The Pass Phrase: Chapter 4

There was nowhere to run. Little felt calm. That wasn’t what she’d expected to feel when she was in this position. But she made direct eye contact with those yellow eyes and she knew she was about to die. It wasn’t a shock. On some level, she’d known this was coming. She’d known she was followed by something clever enough to stay hidden. It must have seen her come out of the tunnel passage and lazily hunted her all the way back.

Somehow, she knew all her options. She knew she could drop down and throw up a concealment. She knew it wouldn’t work when the thing was looking directly at her.

She could run, but she couldn’t run faster than the monster could.

She couldn’t push past it, she couldn’t overpower it. Her choice was to die standing or to die running.

Little folded her arms, steeling herself against what was coming.

The thing laughed at her.

It was a horrible croaking sound. She knew it was evil, not just animalistic glee. She knew that because it was a human laugh.

“Good morning,” Little said, because she wanted this person to know that she knew. She sneered. “Why do you want me?”

“Little girl,” it crooned, looming over her. It smelled like death. “Clever little girl. Vicious little girl. I enjoyed watching you.”

That confirmation just made her angrier.

‘It wants to see me scared. That’s why it hunted me for so long. I’m not giving it the satisfaction.’

She stared stonily.

‘This is still the second best outcome. I’ve paid up for Sissy’s fare. At least I finished that first, and the excess is going to leave her a lot of money to get started with.

“You really aren’t afraid.” The thing wondered aloud. It prowled forward and circled her. She felt hot breath on her neck. “You have been wasted on the dishes.”

She jerked, shocked. The monster laughed now that it had a reaction from her.

‘It can’t possibly have been inside. Even if it was inside the city how would it know my job? I’d have noticed it in the kitchen!’

“Oh, yes,” it purred. “Wasted potential. Would you like to learn real magic?”

It took a moment for the pieces to fall into place.

“You are a person,” she said. “Or you were a person. They do this on purpose. They created the monsters to keep us inside.”

“Not quite,” it said. But it sounded very pleased. “The monsters were here before the city. But they have some utility for management.”

It actually didn’t surprise her. It just made her feel sick with hatred. She tilted her chin up and sneered. “I’m not interested. Do what you’re going to do.”

There was a long, poisonous silence. “I won’t hurt you.” It blinked at her, from the opposite direction that a human would. She could still see the yellow irises through the milky eyelids. “I want to help you. In exchange for one small thing.”

She stared at it. She was lost for words.

‘I can’t deal with this thing. It eats people. Even if it doesn’t eat me, I can’t help it.’

“It’s not really your concern, is it?” The thing’s voice was softly persuasive. If she had to guess, it was feminine. “You’re just doing the dangerous work. Because your life is hard.”

She shivered. That sibilant voice was working into her brain. It sounded like a friend.

“But what if your life wasn’t so hard?”

It was so tempting. She didn’t even know where this was going but she wanted to nod along.

Visions ran through her head. She was reclining on a sofa like the lady of the house, lazily stitching on what she knew would be the blue dress of her dreams. She was wearing an airy white gown that wouldn’t become filthy and soaked cold with dish water. Sissy- oh, Sissy!- was curled up with a book. The vision made her heart ache. Sissy couldn’t read.

She blinked. She was by the entrance. The pale monster was nearly nose to nose with her. Slowly, it smiled. “Run along,” it said. It drew away from her, moving like a spider onto the wall of stone that must have been a farmhouse in decades past. “We can talk another time.”

And unbelievably, it left. She stood there, feeling the world was very wrong. She was disoriented after exiting that warm dreamworld so abruptly.

A distant howl cut through the air. Hunting, something was hunting, and she was probably the only person out here. It forced her into movement. She barely remembered passing through the church. She came to the house and sat for lunch, trembling in the aftershock.

Sissy sat beside her cheerfully. “See the housekeeper after we eat,” she advised. She tossed back her hair, which was allowed to be loose, since she was a child. “There’s something to discuss.”

Normally this would have inspired terror. There weren’t many reasons to get called up to the head servant, and the most obvious was serious discipline. But she couldn’t care right now. She smiled at her sister.

The dream version of Sissy overlapped. And then the differences were obvious. Little stared.

It was Sissy as she should be. That vision had brighter eyes, clean nails, a healthier complexion. She was slightly taller and she held herself with confidence.

“Big?” Sissy murmured, a question and an old joke.

Little put an arm around her sister. “Nothing,” she said. “I was only thinking.”

She barely tasted lunch. She got up and nearly started to clear the table until she looked at Sissy and remembered that she had different instructions.

The housekeeper was in her drawing room, puffed up and proud as ever. “Miss Drake,” she greeted, barely seeing her. “Your circumstances have changed.”

She blinked. “Ma’am?”

“The mistress has decided to change your job,” she explained, with no warmth or interest whatsoever. “You no longer work in the skullery. You’ll be in the parlour.” She eyed her dress, shoddy from wear. Her lip curled. “If you have anything that hasn’t been soaked, please change into it before you report.”

She curtsied, because she was clearly supposed to. But - “Ma’am, I’ve never been in the parlour,” she said, a little uncertain. “I don’t know where-”

“The tweenie will show you,” she said impatiently. “Now go to your new station, as soon as lunch is finished.”

Little gritted her jaw and curtsied again. “Thank you, ma’am. Goodbye, ma’am.”

‘Does she even know the tweenie is my sister? I don’t think she knew my name before today.’

That probably wasn’t true. The housekeeper just had no reason to talk to Little, not when the cook and kitchen maid were nearer to criticize and give instructions.

She felt embarrassment burning her face as she walked back into the servant’s hall. There was no benefit to changing into her other dress. That was the one with the blood on it.

“Sissy,” she murmured. Her little sister’s bright little face turned up to her. “Please show me to the parlour?”

She blinked and nodded, giving the quickest little glance to the others.

For the first time, Little realized there was a new servant today. A girl, older than Sissy but younger than Little.

...things made a little more sense. That was the new skullery maid. She didn’t quite understand what she was to do going forward, but it would probably become obvious when she reported to the right place.

So she did. Sissy left with a cheeky curtsy and Little waited with her hands clasped behind her back.

It took an achingly long time for anyone to come into the room. When the mistress did, Little stood perfectly straight and averted her eyes.

She’d… she’d never been in a room with a member of the family before, outside of morning prayers.

“Little miss,” said the lady.

Little’s head spun. She had a distinctly odd feeling. Like the lady was speaking in two voices at once. “Yes, ma’am,” she said, confused.

“I’d like you to be my personal maid.” The lady tilted her face to the side, examining Little. “How long have you worked here?”

Little knew, in the pit of her stomach, what the lady was really asking. She blinked hastily, trying to shake off the spell. “Three years,” she said, even though she wanted to say four. She’d been a servant for 4 years, she’d been working to smuggle out refugees for 3.

“Curious,” said the lady, with a very familiar smile. “Sit. Show me your hand. Yes, like that. Now, think on what you’re afraid of.”

The pit of her stomach yawned into a gaping maw, a mass of childish black fear that threatened to turn her into a gibberish mess.

“And now act,” the lady murmured. “Push. Push from here.” It was as if she rapped a spot on the inside of Little’s brain. The reaction was easy and fiery.

The lady snatched her hand away, smirking like a cat. Little stared in disbelief as reality resettled around her and she saw the shimmering heat around her own hand. Heat she’d made, fire that she’d made.

“I see,” said the lady. “I see what type you are. A waste indeed.” She stood in a rustling of skirts. “Come.”

Little went.

They were going outside. When she realized that she wondered if she ought to be helping the lady with her coat or something, but no, another maid met them at the door holding coat and hat. The most baffling thing was that there was a coat and hat for Little, too. She let the other maid dress her, even though it was the most bizarre thing that had happened to her.

“We are going out on a social call,” the lady said, as if Little had asked something. She breezed out of the house and Little hastened to follow. “He’ll think you’re the funniest little thing.”