Daughters of Arkham

by Justin Robinson

  Constance stood and raised a glass of diet cola, her one vice. “May I have your attention?” she asked the group. She already had it, of course. “Today, my Abigail is fifteen years old. In the tradition of our town, stretching back to our pilgrim ancestors who made this country what it is, fifteen has long been considered the time when a girl becomes a woman.”

  Hester nodded to herself. Abby could almost see the strings from her grandmother stretching to her mother. The tightness in her chest returned, and she knew whatever was coming was going to be horrible.

  “Our Abigail is now a woman. Unfortunately, she chose to take womanhood before it was offered. So…” Constance paused. A blur of emotions passed over her face. “So, as much as I would like to announce her initiation into the Daughters of Arkham, I cannot. Our society forbids any kind of moral failing. What are rules if they do not apply to all of those beneath our banner?”

  Constance turned toward her daughter. Abby saw nothing in her mother’s eyes. They were empty, vast, and green, like the sea. “Though it hurts my heart to say this, especially here on this happy day—Abigail Thorndike, your initiation into the Daughters of Arkham must be postponed… indefinitely.” She choked on a sob.

  “The Daughters have always stood as a paragon of fidelity and responsibility in Arkham,” Hester said from her seat. “And you have shown that you have neither. Perhaps you should have been more like your friend, Sincere.” Sindy flinched as all eyes turned to her.

  “She is the perfect image of who we are, what we stand for, and although the Endicott family might not have roots as deep as the Thorndikes, it is more than apparent that their branches stretch higher.” She turned to Sindy. “I’m so glad you joined us today, my dear. It is important that someone provide a good role model for our Abigail.”

  Nate, Bryce, and Sindy were all stunned. When Abby glanced at them, only Sindy recovered enough to mouth, I’m sorry.

  It wasn’t Sindy’s fault. It was this weird thing in her family, in the town. The Thorndikes were supposed to be perfect, and she had violated that unwritten contract.

  Abby wasn’t perfect. Not anymore.

  61

  The Coffin Concern

  ‘nate spent every spare moment in the public archives of the library. No more combing through old newspapers in the moldy basement in the hopes of some small clue, no more going in to the hills to talk to scary people (although Harrison Thaw did turn out to be a nice man). No, this project was all nice and public domain.

  Though Nate would deny it to himself, Abby’s birthday party had spurred him on. He probably would have done it, anyway, what with the strange link between his and Bryce’s ancestors, but the sight of Abby and Bryce together boiled Nate’s blood and made him sick to his stomach. The two of them had talked for a long time on the south lawn, right by the swing that Nate thought of as his and Abby’s place. He needed evidence that Bryce was just as bad as he always thought he was.

  He dug deep into the Coffin family history. The Thorndikes had built Arkham, but the Coffins were arguably as important these days. Their fortune had the stink of nouveau-riche about it—a concept Nate understood as rich people finding a way to look down on other rich people—because they didn’t bring it over with them on the Mayflower.

  The Coffins had money in everything. Most of their money was hard at work making more money, and very little of it was in anything tangible. Nate traced the origins of the fortune back as far as he could. The first thing the Coffins ever purchased was timber land in 1802. From there, they only expanded, though this seemed to be the result of savvy investment rather than anything sinister.

  It all came back to that first purchase. As near as Nate could tell, before Bryce Coffin shelled out a good deal of money for that land and mill, the Coffins had nothing. Then, the purchase of the land set off a snowball effect. Pretty soon, the Coffins were buying Texas and California oil fields, newspapers in New York and Boston, and a shipping company in Charleston.

  1802… Less than a year after Josiah Baxter, Luther Hobbes, and Israel Thaw were hanged on the town commons for setting the Great Arkham Fire. From everything Nate had found in Thaw’s journal, if those three were up to anything, they were doing it with Bryce Coffin as well. Only Coffin didn’t hang.

  Coffin didn’t hang and one year later, he spent more money than the four men could have possibly earned in their combined lifetimes.

  And then Nate saw it. It was right there in front of him the whole time. Coffin had sold his friends out for his thirty pieces of silver, and he had turned that into the vast Coffin fortune.

  After that, Coffin’s star continued to rise. He married Olive Chesterfield, an important society lady. It took Nate the barest of research to confirm that, yes, Olive had been a Daughter of Arkham. Coffin had died only a year later, so at least he didn’t get to enjoy his betrayal for long. He lived long enough to start his family line, though, a line that stretched all the way to Bryce Quincy Coffin IV.

  Nate leaned back, rubbing his strained eyes. Bryce’s family had built their lives by betraying Nate’s family. He knew it was irrational, but this made him hate Bryce all the more. It was like learning they belonged to two sides of an ancient feud, like the Hatfields and McCoys, only one side hadn’t realized they were fighting.

  They had, in fact, already lost.

  62

  Welcome to the Daughters

  of Arkham

  ‘sindy’s fifteenth birthday came and went. Her party was large and well-attended, and like any good society girl, all were invited. She was shocked when Nate arrived, and even more surprised when his gift turned out to be thoughtful—a set of homemade magnetic backs for her earrings. She was always losing the ones that came with the earrings, and because of that, often the earrings themselves.

  Eleazar showed up, too, and showered her with gifts. Though she still couldn’t see past his mask, that one glimpse was enough for her. She couldn’t even bear to touch him.

  The party was just a prelude to her initiation. Her mother got her up early, and sent Ophelia Thomas and Charity Duckworth to help her with her dress, makeup, and hair. It seemed like everyone wanted her to look her best.

  While Sindy had expected formal attire, the sort she suspected other people wore to church, the outfit she was given surprised her. It was a nice dress, certainly—long and flowing and embroidered with flowers—but it looked more like the kind of thing a hippie might wear. Ophelia and Charity curled her hair and styled it so that it fell over her shoulders in glossy black waves. It was a strange combination of patrician elegance and new age earthiness. Charity and Ophelia both made themselves up in a similar style when they’d finished with Sindy.

  “What’s going to happen?” Sindy asked.

  Charity grinned and shot a conspiratorial look at Ophelia. “You’ll see.”

  “This is weird.”

  “Trust me, you’ll like it. And when it’s over, we’ll be sisters.”

  Charity smiled. Sindy squirmed in her chair, not liking the chill that word gave her. She tolerated Charity because of her social status, but Abby was her sister.

  They brought her downstairs where her mother was waiting. Faith Endicott’s dress was a bit more conservative, and in that, Sindy saw the difference in the generations of Daughters.

  “Are you ready, my dear?” Faith asked.

  “As I’m ever going to be.”

  “Good.”

  All of them piled into the family’s limousine and headed up toward Harwich Hall. Sindy had been expecting this. It felt like a betrayal. Abby should have already been inducted. Now she was going to her best friend’s house to steal her birthright away.

  She wondered if Abby was home. If she was, she would probably be able to hear the initiation from her room. On any normal day, Abby wouldn’t have heard anything, but indignity had a way of sharpening the senses.

  Just one more thing to apologize for. She hated doing this without Abby, but she felt that once she was on the inside
, she could figure out why Constance was the one paying her fake father. Who knew what else Constance was up to? The woman had no problem lying or shaming her own daughter in public. Maybe Constance is making a move to take over the Daughters, Sindy thought. Hester wasn’t getting any younger and she was obviously worried about her daughter’s ambitions…

  The car went through the open gate to join many others already parked. There was an open space at the front door for the Endicott limo. Guest of honor, Sindy thought, and allowed herself a smile. She got out, and the five of them—Sindy, her mother, Ophelia, Charity, and their servant Abelard—went into the front hall.

  Hester, Constance, and several other Daughters were already waiting there. Their smiles grew larger as they saw Sindy, and their eyes warmed with an uncanny, fey light. Their pleasure at seeing her seemed undercut with something more predatory.

  “Sincere, it is a joy to see you on this, the day of your initiation into our sisterhood,” Constance said. Sindy was not surprised that Constance managed to look even more radiant than usual. She was the kind of woman who habitually outshone brides.

  “I’m looking forward to it,” Sindy said.

  The group migrated to the lounge, where more women and servants were waiting for them. Abelard went to join Bertram and Bryce’s guy, Harcourt. It seemed all of the servants were being assimilated into the Harwich staff for the event.

  More guests arrived, as well, and before long, Corinne Blackwell arrived, too. Sindy hadn’t seen Corinne since the night of the carnival. She was extremely pregnant and looked ready to burst at any moment. She was glowing, though. Everyone greeted her with as much enthusiasm as they’d greeted Sindy.

  When Corinne saw Sindy, she came over, practically waddling. She was huge under her white gown. Her belly looked like a steamed bun. She took Sindy’s hands and said, “Can you believe it? Here already.”

  “What’s going on? I thought you were already a member?”

  “Oh, it’s not my initiation. There are always two guests of honor, Sindy. It’s the spirit of sisterhood. We’re more powerful as a group.”

  “Oh. So what are you doing?”

  “You’ll see. The fun part is that now, I’m your older sister. Kind of like a godmother, really. This initiation binds the two of us together, and I can’t express how happy that makes me.”

  Sindy fought the urge to recoil. It wasn’t the tone that creeped her out; it was the instant acceptance. “What does that mean?”

  “Anything you want it to. Need some advice? A ride home? Whatever. I’m always there for you.”

  “That doesn’t sound so bad.”

  “Thanks, Sindy. You have real confidence in me.”

  Sindy couldn’t help but smile at that revelation of honest humanity. “Sorry, sorry. It’s just… I don’t know what to think yet.”

  The reception continued until the room was nearly full. Sindy saw all the Daughters she knew, except for those who had left for college. There were the blue hairs, the society women, the debutantes, all the way down to her. She was the youngest person in the room, and the only one who wasn’t technically a member.

  Constance’s teeth flashed in an incandescent smile. “Everyone, I would like to toast our guests of honor, Sincere Endicott, who will take her place in our ranks today, and Corinne Blackwell, who will be elevated to full membership.”

  There was a murmur. Someone pressed a glass of red wine into her hand. Sindy looked to her mother, but Faith just nodded and raised a toast toward her daughter and Corinne. The rest of the room joined in. Sindy took a gulp of the sweet wine and found the world already wobbly around her. She had a warm feeling as Corinne took her by the elbow and moved her along with the stream of people. Sindy barely thought about where they were going.

  In all the years she had been friends with Abby, Sindy could not recall ever being in the kitchen. She only had a moment to consider this before she was led into a door by the pantry and then into the basement. She couldn’t imagine what sort of celebration could be held in a cellar, but she decided to withhold judgment until she’d seen it. Maybe it was actually an underground meeting hall.

  The basement was very clean, but the way the column of people was moving, they seemed to just be passing through. It wasn’t until a moment later that she saw the secret door. Later, she would realize how weird this was, but at the time, she shrugged and thought, Of course, a secret door! One of the most important parts of a cellar, really.

  The door led into a long tunnel lit by torches. It looked like a passage in a medieval dungeon. Sindy felt no fear. In this story, she was the princess and anyone in the dungeon was there to ensure her pleasure and safety. The tunnel slithered outward for a long time until finally Sindy could see daylight. She glanced at Corinne, who gave her a sunny smile, and she felt a closeness to her new godmother, or whatever the term was. Corinne gripped her tighter and they emerged into the woods.

  The woods felt dead. Even the trees were craggy and leafless, forming a cordon around the bare dirt path. The trees farther out, evergreens mostly, were green and alive, but it was a muted, drab form of life. The air was still, and the only sounds she could hear came from footsteps and the sibilant hiss of the wind. Sindy got her first glimpse of the entire column of people: all elegant, gowned Daughters except for a few servants at the front of the line

  The pathway dipped down, and then emerged from the thickest trees on an incline. They all filed toward a building that took Sindy a moment to identify as a colonial church. It looked really old. A tree had obliterated one of the walls.

  Bertram and Abelard opened up the doors, and Sindy expected to see leaves and dust rain down from the ceiling. It didn’t happen. The hinges didn’t even squeak or groan, like three-hundred-year-old hinges should’ve.

  Her dream-like state had only deepened. The tunnel had passed them from the real world of Harwich Hall to these skeletal woods, and then here, to this church that might as well have been a witch’s cottage. She filed up the stairs with the rest, still guided by Corinne. Though the other woman was very pregnant, Sindy was the one using her for support. Corinne was more than up to the task.

  There were no pews inside the church. Instead, there was a long table which stretched the length of the room. It was surrounded by ornate chairs. Sindy once again thought of some medieval ceremony, like a feast. Fitting, then, that on the dais there was a smaller table with five more chairs. The altar had been moved to the front of the tables, and Sindy could not imagine what purpose that would serve.

  There were servants waiting for them there. She recognized some of the men, though she could not have named them. She saw the Cutters’ man, the Duckworths’ man, and so on and so forth.

  “Come on. We get the position of honor,” Corinne said.

  Sindy only managed a shell-shocked, “Oh,” and allowed herself to be led up to the dais. Hester took the middle chair, with Sindy on her left and Corinne on her right. Corinne’s mother sat next to her daughter, while the other chair next to Sindy remained empty. The rest of the Daughters of Arkham came and took seats around the table, including Constance Thorndike. Sindy was surprised that there wasn’t a place for her at the table of honor.

  When they were finished, Hester stood. Later, Sindy would realize that she moved more effortlessly than she usually did, though at the time, it seemed natural. They were all more powerful in this place of strength. Though Hester took more care in standing than a younger woman, it was not with the exaggerated frailty Sindy had seen at Abby’s birthday party.

  “Welcome, Daughters of Arkham. It is with a happy heart that I convene our Sisterhood today. First, we require someone to sponsor our newest member, Miss Sincere Endicott. I could not have hoped for a better person, one of sterling moral character and deep love for young Sincere.”

  Constance started to rise from her seat.

  Hester continued, “Faith Endicott, would you please join us?”

  Faith popped up in her seat, her face a mask of excit
ed disbelief. Constance’s smile froze on her face. She sat down slowly as Faith joined Sindy at the table. She glowed with pride.

  Hester raised her hands, calling for silence. All eyes were fixed on the old woman. She gathered her breath and closed her eyes. Sindy saw a shimmer of… something… ripple through Hester’s body. Hester opened her mouth and a stream of dark and alien words tumbled forth. The sounds tickled at strange and ancient parts of Sindy’s brain. The world started to spin.

  “Yidhra is here with us,” Hester said.

  As the strange word was spoken, Sindy felt a spasm in her chest. It sent a chilly, blue fire up and down her limbs, chasing the shivers left in their wake.

  “She is pleased with our new members. Can you feel her?”

  There was a murmur of assent, and Sindy wanted to dismiss it, but she did feel something. The chills had stayed, and she wanted to squirm in her seat, but something held her fast. Something bigger and altogether more powerful. A powerful scent, one that smelled vaguely of the scotch Eleazar’s father liked to drink, drifted through the church. She tasted burnt cinnamon toast on her tongue.

  “Sincere Endicott, do you swear to live by the laws of the Daughters of Arkham? To embrace all those under Yidhra as your sisters? To place your faith in this sisterhood?”

  “Yes.” Sindy could not have said anything else. Her mind was split in two. Half of her was lulled into passivity, and the other half was bound up in the words, finding truths she could not comprehend if she were lucid.

  Hester kept speaking, and Sindy only caught bits of it here and there. The words seemed to matter less than the effect they produced; this sense of ecstatic power. Sindy had never been to a church before, but she had seen the evangelists in videos and their spontaneous fits of thrashing and tongues. She thought she felt what they did, though she had the sense that what she was experiencing was far more intense.