A Grimm Legacy

by Janna Jennings

  There was no sign of the giant or Quinn. How sure Mr. Jackson was that she was even there?

  The distinctive whop whop of the propeller and whine of the vintage engine made it impossible to hear Mr. Jackson. He gave Fredrick a silent thumbs up to get ready. Fredrick pulled himself from the gunner’s seat, determined not to regret his decision to go after Quinn. He crawled along the tail of the plane, the wind managing to finger its way under his helmet, and watched Mr. Jackson.

  Mr. Jackson checked his position, glanced back briefly at Fredrick, and waved his arm down in a clear, “Go!” Knowing timing was critical, Fredrick launched himself off the side of the plane.

  The sensation of a hand squeezing his heart and then trying to shove it out of his chest accompanied his free fall. He was used to drifting, not falling, and for a moment he was terrified beyond reason and reached for the pull cord on his parachute. He tried to count steadily, but it was tempting to match the tempo of his hammering heart. In his crash course in skydiving, Mr. Jackson had said to wait 30 seconds before pulling the parachute cord. Hitting the designated number, he yanked the ripcord.

  With a rumble of fabric, the chute unfolded. The air caught him and he jerked against the harness, his fall slowing. He angled his body toward the flat, green expanse of grass beside the tower.

  With the ground approaching quickly, Fredrick pulled on the toggles to stall his decent. Several yards from the ground, his parachute jerked sharply up, leaving him breathless and twisting in his harness. Glancing skyward to see what he’d snagged on, Fredrick stared into the angry eyes of the giant.

  A distraught Quinn was clutched in his fist, crushed between his fingers so tight she looked limp and lifeless. Yanking on the cutaway handle, the shoot detached from his harness and Fredrick dropped to the ground hard, smashing on to the giant’s right foot.

  Reflexively, the giant kicked, sending Fredrick sailing into the side of the tower where he bounced against the unforgiving stone and crumpled into a heap. The ground jumped and slid under Fredrick as the giant approached. He clawed at the grass, willing the ground to quit rolling. He’d done some serious injury to his chest that sent stabbing pains through his torso every time he tried to breathe.

  The giant’s shadow fell over him from the rising sun and Fredrick rolled to his back in time to see the disgusting blackened bottom of his bare foot descending on him. Moving quickly and smoothly, his hands didn’t seem his own as they drew the machete from its sheath and thrust upwards, connecting with sole of the giant’s foot.

  His skin was tougher than Fredrick anticipated, and he leaned into the blade, feeling it slide through the skin and into the muscle beneath. Blood welled around Fredrick’s hands and spilled over him as the weight of the giant continued downward, threatening to crushed him.

  The giant howled in pain and kicked out in a panic, wrenching the knife from Fredrick’s blood slicked hands. The massive foot swung out of his line of vision just in time for Fredrick to watch him throw his hands in the air, releasing Quinn. She arced high and sailed over the side of the floating island.

  Fredrick wondered why—later, when he had time to reflect—he started thinking he was some kind of superhero, and apparently one that flew. But at the time, he simply sprinted for the side of the island and launched himself into space, desperate to catch Quinn before the ground rushed up to meet them.

  The air screamed past Fredrick, who’d left his sense of self-preservation somewhere on the floating island. Then Quinn was tumbling beneath him. He tried to streamline his body and angle toward her, hoping she had the sense to slow her fall as much as possible. Time seemed to speed up as he fell and, at first, the distance between them wouldn't change.

  At the point his terror was about to roll over into panic, he made out more details of Quinn and he knew he was getting closer. Fredrick could see the individual hairs escaping her braid, streaming straight up as she fell, and the whites of her eyes, enormous and frightened in her bloodless face.

  He was falling much faster than she was now with her arms and legs spread. He almost shot past her, but she scrambled frantically at him, catching his arm. They pulled toward each other and Quinn latched herself on to the front of his blood soaked body, wrapping her legs around his torso and her arms around his neck so tight his ribs flared in agony and the air flowing to his lungs slowed down to a trickle.

  "Hang on!" He gasped, and she nodded, her head buried into his neck. He pulled the ripcord and clinched his arms together as tightly as he could behind her back as his emergency chute opened, bucking them backward into the sky.

  Quinn slipped down his front as her legs lost their death grip from his waist and her arms slid from his neck. He tightened his hold across her back until his muscles threatened to give out and he was sure his ribs broke free of his skin.

  The initial jerk was over and their decent leveled out, but they were still approaching the ground very fast. The parachute wasn't designed for this much weight and he wasn't sure how much longer he could hold onto her.

  He craned his neck to peer over her shoulder and saw the ground screaming toward them. "Roll!" Was all he managed to shout as they tumbled in to the hard earth, barreling along the ground in a tangle of limbs and parachute until they came to a rest. Fredrick felt a pop in his chest and gratefully, he lost consciousness.

  A ripping noise woke Fredrick. He gasped and tried to sit up as a blinding pain crushed his chest.

  “Hold still,” Mr. Jackson said, pulling tight on the medical tape and applying it to his rib cage.

  “What happened?” Fredrick croaked, trying to move his head. All he could see was empty blue sky and grass on either side of his head.

  “You jumped off a floating island and broke several ribs,” Mr. Jackson said.

  Fredrick tried to place his tone. Frustrated? Incredulous?

  “I think they were broken before I jumped,” he said and gasped as Mr. Jackson applied another strip of tape to his bare chest.

  “Then your crash landing didn’t help the situation.”

  Mr. Jackson leveraged him to his feet. Fredrick’s vision darkened at the edges, but he willed it away. He couldn’t pass out now.

  “Where’s Quinn?”

  “Already in the car with the others. You four will be taken directly to the train station,” Mr. Jackson said, prodding him toward the nondescript black sedan waiting in the middle of a meadow.

  “Aren’t you coming?”

  “Plans have changed. You’ve stirred up quite a hornets’ nest and I’ll need to make sure they don’t follow you,” Mr. Jackson said, opening the door one handed. Fredrick leaned on him heavily. “Fredrick,” Mr. Jackson’s tone made him pause and search the man’s eyes. “Thank you. I don’t think I’ve ever been so exasperated and proud of any individual.” He leveraged him into the car and shouted up to the driver, “Go, Otto!” before Fredrick could think of a reply.

  Part IV

  Cinderella

  “Then she took her clumsy shoe off her left foot, and put on the golden slipper; and it fitted her as if it had been made for her.”

  Chapter 18

  “There's no reason to negotiate with this goon."

  Andi made a face at the platform where the train dropped them. Weeds poked their heads through the cracks of the splintered wood and the small ticket window sagged so badly, it looked like it was held up by nothing but hope.

  The train pulled away with an ear-piercing whistle as soon as they stepped off. There were no other passengers, just them, each clutching a small backpack—or in Andi's case, the messenger bag she’d rescued from the mangled car.

  Quinn stood so close to Fredrick their arms were almost touching, which Fredrick didn’t seem entirely comfortable with, but he didn’t pull away. Andi had noticed she’d been this way since he’d plucked her out of the air and crashed landed in that field. Not that she blamed Quinn. Andi had a front row seat as they had come screaming out of the sky and hit the ground hard enough they actua
lly bounced. It didn’t help that Fredrick had been covered with blood and it took Mr. Jackson several minutes to figure out it wasn’t his.

  A single black crow perched on top of the ticket booth gave a loud, “Caw!” and clacked his beak at Andi.

  “None of your business,” Andi addressed the crow.

  “What did he say?” Dylan asked.

  The crow cocked his head to the side so he could regard her with one of his beady, black eyes.

  “He’s just being nosey,” Andi said, crossing the worn boards of the platform and approaching the cage of the ticket window. An ancient wrought iron fan whirred in the corner, but no one was there.

  "Hello?" Her voice echoed around the empty station. She looked back to the others who shrugged, and turned to face the empty cage again and jumped with a small shriek. Peering at her from behind the bars was a pair of dark eyes and a bald head.

  "Wh'da you want?" A high-pitched voice barked at her.

  "Uhhh... " His sudden appearance threw Andi off. "I mean, hi. Do you know where the Wellingtons live?"

  He eyed her up and down. "Let's say I do." He raised a wild eyebrow. "What's in it for me?"

  "Uhhh..." Andi said again.

  "There something wrong with you girly? You want my help or not?" the bald head asked.

  "We can pay you." Quinn dug in her bag of supplies Mr. Jackson gave them. "How much?"

  Andi caught a glimpse of an odd spud-shaped nose as he shook his head. "Nope, money won't do, ‘specially if you're willing to give it away easily. I want something valuable to you. Got any magical items? I’ll take a needle that will sew any object. Or a magic mirror," he offered. He narrowed his eyes at Andi. "What do ya got in there, missy?"

  She clutched her bag to her chest, alarmed at the sudden turn of events asking directions had taken. All she had was her grandmother's cloak, her shoes, the book; she wasn't about to part with any of them.

  Dylan took both girls by the arm and gently steered them away from the window. "Look." Nodding his head past the station, a single dirt track wound away from the platform and disappeared into the evergreen trees. "There's only one way to go, and we can walk. This place is tiny, I'm betting it's not far to the town. We can ask again when we get there. There's no reason to negotiate with this goon." Dylan raised his voice at the end, the man’s beady eyes watched them from the window and he was sure to have heard the last part.

  Andi relaxed. He was right; they didn't have to let themselves be bullied. "Okay, lead the way," she said.

  The four of them hopped off the platform into the dusty ruts that passed for a road here.

  "Wait!" The odd little man from the ticket booth crashed as he fell off of something and tumbled through a door in the back of his booth.

  Now that Andi could see all of him, his appearance was even stranger. Not much taller than Harland and Cob, his head was bare except for three or four wispy white strands. In addition to the bright, dark eyes and oversized nose, his ears were large and droopy, making him like a miniature elephant. A short squat body and long slender arms gave him a disproportionate look.

  "Wait!" he gasped again, hurrying after them with an odd hobble in his gait. "I'll take you!"

  "No, we'll walk," Fredrick told him shortly.

  The sudden change in his attitude made Andi uncomfortable.

  "I'll do it for the money you offered,” he said.

  Quinn narrowed her eyes at him. "How much?"

  He considered. "Forty Deutschmarks."

  "Ten,” Quinn countered.

  "What! Twenty then,” he told her.

  "Fifteen, or we walk," Quinn said with finality in her tone.

  Grinning suddenly, he revealed a mouth full of rotting teeth. "Fifteen it is. Yours was the last train today. I'm heading home anyway, so I'll drop you on my way."

  He turned back to the station as the others trailed behind.

  Hitched to the back of the ticket booth was a horse and cart that should have been retired at the turn of the century. The horse's head was bowed to his knees and had a noticeable dip in his back from years of overuse. The cart was missing several planks and the wheels tilted in at alarming angles.

  "Is that going to hold us?" Andi circled the cart slowly, hands on her hips.

  "It’s stronger than it looks. Get in,” the odd little man said.

  The four of them carefully piled into the back as the cart wallowed lower to the ground. The ticket booth operator climbed quickly into the driver's seat, slid on a pair of aviator sunglasses, and grabbed the reins. With a quick flick, they lurched forward. The wagon dipped and swayed as if they were on the deck of a moving ship as they wound through pines identical to the forest boarding Mr. Jackson's estate.

  "So, what do we call you?" Andi asked, not so much to be friendly, but trying to ferret out more information about characters they could connect to the book, and in turn, to her family.

  "HA!" The little man half turned in his seat, keeping one eye on the road. "She's good, I'll give her that. Get's more cunning every year." The last part was mostly spoken to himself. “Why don't you call me... Paul. Yes, Paul will do nicely." He winked back at them.

  "Okay... Paul." Andi said wondering who the ‘she’ he spoke of was. "Have you been working at the train station long?”

  "This is something I do part time." He picked at a spot on his nose. "I have a full time gig that’s seasonal, spinning straw you know, and it's a slow time right now. Where’d you say you were from, again?”

  "We’re visiting from the city," Fredrick said

  Paul sat slouched on the seat, staring straight forward. "Since we're being so friendly and all, you won’t mind me asking… How’d you do it?"

  Andi traded looks with the others; something they were getting very good at.

  "Do what?" Fredrick asked.

  "Walk away like that!" He was working himself up now. "Walk away from a deal involving my services!"

  "I’m not following," Fredrick said.

  "No offense, but your deal wasn’t great," Dylan put in.

  "It doesn't matter how good it was! People I offer to make deals with don't choose a different way!" Paul said.

  "Why not, if your deals are crummy?" Dylan asked.

  "They just don't.” It was hard to read his expression behind the sunglasses, but he was clearly angry enough to let their logical remark rob him of any comeback.

  Houses popped up at intervals along the route with no discernible rhyme or reason to their layout. A small sheepherder's cottage could be next door to a mansion, a lone tower mostly obscured by trees down the road from a stately castle.

  "Does it seem to you there are a lot of castles here?" Quinn asked in a whisper.

  Andi lifted one shoulder. "Think about where the characters come from in most of the stories."

  The cart slowed and rattled to a stop in front of a large house in one of the few clearings they saw on the short ride from the station. It hunkered in front of the forest, making room for itself and surrounding land. It wasn't the mansion Mr. Jackson lived it, neither was it a shepherd's cottage.

  Gray and imposing, it was a stone box of a house with a flat front; the only relief from a straight plane was the step in front of the door. An extensive garden stretched on either side, giving green wings to the ugly structure. Where Mr. Jackson's gardens were ornamental, the bushes and trees of this home were all functional. Something edible grew on everything, from the fruit trees to the tidy vegetable garden and the green summer hay waving in the distant fields.

  Piling out, Quinn thumbed through the unfamiliar currency and handed their driver two bills labeled five and ten. Paul flicked his reins and drove away, humming.

  They stood together in the dust of the doorway. Inhaling slowly, Andi reached out a hesitant hand and knocked.

  Chapter 19

  “If that wasn't an ugly stepsister, I don't know what is."

  Andi took a step back when the door wrenched open. A teenage girl stood there, looking like
someone shoved a rotten rutabaga under her nose. Charitable people would have referred to her as plain or simple. Andi, with no aversions to the truth, thought her just plain ugly.

  Attempting to cover this up this fact, the girl had plastered on make-up and stuffed herself into a Chanel strapless dress Andi had drooled over at the mall just a month ago. But her clothes did nothing to hide her spoon shaped figure, too narrow on top and too wide on bottom.

  Behind the lipstick and mascara, her eyes were bulbous and sunken into her head, her lips thin and twisted. Her chin jutted forward and her forehead was too high and broad beneath the vibrant shade of orange she’d dyed her hair, which was only natural on pond koi. Her clothes did nothing to hide a spoon shaped figure, too narrow on top and too wide on bottom.

  The girl stood with a slight gape in her mouth revealing crooked teeth.

  "Cynthia?" she whispered. Her face paled and her eyes grew wide until their perfectly round shape made the resemblance to the pond koi remarkable. She reached a hand out but paused, as if thinking better of it.

  "No, I'm Andi." She sighed, wondering when she’d get used to people mistaking her for her grandmother. "Did you know her? Cynthia Wellington?"

  An odd change flickered over her unattractive face; fear, relief, and then a hard bitterness drew her thin eyebrows together, puckering her entire face.

  "Where’ve you been, you little maggot?" she growled through clenched teeth.

  Grabbing Andi by the arm, she dragged her inside, slamming the door behind her. Twisting a key in the lock, she separated Andi from the other three outside. "You’ve years worth of chores waiting for you!" she said with a positively gleeful look.

  The others pounded and shouted on the other side of the door, but the girl ignored the noise and pocketed the key.

  "No! There’s been a mistake. I'm just looking for information about my grandmother."

  Disbelief crossed the girl’s face at the word ‘grandmother,’ but she quickly quashed it. "Lies will only make it worse for you. You remember that, don't you Cindy?” She reached for Andi's bag. “Now, what did you bring me?"