The Association

by A. K. Caggiano

  “Thank you.” He looked around as if admiring the room for the first time. “Much of it has been in the family for decades. The shelves were reclaimed from the original Proctor manor.”

  “Wow.” Ivy wasn’t sure what that meant, but she understood she should be impressed. “Fancy.”

  “Indeed. So Ms. Hakim sent you?”

  “Right.” Ivy pulled her laptop out and opened it on her knees. “She just wants me to get your platform for presidency, in your own words, so she can send out a mass email to everyone with the candidates by the weekend.”

  “Oh, that’s simple.” He took a small sip from his glass, the ice tinkling in the quiet of the room. “Good, old-fashioned fortitude, of course. A return to the greatness our people once were, a bolstering of our spirits, and our power.”

  Ivy wasn’t particularly sure it was all that simple, and she tilted her head to the side. “And how exactly do you mean to…bolster the greatness?”

  “I think what Avalon Estates has been missing is firm leadership. We have to make sure our children and their children remember what it is to be who they are, and I think we’re getting further away from that. We hide so much that we’re forgetting to teach them what they’re capable of.”

  Ivy typed up what he said, biting her lip. “Firm leadership,” she repeated. “And you feel Avalon’s been lacking that the last…twenty or so years?”

  “It’s been abysmal,” Alastair said plainly, dropping his head down so that he looked at her from under his blond brow.

  “Not a huge fan of the previous administration?”

  “Well, I’ve been on it,” he scoffed. “And I’ve done my best, but it’s difficult when you’re surrounded by so much riff raff.”

  Ivy cocked an eyebrow, waiting for him to go on.

  “You know there’s a cure? Well, not a cure so much, but a way to suppress it, the change.”

  Now she was really confused. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  “In the lycans. My wife, it was her pet project, and now she’s got a serum that can stop them becoming beasts every month.”

  “Oh.” Ivy inched to the edge of her seat, leaning in. “You mean, like, a magic potion?”

  Alastair nodded, pleased. “You could call it that. Stops the change, but it comes with its downsides, about a week of poor coordination and lethargy. Rufus was hellbent against it.”

  Ivy sat back. So Rufus couldn’t handle a week of discomfort every month. She rolled her eyes.

  “But if you don’t hold all the power, there’s only so much you can do.”

  Ivy’s thoughts wandered to the orb. “Does the president hold more power than the rest of the board?” She tried to inject innocence into her voice, smiling sweetly at him.

  “One could say that.” Alastair was smirking as he took another sip. “Tell me, Ms. Sylvan, how did you come to be Ms. Hakim’s assistant so quickly?”

  Ivy took a big gulp of water, her mind working overtime. “Well, I was right there when it happened. No, not when it happened, but when we found him, and she was really distraught, and I said I could help her, so I am. It’s not permanent or anything.”

  “Right.” He took another careful sip, his eyes flicking away from her. “How was it, when you found him?”

  She watched him put the glass up to his lips again. “It was…awful.” Ivy had tried to not think about it, but it suddenly hit her at once. “I’ve never seen anybody dead before.”

  “Did he…did he look like he suffered?” The question was so simple. Alastair held his glass beside his face but didn’t move to take a drink. Now he just stared at her, intensely.

  “No.” She blinked, seeing Rufus in her mind’s eye slouched on the toilet as if just passed out. Alastair raised his brows then let out a quick sigh and threw back the rest of his drink. “I don’t actually know though. How he died, I mean. Everyone says a heart attack, but they’re just assuming.”

  “Powerful thing, assumption. If it gets around fast enough, the truth doesn’t matter because everybody already has something to believe.”

  Ivy widened her eyes, then tried to compose herself. “I guess, but I think the jury’s still out on what happened. I mean, he was really healthy according to everybody.”

  “Sometimes even the smallest vices can destroy all of our virtues, Ms. Sylvan.” He placed his glass on the table between them, leaning forward. “Now, do you have any other questions for me, or should I let you go?”

  “I think that’s it.” She snapped her laptop shut and put it away as she stood, thanking him for his time. As he showed her to the front hall, there were voices coming from the back of the house that made them pause.

  “Well, honey, you knew they were there!”

  “And I thought they knew I was there too! Why’d they have to build the hive so low?”

  From the back door, two figures had entered, one significantly taller than the other. “Darling,” a cool, feminine voice spoke, “it’s hanging from an eave, it’s not exactly low.”

  As her eyes adjusted to the light, the figures revealed themselves to be the two from the memorial, the man she’d seen now twice, and the blonde woman who had been doting on him. When the woman noticed her, she gave a little gasp. “Oh, I didn’t know we had company!” She removed her straw hat and gardening gloves and brushed a bit of dirt off her over-sized shirt. “Come in, come in!” Her gesture was big for such a little woman, and Ivy felt compelled.

  The man’s eyes grew a little wider when they fell on Ivy. He was covered in soil up to his elbows, and his white shirt clung to his chest with sweat just like when he’d been jogging, a look he wore well. He was frozen for a moment, then he gave her a wave with the hand that had been covering half his face, revealing a massive bump, bright red and angry and growing by the second on his upper lip.

  Ivy’s mouth dropped open when she saw it, but he turned quickly and walked away.

  “Well, our guest was just leaving, but—” Alastair guided Ivy deeper into the house toward the kitchen where the woman was touching her hair to make sure it wasn’t sticking out from her low bun. “This is my wife, Mae Proctor. Mae, our newest resident, Ivy Sylvan.”

  “Ah, of course.” Mae threw her hands out and enveloped the girl in a hug. “Welcome to Avalon Estates, dear.” She gripped Ivy’s shoulders and held onto her. “Terrible timing, I suppose, but welcome nonetheless.” Again, she pulled her into a hug, and Ivy scrambled to return it. Over the woman’s shoulder, she could see the younger man had thrown open a hutch, the cabinets filled with all sorts of containers.

  “And my son.” Alastair jerked his head toward the man. “Hunter.”

  Mae had released Ivy, and she caught her breath again. Hunter turned and tried to smile at her, but the swelling on his face had all but paralyzed the right half, growing rapidly in just a few seconds. “Sowwy,” he sputtered. “I’m a widdle pweocupied.”

  “Oh, that’s right!” Mae hurried over to the cabinet and reached into the back of it, pulling out a little, blue jar. “Here you go, dear.”

  “Tanks.” He took it and rushed out of the room. On his way out he bumped into the side of the door frame, swearing under his breath.

  “Darling, language!” Mae hissed, then turned back to Ivy. “So, how are you liking the community, dear?”

  “Oh, it’s great.” She bit her lip to keep from laughing but still smiled. “It’s really beautiful, and everyone is…so nice.”

  “It’s just too bad the circumstances aren’t better.” Mae’s face dropped, and then she huffed. “But I suppose that’s how life goes. And oh, you poor thing, you…you found him, didn’t you?”

  “With Safiya and Oakley,” Ivy was quick to add, then glanced at Alastair who had an eyebrow raised. “It was very sad. They say it was his heart.”

  “Oh, his heart.” Mae huffed again, balling up her small fists and placing them on her hips. “Well, who knew he had such a thing. So you mean to say it didn’t look…intentional?”

 
Ivy blinked back at her.

  “I think Ms. Sylvan has work to get back to.” Alastair put a hand into the small of her back, and she felt herself stiffen under it.

  Mae rolled her eyes. “I just mean, you know, foul play. Did it appear someone might have done him in? He was just so healthy, and—”

  “That’s enough.” Alastair cut the air with his hand. “The poor girl is probably traumatized. In fact, we have something for that, don’t we?”

  “Yes!” Mae’s face lit up again, and she bustled over to the hutch once more, tittering to herself until she pulled out an unmarked jar. “Here.” She pressed it into Ivy’s hands. “If you have trouble sleeping just a little of that under your nose, and you’ll be off to lalaland!” With a giggle, she clasped her hands together.

  “Oh, well, thank you.” Ivy found her voice again and looked down at the container. The cap was clear, and she could see inside the liquid was thick and iridescent.

  “Now, we’ll finally let you be on your way.” Alastair gave her a little push, and she headed back for the front door.

  “It was nice meeting you!” Ivy waved at Mae over her shoulder as she was led out.

  “You too, sweetheart!”

  As they went to the door, she heard another voice, mumbling a garbled “goo-bye” from deeper in the house.

  “Are you better, dear?” Mae’s voice called out to him. “I still need help propagating the nifolia after it got munched up by those pests. Probably those damn chickens.”

  Out on the front porch, Alastair finally released her, but pulled the door to behind him. “My wife,” he sighed, “is excitable.”

  “Oh, I think she’s really nice,” Ivy said, gripping the small jar.

  “Indeed, she is,” he thought a moment, then looked at her intensely again. “But she’s not a fool by any means.”

  “Oh, I didn’t—”

  “If she thinks someone murdered Rufus Vlcek—” He snorted, and a sound from the road cut him off. Tharman Beryleaxe’s beast of a truck rumbled up the road, and the two watched it speed past. “Well, that might be your man. Or half of one, at least.”

  Chapter 10

  Ivy made it back to the clubhouse by late afternoon, annoyed with herself for underestimating the size of the grounds and leaving her car at home. She walked into the fanciful main room with more aplomb than the times before and looked around the cleared space for Safiya. The tables were pushed back against the wall and the chairs had been removed, though Rufus’s photo was still smiling back from the far side of the room. It wouldn’t do to shove it into a closet, not this soon anyway.

  Ivy strode to the hall off the back and peeked into the offices there, but they were all empty. She took off her bag with the laptop and put it on Safiya’s desk. The place was neat, but well-used with a clearly-marked in and out box and office supplies all set perpendicular to one another. Ivy leaned over it to look at the cork board on the wall. Safiya’s handwriting was precise, boxy and unmistakable, the markings for meetings and deadlines all over a smart calendar tacked up there, though a square a few days in the future stuck out. She’d tried to whiteout whatever was written there, but it was rigid and shadowy in contrast to the others.

  As Ivy leaned closer to try and make out the covered words, she slipped, bumping into the desk. The stationery and office supplies all rolled to the side, and Ivy gasped, but then jumped back when everything righted itself and slid back into its previous place as if she’d never knocked into it at all. With a careful hand, she poked at the stapler, setting it off at an angle, and like it was magnetized it snapped back into place. “If this is what they’re using magic for, maybe there’s nothing to worry about,” she mumbled to herself, turning back to the door.

  She heard a sound then, quiet and soothing, but odd. It was like a song, but not clear enough to be coming from the main room. She went out into the hall, following the sound to the stairs and then headed to the second floor. Up on the landing, she saw Safiya standing in the middle of the hall. “Hey, Saf,” she called, but the woman didn’t turn away from the wall.

  The sound was clearer here, vocal, choral music, perhaps operatic as Ivy couldn’t make out the language of the words. She walked toward an unmoving Safiya, noticing she was faced toward a door that was slightly ajar. Her face was slack, and her arms hung limply at her sides.

  “Safiya?” Ivy crept up beside her, but the woman didn’t budge. “Hey, are you okay?”

  The music was loudest here, and Ivy peeked in through the crack in the door to see three young women standing in a half circle, their eyes trained on pages that they held, singing. In the center, Victoria Jiang was conducting them.

  Ivy looked back at Safiya, still glued to the spot. She pulled the door shut, blocking out the sound, and finally waved a hand right in front of the witch’s face. “Yoohoo, anybody home?”

  Safiya jolted to life, staggering backward. “Oh, hey, what’s…how’d you do that?”

  “Do what?”

  “You were…I was…” Safiya shook her head and squeezed the bridge of her thin nose. “Man, I gotta get some sleep. How’d it go?”

  “Uh, great?” Ivy glanced back at the door, but Safiya was already walking toward the stairs, beckoning her to follow. “I got statements from both of them about their platforms, and—”

  “I can get all that from an email.” Safiya dropped her voice low as she descended. “That’s not really why I sent you out.”

  Ivy sighed, assuming as much. It didn’t seem efficient to visit everyone, but then again for all she knew there was some obscure rule in their enchanted documentation that said one’s statement had to be made orally or else their tongue would be eaten by dragons. “Honestly, they both said some damning things.”

  “Tell me everything.” Safiya pulled her into her office and shut the door.

  Ivy recanted how Calla and Alastair had both been unhappy with Rufus’s president-ing, which apparently wasn’t new information, but Calla had come across as distinctly homicidal, and Alastair seemed to hate lycans in general and Rufus in particular.

  “Sure, sure.” Safiya paced behind her desk as Ivy fidgeted by the door. “Calla can be a bit ominous.”

  “I don’t…I don’t think she did it, though.” Ivy rubbed her temple. “She was just so cavalier about the whole thing.”

  Safiya raised a brow.

  “But Alastair really made it seem like lycans are…bad?” Ivy shrugged, unsure how to explain. “Like inherently.”

  “Well, they sure can be assholes,” Safiya said with grit teeth, but then she shook her head. “No, that’s not fair. It’s just, you know how it is with witches and lycans.”

  “No,”—she shook her head—“I don’t.”

  “Oh. Right. Well, witches and lycans—some witches and lycans—they just don’t get along. Technically lycanism is a curse, I guess, put on them by witches thousands of years ago or whatever.” She said it so nonchalantly that Ivy didn’t even feel she could question it, but the statement sounded like it were a much bigger deal. “And there was that time witches could sort of, like, control lycans, use them to do their bidding, promised to free them if they did as they were asked and then reneged, you know that kind of nonsense.”

  “You mean they were slaves?” She was aghast.

  “Things have changed a lot since then,” she said quickly then deflated a bit. “But some attitudes are still pretty archaic.” Safiya took a long breath. “There’s a lot of bad blood there, and sometimes despite our best efforts to bridge gaps we still fail. Trust me, if anyone wishes things were different…” She gnawed on her nail, her eyes looking off at the pin board.

  Ivy stepped closer to the desk, her gaze falling over the supplies in their straight lines. “That short guy, Mr. Beryleaxe, he said the Vlceks are cursed.”

  “It’s all a curse,” said Safiya, her voice like a ghost passing down a forgotten corridor. “And then there’s also the whole losing-control-on-the-full-moon thing.”

&nbs
p; Ivy blinked. If she remembered correctly, the moon had been full just a day or two before she arrived in Avalon Estates.

  Safiya dipped her head down. “Every lunar cycle, we stay locked up from sundown to sunup because that’s when the lycans just kind of…go feral. It’s part of why we have the big fence: it protects us from the outside world, but also the outside world from us. It’s in the charter which, I’m assuming, you never actually did read.”

  Ivy scratched her nose. “It’s sort of long,” she mumbled.

  “And your brother, guess he’s been lucky these last couple times and stayed inside. You really are safe indoors, all the buildings within the grounds are enchanted, and the lycans really just want to run through the forest, howl at each other, and hunt whatever’s out there. As long as what’s out there isn’t us, it’s perfectly safe.”

  Ivy looked past her and to the back wall of the office. There was a filing cabinet there with a little felted Halloween decoration on top, a wolf wearing an orange and purple flannel shirt, its face cutesy and not at all menacing despite the fangs. Perfectly safe, Safiya said with all the assurance of a zookeeper tapping on the cracked glass to a tiger exhibit.

  “Anyway, who do you think did it?”

  Ivy widened her eyes. “Who do I think murdered Rufus? I just…don’t think we have enough information yet.”

  “I’m glad you agree.” Safiya leaned over the desk, splaying her hands out on it. “Listen, I have a plan, but you’re not going to like it.”

  “Oh, geez.”

  “The funeral is going to be tomorrow night—”

  “Already?”

  “They’re set on heart attack. It’s like the Vlceks want to bury him as soon as possible.”

  The way Evan smirked during his memorial speech popped into her brain. “Maybe they do?”

  Safiya pointed at her. “Now you’re thinking. So, the funeral will be at Avalon Estates Cemetery—”

  “Of course you people have your own cemetery.”