The Perks Of The Kitchen
The door clicked shut behind the guard, and metal hissed against wood as knives, cleavers, and skewers scraped off counters and cutting boards. Dozens of glints caught the dim kitchen light, each one aimed in Vanessa's direction.
"Let's see who gets her first," someone who looked like a male chef said.
"Stop it! All of you!" The voice cracked like a whip, deep and commanding, and Vanessa's gaze snapped to the woman with iron-grey hair from earlier, pulled into a severe bun, her hands planted on her hips as if she alone held the room together. "I like this one. She's under my protection now. Anyone who touches her will hear from me."
"But mother," one of the chefs said. "What about the slicing of her limbs to teach her lessons?"
"I'll decide when that happens." Mother Grey now turned to Vanessa. "Come with me."
As they walked towards the back of the kitchen, Vanessa couldn't help but speak. Questions clattered in her skull like marbles in a tin, each one tumbling over the other before she could catch it. "What did they mean when they spoke about slicing limbs?" She asked. "They didn't mean it literally, did they?"
Mother Grey's lips curled, almost amused. "Oh, they did. This pack has a rule with slaves. Whenever you make a mistake, one of your fingers, or toes, is sliced off to teach you a lesson. They're then hung from the rafters so whenever you look up, you remember the lesson you've been taught."
Vanessa's eyes followed the woman's gesture, and froze. Above her, dark shapes dangled from twine: shriveled, bone-white, some still with ragged nails. Her stomach churned, bile crawling up her throat. "Oh my God."
"Don't worry, you'll get used to it."
"You won't let them cut off my limbs, will you?"
Mother Grey's gaze swept over her, weighing her like a slab of meat. "Young woman. You should be grateful I stood up for you back there, I literally saved your life. I don't usually waste my time on slaves, but there's just something about you that picked my interest. However, if you make mistakes, I can't help you, you'll need to give the kitchen one of your toes or fingers for decorating."
"That is barbaric, ma'am. Is it not a tradition you can stop? How do you make food in a place like this?"
"It's 'mother,' young woman."
"Apologies, mother."
Mother Grey's eyes narrowed. "This kitchen bled long before I stepped into it, girl. And truth be told, fear keeps hands steady and mouths shut. I see no reason to change that, especially with the slaves."
Soon, the two women walked up to another woman. Mother Grey introduced the woman to Vanessa.
"Vanessa, this is Roseline. You'll work under her from now on. Do what she says. And don't question her authority. She'll take good care of you."
Vanessa bowed to Mother Grey, and she walked away.
"So, Vanessa, eh?" Roseline said. "I can see you're already a favorite of mother. You should be thankful for that. It's the reason you still have your head."
Vanessa dipped her head, pressing her lips together so hard they ached. One wrong word here, and it could cost her much more than her dignity.
"Here, take this mop stick," Roseline said. "Clean that whole section."
"Just like that? Out of nothing? What the hell?"
"Umm, it doesn't look.." Vanessa tried to object.
"Messy? I know. But you'll do what I say anyway, will you not? How would you like having one finger less instead?"
Vanessa almost hissed, her jaw clenched, and the urge to spit out something sharp burned on her tongue. But she swallowed it like poison, forcing her fingers to grip the mop she'd taken from Roseline instead. She then walked over to clean the section she'd been asked to.
As she did, multiple kitchen workers intentionally shoved at her with their bodies while walking by. Her throat itched with unsaid words, but every glint of a blade flashing past her shoulder was a reminder to bite them back. As each of the workers who walked by had a cooking knife or sharp cutlery with them.
She knew none of them would dare make an attempt to take her life now that Mother Grey had shown her support, but she knew some of these people were still so passionate about showing dominance they were ready to give her severe injuries, despite the earlier warnings.
When she was done, and was about to hand the mop stick back to Roseline, another worker walked over to that section and spilled oil there.
Vanessa's eyes darted to Roseline, silently begging for intervention, but the woman's smirk told her she was hoping for quite the opposite.
"Well? Off you go. Clean!" Roseline said.
"What the fuck is this life? Anywhere I find myself in, I am completely defenseless and helpless. Back at home it was stepmother and her children, stepping down on me because they had magical powers and I didn't. Now I'm facing this onslaught from the wolves. How is it even possible that I'm always this powerless?"
"You aren't powerless, Vanessa. You're destined for greatness."
"What the.. where the fuck did that come from? Who was that?"
"I am the voice of your guardian spirit, Vanessa, come with me, and I'll lead you to your destiny."