A Grimm Curse: A Grimm Tales Novella (Volume 3)
Page 17
Cynthia laughed in pure relief.
“Tell me glass, tell me true,” she whispered, reaching a hand to the milky surface.
“This is an interesting turn of events.”
The voice hit Cynthia like a slap. She could have gone her entire life without hearing it again.
She turned like someone was wrenching her head around.
He lounged in the shadows that clung to the edges of the room. Stone ground on stone as the concealed door he’d come from slid shut. There was obviously a shorter path to this room than the one she had taken.
He slouched into the faint light of the mirror, his hands in the pockets of his perfectly tailored pants and gave her one of his charming smiles. There was no warmth behind it.
“I come down here hoping to ask the magic mirror about the giant that seems intent on shaking my castle to pieces, and instead find you.”
Cynthia didn’t answer him, but scrabbled behind her trying to feel for the mirror without taking her eyes off the prince.
“How did you get out of your cell?” Prince W ilhelm mused, fixing her with a tight smile, his gaze dancing across her face as if the secret were written there. Why, why, hadn’t she just kept her hood up?
He shook his head in mock disappointment as he took another step toward her, close enough his expensive cologne prickled her nose.
Cynthia’s fingertips found the mirror frame. She shuffled back until she pressed against the glass, which was soft and pliable against her spine.
A silent prayer sighed from her lips as the prince reached for her. She clutched the shoe in her hand and threw herself backwards.
A brief glimpse of the prince’s dumbfounded expression was all she got before the slight resistance of the mirror gave way, and she was falling.
Her head hit the floor hard enough it bounced and her vision darkened for a second.
Before her sight cleared, someone tugged on her right foot, dragging her across the floor. She picked up her head enough to take in the simple wooden standing mirror she was half in, half out of. Instead of her reflection, there was the prince, fury warping his handsome features, as he tried to drag her back into Elorium . Cynthia shrieked and kicked, the heel of her bare foot catching him on the temple. He lost his grip on her and an unknown pair of hand yanked her away from the mirror. Her feet slid the rest of the way through. The image of the prince vanished. The mirror blinked white before reflecting a terrified Cynthia sprawled on the floor with Rapunzel still clutching both her upper arms.
“You sure know how to make an entrance.”
Epilogue
“I guess we’ll have to play it by ear.”
CYNTHIA STEPPED BACK FROM THE platform as the train chugged into the station. She put her hand up to keep her hat from flying off her head. In its cage by her feet, Jack’s goose honked and tried to spread its wings.
She clutched her small second-hand suitcase to her . A change of clothes—also second-hand—her mother’s shoes, Remi’s cloak, and the prince’s scroll were the only things in it.
Remi . No, she wouldn’t think of him now. She couldn’t dwell on it. If she did, her misery would consume her.
Instead she considered the note she’d snagged the morning of her escape. With her new memories it wasn’t hard to piece together the cryptic message.
Wedding date set for next week, with or without the fräulein’s cooperation.
Herrchen
Cynthia remembered the well-dressed, oily man who’d conned her into coming here. Apparently Prince Wilhelm—or whoever he had been in this world—suffered no memory loss or compulsion to do the master’s bidding.
She shook her head at her narrow escape. If only she’d been able to free more people. If only she could dissolve Herrchen’s world forever.
Herr Krämer put a tentative hand on her shoulder and she gave him a wan smile. He’d saved his petrol ration all week so he could take them to the station. Cynthia didn’t know what they would have done without the older man’s kindness. He’d let them stay in the tiny apartment above the antique shop and provided them with food and clothes.
She’d given Herr Krämer an abbreviated version of why they were suddenly standing in his store one late summer afternoon after tumbling through an antique mirror and scaring the life out of his young clerk. Hopefully one that didn’t make her sound crazy.
She wasn’t sure he bought it, after all, they’d had to ask what year it was. But he must have known a needy group when he saw one. He used his contacts in the government to make travel arrangements for them all. Rapunzel’s— Dalaja as she wanted to be called again—were the easiest to arrange. Traveling to India wasn’t difficult during the war and she seemed in a fever to find her sister. So with a quick hug and a promise to write, she had left a week ago. Cynthia was sad to see her go, but practical enough to realize the years apart had dissolved the easy friendship they’d shared as children. Their camaraderie had a new defini tion. N ot bad, just different.
The train rocked to a stop in a hiss of steam. Doors opened and the platform became a mass of olive green uniforms as German soldiers swarmed from the train. Cynthia held still as they flowed around her. Beside her, Jack stiffened too. In the short weeks they had been in she small town of Tr iberg , they had learned to be w ary of the soldiers. No real reason, just a survival instinct.
A dozen other children dotted the platform, waiting for a break in the mad rush to board the train. Cynthia was by far the oldest. Others in the Kindertransport were as young as three. They clutched the older children’s hands and watched the hustle with wide eyes. They were all catching the same train that would carry them to the coast. From there, they’d board a ship that would take them to Great Britian where English families were waiting to shelter Germany’s youth from the war zone.
It wasn’t where Cynthia really wanted to go, but it had been the most expedient way out of Germany for her and Jack, neither yet eighteen—in appearance anyway—and still children in the eyes of the government.
The crowd trickled away and the conductor waved the group forward. Cynthia gave Herr Krämer one last hug and stuck close to Jack as they were jostled into a compartment. She settled herself in a seat by the window and turned back to watch the old man through the glass. He looked suddenly lost. He was a widower whose two sons had been drafted into the German army. She was glad he’d still have Jurgen and baby Markus there with him a while longer.
Of the small group, only the fisherman didn’t seem in any hurry to leave. Cynthia had a feeling he had no one to search for in the familiar yet strange world they now found themselves a part of.
“Do you think they’re still alive?” Jack asked, watching the rest of the passengers climb onto the train and find their seats. He’d been quiet and reticent since finding out how long they’d been gone. Like Cynthia, he’d left at least some of his family behind.
“I hope so.” She stared at her hands in her lap and whispered the rest. “At least , I think I hope so.”
Herrchen had taken them over fifty years ago. Fifty years of their life that had only felt like ten at the most. They weren’t sure if time ran differently in Elorium or they really hadn’t noticed it passing, but if her father was alive, he’d be ninety now. She didn’t know what was worse, finding him dead or finding him an old man. Until recently, she didn’t remember he existed.
Jack nodded. “What’s your plan then?” They both needed to get to America, but in the middle of a war that was tearing Europe apart, it wasn’t going to be easy.
“We’ll look for a ship heading that direction when we get to the port. Sneaking tickets for both of us won’t be too hard, but I don’t know what kind of documentation we’ll need.” She sighed. “I guess we’ll have to play it by ear.”
Cynthia looked out the window as the train started rolling away from the station. Fifty years. In fifty more, she would have to start coming to terms with her own mortality. Would they go by as fast as the years in Elorium seemed to? She recalled now the horro
r of those desperate months following her mother ’s and sister’s deaths. The stark terror of it seemed to have abated with time, but it still wasn’t something she liked to think about.
The lofty pines of the Black For r est began to roll by as they sped toward the coast. Jack had closed his eyes and lay back in his seat, his goose flapping indignantly at being ignored. Cynthia cracked the window of the compartment and inhaled. The sharp scent of pine blew in, bringing her back to a similar forest with open sky above her, and a boy beside her she had loved.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This particular book seemed to flow from the keyboard with a minimal amount of rewrites and overhauls. Might have something to do with it being my shortest one to date, and as usual, no one writes in a bubble, least of all me.
Brittney, you’ve stuck with me through three books, and although I had misgiving you might not like this one as much because Dylan wasn’t in it, you seemed to love Remi just as much. Which seems fair, since I didn’t parcel this one out chapter by chapter.
Jessie, you always find the heart of the story and aren’t afraid of calling out the characters when they’re being jerks, whether I meant to write them that way or not.
And to the rest of my family, Mom, Dad, Jared, and Jen who always raise the bar just a little higher for me, while simulatiously giving me a leg up over it.
Kellie Sheridan, blurb writer, keeper of deadlines , and all around support system. Many thanks.
Erica Crouch, as always, I love your enthusiasum when you edit, and with school behind you, I can’t wait to see how you intend on rocking the literary/book publishing world.
Joe, Ben, and Olivia, bless your hearts. Two new jobs, and a flipped condo later (not to mention the writing of a book!) you’re still hanging in there. I promoise next year will be quieter. I’m so proud of the readers/writers you yourselves are becoming .
Ryan, what can I say? I won the lottery when I married you. Never leave.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Janna is a Colorado based YA author who loves a good fairy tale . Shehe married to her own real life Prince Charming , and will usually admit to being mom of three , including her incorrigible middle child , Benny . Besides wrangling her kids she can be found doing some therapeutic baking , dreaming of the ocean , and of course, curling up with a good book .
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Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24