Chapter 3: The Neighborhood BBQ
The BBQ Setup
Claire stood in front of her closet, staring at the rows of practical, slightly wrinkled clothing that made her feel like it screamed "I was very hot ten years ago." Dammit, she was hot, or had thought so until she moved into this nightmare freak show of a neighborhood. She examined her perky breasts in the dressing mirror, then sighed, pulling out a sundress she hadn’t worn since Ethan was in diapers. It was a little snug around her tits, but it would have to do. She wasn’t dressing for Evelyn Whitmore, anyway. She avoided thinking about who, exactly, she was dressing for.
From the bathroom, she could hear David humming. He was in an unusually good mood, which only made Claire more suspicious. Lately, he’d been acting like a golden retriever who’d just been told he was a "good boy" by someone other than his owner.
“I still don’t see why we have to go,” Claire called out, tugging at the dress’s zipper. “I don’t even like BBQs. Or Evelyn. Or people.”
David appeared in the doorway, freshly shaved and annoyingly handsome in his button-down shirt.
“It’s not about liking BBQs, Claire. It’s about being part of the community. You know, making connections.”
Claire raised an eyebrow. “Connections? With people who think lawn maintenance is a personality trait? The people who left a dead bat in our yard?”
David laughed, stepping behind her to help with the zipper. “I’m sure they didn’t leave the bat, it probably died flying over.” His hands lingered on her waist, and for a moment, Claire felt a flicker of something she hadn’t felt in a while. She bent slightly backward, her butt brushing against his crotch. But then she remembered Evelyn’s perfectly manicured smile and the way she’d touched David’s arm on their lawn, and the flicker turned into a spark of irritation. She pulled away.
“Come on,” David said, his voice softening. “I know you’re not thrilled about this, but it’s important to me. I feel like we’ve been… I don’t know, drifting lately. Maybe this could be a chance to, you know, reconnect.”
Claire turned to face him, searching his eyes for sincerity. He looked earnest, almost boyish, and for a moment, she felt a pang of guilt. Maybe she’d been too hard on him. Maybe this BBQ wasn’t just about Evelyn or the HOA or the Stepford Wives vibe of the neighborhood. Maybe it was about them.
“Fine,” she said, grabbing her sandals. “But if Evelyn starts talking about hedge-trimming techniques, I’m leaving.”
David grinned, leaning down to kiss her cheek. “Deal.”
The smell of grilled meat hit Claire like a wall as they stepped into Evelyn’s backyard. It was the kind of smell that should have been comforting, but here it felt oppressive.
Evelyn was waiting for them at the gate, her smile as bright and fake as her cleavage. She was wearing a cream-colored sundress that clung to her in a way that made Claire feel both underdressed and vaguely homicidal.
“David! Claire!” Evelyn’s voice was syrupy sweet, but Claire caught the way her eyes flicked to David first, lingering just a second too long. “I’m so glad you could make it.”
“Thanks for inviting us,” David said, his tone a little too enthusiastic for Claire’s liking. He was already leaning in, shaking Evelyn’s hand like she was a long-lost friend instead of the woman who had probably written the HOA’s 47-page guide to acceptable mailbox colors.
Claire forced a smile, her grip tightening on David’s arm. “We wouldn’t miss it.”
Evelyn’s gaze shifted to Claire, her smile sharpening. “I just love that dress. So… retro.”
“Thanks,” Claire said, her voice flat. “I found it in the back of my closet. Next to my will to live.”
Evelyn blinked. David coughed, trying to cover a laugh, and Claire felt a surge of joy at her small victory.
“Well,” Evelyn said, recovering quickly. “Let me introduce you to more of the neighbors. Everyone’s dying to get to know you better.”
As Evelyn led them into the backyard, Claire couldn’t help but notice how perfect everything was. The lawn was a uniform shade of green, the patio furniture was arranged with military precision, and even the burgers on the grill seemed to be cooking in precision. It was the kind of perfection that made her skin crawl.
“Is it just me,” Claire whispered to David, “or does this feel like the opening scene of a horror movie?”
David’s Reflection
David stood by the grill at Evelyn’s BBQ, holding a beer he didn’t really want and staring out at the perfectly manicured lawn. The smell of burgers and hot dogs filled the air, but all he could think about was the HOA meeting two nights ago; his anniversary. The meeting that had started out with bylaws and landscaping tips and ended with Evelyn Whitmore’s hand sliding up his thigh under the table.
It had been his first time attending one of the infamous “Special Committee” meetings. He’d been flattered when Evelyn invited him, her hand lingering on his arm as she whispered, “We could use someone like you, David. Someone with vision.” At the time, he’d thought she meant his marketing background or his ability to bullshit his way through a PowerPoint presentation. But now, standing here, he realized she’d meant something else entirely.
The meeting had started innocently enough. Or as innocently as anything in Cedar Lane could. Evelyn had called it to order with a sharp clap of her hands, her red blouse unbuttoned just enough to make it hard for David to concentrate. She’d handed out agendas printed on thick, expensive paper, and the first half hour was spent discussing the HOA’s new initiative to standardize lawn mower brands.
David had been trying to focus, really, but Evelyn kept catching his eye, her smile just a little too knowing. And then there was the wine. It was thick and sweet. Evelyn had poured it herself, leaning over him in a way that made him acutely aware of her perfume. By the time they got to the topic of “community cohesion,” David was feeling warm and a little dizzy, and Evelyn’s hand was resting lightly on his knee.
“David,” she’d said, her voice low enough that only he could hear. “You’re such a natural leader. Have you ever thought about taking on a more… active role in the neighborhood?”
He’d stammered something about being new to the community, but Evelyn had just smiled, her fingers tracing lines on his leg. “Don’t be modest. You have so much potential. I can see it.”
David had no idea what she meant by “potential,” but the way she said it made his pulse quicken. And then, just as her hand started to move higher, she’d leaned in close, her lips brushing against his ear as she whispered, “Stay after the meeting. I’d like to discuss something privately.”
Now, standing in Evelyn’s backyard, David felt a flush of heat that had nothing to do with the grill. He glanced over at Claire, who was talking to Margaret Grayson near the patio. She looked beautiful in that sundress, her auburn hair catching the light, and for a moment, guilt twisted in his gut.
“David,” Evelyn’s voice pulled him back to the present. She was standing beside him, her smile as sharp as ever. “You’re burning the burgers.”
He looked down and realized she was right. The patties were charred, smoke curling up into the air like a signal flare. “Oh, uh, sorry,” he muttered, fumbling with the tongs.
Evelyn laughed, a low, throaty sound that made his stomach tighten. “Don’t worry,” she said, leaning in just a little too close. “I like things a little well-done.”
David swallowed hard, his mind flashing back to after the meeting, to the way Evelyn had looked at him like he was something she wanted to devour. He needed to get a grip. This was just a BBQ. Just a neighborhood gathering. Nothing more.
But when Evelyn’s hand brushed against his as she reached for the ketchup, he couldn’t help but wonder if she was thinking about the meeting too.
After the meeting, Evelyn had appeared in the doorway, her silhouette framed by the dim light of the hallway. She was still wearing the blouse and pencil skirt she’d worn during the meeting, but now, in the quiet of the room, the outfit seemed less professional and more predatory. Her heels clicked against the floor as she approached, her smile sharp and knowing.
“I’m so glad you stayed,” she said, her voice low and smooth. “I wanted to thank you personally for your contributions tonight. You’ve been such a valuable addition to the neighborhood.”
David chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “Oh, I don’t know about that. I’m just trying to fit in.”
Evelyn stepped closer, her perfume intoxicating. “Oh, you’re doing more than fitting in, David. You’re thriving. I can see it.”
Her hand ran slowly down his arm, and David felt a jolt of electricity shoot through him. He opened his mouth to respond, but Evelyn’s fingers were already trailing up his sleeve, her touch light but deliberate.
“You’ve been under so much pressure lately,” she murmured, her eyes locking onto his. “I can see it in the way you carry yourself. The weight of responsibility. Wouldn’t you like some of that responsibility taken off your shoulders?”
David swallowed hard, his pulse quickening. Evelyn’s smile widened, and she leaned in, her lips brushing against his ear as she whispered, “You deserve to let go, David. To feel appreciated. To feel wanted. To let someone else be in control.”
Before he could process what was happening, Evelyn’s hand slid to his chest, her nails grazing his shirt as she pushed him gently but firmly against the edge of the conference table. Her lips were on his before he could protest, soft and insistent, her body pressing against his in a way that made his thoughts scatter.
“Evelyn, I—” he started, but she silenced him with another kiss, her hands moving to his collar, unbuttoning his shirt with practiced ease.
“Shh,” she murmured, her voice a mix of command and seduction. “Don’t think. Just feel.”
David’s mind screamed at him to stop, to push her away. But Evelyn’s touch was magnetic, her confidence overwhelming. She kissed him again, her hands sliding down his chest, and he found himself responding despite himself, his hands gripping the edge of the table as if it were the only thing keeping him upright. She unbuttoned his pants and put her hand down the front.
Evelyn’s perfect composure shattered and she pulled back for a moment, her eyes staring down at his pants. “JESUS FUCK! Is that real? It’s the size of a baby’s arm.”
David blinked, then smiled. “In college they used to call me ‘Tripod Parker.”
Evelyn’s gaze dropped, and she smirked. She murmured to herself “We’re going to have to modify some of the steps of the ritual if I want to be able to walk the next day.”
Heat rushed to David’s face, but before he could respond, Evelyn was on him again, her lips trailing down his neck, her hands exploring with a confidence that left him breathless. He tried to speak, to protest, but the words caught in his throat as Evelyn flopped his manhood out of his pants with a thump. She got down on her knees.
As David surrendered to Evelyn's will, the geometric patterns carved into the meeting room's walls began to pulse with an eerie red glow. Each throb of light synchronized perfectly with his heartbeat, casting strange shadows that seemed to writhe and dance across the walls.
Through half-closed eyes, he watched as Evelyn's form seemed to shift and change. Her skin took on an opalescent sheen, and for brief moments, she appeared almost translucent, shot through with veins of dark energy. Power radiated from her in visible waves, and David could have sworn he saw tendrils of darkness reaching out from her body, wrapping around him, drawing something vital from his very essence.
The room's temperature fluctuated wildly. Visions flashed through David's mind. Ancient ceremonies, dark rituals, faces both beautiful and terrible. He saw Cedar Lane as it truly was: a massive geometric pattern laid out like a web, with the neighborhood grove at its center and Evelyn atop the large central rock. Energy flowed through the streets like rivers of light, all of it feeding into her.
Outside, the neighborhood responded to their union. Sprinklers activated, their spray forming arcane patterns in the air. Street lights dimmed and brightened in rhythm with David's racing pulse. Wind chimes rang out in harmonious discord, playing a symphony of suburban conformity gone wrong.
David could feel himself growing weaker as Evelyn grew stronger. Each moment of submission drained more of his essence, feeding something ancient and hungry within her. Yet he couldn't stop. Didn't want to stop. The more she took, the more he craved her approval, her control.
"Good boy," she purred, her voice resonating with otherworldly power. "You're feeding me so well."
The sound of a door creaking open snapped him out of the haze. He froze, his heart pounding, as he realized they weren’t alone. Evelyn didn’t seem to notice, or care. She continued her slow, deliberate movements. David turned his head slightly, his eyes darting to the shadows at the edge of the room. He could just make out the outlines of figures, two, maybe three. They were standing silently, watching. His stomach dropped, a wave of shame and panic crashing over him.
“Evelyn,” he hissed, his voice barely above a whisper. “We’re not alone.”
Evelyn pulled back, her expression calm and unbothered, a small trail of spittle hanging from her lower lip. “Oh, don’t mind them,” she said, her tone almost playful. “They’re just here to observe. It’s part of the process.”
“Process?” David echoed, his voice rising in alarm. “What process?”
Evelyn’s smile turned cold, and she leaned in close as she whispered, “You’ll find out soon enough,” then made a valiant attempt to engulf his length.
David’s eyes rolled back and his blood ran cold as the figures in the shadows stepped closer, their faces obscured but their presence unmistakable. He felt trapped, exposed, and utterly powerless. Evelyn’s hand tightened, her nails digging hard into his skin to remind him who was in control.
“Relax, David,” she said, her voice dripping with amusement. “This is just the beginning.”
Claire’s Perspective
Claire stood in Evelyn's backyard, clutching a glass of wine that probably cost more than her last royalty check from "The Werewolf Wears Prada," watching her husband get his ego stroked by a woman who looked like a very tall Nicole Kidman with a blonde dye job and preposterous fake tits. The wine was definitely helping, though not as much as watching Mrs. Chen try to eat a hot dog like a space alien that had never encountered one before. Knife and fork, cut into precisely measured bites, chewed exactly twenty times.
"Did you know there's actually a section in the HOA manual about proper mastication techniques?" Margaret appeared beside her, looking like she'd wandered off the set of a beer or car commercial and into this beige nightmare by accident. She had lost the leather jacket in deference to the heat, and now wore a black tank top and skintight shorts that looked painted on, and were likely not meant to be outerwear. "Apparently, chewing in a counterclockwise direction disrupts the neighborhood's cosmic harmony."
Claire choked on her wine. "Please tell me you're joking."
"I am.'" Margaret's grin was downright wicked. "But tell me you didn’t believe it for a second."
Across the yard, Evelyn was demonstrating what appeared to be the officially sanctioned method of flipping burgers to a rapt audience. Her cream-colored sundress somehow remained spotless despite the flying grease, probably through the same dark magic that kept her perfectly-styled hair unmoved by the wind.
"Look at them," Claire muttered. "It's like watching a cult recruitment video sponsored by Pottery Barn."
"More like Pottery Barn meets The Stepford Wives meets a vampire movie," Margaret said. "Though I have to admit, Evelyn's got style. Evil, suburban-dictator style, but still."
"Ah yes, nothing says 'culture' like mysterious chanting at a BBQ," Claire said. "I'm sure it's totally normal and not at all a sign that we're about to be sacrificed to the god of property values."
David laughed nervously. "You have such an active imagination, honey. Remember what Dr. Mitchell said about your tendency to overreact to normal social situations?"
"Dr. Mitchell never had to make sure her throw pillows didn’t raise more than three inches off the couch so as not to block the eco sensors," Claire pointed out. "Or explain why all our windows face directly into our neighbors' utility meters."
"The windows are positioned to optimize energy efficiency," David recited, sounding exactly like someone who'd recently been brainwashed. "Evelyn explained it all at the last committee meeting. It's very scientific."
"Speaking of science," Margaret cut in, "did you know that according to Cedar Lane bylaws, all experimental demonic summoning must be performed between the hours of midnight and 3 AM, and only with properly permitted ritual circles?"
David blinked. "I... what?"
"She's kidding, honey," Claire patted his arm. "Everyone knows demonic summoning is only allowed during approved HOA meeting times."
Before David could respond, Evelyn's voice cut through the yard like a perfectly modulated knife: "David! Could you help me demonstrate proper grill cleaning techniques?"
David practically sprinted across the lawn, leaving Claire and Margaret watching as Evelyn positioned herself behind him, adjusting his grip on the tongs in what had to be the most suggestive demonstration of grilling technique in suburban history.
Claire watched as Evelyn touched David's arm for approximately the eight hundredth time that evening, her red nails contrasting sharply with his shirt. "If she touches my husband one more time, I'm going to start thinking she's trying to steal his life force through osmosis."
"Oh honey," Margaret's laugh was low and mirthless, "she's after something much more interesting than his life force." She paused. "Well, maybe one specific part of his life force."
"Ten bucks says those tongs are actually some kind of mind control device," Claire muttered.
"Twenty says they double as a sex toy," Margaret countered, then immediately added, "Sorry, that was..."
"Accurate?" Claire sighed. "I'd be more upset if I couldn't literally see her measuring his inseam with her eyes right now."
A strange sound from inside the house caught Claire's attention. Something between a moan and a chant, quickly muffled. "Please tell me that's just someone discovering Evelyn's wine cellar and not, you know, an actual cult ceremony."
"The wine cellar actually is in the basement," Margaret said casually. "Along with the altar and the really questionable book collection. That doesn’t mean it’s not an actual cult ceremony."
Claire stared at her. "How do you..."
"I do my research." Margaret's smile was equal parts dangerous and amused. "Speaking of research, want to help me investigate why there's a pentagram mowed into Evelyn's back lawn?"
"That's not a pentagram," Claire said automatically. "It's an HOA-approved decorative grass pattern that just happens to look exactly like a ritual summoning circle."
"Six of one, half dozen of the other." Margaret shrugged.
"Should we be worried about any of this?" Claire asked, gesturing vaguely at... everything.
"Yes, I told you," Margaret said cheerfully. "They’re trying to summon an eldritch evil, a master vampire. But hey, at least the wine's good."
"'It’s really not bad…" Claire admitted.
But Margaret was already moving away, her hips swaying in a way that made Claire temporarily forget about everything else, including the weird chanting that had started up again, this time accompanied by what sounded like a very formal conga line.
"Coming?" Margaret called over her shoulder.
Claire looked back at David, who was now staring raptly as Evelyn showed him how to apply mustard in perfect parallel lines, then at the strange shadows moving behind Evelyn's upstairs windows.
"What the hell," she muttered, finishing her wine in one gulp.
Ethan’s Discovery
Ethan had reached his limit of watching adults pretend to enjoy talking about their boring jobs and synchronizing their burger flips. The fact that his dad was now letting Evelyn teach him the "proper grilling stance" while practically drooling on her was just the final straw. Even his mom had wandered off with the hot biker lady who lived in the black house, leaving him to fend for himself in this suburban nightmare.
"Want to see something weird?" Lila walked up beside him, her red curls practically vibrating with mischievous energy. She was wearing a t-shirt that read "HOA APPROVED REBEL" with a stormtrooper underneath.
"Weirder than Mrs. Chen cutting her hot dog into exactly seventeen identical pieces?" Ethan asked.
"Way weirder." Lila's grin promised trouble. "I found a way into Evelyn's house through the side door. The one with all the celtic knots carved into it?"
"You mean the 'decorative heritage patterns'?" Ethan made air quotes with his fingers. "Pretty sure those aren't Celtic knots unless the Celts were really into suburban planning."
"Come on." Lila grabbed his hand, sending an electric shock through his system. "While everyone's distracted by the Great Grilling Demonstration of 2025."
They slipped away from the party, ducking behind perfectly trimmed hedges that seemed to whisper as they passed. The side of Evelyn's house was darker than it should have been, the shadows somehow deeper and more purposeful than regular shadows had any right to be.
"Check this out," Lila whispered, pointing to the door. In the dim light, Ethan could see what looked like equations carved into the wood, if equations had been written by someone who thought math should be more goth.
"Those are definitely weird," Ethan muttered, running his fingers over the symbols. "Even for Cedar Lane's weird standards."
"Just wait." Lila produced a small flashlight from her pocket. "Look what happens when you shine light on them at the right angle."
The beam caught the carvings, and for a moment, Ethan could have sworn they moved, twisting into new patterns that made his head hurt. "Okay, that's... different."
"Different like 'quirky suburban art project' different, or different like 'someone's been watching too many horror movies' different?"
"More like 'someone's been reading forbidden texts from the HOA's special collection' different," Lila said. "Come on, the door's unlocked."
"Because that's not suspicious at all," Ethan said, but he followed her anyway. The alternative was going back to watch his dad learn the HOA-approved method of corn cob rotation.
The house's interior was eerily quiet compared to the party outside. Everything was cream-colored and perfect, like a showroom designed by someone who was going for ‘serial killer snuff room’. The corners weren't quite right angles, drywall bulged in places, hallways seemed to lead in impossible directions.
"Is it just me," Ethan whispered, "or does this house make absolutely no sense?"
"Shh." Lila held up a hand. "Listen."
At first, Ethan heard nothing. Then it started: a low chanting coming from somewhere below them. It sounded like Latin, if Latin had been garbled by someone who'd failed their language requirement and decided to wing it.
"Please tell me that's just Evelyn's book club practicing their pronunciation," Ethan said.
"Yeah, because suburban book clubs always meet in locked basements during BBQs." Lila rolled her eyes. "Come on, I found the door yesterday. It's this way."
They crept through the house, past walls lined with photos of previous HOA events. Ethan noticed that in each picture, Evelyn looked exactly the same, while the people around her seemed to age subtly.
The chanting grew louder as they approached a heavy wooden door tucked away in a back hallway. Strange symbols had been carved into the frame. The same ones from outside, but these seemed to pulse with a faint reddish light.
"Okay," Ethan said, "I'm no expert, but I'm pretty sure glowing door frames aren't covered in the HOA manual."
"Wait till you see what's behind it." Lila reached for the handle.
"Should we really—"
But before he could finish, the chanting stopped abruptly. In the sudden silence, they heard footsteps approaching.
"Quick," Lila hissed, pulling him into a nearby closet.
They pressed together in the dark space, hardly daring to breathe. Through the slats in the door, Ethan watched as a figure passed by, one of Evelyn's "special committee" members, wearing what looked like a cream-colored robe with the HOA logo embroidered in red thread.
"Children shouldn't wander where they don't belong," a voice called out, way too close to their hiding spot. "The consequences for unauthorized exploration can be... severe."
Ethan felt Lila tense beside him. Her hand found his in the darkness, and he squeezed it, trying to ignore how his heart was racing for multiple reasons now.
"All guests must remain in approved gathering areas," the voice continued, moving away. "Any violations will be noted and charged as penalties in your annual assessment."
When the footsteps finally faded, they both let out the breath they'd been holding.
"So," Ethan whispered, "still think this is just a really intense book club?"
"More like a really intense cult that's really bad at hiding it," Lila whispered back. "We should probably..."
"Get out of here before we end up as sacrifices to corporate conformity?"
"I was going to say 'tell someone,' but yeah, that too."
They slipped out of the closet and made their way back toward the party, but Ethan couldn't shake what he'd seen. The symbols, the chanting, the way the house itself seemed wrong somehow. It was like stepping into a cheesy horror movie.
Behind them, the basement door creaked open, and the chanting began again, this time accompanied by what sounded suspiciously like a PowerPoint presentation about proper lawn maintenance.
The BBQ's Climax
As the sun set over Cedar Lane, casting long shadows across Evelyn's perfectly manicured lawn, the BBQ entered what Claire could only assume was its final phase. The neighbors had arranged themselves in a perfect semicircle around the grill, which was now emitting smoke in geometric patterns that weren't covered in Weber's user manual.
Evelyn stood at the center, still somehow immaculate despite having spent hours near an active grill. Her smile was radiant, her lipstick unfaded, and her magnificent breasts were even more upright than usual. Claire did take some small comfort in noticing that the woman had almost no ass. Evelyn held up her wine glass, and every other glass in the yard rose in perfect synchronization, like a suburban ballet choreographed by someone with severe OCD.
"My dear friends and neighbors," Evelyn's voice carried across the lawn with theatrical precision. "As we gather here under the blessed fluorescent lighting of Cedar Lane's outdoor light features, I want to thank you all for maintaining such exquisite standards in our community."
The crowd murmured in appreciation.
"Through our dedication, we have created something truly special." Evelyn's eyes swept the crowd, lingering on David just long enough to make Claire's wine taste sour. "A community bound not just by property lines, but by our shared commitment to..." she paused dramatically, "...harmony."
From somewhere inside the house, the chanting grew louder.
"Of course," Evelyn continued, "maintaining such perfection requires... sacrifice."
The neighbors nodded solemnly, as if she'd just announced that Tuesday's trash pickup would be delayed by fifteen minutes.
"Speaking of sacrifice," Margaret whispered in Claire's ear, making her jump, "did you notice the grill? It’s electric, but there’s a weird reddish smoke coming out of it."
Claire looked at the grill. Sure enough, red tendrils of smoke were coming off the surface, emanating from the premium ground beef seasoned with artisanal herbs.
"Those better not be the organic patties I brought," Claire muttered.
Across the yard, David was staring at Evelyn with the kind of rapt attention he usually reserved for sports finals and pizza delivery tracking updates. His collar was completely askew now, and Claire could definitely see lipstick marks that matched Evelyn's signature shade of "Suburban Seduction Red."
"And so," Evelyn raised her glass higher, "I'd like to propose a toast. To Cedar Lane, where every lawn is perfect, every mailbox is precisely aligned, and every resident knows their place in the great plan."
The neighbors raised their glasses in unison. "To Cedar Lane," they intoned, their voices blending into a creepy harmony that suggested they'd been practicing this in those mysterious committee meetings.
That's when Ethan burst out of the house, Lila right behind him, looking like they'd just witnessed something that would haunt their remaining teenage nights.
"Mom," Ethan's voice cracked slightly, "we need to—"
"Ah, young Ethan," Evelyn cut in smoothly, her smile sharpening. "And Lila. I trust you found your unauthorized tour of my home enlightening?"
The wind chimes started blowing and the porch lights dimmed and brightened in a pattern that made Claire's head hurt.
"We were just looking for the bathroom," Lila said quickly. "You know, with the HOA-approved three ply toilet paper?"
"Of course you were, dear." Evelyn's laugh was like breaking glass wrapped in velvet. "Though I'm sure you found much more interesting things. The basement, perhaps? Or the special collection of community guidelines?"
The neighbors had begun to move, still in perfect sync, forming a tighter circle around them. Mrs. Chen set aside her silverware. Mr. Wilson adjusted his tie, revealing what looked like ritualistic symbols embroidered in cream-colored thread.
"Well," Claire said brightly, grabbing Ethan's arm, "this has been lovely, but we should really be going. Early morning tomorrow. Lots of... lawn work to do."
"Oh, but you can't leave yet," Evelyn purred. "The evening's entertainment is just beginning. David, dear, why don't you tell them about your new role in the Special Committee?"
David at least had the grace to look uncomfortable, though whether that was from guilt or the way Evelyn's hand was possessively gripping his bicep wasn't clear.
"It's really more of an advisory position," he mumbled. "Mainly focused on... hedge maintenance and... other things."
"Other things involving suspiciously stained robes and basement chanting?" Ethan muttered.
The neighbors moved closer, their light colored clothing rustling like dead leaves. The smoke from the grill had definitely formed some kind of symbol now, one that made Claire's eyes water when she tried to look directly at it.
"Now then," Evelyn's voice dropped to a register that wasn't meant for human ears, "shall we begin the real meeting?"
That's when Margaret sprang into action. She drew back and kicked the grill over, arranged meat flying all over the collected neighbors light colored clothing. The symbol in the smoke dissolved. The chanting stuttered. And for just a moment, Evelyn's perfect mask slipped, revealing something underneath that made Claire's horror-romance-writer imagination short-circuit.
"Run," Margaret suggested cheerfully. "I'd say we have about thirty seconds before—"
The sprinklers activated. The wind chimes began playing what sounded like Countdown to Destruction arranged for suburban percussion.
"Time to go," Claire decided, grabbing Ethan with one hand and her wine glass with the other. Lila followed closely behind.
As they fled across the lawn, she could hear Evelyn's voice rising above the chaos: "Don't forget! Next week's HOA meeting is mandatory! Refreshments will be provided!"
"So," Claire said as they reached the safety of Margaret's black house, "I guess the neighborhood welcome wagon is actually more of a welcome hearse?"
Margaret's laugh was rich and warm. "Welcome to Cedar Lane, where the property values are high and the body count is higher. Want another glass of wine?"
"God, yes," Claire said. "Well maybe something stronger? I have a feeling we're going to need it.”