Free Sleeping Helena by Erzebet YellowBoy Page A

on.
    Hope acted as though this was any other conversation and perhaps, for her, it was. Eva grew silent, fiddled with the dishcloth and absentmindedly wiped the counter.
    Hope was right. Helena did ask a lot of questions, and she would ask many more as time went on. She would dig the truth out of one of them; they had given her a stunning intellect for that very purpose. Perhaps they should have considered the full implications. One day Helena was sure to outwit her own makers. What would they do then?

    As Eva left the kitchen, Hope shook her head at the sorry state of things. Her strong hands kneaded the dough, patted it out in a baker’s rhythm known only to those who work their own bread. She knew all too well of Helena’s unusual behavior.
    Hope knew the rules: do your job and stay out of their business and keep them out of yours. But Thekla had made the family Hope’s business soon after they’d hired her. Thekla had pulled her aside and offered a generous bargain. In exchange for a lifetime of security, she asked only that Hope be loyal to them and any they took in. It had been an easy agreement to make, for Hope was already fond of the sisters. She had grown to love Lena, and now she loved Helena as well.
    The family had more sense than this. Thekla grew more agitated by the hour. Eva was a bundle of nerves and the others simply seemed fragile and, for the first time, old. Helena was a beautiful girl, but beneath that fine exterior a monster lurked unseen by any but Hope, who watched it come out in the garden every now and then. The last time it had been a kitten that had strayed into Helena’s hands. She had stroked its ears and kissed its nose and then she had snapped its neck. Hope still did not know why Helena did these terrible things, but her suspicions remained unchanged.
    Quietly cruel, as though cruelty had no part in it, Helena gave no thought to the pain she caused in others. It was not in her to contemplate such things; this was something every one of them knew. Hope did not hold it against Helena, but she did want to better understand the girl so she could better provide for her needs. Eva must want something, too. But what? She’d never seen Helena’s ugliest side and in any case, it was not something Hope would share.
    Hope continued to work the dough until it was soft and pliant, and then scooped it into a bowl and left it to rise. She washed her hands meticulously and dried them on the towel. In the pantry, she opened one of the drawers. Hope took out the pouch, a small square of leather tied up with a silken cord. She’d been working on it for years.
    Helena did as she pleased despite the consequences, as though she had no concept of cause and effect, and Hope believed she knew why. She recalled Kitty’s words clearly, as did they all. Everyone feared for Helena, the innocent child, the victim of Kitty’s curse. They thought it was Helena’s death that Kitty wanted. After what Hope had seen, she couldn’t help but wonder. Hope put the pieces together as best as she was able and came to an awful conclusion. Kitty had created in Helena a monster, a killer with no remorse. Kitty did mean for someone to die, it seemed, but Helena was merely her weapon.
    Hope frowned. None of the sisters — not even Kitty — knew Hope had weapons of her own.
    Hope’s magic was of simple things. A woven thread, a thimble, stone, a snippet of hair, and a drop of earth for good measure were the tools of her trade. She’d learned it well and loyalty had everything to do with it. Hope looked at her arms, thick and strong from years of housework: wringing laundry by hand, peeling potatoes, rolling dough. Hope knew her place and was firmly planted in it.
    She did more than fold the sisters’ sheets that night. By the light of a waning moon she wove her spell.
    Sometimes, no matter how well we lay them, our plans fall apart because some chance thing occurs. Hope called these nuisances the spiders of fate and she