Terrible Praise

by Lara Hayes

  My whole body starts to tremble violently in her arms, my breath fast and shallow. My face is pressed in the crook of her neck, and she rubs my back in slow patient circles.

  “No. I’m okay.” It’s all I can manage, but I want to thank her for lying. We both know the others are already aware of me.

  “Perhaps this was a mistake,” she says, pulling back to have a look at me. “I should have taken you home first. We could have done this in a more familiar setting. Would you prefer that?”

  I think of my mother at the foot of the stairs, the EMTs. Eyes alert, scanning the scene for foul play. The look on Helen’s face when she asked me if I had gone home to clean up the blood. I shake my head before I can gather my faculties to respond.

  “It can’t happen at home. Neighbors would have seen me enter. Eventually Helen or James would come calling. Someone would find something. There would be…” Blood. I’ve taken a much more active role in my death than I ever imagined I would.

  Stela tilts my chin up with one hand and her stare is like water rushing in the dark. My cerebral pounding grinds to halt, and the space between our faces sharpens as the world beyond begins to blur. A deep full breath rushes inside my lungs with ease. “There we are.” Stela smiles. “Breathe.” Her voice is soft and her fingers press flat against my carotid. The high-pitched electrical drone of the lights above us grounds me.

  “Thank you.” I savor the momentary reprieve from dread. Stela flashes me a guarded smile, her thumb resting in the dip of my chin.

  “I need you present, Elizabeth. Do you understand?”

  I take another uninhibited breath. She’s waiting on me.

  “Tell me what to do.”

  Stela smooths the hair back from her face and straightens her blouse still open after my tantrum in the car. Somehow the sight of her bare chest still makes me blush. But she is either unaffected, or unaware.

  “This chamber leads to the tunnels, which is my greatest concern. They are patrolled by three hounds, including my Erebus, and they hunt together. Erebus’s loyalty to me may not outweigh his breeding. Their only duty is to pick off vagrants that find their way into those tunnels surrounding our compound.”

  I look over at the cold unwelcoming door that stands between us and them.

  “They’re trained to eat humans?”

  Stela offers only a vague shrug, and pushes me aside to punch in the code before I can reason any further.

  “Privacy is at a premium in this world, Elizabeth. The door to our chambers is only a couple hundred feet away. I will go in first, and you can follow. If I hear the hounds and pick you up, please do not protest. It will only slow us down.”

  The small steel trapdoor on the top of the cylinder opens and the smell of moldering earth is overpowering. Stela climbs in first, lowering herself down a few rungs. An expectant look flutters over her face.

  “How chivalrous of you to lead the way.”

  “I knew you would not be able to resist a retort,” she says, shaking her head.

  “It’s a coping mechanism.”

  “I am well aware, my darling. Now, absolute silence until I tell you otherwise.”

  The narrow door eases itself shut as soon as I’ve climbed down far enough into the passage—there must be a sensor in the lid—and the fast-eclipsing darkness swallows the borrowed calm Stela gave me. I didn’t realize I had stopped stepping down the rungs until Stela’s hand strokes my calf, and I very nearly scream. With great trepidation, I find the next rung with my foot, and then another, fumbling blindly in pitch black. Stela keeps a hand on my ankle the whole way down to let me know she’s still with me. I can’t see the rungs, or hear Stela’s tread below me. I’m certain only of my own hands, and my shoes ringing dully against the bars.

  The tube is dry but I hear the distant rush of water, droplets splashing into puddles. I’ve never had a problem with confined spaces, but the enclosure is so narrow I keep hitting the back of my heel each time I search for the next rung, breathing my own expended breath.

  There’s a light below me, shining off the steel rungs. My foot falls into nothing, kicking at empty air, and though I never heard Stela land she must have dropped down. Stela grabs both my feet, pushing up into my weight. Her hands climbing up my legs, holding on as I lower myself into her arms. She sets me down beside her and before I can release a relieved sigh, Stela clamps her hand over my mouth. All I can see are the edges of her eyes, bright with a crescent moon gleam. She all but covers me with her body, tucking me under her shoulder and creeping along very slowly. She leads me down a damp, uneven corridor in a sideways waltz.

  Our surroundings brighten the further we go and soon I can see one freely swinging bulb in a metal grate at the junction of this tunnel and another. The penetrating damp, and the unbelievable scale of our surroundings leave me dumbfounded. We’re standing in the middle of a kind of intersection, with three tunnels ahead of us. There are tracks underfoot, too small for trains, and pipes that stripe the walls.

  I almost ask her where we’re going, but she can feel my body shape the words, and she covers my mouth again. I take one full step before her arm tightening around my shoulders tells me that she has stopped walking.

  At the end of the passage is another hatch twinkling in the stark light of a single bulb. We’re nearly there, not fifty feet away when I hear approaching footsteps, heavy and fast. I understand why she still has her hand covering my mouth. I am absolutely going to scream.

  They aren’t dogs. The points of their ears resemble German shepherds, and the thick glistening coats remind me of chows, but these creatures are built like skinny bears. They’re huge. They walk out of the center of the tunnel, the largest among them in the middle. He’s solid black and his eyes glow like Stela’s. The other two only slightly less imposing figures on either side of him are both gray with white underbellies. They all move completely in sync.

  Stela uses the hand wrapped around my mouth to twist my face to hers. She’s frightened, and again my body begins to shake. Slowly, she pushes me behind her, releasing my mouth only when she’s forced to turn back around. She grabs my hands from behind and begins to pull me forward, using her body as a shield. I’m not sure how I remain silent, or remember how to walk. I only know there isn’t any other option, because the only thing that separates me from these animals keeps pulling me forward.

  We inch a few feet farther before the growling, closer to a roar, starts. I have my face pressed into the back of Stela’s shirt, and though I’m not a religious person my mind repeats: “Please not like this, please,” in the earnest hope that I’m wrong and somewhere, someone is listening.

  Stela drops my right hand and raises her free hand like a barrier. I can’t help but look over her shoulder to see how she’s received. The black dog, the big one, snarls.

  “Erebus. Stop!” Her voice is so loud, and so sudden, that I finally release the scream I’ve been holding. Just one, quick and sharp, unable to stifle it any longer.

  The hound tilts his head in a manner that betrays his size, and I can almost imagine him as a puppy. But he presses on.

  “Stop, Erebus.”

  He growls again, low and pointed, stamping a paw the size of a football and baring his teeth. Even I understand that it’s a warning. Against my protest, Stela pulls me out from behind her.

  “No. Stela, no.”

  “Quiet.” She wraps her arm around my shaking shoulders and keeps her eyes focused on the hound in front of us.

  I tug her back the way we came, anywhere but here. She won’t budge. She appears oblivious to my presence, immune to panic, until she pets the side of my face with the back of her fingers. I jerk my face away, every inch of my body prepared to flee. Stela holds me in place with her iron grip, staring the animal down while she moves her hand down my throat. She presses her palm just above my breast, and the surge of foreign blood rushes inside my heart. I understand the gesture, and stand taller as the familiar tempo of Stela’s heartbeat echoes i
n my chest.

  Erebus isn’t looking at her anymore. His eyes are on my face— a frighteningly sentient stare. He stops abruptly with a pathetic whimper. He turns around to the other hounds and barks sharply at them both. I instinctively cover my ears and the two gray dogs heel in unison. Erebus takes a step toward them, growling a new set of orders to his pack. Stela presses her lips to my temple and shoves me toward the wall where she enters another code on a second hatch. The gray beasts voice their objection, but neither moves on us as she opens the door and lifts me inside.

  I crawl on my hands and knees and Stela pulls the steel door closed behind us and covers me immediately. Despite her weight on me, my whole body is trembling uncontrollably, and I think to tell her that I can’t breathe with her hand over my mouth, but I’m screaming and I can’t stop. I don’t know how long we lie on the floor, her hand over my mouth and her eyes pushing for calm, before I can quiet myself. Our bodies are flattened in the small dry enclosure, legs bent at the knee. There isn’t quite enough space to stretch out fully.

  “You are very brave, my angel. It is done. Be still. Be still now, Elizabeth.” Her voice is calm and quiet in my ear.

  She removes her hand from my mouth, and runs it back through my hair. I push her shirt up, and splay my hands across the smooth skin of her back, keeping our bodies pressed tightly together as I fight to slow my racing pulse. She doesn’t rush me to my feet, seemingly content to lie as we are for as long as I need. Her fingers thread themselves in my hair, brushing against my neck. I press my mouth to her ear.

  “What were those things?”

  “My brother Crogher’s non-union, private security team.”

  I shove her hard with my shoulders, which barely jostles her. Stela’s chest rattles with relieved laughter.

  “Come now. They are nothing more than large dogs. More intelligent, vicious, but mutts all the same. And we are past them now, are we not? No worse for the wear.”

  She sits up and balances on the balls of her feet, her forearms draped lazily across her knees. Scooting against the wooden wall, I press myself tight in the corner of this narrow enclave. She cracks her neck sharply, and with a small stretch stands to her full height.

  “Where are we, Stela?” I whisper.

  “The compound. My chamber is not far. Come. See for yourself.”

  She extends a hand and helps me to my feet. The walls around us are dry as bone, dark wood, almost black. There are two shallow footholds spaced a few feet apart. The highest sits eye level with me. She urges me up the first step with firm hands and scoots me to one side by the hips. My hands take hold of an opening, equally dry, sanded smooth and flat. Just above my head there is a soft, welcoming glow. I pull myself up and she follows.

  “Third candle on the right. Do you see?”

  The corridor ahead of us is no more than three feet high, eight feet wide at most, and bathed in yellow candlelight. Each candle is ensconced on the wall above a beveled hatch in the floor, all the same dark wood, and only visible by the variation in grain. The far end of this corridor is much brighter, suggesting electrical lighting, but the corridor appears to drop off well before that, just short of a much larger opening. The overall effect is deceptively welcoming.

  “What’s down there?”

  Stela runs her hand down my spine.

  “These hatches open onto separate dormitories, one for each of my siblings. Bård and I sleep closest to the opening, on opposite sides. At the mouth of the corridor there is another drop much like this one, which leads to the main hall. From there you can reach many common areas. And beyond those rooms, Fane’s chamber.”

  She’s proud of her place in all this. Proud of her home. Her dark eyes twinkle, like she’s waited a lifetime to share it with someone. The low ceiling will force me to crawl on my hands and knees to her hatch. It hits me rather quickly that the corridor was designed with that in mind, the better to slow an intruder down. It would be impossible to stand and fight someone off. That’s assuming any intruder made it this far, past the gigantic mongrels in the tunnels, and they were still somehow brave enough to scurry down this ancient passageway, knowing what was waiting beneath those hatches. An anxious shiver shakes me from head to toe and I brace myself with my arms against the lip of the corridor.

  “Elizabeth, we go together now. Tread lightly as you can, as a sign of respect more than anything else. They know we are here. But none have risen, and that is a very good sign.”

  I can’t do anything but stare blankly back at her.

  “When we reach my hatch I will drop down first, and you must follow the moment I land. You cannot linger in this hall unattended. Do you understand?”

  I fumble for her hand, but she plants my arm back on the ledge and lifts me up into the corridor. She’s beside me before I can scramble back down the way we came. She leads me alongside her by the collar of my coat. The floor pops and sighs under my weight, no matter how gently I shuffle. Each noise breathes new life into the dimness around our heads, and I can tell from her sidelong glare she fights the urge to scold me.

  The chambers below begin to stir. I hear footsteps beneath us and at my back the distinct sound of a door creaking open. I forget how to breathe but not how to move as Stela doubles our pace, all thoughts of quiet and gentle tread abandoned. More doors are eased open, and though I don’t look back, I know we aren’t alone. As soon as Stela reaches down and lifts her own hatch, the door to my left opens underneath me, pushing me into her. The face that meets mine is nothing like Stela’s. Void of tenderness, mouth open wide enough that it could be mistaken for a yawn were it not for the slow descent of fangs curling over the canines.

  Stela throws me into the wall behind her, and crouches low ready to spring. Her face is a contorted and furrowed mask. Her fangs extended and glinting against the backdrop of her otherwise unremarkable teeth. The man closes his mouth with a pleasant smile, and he heaves himself into a sitting position with his legs dangling down into the room below.

  “Honestly, Stela. At this hour?” He makes the universal symbol of checking time on a naked wrist.

  When I turn back to Stela the mask of violence is gone, a bemused expression sweeping over her face, with only the suggestion of mild irritation around her eyes.

  “Go back to sleep, Bård.”

  He combs his fingers through a mane of long silver hair, and secures it behind him with a tie he fishes from his pants pocket. His white chest, distinctly muscled, is the width of both our bodies combined. I try to curl my body beneath Stela’s and as far away from him as I can get in these close quarters, but she seizes me by the shoulder and runs her fingers down my spine. I straighten instinctively. She isn’t afraid him.

  “And miss all this?” he says with a wave of his hand. “Never.”

  Behind me, I hear the floor settle under foreign weight.

  “All of you. Back to bed,” Bård instructs. When the last of the hatches ease shut, he lifts his legs free and sits cross-legged in front of me. “So, you are the Elizabeth I have heard so very little about.”

  I stare at his huge hand stretched out to me, but I don’t take it. And I refuse to look him in the eyes. I don’t know what waits inside them.

  “Elizabeth, this is my brother Bård.” Stela is remarkably calm, clearly comfortable with this man, despite having hidden her ties to me for so long. She smiles and gives me an encouraging nudge.

  Years of good manners force me to meet his stare and shake his hand. His skin is exactly like Stela’s. Not cold, but just a few degrees too low, like holding plastic. It isn’t that the skin is hard, necessarily, but it lacks a certain elasticity. His eyes, wide and black as hers, dance across my face almost playfully and without any subterfuge.

  “Bård, I have heard very little about you as well.”

  Bård guffaws, a genuine smile swallowing his whole face, giving him the momentary appearance of a very young man trapped in the body of an older gentleman.

  “Well, that is our St
ela,” he says. “So secretive.”

  Even Stela chuckles. And I laugh like it’s the most hilarious thing anyone has ever said to me as cold dread rolls off my body in nervous waves.

  “I will detain you no longer. See to your foundling, Stela. I will rouse Fane.”

  He walks on all fours, with the tips of his fingers and the balls of his feet—impossibly fast—and disappears head first down into the wider opening at the end of the corridor.

  Stela turns me to face her. “Come. Do not linger.”

  She positions my legs inside the hatch. There’s a cluttered desk below my dangling feet, and an enormous Oriental rug. Wafting up from chamber is the distinct floral scent I’ve always associated with Stela. She slides around me carefully, lowering herself to the waist and bracing both hands, as though the dead weight of her entire body suspended in the air is the lightest thing she’s ever carried. She stares at me, and I nod for her to let go. Stela drops at least twenty feet to the floor below, like a spent shell casing ejected from a gun.

  With far less grace, I grab the lip of the opening and try to lower myself inside. But my arms tremble and buckle with my full weight on them, legs cycling in empty air.

  “Just let go, Elizabeth. I will not let you fall.”

  It’s not Stela’s mild amusement that spurs me on, but simple fight or flight. A door lifts in the corridor, and the second it does my body drops dead as a stone into her waiting arms.

  The hatch above closes automatically, and Stela plants me on my feet. She rushes across to a much smaller door in the corner of the room, twisting the handle up sharply until it clicks into place.

  “Locking me in?” I don’t see the point. I couldn’t fight my way out if I tried. A certainty that does nothing to settle me. I struggle to remind myself that this is what I wanted. This is what I chose.

  “Locking Erebus out for the time being,” she explains. “He has frequented my chamber of late.”

  Stela stands at the center of the room with her shoulder pressed to the post of a very large antique canopy bed. The bold maroon tapestries are tied back with thin gold rope. The mattress on a thick-legged frame sits higher than her hip, and the headboard is cluttered with large down-filled pillows in cream-colored cases. Behind her, on shelves to the ceiling, are rows upon rows of books. Some are so warped and crooked on their peeling spines that I wonder if they can even be handled at this point. Between the towering bookshelves there’s an enormous fireplace still smoldering with coals from a dying fire, though I haven’t the faintest idea where the chimney goes.