The Grimm Legacy

by Polly Shulman

  “Something about mythology,” said Marc, shrugging. “Use the Golden Key, Elizabeth.”

  I tried. It didn’t work. “I guess that’s not what it’s supposed to open. It must be for some other lock.”

  “Are you sure that’s the real Golden Key?” said Aaron. “Let me see.”

  “You’re really going to give it to him? After what he did?” asked Marc.

  “I’m sorry about the rat. I really am!” said Aaron. “I rescued you, didn’t I?”

  “Will you give it back?” I asked.

  “Yes. I promise,” said Aaron.

  I gave him the key. “Oh!” he said, staring at it. He tried it in the lock himself, but it didn’t work.

  “Convinced?” I held out my hand.

  “Yes . . . yes, it definitely has that shimmer. It’s so strong! I’ve never seen anything like it.” He continued to stare at it, turning it in his hand.

  “Aaron! Give it back now. You promised.”

  “Oh. Sorry, I was just . . . sorry.” He handed it to me.

  “You know what?” I said slowly, “you hold on to it.” I gave it back to him.

  Marc shrugged. “Fine, Aaron can carry it, but I’ll be watching,” he said. “We don’t need it to get in, anyway—I have the magic stick that opens doors.”

  “No, don’t use the stick,” I said. “That thing’s pretty loud and dramatic. What if she’s home?”

  “One way to find out,” said Jaya, running up the steps. “Ring the bell.”

  “Stop,” Aaron shouted, but it was too late. A sweet double chime was echoing dimly behind the door.

  “Who is it?” called a voice behind the door.

  We all looked at each other. Once again, we hadn’t prepared a story.

  “We’re students at Vanderbilt and we’re doing a project on Manhattan’s historic wood-frame houses,” said Aaron.

  It might have sounded convincing if Jaya hadn’t been speaking at the same time: “I’m Jaya Rao, and I’m looking for my sister.”

  The door opened. “A project on wood-frame houses and looking for your sister? You’d better come in.”

  I recognized Gloria Badwin, Esq., from the Main Exam Room at the repository. She was wearing a pantsuit and pearls, with narrow black pumps. Her lipstick picked up the highlights in her auburn hair, which matched the deep-red leather briefcase standing on the hall table. She ushered us into a living room with chrysanthemums on the coffee table. “Please sit down, and tell me how I can help you,” she said.

  Marc, Aaron, and I sat down on the sofa. Jaya remained standing, staring with her mouth open. I turned to see what she was staring at: a display cabinet lined with row after row of dolls and figurines.

  My first reaction struck me hard—it looked so much like my mother’s doll collection! Tears flooded into my eyes. My mother, my mother—I missed her so much! If she were here now, everything would be better.

  I shook my head. My mother was gone and all I had now were my new friends. And those weren’t really dolls; they were enchanted people. One of them could be Anjali!

  “Ah, you’re drawn to my collection,” said Gloria Badwin to Jaya. “Little girls usually are. Aren’t my princesses special?”

  Jaya was too riveted even to object to being called a little girl.

  How could we get into the cabinet so we could find Anjali? I remembered how collectors love to talk about their collections—at least, my mother did. Maybe I could get Ms. Badwin talking and flatter her into opening the cabinet.

  “What an impressive group! Is that top one on the left Chinese?” I asked.

  “The benjarong porcelain? Thai, from the Ban Phlu Luong dynasty. She’s a beaut; let me show you.” Sure enough, Ms. Badwin unlocked the cabinet and brought out a colorful figurine. “She’s in excellent condition, considering that the men who transformed her had to use elephants to hold her down. It’s rare to find them with all ten fingers.”

  “What about the beautiful blue one behind her?”

  “My, you really have an eye! Egyptian faience, from the Middle Kingdom.”

  “And the lacy china one on the next shelf?”

  “A Bourbon. Every collection needs one. They’re not all that rare, actually—a lot of them came on the market during the French Revolution. Though their heads do tend to come off.”

  Aaron figured out what I was doing and joined in, with his usual tact. “What about that big doll with the loud colors that looks like a lumpy egg?” he said.

  Ms. Badwin chuckled. “Oh, the Russian family—that’s a bit of an embarrassment. I keep it to remind me that we all make mistakes.” She took out a wooden doll shaped like a squat bowling pin and twisted its middle. The doll came apart. Inside was another doll, which also twisted apart. “See?” said Ms. Badwin, twisting apart the nested dolls until she had a row of five. “A dealer in Leningrad swore the little one here was Anastasia, the youngest daughter of the last tsar. That was long before they identified Anastasia’s bones. Well, of course I didn’t really believe him, but I wanted to believe, so I took a chance. I paid three thousand dollars for the set of five. Dollars! Hard currency! Of course, the real Anastasia would have been worth a thousand times that. How they laughed at me when I got to West Berlin. A fake, but a very clever one—the eyes are just the right royal blue. I suspect there might be a drop of genuine Romanov blood in her. You fooled me, little lady!” She held the smallest doll up and waggled her finger at it, then put the dolls back together, nesting them.

  Jaya was having trouble sitting still through all this. I grabbed her wrist and squeezed it to keep her quiet.

  “I must say,” Ms. Badwin continued, “it’s very nice of you young people to listen to me go on like this. We collectors can get a little obsessive, I know. Not everyone would be so patient. But I imagine you take a family interest—most of you royals are related somewhere along the family tree.” She turned to Jaya. “Was the raja of Chomalur your great-grandfather, dear, or your great-great-grandfather? The dealer told me when I bought your sister, but I can’t remember.”

  “You bought Anjali from Mr. Stone?” Jaya was almost choking with fury.

  “Yes, he’s a very reliable dealer—she came with all her papers. I’m meticulous about provenance. Well, you have to be, especially these days. I have a friend who’s always snagging what she calls bargains on eBay, but all her Tang dynasty specimens turned out to be looted and had to be returned. And between you and me, that Maltese she brags about so much isn’t royal at all—it’s just a duchess. But you didn’t come here to hear all this. Where are my manners? Can I offer you anything? Some gingerbread, maybe?”

  “Yes, actually, that would be great, thank you,” said Aaron.

  I kicked him. I tried to be subtle about it so Ms. Badwin wouldn’t see. He kicked me back, much less subtly. I managed not to say “ow.”

  “Excellent! Back in a jiff,” said Ms. Badwin. She left the room.

  “What are you doing, Aaron?” I hissed. “You know it’s not safe to eat anything here!”

  “Getting her out of the room, you dimwit. Quick, let’s find Anjali!”

  Marc rushed over to the cabinet. Jaya was already there, pushing princesses aside. “There she is! Marc, can you reach?” She pointed to a painted clay puppet in the back of an upper shelf, the kind with strings to control the arms and legs. It was wearing a cloth sari, and it had Anjali’s eyes.

  “No, no. Don’t touch.” Ms. Badwin had come back. She was holding—I know this sounds lame—a magician’s wand. It looked like it came out of a magic kit, the kind an uncle might give his six-year-old nephew. She reached for Marc with the wand.

  “Watch out!” yelled Aaron, throwing himself in front of Marc. The wand hit Aaron full in the face, leaving a red welt across his cheek.

  “Very noble. Now get out of the way, please,” said Ms. Badwin.

  Aaron grabbed for Ms. Badwin’s arm, the one with the wand. She whipped it away and jabbed the wand between his legs. He crumpled, moaning. />
  Ms. Badwin reached across him and tapped Marc on the shoulder with the wand. Nothing happened.

  Marc reached into the cabinet and grabbed the puppet with Anjali’s eyes. “I got Anjali! Run!” he yelled. I grabbed Aaron by the arm and hauled him to his feet.

  “Run if you like. You won’t get very far. The door’s locked,” said Ms. Badwin, twisting one end of the wand. “How do I put this thing in reverse? It’s a royalty tester, but it should also work to—ah, got it.”

  She reached out and tapped Marc on the shoulder again. He dropped Anjali and collapsed, shrinking like a lump of metal and falling to the floor with a heavy clunk. He appeared to have become a small brass statuette.

  Jaya dove for her sister.

  “Marc!” I yelled. “What did you do to him?” Aaron and I threw ourselves at Ms. Badwin, but she held us off with her wand. Neither of us wanted to become dolls.

  “Don’t worry, it’s much better this way,” said Ms. Badwin, picking Marc up and putting him in the cabinet. “He’ll last far longer, maybe millennia. I don’t normally collect princes, but you have to admit, this one’s hard to resist. With any luck I’ll be able to trade him for a female version. I don’t have any west African princesses, which is a real hole in my collection. And it will be nice to have both Raos.” She spun around and struck Jaya with the wand.

  Jaya convulsed and wavered, but she didn’t transform. My knot! She must still be wearing it.

  Ms. Badwin shook the wand. “Shoddy thing. I knew I shouldn’t have cheaped out and bought the imported model,” she said, twisting the end again.

  “Jaya, grab that wand!” If she could get it before her knot of protection gave out, maybe the three of us could overpower Ms. Badwin.

  “No violence please, children,” said Ms. Badwin, easily shaking Jaya off and continuing to fiddle with the wand. “My liability insurance doesn’t cover . . . Wait, I thought I had already turned this up . . . Oh, here . . .”

  “Quick, give me my backpack,” said Jaya urgently, handing me the puppet. She fished frantically in it, throwing things on the floor.

  Ms. Badwin rapped her again. This time Jaya’s outline shook like Jell-O and she almost dropped her backpack.

  “I hope you two won’t be disappointed, but I’m not planning to add you to my collection,” Ms. Badwin said to me and Aaron. “Some people collect scullery maids and swineherds, but I stick to royals. I have to be selective. Not that you aren’t very fine examples of the common horde . . . Ah, I think this will do it.” She reached out for Jaya again with the wand.

  Jaya jumped back. She had something in her hand, which she snapped open—a fan. She waved it energetically at Ms. Badwin and yelled, “Get lost!”

  A ferocious wind sprang up.

  Papers blew off the desk. The chrysanthemums blew off the coffee table. A window burst and the curtains blew out of it. Ms. Badwin’s hair blew straight out behind her, exposing black roots. The wand blew out of her hand. Then the wind blew her away.

  Jaya stopped fanning. The curtains fell limp and the papers fluttered to the floor like autumn leaves. We rushed to the window and looked out. There was no sign of Ms. Badwin.

  “What was that?” said Aaron.

  “A fan my auntie Shanti gave me.” She glanced at me. “Okay, she gave it to Anjali, but I borrowed it. We’re supposed to share it.”

  “Is that the one I saw in Anjali’s room? It didn’t do that when you fanned me with it,” I said.

  “You have to give a command. And fan really hard.”

  “Where’s Ms. Badwin?” said Aaron.

  Jaya shrugged. “Lost, I hope.”

  “Let’s get out of here before she finds herself, then,” said Aaron.

  “Good idea,” I said. I took Marc out of the display cabinet and stowed him in my bag. He had been turned into a three-inch-tall brass figure of a man beating a gong with a stick. Its features were very stylized, but it was still obviously Marc.

  Anjali was bigger and much lighter.

  “Here, I’ll take her,” Jaya said. “She’s my sister.”

  I handed Jaya the puppet and picked up Marc’s backpack. “Let’s go.”

  “What about the other princesses? We can’t just leave them here. What if Ms. Badwin comes back?” said Jaya.

  “How can we possibly carry them all?” Aaron asked.

  Jaya took another familiar object out of her bag: the inlaid box from Anjali’s shelf. “We can use this,” she said. “It’s bottomless, so they should fit.” She opened it and began packing in princesses.

  “We don’t have time for that,” said Aaron. “We don’t know when Ms. Badwin could come back.”

  “It’ll go faster if you help.”

  “Jaya! Come on.”

  “We can’t leave them here,” said Jaya, tucking a delicate Japanese ivory into the box. “They’re people, just like you.”

  “She’s right,” I said. “Plus, she’s stubborn.”

  “And I’m royal, so you have to obey me.”

  “Yeah, a royal pain,” said Aaron, but he went over to the cabinet and started reaching down princesses for us.

  Jaya finished packing and snapped the box shut. “Get that wand,” she told Aaron. “Maybe we can use it to turn them back into people.”

  “Good idea.” Aaron reached for the wand.

  “Don’t touch it!” I yelled, but it was too late. He already had it in his hand.

  “Why not?” he said.

  “I thought you might turn into a doll. I guess it only works on royalty,” I said. “Maybe you really are a swineherd, like she said.”

  “Yeah, right.” He draped a throw from the couch over the broken glass on the windowsill and climbed out the broken window. Jaya followed.

  I sat on the sill and swung my legs over. “Why can’t we go out the door?” I asked.

  “You heard her—it’s locked.”

  “So? We have the door stick.”

  “Just jump already. It’s faster,” said Jaya.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll catch you,” said Aaron.

  He tried, but we both fell over. For the second time that day, I landed with a crash in a pile of dirty, half-melted snow. At least this time I was wearing a coat.

  “Was that entirely necessary?” I asked.

  “Sorry! You know how I sweep girls off their feet.” He grinned at me and held out a hand.

  I struggled to my feet, sloughing off slush.

  “We did it! It’s over! We rescued Anjali!” said Jaya, making the puppet clap her hands.

  “Not quite over,” I said. “Anjali’s still a marionette, and Marc’s a brass figurine, and we haven’t used the Golden Key yet. And I’m freezing, and my leg hurts. And what about Marc’s little brother? Somebody has to take care of him now that Marc can’t.”

  “Let’s go back to my place and figure out what to do,” said Aaron. “We can ask the mirror.”

  “That horror?” I said, but I followed him to the subway. Jaya trailed after, making Anjali jump over all the fire hydrants along the way.

  Chapter 24:

  Andre to the rescue

  Aaron’s mom came home soon after we arrived. “Hello, Elizabeth,” she said, poking her head in Aaron’s door. “And you must be Anjali?” She looked puzzled. Clearly she wasn’t expecting the object of her son’s obsession to be a ten-year-old toting a puppet.

  “How do you do, Mrs. Rosendorn? I’m actually Jaya. Anjali is my sister,” explained Jaya.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Jayda. You can call me Rebecca.”

  “It’s Jaya, Mom,” said Aaron. “Close the door when you go, okay?”

  She hesitated, but I could see her deciding that nothing too adult would happen with a ten-year-old in the room. “Okay, sweetie. Don’t forget you promised to do your laundry before Monday.” She shut the door.

  Jaya made Anjali wave at the closed door. She was pretty impressive at manipulating the strings.

  “Let’s see if we can turn Anjali back into
a person,” Aaron said, taking Ms. Badwin’s wand out of his backpack and tentatively poking Anjali.

  Jaya put Anjali’s hands on Anjali’s hips. “No good, I’m still a puppet,” she said in a parody of Anjali’s sweet, high voice.

  “Try the other end,” I said.

  Aaron turned the wand around and poked Anjali again. Nothing happened.

  Jaya shook Anjali’s head no and put the puppet down. “Let me try,” she said, grabbing the wand.

  “No, Jaya! Drop it!”

  Her outline wavered, but the knot of protection held. “Why did the wand work on Marc, anyway?” she asked. “I made him a knot of protection.”

  “He had to take it off,” I said. “We needed to use the shrink ray on him to get the Golden Key.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me? I could have made a new one.”

  “You’re right. It was a mistake.”

  Jaya liked being told she was right. “We all make mistakes sometimes,” she said generously.

  Aaron was fiddling with the wand. “Didn’t Gloria Badwin say something about putting this thing in reverse?” He twisted the end cap one way, then the other, until we heard a click. He tapped Anjali again. The end of the wand glowed bright green.

  “I wonder what that means?” he said. “Jaya, can you get me one of the other princesses?”

  Jaya opened the box and fished out a lacy china shepherdess and an Incan figurine in a feather headdress. The wand glowed the same bright green as Anjali when Aaron touched the Incan girl. It glowed greenish amber when he touched the china doll.

  “Does green mean royal? See if you can find those Russian dolls,” said Aaron.

  Jaya felt around in the box. “Here.”

  Only the innermost doll, the supposed Anastasia, gave a hint of green. The four outer nesting dolls tested red—completely nonroyal, presumably.

  “Interesting,” said Aaron, tapping me. The wand read red. “I guess you really are a scullery maid, not a princess.”

  “I’m a student and a page, thank you very much. I never claimed to be royal,” I said. “Give me that—I bet you make it turn red too.”