Mother of Crows

by David Rodriguez

  “Hey, Del? What’s up?”

  “Are you alone?”

  “Yeah. But we’re not friends that way. I mean, there was that one time during summer program, but that was more of an experimental phase for-”

  “Hey, dumbass,” Delilah said. “Holster your piece. I don’t need you for phone sex. I can have real sex delivered to my house like pizza. Or with a pizza. I’m calling about the Daughters.”

  Bryce sat up. “What do you know about the Daughters?”

  “I know that they don’t like that you’ve been sticking your nose into their business. I don’t know what it is that you’re doing, I just thought you should know that Sindy and her crew don’t like it, and if you keep it up, they said they’re going to do something to you.”

  Bryce almost laughed at the idea of those girls doing anything to him, then he remembered the six guys who jumped him in the park at someone’s orders. Delilah was right. They were dangerous.

  “Why are you telling me this, Del? You are her crew. What happened to, ‘Above all else, sisterhood’?”

  “They’re not my sisters, Bryce. You just watch that cute ass of yours. I’d hate to see something bad happen to it.”

  72

  Frozen Out

  Constance was surprised when she heard the bell at Harwich Hall ring. She had not been expecting any visitors, but it was not entirely unusual to get an uninvited guest. By virtue of being a Thorndike, there was always someone who wanted to come to kiss the ring.

  Her smile did not falter in the slightest when she saw Bertram taking Faith Endicott’s coat. Ever since Sincere’s initiation, Constance had harbored a deep loathing for her so-called sister. “Faith! So lovely to see you,” she said, taking the woman’s arms as she gave her an air kiss.

  “Hello, Constance. So nice of you to have me.”

  Constance had never felt such contempt radiating off of anyone before. They both kept their smiles plastered firmly in place.

  “I did not know I would have the pleasure. Can I have Bertram get you something?”

  “That won’t be necessary,” Hester croaked. Both women turned. Hester hobbled into the room on her cane. The vigor from the ritual had left her.

  “My guest and I have a lot to discuss. Nothing you need to worry yourself over, dear. Come, Faith. Join me in my study.”

  Faith walked by, and Constance could swear the look the other woman shot her was triumphant. She burned as she watched the two of them go deeper into the house-into Hester’s study, of all places! Only Thorndike women went in there.

  It was the final nail in the coffin. Constance was out; Faith was in… all over this misguided adherence to tradition. Abby was pregnant. Yes, that was terrible for someone so young, but it wasn’t the end of Abby’s life. She wasn’t a ruined woman or anything so medieval. The Thorndikes had enough money to guarantee the child would be raised well. While Constance would have rather Abby had waited, she wasn’t going to turn her back on her daughter for one little mistake.

  Constance still wondered who the boy really was, whether it was Bryce Coffin or Nathan Baxter. One would be an appropriate-though far from ideal-match for her daughter. The other was blatantly unacceptable.

  She pushed that aside. She needed to secure her relationship with Abby. She was more powerful united with her daughter. If she was going to stop this apparent Endicott coup, she would need the help. Beyond that, she just wanted her daughter back. Hester saw Abby as a vessel for the next generation. Constance saw her as a girl she desperately loved and wanted to be close with again.

  She went upstairs and knocked at her daughter’s door.

  “Yes?”

  “Abby, may I come in?”

  There was a pause. “Sure.”

  Constance opened the door. She glanced to the corner of the room at the dollhouse replica of Harwich Hall. It was dusty, and there was some stain creeping out from the inside. She made a mental note to ask Bertram to clean it.

  Abby gazed up at her, waiting.

  “Would you like to go to Baldwin’s?” she asked.

  Baldwin’s was an old-fashioned ice cream parlor downtown. Whenever Abby had a bit of good news or Constance thought they needed some time together, that’s where they went. The tradition had petered out as Abby had grown up, another casualty in the timeline of a growing teenager.

  “Sure. Yeah,” Abby said, brightening. She worked her way off the bed, and Constance winced internally at her daughter’s transformation. She was still just a baby herself; she didn’t need to have a baby…

  No, we are not talking about that, Constance reminded herself.

  The two of them took the Mercedes downtown and got their sundaes. Constance’s was butterscotch over salted caramel ice cream. Abby’s was strawberry and chocolate over banana. As they ate, Abby talked about her classes and grades. It was easy for Constance to read between the lines. She was an outcast because of her condition. Constance made certain not to pry. Though she was desperately curious for the connection of her daughter’s life, it was far more important to re-establish a connection first.

  They returned home, cheerfully talking about nothing at all. Constance had not felt so relaxed around her daughter in a long while, and by the ease of Abby’s posture-even burdened by her ever-expanding womb-it looked like she felt the same way.

  “Mom, can I ask you something?” Abby asked as they went through the front door.

  “Anything.”

  “Is there anything I should know about the Daughters of Arkham?”

  The question froze Constance in her tracks. It could have been completely innocent. The Daughters were, after all, a charitable organization, no different to the outside world than the Daughters of the American Revolution. Yet, they both knew the question was not innocent at all. Even worse, Constance wanted to answer her.

  There was no way she could. She had taken oaths, oaths that seemed distant and unimportant right now. Wasn’t her oath to her own daughter more important than any promise made to a gathering of other women?

  “Well, Abby it’s not quite that simple-” she started, still not certain how she would finish the sentence.

  “Constance, you’re home.” Hester said. She stood in the doorway with her cane. “I’d like to see you in my study now, dear.”

  “Yes, mother,” Constance said, leaving her daughter alone in the hall.

  73

  In Distress

  Nate felt strange being inside Coffin Manor. He felt certain that at any moment, Marianne Coffin was going to throw him out, or even worse, demand that he cut the east lawn. (Of course, he was going to do that, but it was scheduled for Saturday.) Both possibilities were embarrassing, but the first was actively humiliating. Bryce assured him that Marianne didn’t even know they were there, and followed it by saying, “She’s three spoons deep in a Mom parfait,” as if that meant something to Nate.

  Bryce led Nate to his bedroom and sort of gestured at a leather recliner, then went to his desk to hit a few keys on his laptop. “Okay, here’s what we know so far.”

  A massive flat-screen television blinked to life. There were thumbnail images scattered across the screen. Each one was connected to lines which led to other, larger images and scattered pieces of text. It looked like one of those evidence boards from cop shows.

  “Holy cats.” Nate moved closer to the screen. “When did you do all of this?”

  “Well, as it turns out, if you stop drinking and partying, you end up with an extraordinary amount of free time.” Bryce clicked on the center of the image. It zoomed in on the symbol of the Daughters of Arkham. Nate shivered. The symbol had been creeping him out ever since the weird episode Abby’d had with Hester’s pin.

  “Don’t you worry about your homework and grades and stuff?”

  “I’m already rich, Poindexter. My GPA isn’t really going to factor into my future.”

  “Well, yeah, sure. But some of those coloring sheets are pretty fun. And if you want, I can even help you
with your times tables.”

  Bryce’s head jerked up. Nate looked back at him with all the innocence he could feign. Bryce scowled, then snatched a lacrosse ball off his desk. He whipped it at Nate, who dodged out of the way and burst out laughing.

  “Keep it up, lawn boy. I swear to God, I will hire someone to kick your ass. Don’t think I won’t.” Bryce was smiling behind his feigned anger as he went back to clicking at the screen. “Now pay attention.”

  The screen pulled out to show the numerous faces of the elder Daughters. Hester, of course, was at the center. A connection led from her to Constance and then to Abby. This was repeated all over the screen, for every single daughter. Beside each of them was a clip-art man with an X through it to indicate their dead husbands.

  Nate looked at the screen with a mix of dread and awe. So many husbands across multiple generations were missing or dead. He had a feeling that if they were to dig up the graves of these men, they would find them as empty as Drew Marks’ grave had been.

  “How is this even possible?” Nate’s mind boggled at the idea of so many murders and cover-ups. You’d need so much influence! And power! Why? Why would you do it?

  “The real question is, what are they doing with the bodies?” Bryce said. “They have to put them somewhere.”

  Nate looked at the screen. It pained him to see Sindy’s face there. They’d never been close but they had been connected in their love for Abby. He wasn’t emotionally prepared to see her on a roster of people in Arkham who could not be trusted.

  Bryce’s phone buzzed. He picked it up to look at his texts. “It’s Delilah again. She wants to meet.”

  “Didn’t she warn you to be careful about all this stuff?”

  “Yeah,” he said. The phone buzzed again. “She says she has more information. Something she found out when she was over at Sindy’s house last night.”

  Nate cocked his head. The phone buzzed once more. Bryce paled as he looked up at Nate.

  “She says she knows where the Fathers of Arkham are.”

  74

  Hester’s Study

  Constance felt like she was seeing the principal. She always did when she sat here. Hester sat on the far side of her desk. The padding of her chair forced her to sit in the ramrod posture she had learned in finishing school. Her face was pursed in an expression of disapproval, or-more accurately-even more disapproval than usual.

  The study was barely worth such a grandiose name. Generations of Thorndike matriarchs had cluttered it with books, journals, ledgers, and paper which overflowed from shelves against every wall. Some were entirely mundane, such as the ledgers outlining the Thorndike business concerns. Others were a little more esoteric. Harwich Hall’s library was one floor above the study, well-known for its extravagant collection, and yet to certain eyes the volumes in here were far more valuable.

  Here, Hester used the secrets in them as a sigil of her power.

  “I hate to say this about my own grandchild, but her lack of self-control indicates that she’s entirely unsuited to lead the Daughters,” Hester began without preamble.

  “Lack of self-control? Mother, she made a mistake. A stupid mistake that anyone her age could have made.”

  “Then why didn’t anyone else make it? Sincere Endicott is not with child.”

  “Sincere Endicott. Sometimes, I think you wish she were your granddaughter.”

  “She would certainly carry the Thorndike name better than our own Abigail.”

  “Mother!”

  “If Abby is going to lead our sisterhood, she needs to be an exemplar, and I’m afraid she does not qualify. You were wild in your youth and yet you never faltered in such a way.”

  “It’s a new generation…”

  “And what are we to tell Abigail’s future husband? His parents?”

  “I’m certain they would understand.”

  “Would they? When the heiress doesn’t even carry their blood, they might become nervous. And in any case, a marriage without a blood-linked sacrifice…” Hester didn’t continue that thought, but Constance could follow it easily. Abby would never be a full member of the Daughters if she wasn’t able to deliver the father of her daughter to Yidhra.

  “What then, mother? You just want to groom Sincere?”

  “She is the best choice we have. I think she’s a remarkable young woman.”

  “I don’t know, mother. She seemed frightened at her initiation.”

  “They all do. You were ready to jump out of your skin”

  “Abby is going to be stronger than I ever was. Maybe even you.”

  “How can you say that?”

  “She is learning what it means to lose everything and she has not yet given up. She goes to that school every single day, a school where she should be queen but is instead mocked and ridiculed. She has never been an outsider in her life and now she has that experience.”

  “Constance, one of the reasons we survive is that we are not outsiders. Can you imagine if the world ever took a close look in our direction?”

  “Yes, but Abby knows this. She understands what would be at stake if the Daughters were ever exposed.”

  Hester paused. Constance didn’t know what was happening. Had she actually made a point strong enough to make the old woman alter a decision?

  Finally, Hester said, “Then let Abigail prove it. We might still be able to salvage some kind of marriage for her, but that is for the future. We must show the others that the blood of the Iron Maiden has not run thin. And, if Abigail fails,” she did not say when, though Constance heard it, “we will allow Sincere to ascend in her place.”

  75

  Contact with the Enemy

  Bryce and Nate walked along the path that lead to the north end of Knowles Park, the same park where Bryce had been jumped by Eleazar and his friends just a few weeks ago. The park was not well-lit, but Bryce still walked with the invincible stroll of the entitled class. Nate, however, had grown up wary of shadows and dark corners. He remained on alert.

  Delilah had texted Bryce that she’d meet them at the Duckworth bench. Nate had sighed at that. The wealthy constituents of Arkham would not be satisfied until they had stamped their legacy across every public fixture in the city.

  The bench was in view and Nate could see someone sitting on it. He thought he remembered a light near the bench but he couldn’t recall. Bryce had spotted it as well. He started moving faster and Nate cursed under his breath. Something about this whole thing didn’t feel right and Bryce was diving in headfirst.

  Nate stared at the shape on the bench. It was not a petite shadow, but Delilah was not a petite girl and the angle of their approach provided little chance for the light to outline her signature curves. There was no reason to think anything was wrong but Nate felt a tingling itch on his neck and back. It was like when he’d snuck into Abby’s house on Halloween.

  As Bryce raised his hand and prepared to call out to Delilah, Nate grabbed his wrist. Bryce turned and looked down at him with a raised eyebrow. They might be something approaching friends but they hadn’t gotten to the point where Bryce was going to tolerate the “lawn boy” putting hands on him.

  Nate forced himself to make an apologetic face and then put a finger to his lips. Bryce yanked his arm back but complied. The two of them crept forward at an angle, trying to circle the bench. As they swung around to the side, he saw that it was indeed Delilah Cutter. Her head hung limply to the side.

  “Oh no,” Nate said and ran forward with Bryce on his heels. They reached the bench, stopping short when they got a clear look at her.

  She had been beaten. Her face was bruised and puffy. There was blood congealed around her nose and mouth. There were claw-like scratches on her neck and chest, and one of her eyes was completely swollen shut. Her arms were tied up behind her back.

  “Jesus Christ, Del…” Bryce stood over her helplessly. He sat down beside her to attack her ropes. “Give me a hand with her, Nate!”

  Nate didn’t move.
He was looking all around. Whoever had done this hadn’t gone far.

  “Goddammit, I said help me!”

  Delilah started coughing and awoke with a start and scream. Bryce let her freak out for a second before he shushed her. She settled as she finally saw him.

  “Bryce? Bryce… Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine, Del. Just fine. See? I’m right here with you.” He stroked her hair. “We’re going to get you help. We’re going to take care of you. But you need to tell me who did this to you.”

  Delilah shook her head. “It’s not me they were after. They were just mad I warned you.”

  A cold shiver ran through Nate. This wasn’t good. He kept scanning left and right. They needed to get out of here. Bryce pulled his cell out of his pocket. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m calling the cops, Nate; what the hell do you think?”

  Nate finally saw people coming up the path. They weren’t even trying to hide. “You can put the phone away, Bryce,” he said. “The cops are already here.” He placed himself between the bench and the approaching group. “Good evening, Chief Stone.”

  The tall, sandy-haired man was in full uniform. His wide shoulders were squared back and his face was shadowed by his hat. “Evening, son. Looks like you got yourself a bit of a problem.” The others following him came into view. Ophelia and Charity were at the head of the pack. They looked dressed for a party, not for a nighttime meeting in a park. Behind them, he saw the servants of families like the Thorndikes, the Endicotts, the Knowleses, the Cutters, the Duckworths…

  Nate gestured Bryce back as the other boy started to rise from the bench. He raised his hands slightly-not fully extended, just enough to show he wasn’t a threat. “No problem, Chief. Just helping out the lady here.”

  Chief Stone tipped his hat up with his finger. “Are you getting lippy with me, boy?”

  “No sir, wouldn’t think of it. My friend here is really hurt. She could use medical attention.”