The Daughters Grimm

by Minda Webber

  “Bite your tongue. Gentlemen have always admired my gowns.”

  “Not the gold gown,” Greta remarked, “and not Timothy Sterne.”

  “Timothy’s a dunce,” Rae scoffed. She carefully made her way around a large marble tombstone, noting that the lantern barely kept the utter blackness away from them. “Greta, I really don’t like this. I want to go back to our aunt’s home now!” She stomped her foot angrily, and managed to merely sink deeper into the icy snow. “Dash it all!” Then, noticing her sister hadn’t stopped, she hurried over the white bumps of snow-covered earth to catch up.

  “I will never forgive you for this, Greta,” she complained. “You know I don’t like graveyards, even when I know somebody there! I don’t like wearing breeches under my gown. I don’t like monsters. I don’t like big teeth. And I hate garlic!” Rae grumbled as she glanced nervously around. She hated the thought of the undead living in moldering ruins, hated the idea of crypts and eyes burning with the flames of Hades, staring at her while she was unaware. “Here I am, among demonic monsters, all because you’re mad. Sometimes, family loyalty is too high a price to pay. I can feel their beady demented eyes staring at me behind those gravestones. Let’s leave, please, before a vampire attacks us!”

  “Do stop your grumbling,” Greta snapped. “And stop whining about having to wear breeches when they are much more comfortable than skirts. We certainly couldn’t have climbed down the trellis from my room in our gowns and hoops. Come now, sister dear, you would have been bored stiff staying at home,” she added. “Besides, look on the bright side. This cemetery is very close to our aunt’s home. So we didn’t have to walk far in this weather.”

  “Pooh, I should be sound asleep,” Rae groaned, her eyes continually searching the encroaching shadows that might hide big shiny teeth. A faint shiver of fear snaked through her. “And I certainly wouldn’t be freezing to death in this graveyard. Of course, I won’t freeze if I get sucked to death first. I can’t believe I’m here. This is some mad dream, isn’t it? Rather like when you dream you’re naked and think you’re dressed, but you aren’t. And you’re at some marvelous dance and everyone is staring at you…”

  Greta stopped looking amongst the tombstones long enough to hold her lantern high in the direction of her sister, staring at her with an expression of dumb amazement. “How is looking for vampires in a cemetery like being stark naked at a ball? Really, Rae, sometimes you get the queerest notions.”

  “Must you argue philosophy at a time like this? We might be vampire bait at any time. I hope our brothers understand our sacrifice and feel guilty when I am dead or undead, sacrificed on the altar of their monstrous ambitions and your own. I hope they can’t sleep at night due to nightmares of me haunting graveyards with really big horrid teeth. They had better appreciate how I gave my life’s blood so that you may write to them of some silly fable or some such nonsense.”

  “I don’t know why you’re so worried.” Greta sighed. “I’ve brought garlic, stakes, and we’re wearing enough silver crosses to out-holy the Pope. I have taken every precaution for meeting one of the fiendish monsters.”

  “I only hope it impresses the vampires,” Rae retorted, stepping around a pretty marble angel statue and anxiously fingering her garlic (all four rows of it). “I beg you, let’s leave at once.”

  “I’ll protect you, Rae. I promise you that.”

  Rae shook her head. “You’d better, Greta. I attract men like flies. If there are vampires here, they are going to want to drink my blood first. Of course, after draining me, they’ll probably be too full to attack you. So I guess I’m protecting you in a way.”

  With a modicum of civility, Greta managed not to berate her sister. The hour was late, the graveyard apparently empty of blood-drinking fiends, her feet were freezing and she was tired of Rae’s conceit. Enough was enough. “Perhaps they’ll be female vampires and ignore you altogether. Or, mayhap, the male vampire might prefer me to you. Not everyone falls at your feet, you know.”

  Rae was incensed. “How dare you talk to me like that? If there is a male vampire here, I know he’s dying to drink my blood. In fact, I’ll go so far as to predict he’ll be in immediate bloodlust. That’s why I’m so afraid. You’re pretty, Greta, but alas, you are definitely on the shelf—and rather thin to boot. I highly doubt that any self-respecting, red-blooded vampire would choose you over me. I, on the other hand, am like a vampire beacon, driving them mad with desire and undead passion.”

  Greta would have laughed if she wasn’t so annoyed. “Undead passions? What rubbish. Your conceit is really getting out of hand. In fact, I am going to tell you something that I wasn’t going to reveal at all.” She halted and stared hard at her younger sister. “I overheard a conversation between Baron Schortz and Prince von Hanzen the night of our first ball here. The reason the prince hasn’t sent flowers is that he finds you a vain bit of baggage.”

  Rae halted dead in her tracks, her fears forgotten. “I don’t believe you. You are as bad as Taylor, making up stories out of thin air.”

  “No, I’m not. I’m also not proud of the fact that I was eavesdropping and heard ill of myself as well. But I did hear, and now the words will always be there,” Greta said unhappily. She would never forget the prince’s caustic comments about her looks paling into insignificance beside her sister’s. “Prince von Hanzen also warned his friend away from you. He asserted that you were shallow and would make the baron miserable.”

  “You’re lying; you have to be. Men don’t speak ill of me. They worship me.” Rae’s expression was thunderstruck, but that quickly changed to hurt. Suddenly the baron’s defection made sense.

  “No,” Greta replied, starting to feel a twinge of guilt at her sister’s expression. Rae looked deeply hurt. Surely she didn’t really care for the prince beyond his royal blood, his antecedents, his handsome looks and his coin.

  “How dare he say I’m shallow? Why, I’m a very deep person. I have even forced myself to read Shakespeare on occasion.”

  “Yes, I remember. Whenever you wanted to impress your more scholarly or poetic swains.”

  Rae nodded, uttering, “A lady has to look impressed when they talk about all those dead Greek philosophers or that Donne character who’s always writing about man is an island. Why would anyone want to be an island? I bet the nasty old Prince von Hanzen reads Shakespeare. Just who is he to criticize me when we met on such short acquaintance? Why, he doesn’t know my character at all! Just because he’s royalty, he thinks he can insult a gentle lady with a pure and kind heart and genteel manners. Bloody hell, may the devil take his rotten little soul!”

  Greta lowered her lantern, feeling even more guiltily. Despite her discomfort and her fears, Rae had come out tonight to find this blood-sucking monster with her so that Greta wouldn’t have to go alone. “Forget his words, Rae. The man is of no consequence to you.”

  “That handsome prince…he warned his oafish friend away,” she spluttered. “And though the baron is too big and all, I did admire his frankness. Now the big ox is ignoring me, all because of that abominable Prince von Hanzen. I’ll show them both. I’ll no longer allow any hint of shallowness in my character. Inside I’ll be so deep, people will think I’m an ocean.” Rae turned to Greta. The lantern light glowed softly upon her face, and her blue eyes were bright with unshed tears. “Just wait and see if I don’t!”

  Greta opened her mouth to comfort her sister, hating that she had allowed her annoyance at Rae to overcome her good nature. But before she spoke, a ghastly scream rent the air, causing both sisters to clutch at their crosses and garlic. Their flesh was creeping, and their hearts pounded in their breasts. The lantern swayed back and forth due to Greta’s trembling hand, casting shadows upon snow-crusted tombstones and branches bare of leaves.

  “Vampire?” Rae asked, her voice trembling in fear.

  “It very well could be. But do remember, sister, that I’ve never heard a vampire before,” Greta admitted, her breathing fast. She
felt both jubilance that she might make the discovery of a lifetime, and a direness of spirit. If it were one of the undead come to life, she might have compromised her sister’s and her own life with her unrelenting curiosity.

  “We should leave now!” Rae’s voice was filled with fear; it had flooded her system, leaving her shivering in utter terror. “I do so hate screaming. It upsets my nerves.”

  “But if the scream wasn’t a vampire’s, then it might be someone in trouble. Perhaps we should offer help.”

  “If anybody screams in a graveyard in the dead of night, Greta, you can be most assured that it means trouble,” Rae pronounced nervously, her eyes wide. She held a small stake in one hand and her gown in the other, ready to flee at the slightest sound. She was suddenly glad to be wearing breeches and her riding boots. “It was a very scary scream. They most likely do need help.”

  “That would be the heroic thing to do,” Greta replied, her face a mask of indecision.

  “Yes, it would,” Rae conceded, her eyes scanning the darkness. If they went to help, they might both die—and that meant she would die unmarried, which was unforgivable.

  As the two Grimm sisters hesitated, wondering what to do, another chilling scream rent the air. Greta had eight crosses lodged in various parts of her dress or around her throat, but after hearing this, she suddenly felt like she needed another ten. Or mayhap a hundred. She turned to her sister. “I’d never forgive myself if anything happened to you.”

  “N-neither would I,” Rae stammered.

  And with that, they sprinted down a path back toward their aunt’s home, their footsteps crunching through the hard-packed snow. Those footsteps sounded very loud indeed in the silence of the graveyard.

  They didn’t run far before the two sisters paused to catch a much-needed breath, and it was at that moment Greta saw a shadow rise from the crypt to the right. This time, she herself screamed, and she placed herself in front of Rae. But her scream was of excitement.

  Her heart was pounding. “A vampire. I’ve found a vampire! Just wait until Jakob and Will hear!” At the same time, Greta suddenly realized that the vampire might be hungry, and that they might not live to see the dawn. Most certainly they would not have the time to compose a letter home. She felt a bleak spear of despair. Poor Rae, she might have been led to her doom before she became a princess.

  Rae squeezed her eldest sister’s arm, closing her eyes tightly, hoping that by doing this cowardly but smart thing she would miss viewing the big-fanged monster. If she couldn’t see him, perchance he wouldn’t be real and wouldn’t bite her enchantingly beautiful neck.

  The shadow moved closer, followed by another a few steps behind. “Oh, gracious, I do believe that I’ve found a nest of them. This town is overrun with vampires like the countess warned,” Greta exclaimed, her tone conveying both awe and dread. “I’ve found vampires. Forgive me, Rae.”

  Feeling Rae behind her shaking in fear, Greta fought the urge to scream hysterically and run headlong into the night. She had to protect her sister at all costs! And she also couldn’t wait to get a closer look at one of the Nosferatu. Her fascination was unreasonable. It was foolish, most possibly deadly. Yet Greta couldn’t seem to overcome her morbid curiosity.

  With eyes squeezed tightly shut, Rae snapped, “You must be so proud. They could put that on your tombstone: She found the monster that ate her!”

  “Oh, dear, it’s actually quite thrilling. Quite the time of my life,” Greta gasped, her breaths becoming jerky. “It’s enough to make one swoon.”

  “If you faint and leave me alone with two fiendish undead, I’ll kill you, Greta!” Rae replied. Then, realizing that with her eyes closed she couldn’t help defend her older sister, she managed to open them slightly. Her heart pounded as if it wanted out of her chest. Tightly Rae clutched her stake, wondering just how one went about staking the undead.

  Rae started bravely around her sister, feeling sick to her stomach, so that they could stand side by side in Grimm acceptance of their fate. They would fight with the armor of familial love, a helmet of the cross (or crosses), a shield of garlic and a wooden stake of a sword. “I wonder if they felt like this in the Crusades when facing the infernal.”

  “That’s infidels,” Greta remarked, amused in spite of the fear rising through her body like mist at dawn. Once again, she shoved Rae protectively behind her.

  Then the remarkable happened, as it did in all fairy tales. The fickle fingers of Fate intervened, and in a good way. Before Greta could faint or Rae murder her eldest sister for leading them into this folly, the shadow came close enough for the lantern light to reveal the monster’s features. Those features were pretty handsome.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Ask the Dust (If It Answers Back, RUN)

  “Ah, look what we have here, Fen, Tweedledee and Tweedledumb,” Rolpe remarked to his companion with a studied insouciance.

  Stunned, Greta gasped, and Rae quit looking through her fingers to stare hard around her sister’s shoulders.

  Why, he’s not only an extremely rude prince; he’s a blood-sucking monster, Greta thought to herself, pleased she had decided against him if still miffed by his rejection. Her mother might have welcomed the prince into the family, but she knew her father would draw the line at a vampire.

  Fen shook his head at the sight of the sisters Grimm standing in a cemetery in the dead of night, both wearing apprehensive expressions. “What are you ladies doing here?” His heart twisted at the sight of Miss Rae; she did so remind him of his late wife. But his late wife had owned a heart of gold; Rae was merely beautiful on the outside, and tarnished on the inside.

  Rae remained silent, mortified that the baron should see her in such a ghastly state. What had she been thinking, following her sister out here?

  The men walked toward them, and Greta felt a chill of foreboding envelop her. Surely the most handsome man she had ever seen wasn’t undead, she thought, already forgetting her intense dislike of him. Meticulously, as they walked closer and into the lantern light, she searched for evidence of fangs or bloodlust. This was no easy task, because she really wasn’t certain what face bloodlust would wear.

  “The baron just asked what you are doing here,” Prince von Hanzen prompted. His tone was harsher than he’d intended, but he found himself infuriated by the thought of the elder Miss Grimm risking life and limb to haunt cemeteries at night. Surely she was not the grave robber they were after. That was almost too ludicrous to think, much less believe. Yet, here she was in a place where ghouls, vampires and other creatures prowled. Fortunately, in the Black Forest, whenever something strange was in the neighborhood, he and Fen were the men you were gonna call.

  Several moments passed in silence, with all four staring hard at each other. Finally Greta spoke. “We were visiting the grave of a relative,” she said. Holding her lantern high, she carefully searched the men’s faces again for a hint of fangs or evil intent.

  “Tweedle-who?” Rae asked, continuing to gaze past her sister’s shoulder. “And what are you doing here?” She asked the question of the hulking oaf. Then, aside, she whispered to her sister, “I don’t think this is good, Greta. Sane gentlemen don’t walk around graveyards at night. At least, they don’t in England. Do you think this is some queer Prussian custom?” She certainly wouldn’t be surprised to discover that Baron Schortz was one of those creepy, cursed undead things. Even now he was glaring at her with his beady little eyes. Well, perhaps they weren’t really beady or little. They were rather large and finely shaped.

  Drawing her cloak closer, Rae shivered and felt as if the darkness was closing in around her. Next time Greta came up with one of these bizarre excursions, she was going to stay in the comfort of her own bedchamber, under the nice warm covers, and not humiliate herself in front of the Prussian nobility.

  Ignoring the younger sister’s silliness, Rolpe narrowed his eyes and glared at Greta. “Visiting a relative’s grave at midnight, alone? Why, what an outrageous piece
of nonsense!”

  The man wore his arrogance like a second skin, and Greta’s ire grew. “It seemed as good a time as any. No crowds to gawk,” she replied carefully, fingering the Van Helsing-brand stake in her pocket and ignoring the prince’s disbelief and scorn. She studied von Hanzen, deciding that he didn’t look like a bloodsucking fiend; but then she had never met one face-to-face before. She decided that he merely looked displeased, and not in the throes of any passionate bloodlust.

  “Where is your aunt?” Fen asked, his tone surprised. He couldn’t believe the Grimm sisters were here. It was bizarre, odd and strangely fascinating. He’d have thought such a delicate flower as Miss Rae Grimm would faint at the thought of entering a cemetery at night.

  “I imagine she’s at home,” Greta replied, edging back slowly and pushing against Rae, who was still peering around her shoulder.

  “Where you should be,” Rolpe retorted sharply. He extended an arm. “Come. We’ll escort you home.”

  “I don’t think so,” Greta said.

  “It’s not safe here,” Fen stated sternly, his eyes focused on the younger sister. “You’d be surprised at what can come out at night, especially here.” He edged nearer to Miss Rae Grimm, only to see her frown at him. He halted abruptly, cursing his protective instincts toward the little vixen.

  “I know. We heard a scream,” Rae said, glaring mulishly at the baron. “From the direction you came.” Let him get out of that one, she thought waspishly. Obviously the man was up to no good in a cemetery. Only someone with evil intentions would come out on a night like this. She’d completely forgotten her own haunting of the graves.

  “We were riding home and heard the scream ourselves,” Fen answered. But, how dare the younger Grimm question his honor? How dare she look at him as if he were dirt beneath her dainty foot? His expression becoming dour, he added severely, “Fortunately it was only the gatekeeper, who’d had a rat run across his toes.”