A Grimm Legacy

by Janna Jennings

  “Yes, of course,” the tailor said, bending to slip the shoes on himself. “Get rid of those!” he snapped at one of his attendants who quickly removed the offending footwear. “But the cloak won’t do, it is the entirely wrong color and covers too much of the dress.”

  “I’m wearing it,” Andi said firmly.

  “You’re not,” the tailor countered with a stubborn set of his jaw.

  Andi studied him through narrowed eyes. “I guess I’ll have to defer to your expertise,” she said sweetly. “Really, you’ve done such beautiful work in such a short time. What do you think of a permanent position at the palace?”

  “A possibility,” the tailor said, pushing his glasses up his nose and looking like Christmas had come early this year. “Would you, as the new princess, be in a position to make that happen?”

  “I imagine I would,” Andi said, straightening to her full height. “And my first order of business would be to have you redesign your fellow prisoners’ uniforms in the dungeons.” Andi smiled icily down at him.

  The tailor locked eyes with her briefly and addressed one of his assistants. “Maureen, would you please hand the lady her cloak?”

  Andi wasn’t sure why she’d insisted on her grandmother’s things. Their nearness used to give her a feeling of security, and perhaps part of Andi was still contemplating making a run for it, or expecting a last minute rescue. But in her heart, she knew there was no one to come for her.

  They led Andi to the full-length oval mirror, disconcerting in its resemblance to the magic one shattered that morning.

  “Well?” the tailor pressed.

  A fairy tale princess stared back at Andi. Striking and feminine in opulent wedding white, primped, polished, and bejeweled to perfection. She had never looked more beautiful. Despair threatened to drown her.

  “I look like a princess,” she said, her voice flat and lifeless.

  The last rays of the setting sun reflected off the fragment of mirror laying on the bedside table. Andi had forgotten about it the shard. Outside the window, the sun sank below the tree line. The sunlight was gone, but movement continued in the shard of glass.

  “It’s time,” a guard spoke from the door.

  Andi swept the mirror piece into her hand on the way out the door and let the cloak fall to conceal her hands.

  With an escort of six armed guards, Andi was whisked through the place. She tried to drag her feet, to slow down the inevitable end to this story, but the guards prodded her into a fast clip. They reached the staircase where she’d been separated from the others that morning. The landing had been scrubbed clean—can’t have blood on the floor during a royal wedding.

  She stared at her feet, carefully going down the stairs in the heavy, cumbersome dress. With her head bowed, she risked a glance at the mirror shard. Instead of reflecting a bit of her face back, white swirls drifted gently across the surface.

  She jerked her head up, almost falling at the end of the staircase. The ballroom had been decorated to an extent that the feast, in comparison, had been a paltry affair. The perfume of thousands of white roses was almost overwhelming. So numerous, they appeared to be growing out of the castle walls themselves.

  Silver candlesticks dotted the room in vast quantities, the flickering flames making it look like daylight indoors. The ballroom was stuffed to capacity with what looked like the entire population of Elorium. Andi looked over the sea of strangers staring at her expectantly and her throat closed up. The shard of glass sweated in her palm, but instead of sharp edges biting into her skin like she was sure it would, it felt warm and flexible.

  Wilhelm and the queen watched her from the other end of the room as the wedding march drifted from a corner. Andi’s courage momentarily failed her, but a sharp prod in the back with a guard’s gun got her moving again.

  Her walk down the aisle was surreal. Was this really happening? Every eye in the room followed her, making her skin crawl. Whispers buzzed through the crowd setting her on edge. For the last time, she considered pulling up her hood and vanishing from this nightmare. Her fingers twitched under the cloak. She couldn’t.

  Wilhelm’s eyes found hers and she felt scoured by his gaze. When he smiled at her, she knew he was gloating.

  The prince held out a hand and she took it, stiffly. He tucked her hand into his arm tenderly and nodded at the officiant in front of him.

  “On this auspicious occasion, where two—” was as far as he got before Andi tuned him out, and Wilhelm hissed in her ear.

  “Are you trying to embarrass me? Who let you out of your room in that cloak?”

  Andi ignored him and stared straight ahead, past the man performing the ceremony to the window they were stationed in front of. The combination of the darkness outside and the soft candlelight behind her turned the window into a perfect mirror. Andi watched her dark reflection, linked with Wilhelm, and suddenly knew what she had seen in the mirror fragment, now pliant like clay in her hand.

  Withdrawing her hand from beneath the cloak, she cocked her arm back and hurled the shard of glass at the window. The putty-like substance stuck and spread rapidly, transforming the window into a true mirror, the ageless woman appearing. Her white hair, which Andi had recognized in the mirror fragment, swirled about her face.

  Wilhelm led the outraged uproar that erupted behind Andi. He grabbed for her, but she had already bolted from his side. Shoving the officiant in the prince’s direction, she gabbled to the woman in the mirror, “Take me to Fredrick!” before hurling herself through the window.

  Grateful she had insisted on wearing her grandmother’s shoes, she hit the surface of the glass. It was like falling into the skin of a balloon, the rubber strained taut. The surface stretched, becoming tighter against the surface of her skin, until a weak spot formed and it split apart. She pitched forward, stumbling on to a dirt-packed floor in a poorly lit room.

  Fredrick shot up from his seat on a barrel—the same barrel Quinn had been sitting on the night before. Turning to see what she’d tumbled out of, she recognized the reflective surface of the stainless steel freezer she had swiped an ice cream bar from that morning. She was back in the cellar of the castle.

  “Andi?” Fredrick asked in disbelief. He looked her up and down quickly. “Are you getting married?”

  “Not anymore,” she said, watching the side of the freezer like a large screen TV. Wilhelm pounded on the ‘screen’, his face a mask of fury while the guests behind him shuffled around uncomfortably. “What are you still doing in the castle?”

  “Herrchen’s still here. I guess he didn’t want to miss your wedding,” Fredrick said.

  “We’ve got to go.” Footsteps hurried about above their heads. “My exit was rather—spectacular.” Touching the side of the freezer, Andi repeated, “Tell me glass, tell me true.”

  Fredrick peered over her shoulder as the woman reappeared with a serene smile that felt insulting during this situation. “Candide?”

  “Take us to Dylan, please,” Andi said quickly.

  “Certainly.”

  Her image was replaced by a fuzzy vision in which she could just make out the back of Dylan’s head in the dark.

  “Let’s go.” Andi clutched Fredrick’s hand tightly as they tumbled through the freezer—landing directly on top of Dylan in the backseat of a car.

  Everything was a confusion of arms, legs, and wedding dress as the startled driver jerked the wheel. His headlights swung to the side, illuminating the pine trees lining the road, and the car’s passengers went tumbling again.

  “What the—!” the guard managed to get out before Fredrick put him in a chokehold. Dylan looked up from where he landed on the floor of the car, his hands still manacled behind his back and blood soaking through the hasty bandage on his leg.

  “Andi?” he groaned, squinting up at her in the shadowy interior of the car. “What are you wearing?”

  She touched the back window of the car that she and Fredrick tumbled through moments before. The ima
ge of the castle cellar with guards busting through the door disappeared, and Andi didn’t even wait for the woman to appear before she shouted, “Take us to Quinn!”

  Fredrick rolled off the guard and hauled a startled Dylan to the rear window, grabbing Andi’s arm. Without checking to see where they were tumbling to, she flung all three of them through the window.

  Landing hard on her stomach with someone’s elbow in her back, Andi was about done with falling through mirrors.

  “Andi?”

  She peeled her face off a scratchy rug and wiggled out from under Dylan, who was making small yelping noises and clutching his wrist.

  “Don’t move,” a gruff voice commanded.

  They’d fallen through the glass pane of an enormous framed forest scene hanging in a windowless cabin. Andi could feel the boat rock under her as she climbed to her feet, locating Quinn pressed against the far wall in the same filthy dress she’d worn days ago to the feast.

  But she wasn’t looking at Andi.

  “I said, don’t move!”

  A blur of movement out of the corner of her eye was the only warning Andi got before something hard connected with her temple. She staggered, feeling a supporting arm prop her up as her vision burst into stars.

  Through the black haze, she recognized the guard that had been in the back seat with Dylan, now pointing his gun at them. It was the same one Quinn had ruthlessly kicked and had caught them in the queen’s room. Just their luck.

  The knock on her head made it more difficult for Andi to work out how he’d gotten here, but it eventually occurred to her that he only had to be touching one of them to get through the rear window of the car.

  In the reflection of the glass, Andi watched the driver pull the car over and crawl into the backseat, scratching his head and tapping on the rear window.

  Dylan grew quiet and still on the floor, and Andi wished Fredrick would let go of her shoulders so she could at least crawl to him and check if he was still breathing. Quinn stayed quiet across the room.

  “Get against the wall,” the guard said, waving his gun in Quinn’s direction. Andi reached for Dylan, but the guard barked, “Leave him!” and Fredrick steered her to the wall.

  “Not you. You come here,” he said to Fredrick, a malicious gleam in his eyes. Fredrick left Andi against the wall and crossed to the guard. “Herrchen gave specific instructions for you. Kneel,” the man sneered.

  Fredrick was slightly taller than the guard and managed to look down at the man with the gun. “No,” he said quietly.

  “Fine,” he spat, shoving the barrel against his temple in a way that gave Andi déjà vu of Herrchen’s threat on the stairs. “I can shoot you just as well standing up.”

  The guard cocked the hammer. A shriek worked its way out of Andi and Quinn screamed next to her, both of them lurching across the room.

  She knew they wouldn’t make it.

  So focused on Fredrick, Andi didn’t notice Dylan move until she heard the sickening crack of the guard’s knee. His scream of pain drowned out Andi and Quinn’s shouts, and his gun clattered to the floor. Dylan had kicked him right in the kneecap, bending his knee backward at an angle that made Andi want to puke.

  Andi rushed to the glass of the picture frame, jabbed her finger at it and babbled, “Take us back to our world.”

  The guard screeched in pain and writhed on the floor. The mirror woman appeared briefly, with her tranquil look that Andi really wanted to slap off her face at this point, before the dusty shop she’d seen in the queen’s closet replaced her image again.

  Behind her, Quinn and Fredrick pulled Dylan to his feet and they all linked arms. The door of the cabin clattered open as they pitched forward. A final shot rang out dimly behind them, as if from far away, and glass shards rained down on them again as the guard’s shrieks of pain faded.

  A persistent ticking filled the air. Andi picked up her head and tried to free her leg from where it was pinned underneath Fredrick. "Everyone okay?"

  Quinn shifted herself off of Dylan. He groaned, but didn’t move.

  "Does being in a lot of pain count as okay?" Dylan gasped. He cradled his wrist to his chest and hunched over his blood soaked leg.

  The mirror they’d toppled through was now just a frame and a pile of glass. The dark wood paneled room covered with cuckoo clocks was completely unfamiliar to Andi. "Where are we?"

  She pulled herself unsteadily to her feet, staggering around an old desk piled with moldy books, shelves of glassware covered with the grit of time, and pegs full of vintage clothing, to the window. Fog sat heavy on the ground and the few feet she could see beyond the window revealed nothing but the boughs of pine trees.

  "The guys don’t look good,” Quinn called to her.

  Snagging a scarf off a hook, she knelt next to Dylan and tied it over Quinn’s sash he’d bled through long ago. Andi tugged it as tight as she could, whispering apologies as he moaned in pain.

  Quinn went to check on Fredrick, who still hadn't moved from their dog pile. He stared at them with scared eyes as he struggled to breathe, a strange crackling sound accompanying each labored breath.

  A middle-aged man clumped down the stairs in the corner of the room. He wore a dressing gown and his hair looked as if it had recently left the pillow. He scowled at them, noticing the broken mirror.

  "Wer bist du? Wie bist du hier?" he yelled.

  Quinn shook her head at the man. "We don't speak German. We need a hospital."

  The man raised an eyebrow and shook his head angrily at them. He clomped back toward the stairs and yelled up, "Niklas!"

  As they waited, Quinn put her arm around Fredrick's shoulders and helped him sit up. This seemed to make his breathing a little easier. Small feet sounded above and a young boy of about nine or ten, with similar rumpled hair and tired eyes, came down the stairs. The sleepiness took flight when he saw the strangers.

  "Fragen sie, wer bist du? Wie bist du hier?" The man addressed the boy, pointing an accusatory finger their direction.

  "Vatti wants know, who you are, why you here?" the boy asked in passable English.

  "We're sorry, we don't know where we are. Is there a hospital nearby?" Quinn asked again.

  "Yes, there." He pointed in a vague direction to the back of the shop.

  The man narrowed his eyes at them and inched closer. He crouched at eye level and slowly reached out, gently touching one of Andi's curls. Andi held very still, desperate but hopeful.

  His eyes fell over her cloak and shoes then stared into her face and asked with wonder, "Aschenputtel?"

  Chapter 38

  “Do you know how boring it is waiting for someone to wake up?"

  Fredrick woke to a steady beeping. He twitched his nose, trying to scratch it only to find a tangle of tubes there. Memories rushed back. He was in the hospital. He picked his head up off the pillow to find his mom, gaunt with a sickly cast to her skin, dozing in a chair by his bed.

  "Mom?" His breathing was easier, but his throat felt raspy and dry from little use.

  Her eyes opened, and when she smiled at him, he saw more life in her face than he had in months. She leaned over him, the tails of her headscarf tickling his face. Fredrick’s mom smoothed back his hair like she used to do when he was little.

  "Welcome back to the land of the living.”

  Fredrick struggled to sit up. “What are you doing here? You should be lying down.”

  “I’m okay,” she said placing a hand on his shoulder. “How do you feel?"

  Fredrick considered lying. He tried not to worry her, but after disappearing for several days, he probably couldn’t make her any more anxious. “Like I’ve been run over by a truck,” he admitted.

  "That would be because you’ve punctured a lung with one of your broken ribs. I can imagine falling through a mirror will do that.”

  Apparently, she had met the others.

  "You're going to take at least two months to fully heal." She shook her head at him, still smiling.


  "I thought you'd be a more upset,” Fredrick said hesitantly. “I thought you’d be worse.”

  "I wasn’t feeling well,” she admitted, “but when you’ve got a child missing for over a week that suddenly turns up alive, you count your blessings. There’s no room for anything else.”

  There was a knock on the door and Andi poked her head in the room. "He's up," she accused. “You were supposed to let us know.”

  Fredrick’s mom gave him a sideways look that said she had gotten to know Andi pretty well while he was unconscious. "He just woke up," she explained.

  Andi yelled behind her, "He's up!" and shouldered the door the rest of the way open to wheel Dylan in. Quinn was on her heels with a tall, young man who, Fredrick assumed from his dark skin and the way he stuck like glue to Quinn, must be her older brother.

  Dylan's wrist was in a cast and Quinn moved a little more carefully than normal, but they all looked... happy.

  "I'll be back." Patting Fredrick's hand, his mom relinquished her chair and left the room.

  "You must be Fredrick," Quinn’s brother said, offering him his hand. "Max. I heard you took good care of Quinn." Max squeezed Quinn's shoulders and she smiled tightly.

  Andi flounced in the vacated chair. "We thought you were going to sleep forever, do you know how boring it is waiting for someone to wake up?"

  "Where are we?” Fredrick asked.

  “A small town called Triberg," Quinn explained.

  Fredrick looked at her blankly.

  "It's in the Black Forest," Andi elaborated.

  "We're in Germany?” he asked in disbelief.

  "Not just in Germany, but in the place where a lot of the fairy tales originated from,” Quinn explained.

  "What an odd coincidence," Dylan said. Fredrick didn’t miss his sarcasm.

  "What about the man that found us?" Fredrick asked.

  "Oh Klaus?” Andi smiled. “He's a sweetheart, really. We've been back to his antique store several times to see him. His son Niklas translates for us."

  "He called the ambulance when he realized how badly you were hurt. You've been sleeping for over twenty-four hours," Quinn said.