goes. I imagine that you tell your mother, don’t you?”
“Of course.” No, she didn’t, but she wasn’t going to say that to Hester.
“Of course you do. Of course. You look troubled, dear. Not like you do when you usually come over.”
“Oh. Yeah, I guess.”
“It’s weighing on you.”
“I was coming over to say I was sorry.”
“That’s very big of you. It shows grace and character. It’s too rare a quality, especially these days.” Hester said ‘these days’ with the resentment of age.
“Thank you.”
“Whatever did you do to warrant an apology? I find these things are most often two-sided affairs, but one has to take the leap and apologize for the mending to occur.”
“It’s silly. I mean, especially with the baby and all.”
“Baby?” Hester said. Her tone was so airy, Sindy missed the keen interest hidden beneath it.
“Abby’s baby.”
“Oh yes. Of course,” Hester said, and Sindy knew this was the first she’d heard of it. She wondered if she’d just gotten her friend into deeper trouble. She hid her dismay as best she could.
“Um. Yeah. Sorry. I didn’t mean to bring it up.”
“Nonsense, Sincere. You have always been a sister to Abigail. And soon, you will be sisters in a more concrete sense when the two of you are ushered into the Daughters of Arkham.”
“I hadn’t even thought of that.”
“Nor should you. You have a few more months of being a girl. You should enjoy them while you can. When the time is right… When do you turn fifteen, dear?”
“April 7th.”
“April 7th,” Hester said, as if she were pleased it was that date and no other. “Just around the corner. Not even a month after our own Abigail.”
Sindy nodded, and covered the fact that she had no idea of what to say with a sip of cocoa.
Fortunately, Hester didn’t seem to need prompting. She went on, “I’ve been looking forward to your induction for some time, Sincere. You always struck me as a young lady with a rare combination of intelligence and charm. That would be such a boon for us. Who knows? Someday you may find yourself at the head of our little group.”
“The head? I always thought, you know, Abby…”
“With very few exceptions, Thorndike women have always been leaders, it’s true. You might be one of those exceptions. I don’t believe there is anywhere a young woman like you could not go.”
Sindy glowed. She didn’t want to let on how much Hester was affecting her with this praise, but the truth was Sindy had never heard anything of the sort. Her parents said nice things to her, of course, but nothing like this. They didn’t believe she could be president, but Hester Thorndike did. More importantly, she thought that Sindy could head of the Daughters of Arkham, an organization much more exclusive than the presidency. “Thank you,” she muttered into her hot chocolate.
“Tell me, dear. Do you have a boyfriend?”
The heat in her cheeks returned. “I guess so.”
“Which is it? Either you know or you don’t.”
“I do.”
“And what is this lucky boy’s name?”
“Eleazar Grant.”
Sindy expected to see the light die in Hester’s eyes when she heard that the great hope for the Daughters of Arkham was dating a Grant, and not a Coffin, Hanshaw, Knowles, or Barker. On the contrary, Hester offered the most genuine smile Sindy had seen from her yet. There was a knowing gleam in her eyes. “Eleazar Grant. A good boy from everything I have heard. Very polite.”
“Yes.”
“Although I don’t imagine his politeness was what seduced you. Oh, I was young once, too. Well, he is a lovely match. Just lovely.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Thorndike.”
“You are still taking your iron supplement?”
“Of course. My mother makes sure, every morning.”
“Good, good. If our ancestors knew what this water does, perhaps they wouldn’t have settled here.”
“Then there wouldn’t be any Daughters of Arkham.”
“You know, when I was little girl, we had a folktale…” She chuckled as though she was about to dismiss the memory, but Sindy saw something else in the old woman. “If you wanted a boy to be yours forever, you had to feed him a single drop of your blood in a cake.”
“Blood?” Sindy was repulsed by the idea, but an electric trill went through her limbs. It was the same jittery, lovely feeling she got when she’d first kissed a boy.
“Mm-hmm. Just a little drop of blood baked right into a cake. You would, of course, have to bake the cake yourself.”
The trill should have stopped, but it didn’t. It sang through her body. She began feeling pleasantly warm, from the core of her out to her fingertips. The room had snapped into perfect clarity. When she sipped at her hot chocolate, her tongue easily separated the dark, buttery, round flavors of the chocolate from the claws of the cream. “Did you ever do it?”
“I don’t know a single girl who didn’t try it once.”
“What happened?”
“He married me and we had Constance,” Hester said, smiling.
Sindy’s belly lurched again at the thought of marrying Eleazar. She had nothing against him; she liked him a lot-but she was young. They were still young. Still… Was the blood-in-the-cake thing really something that worked? Was this a secret that Hester Thorndike was imparting on her heir apparent? Was that what she was?
“I hope I haven’t kept you too long, dear.”
“Oh no. Nothing like that. Thank you for talking to me.”
“My pleasure, as always. Please, finish your hot chocolate, but excuse me. I have a few matters to attend to.”
Sindy rose when Hester did, and watched as the old woman left the room. She finished her drink, barely noticing it as she stared at one of the bookcases. All she could think about was her conversation with Hester. Just a single drop of blood into a cake. What an odd thing to say. Even odder if it wasn’t true.
Sindy left a little while later. Bertram helped her with her coat and scarf, and she went back out into the cold. When she passed the wall, she didn’t see Nate’s bike. She had completely forgotten it had been there before. Nothing could have turned her attention away from this strange, delicious secret she had been given.
33
The Trail
Nate couldn’t stop thinking about Halloween. Abby hadn’t mentioned anything about a party or about going anywhere, and Nate never asked her, but the mystery still tugged at him. He assumed that the man in Abby’s hallway was connected to her lie in some way, but he couldn’t piece together how.
He tried to break things down logically. It would be easy to chalk everything up to some unknowable mystery, like the Bermuda Triangle or UFO abductions, but he knew that just because something might lack an obvious explanation, that didn’t mean an explanation didn’t exist.
He started with what he knew to be indisputable facts and proceeded from there.
One: The Daughters of Arkham claimed to have a Halloween party at Harwich Hall every year from dusk to around midnight.
Two: There had been enough cars outside to indicate that said party had in fact occurred, and had been well-attended.
Three: The house had either been empty, or everyone who had come for the party had been extreme
ly quiet in one section of the house. Nate could not imagine that particular group of women being perfectly silent for the duration of his visit into Harwich Hall. This wasn’t so much an indisputable fact as it was an assumption based on his life experience, but Nate was comfortable making that leap.
The most logical answer was probably that everyone gathered at Harwich Hall before heading somewhere else on foot. Fortunately, he knew the grounds of Harwich Hall better than anyone else in the world, with the possible exception of his father.
The house sat on a small rise. The lawn extended to the east and north. The southern side faced the road, and was mostly dominated by the wide gravel driveway. A stone wall and hedges ringed the property, and disappeared into the trees on that encroached on the western side of the estate, past the old oak tree. Beyond the wall, the forest became dense very quickly. Nate and Abby had been forbidden from playing back there as kids, but it hadn’t stopped them.
What very few people knew was that there was a section of the wall along the northern edge of the property that had crumbled away. Weather and time had taken a V-shaped bite out of the stones. The gap was mostly hidden by tangled, thorny hedges. He and Abby had used it as access point into the forest when they were much younger, but they hadn’t used it in many years.
Nate reasoned that if he knew about that gap, Constance and Hester probably did, too. If they’d led that many people across the lawn and into the forest, there would be some kind of evidence. Trampled grass, some balding patches, maybe some broken twigs and logs… It wouldn’t be easy to spot after a week, but he had a lot of experience with the subtleties of the lawn at Abby’s house.
He biked over to Harwich Hall in the early afternoon on Saturday. He hurried. The sweat formed a layer under his clothes even as the chill air scoured his face. He put his bike by the gate out of habit, and a bolt of fear pierced him as he crept onto the estate. He had no idea who was home, and he didn’t want to have to explain what he was doing here. He couldn’t see any cars from his vantage point, but for all he knew, the house was packed and everyone-including the silhouette that had become a regular fixture in his nightmares-was waiting by the windows.
He hugged the edge of the property, taking the long way around. I’m seeking cover, he told himself. It was true that the other way was more exposed, but really, he didn’t want to pass by the window of the eastern wing, where he’d seen that silhouette.
Harwich Hall was barely visible as he passed amongst the birch trees. He crossed the driveway near the garage. It was a large white building that had likely once been a coach house. The doors were closed, so he had no idea how many of their cars were in there. The Thorndikes had three in total. To Nate, that was a crazy extravagance. His family had one, his father’s ragged old truck. Arkham was small enough that you could get most places on foot, and a family really only needed one vehicle. Hester barely ever left home, and Abby couldn’t even drive, but there were still three cars lined up behind those white doors.
They probably had a rich person reason for all those cars, Nate thought. Rich people always had a perfectly logical reason why they needed so many things. They didn’t know that everyone else just made do with what they had.
The trees thinned out and the terrain rose as he got closer to the back of the house. The wall followed the hill in order to mark the property line, but there was no easy path alongside it. Nate couldn’t imagine a bunch of society people hiking up in that direction, and their stiletto heels would have aerated the entire hill. No, if they’d gone anywhere, it would have been across the backyard and through the V-shaped crack in the wall. If the Daughters had gone that way, their path would have become a muddy swath ten feet wide. He wasn’t going to miss that. No one could.
He rounded the house and looked out at the oak tree with the swing. Seeing their tree made him want to call Abby and tell her what he was doing. He was certain that if he did, she would come clean with him. Who knew, she might even be impressed with his acumen.
He couldn’t. This was his alone to solve.
Harwich Hall’s back yard had a few gently rolling hills, like the swells of a mostly calm sea. He mapped out the most likely route that the Daughters would have taken, and went from the back of the ballroom between the two nearest hills and then directly to the hole in the wall.
He did not find what he was hoping for. There was no wide, muddy track. There were no footprints perfectly preserved in the chilled dirt. As for trampling, it was difficult to tell. The grass was beginning to die, hibernating until its rebirth in March. Abby’s birthday, he reminded himself. The world celebrated her birth by coming alive again-a stupid thought he’d never had the courage to share with her, though it had been on his lips for several years.
There had to be something here. There just had to. Nate started at the edge of the hole, then backtracked toward the house, taking a slightly different route each time. He found nothing. Soon, he started taking paths that were only direct in the loosest definition of the term.
Finally, as he was beginning to think there might actually be nothing to find, he squeezed through the hole in the wall. He winced as the nearby brambles raked his skin. He didn’t think that society women would be up for this sort of thing. Drawing blood hardly seemed their speed, but he had come this far. He needed to check every possibility.
The ground behind the wall was rugged. It dipped down into a dry creek bed before it rose up into the hills. Narrow trails used by foxes, rabbits, deer and other animals snaked off into the woods. And coyotes, Nate reminded himself. There were coyotes in those woods. Not many, but it wasn’t like it was the number of them that would be the problem if any found him. There had been no documented attacks in Arkham for years and years, but that didn’t keep Nate from worrying. There were bears, too. Bears were an even bigger problem. Usually, they were only trouble for the hunters foolish enough to think they could bag one, but who was to say that there wasn’t an angry bear with an ass full of buckshot wandering around these woods looking for revenge?
Nate could feel his anxiety spiraling out of control. He struggled to clamp it down. The deep woods around Arkham had a fearsome reputation going back to the colonial days. Back then, these woods really had been a dangerous places filled with mysteries.
He scanned the difficult terrain, looking for the telltale footprints of a passing party. If they came this way, they did it in heels, he reminded himself. He could barely climb the slopes in his sneakers; he didn’t think the collected ladies of the Daughters of Arkham would have a much better shot in their silly, useless shoes.
The creek bed was deeply-sloped, narrow, and full of sharp rocks that protruded from the dried-up embankment. Anyone who tried that path would only have shredded ankles to show for it. There was no place Nate could see that a bunch of society women could have left the Thorndike estate without leaving a trail.
Well, there was the front… But then, why bother with the cars at all? Why not just drive to wherever they’d gone? It made no sense.
He decided to head back through the wall and across the lawn despite the danger of being seen. There was no easy way to follow the wall around to the side gate where he’d left his bike, but he was too frustrated to care.
As Nate rode home, he considered different scenarios and possibilities for the strange, mass disappearance. He did not know that something far stranger was happening in the clinic downtown.
34
The Procedure
Dr. Collins’ clinic was on the outskirts of town in a folksy-looking building that looked an awful lot like a log cabin. The entire thing was built in a donut-shape around an interior garden and a massive oak tree that had grown gnarled and powerful. It was not unusual to see hawks roosting in the boughs of the trees, searching the ground for rabbits or songbirds.
Abby didn’t know what to think of the place. Maybe it had been designed to appeal to the latent outdoorsiness of its wealthy clientele. But then, what was she supposed to think of any clini
c like this? This wasn’t the kind of thing she had ever expected for herself. She’d thought she would get married sometime after college, after her career-whatever that turned out to be-was well underway. A couple years into her marriage, she would have a baby with her impossibly gorgeous and attentive husband.
She had not pictured this. She supposed no one ever did. There were no little girls fantasizing about their first-their first…
Abortion.
No matter how much Constance had reassured her that the procedure was painless and she wouldn’t have a single thing to worry about, Abby knew “procedure” was a euphemism for “surgery.” And this wasn’t just a surgery, it was a… No. She couldn’t think about it. She wouldn’t think about it. Her mother had everything under control.
Constance had called Dr. Collins immediately after their conversation. She had arranged for the procedure to be done that afternoon, and Abby had fallen into line as if she were still seven years old. She’d barely had a moment to think about what was about to happen.
As Constance parked the car, Abby was relieved (but not terribly surprised) that the parking lot was practically empty. She suspected that her mother had something to do with that fact. It wouldn’t do to have the shame of the Thorndikes turned into gossip fodder for the entire town.
“Put on a brave face, dear. You are going to be just fine.” Constance unbuckled, then leaned over to kiss Abby’s forehead. “It will be like it never happened.”
Abby smiled woodenly. She felt very afraid.
A nurse looked up as they went inside. “Ms. Thorndike, Dr. Collins is waiting for you in Room B.”
“Thank you, Darla,” Constance said. She escorted Abby down a hallway. The walls that faced the garden were made out of glass. As they walked, Abby looked at the giant oak tree in the center of the garden. It reminded her of the one in her own backyard. Both trees were of a similar size and character. Maybe their seeds had come from the same tree that had once stood in the middle of town. A couple years back, someone had chopped it down to put up a storefront. Abby decided they definitely were the same; they were sisters.
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