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.
H
er 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 excited 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.
Hester’s words changed into something else. It didn’t seem like the old woman was still speaking English, but Sindy felt she still understood her. It was an invocation to this entity, Yidhra; some request that she watch over these two women as they took steps on their journey to understanding.
Darkness fell over the room. Sindy found she could not look up. She didn’t remember seeing any clouds in the sky. She was confident that whatever was blocking out the sun was not a cloud.
Flames sprung to life on the candles decorating the tables and the candelabras around the room.
Hester continued to speak, and Sindy felt the blue fire inside of her growing in power. Her entire body was a single, uncontrollable shiver, locked in on itself and paralyzed.
The presence wasn’t just out there anymore. It was in the room with them. The stench grew stronger. She imagined a pulsing lake, teeming with life just beneath the surface of its glassy waters.
Sindy felt herself going away. She was there, in her mind, but her body was not entirely her own. She felt a strong link with everyone around her: her mother, Corinne, Hester, and everyone in the church. It was as though they had as much say over her physical self as she did. If she moved, it would be because the group had determined that it be so.
The room was darker than before. The candles still blazed, and there were circles of gold throughout. A dark mist twined through the people and the lights. When Sindy tried to look directly at it, it faded away, only to collect at the periphery of her vision.
“…and bring forth the sacrifice.” Sindy could almost swear those were the first words in English that had been spoken in some time, but there was a strange accent to the words, an inflection not entirely human. Hester Thorndike did not sound quite like herself.
None of us are, she thought. Though she’d meant it as a joke, she could not even laugh on the inside. It was too true, and far too frightening. What had she found here?
Who were the Daughters of Arkham?
The servants brought in Drew Marks, Corinne’s husband and the father of her unborn child. Drew was naked and tied to a stretcher. His body was covered in red paint-no, not paint, but blood from tiny cuts in his skin. They were runes. Though Sindy had never seen the runes before, she understood their meaning.
Drew was made sacred by them.
The scent of his blood was alive in her nostrils. It reawakened the taste of the wine on her tongue. She licked her lips at the memory and then nearly staggered as she realized what was in the sweet red wine she drank earlier.
Blood.
Drew’s blood.
The manservants set Drew on the altar. He was weak, but still screaming, begging to be let go. Sindy might have felt pity or concern at another time, but she was lost in the labyrinth of her own mind. She could not have done anything because none of the other Daughters-her sisters now-were doing anything.
Hester rose once again, producing a silver dagger from her gown. She moved to the altar. Sindy could see that yes, the old woman’s movements were smoother now. There was no hint of the arthritis that dogged her before. She circled Drew, and calling upon Yidhra, plunged the dagger into his heart.
Sindy could swear she felt an unearthly sigh of approval.
Abelard and the other servants picked the stretcher up again and moved to the table in front of Corinne. Sindy felt her stomach groan, and she wanted to close her eyes. The scream continued to build, but Sindy knew it wasn’t a scream. This was what madness felt like. She was positive that each woman in that room knew exactly how she felt, and when it came for them, they had allowed it in.
Sindy fought it, even as she knew it was a losing battle.
She heard a hissing sound, and then it was nearly free. Her brain should have cracked in half at what she was seeing. Corinne, only two seats away, was staring down at her dead husband, but it was not Corinne. There was something in her, around her, thro
ugh her. The dark mist that had been circulating in the room had found a home, and that home was Corinne Blackwell. Sindy could still see Corinne inside, but was not sure if she was controlling the mist or it was controlling her.
And then Sindy made out the shape.
She had been looking too close. It was like trying to make out a mountainside from the shape of a single stone. Somehow, this massive shape fit into the church, despite being much, much larger. It was a paradox, but Sindy’s senses beheld it, and tried to transmit the gibbering information to her brain. She saw a serpent, though she knew this was only the barest slice of what her mind could perceive. It was the closest thing, though she knew it was akin to calling a human a mealworm.
She watched as Corinne’s mouth opened, and it kept opening, far larger than a human’s ever could. She was unhinging her jaw in a silent scream, and her eyes were alight with that terrible madness. She put her mouth over her husband’s head and began to swallow.
Inch by inch, Drew was consumed.
Corinne threw back her head and screamed, and the shadow around her flexed and moved with sinuous grace, its hunger satiated. The serpent’s mouth opened and spoke to them in a voice crusted with dying stars:
“Above all else…”
“Sisterhood!” The roar from the collected women shook the very foundation of the old church. At that moment, Sindy knew that Faith Endicott had done this to Sindy’s father, and that Sindy, herself, as a baby in the womb, had engaged in this terrible act.
The scream grew in pitch. Soon all Sindy could see was the blessed darkness of sleep.
63
Rest for the Wicked
Drew’s funeral was on the following Tuesday afternoon. All of Arkham turned out for it. Sindy watched them lower the casket into the hole and found that the scream had returned. The pantomime all around her called it back, and she felt it simmering in her throat, threatening to draw her into the madness of her sisters.
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