The Grimm Chronicles, Vol. 2

by Ken Brosky

“Oh, I do not like lightning,” Briar murmured.

  “Get in, get in,” Sam Grayle said. “You were quite clear that this was an urgent matter regarding my mansion.”

  I hesitantly got in, setting my little bow and quiver of arrows on the seat between myself and Sam. For the first time, he wasn’t wearing a gray suit coat. Instead, his little body was covered by dark red silk pajamas with a button-down shirt. So human-looking, I thought.

  He looked down at the bow, nodding approvingly. “I’m glad you came prepared.”

  Briar squeezed in, bumping into me with his butt as the limo pulled out of the driveway. “Oh hello, Seth. Happy to see you!”

  I turned. Seth was sitting on the opposite seat next to the little black fridge. I felt my body numb. My hand went for my pen. “What’s he doing here?”

  “I thought you might need a little help,” Sam said with a snarling smile. “And given how helpful your little friend was when you invaded my home, it seems only reasonable that he could provide assistance again.”

  “I was mad until I saw the fridge,” Seth said. He shrugged, popping open a green bottle.

  “That,” said the dwarf, “is a very expensive bottle of imported sparkling water. I’d appreciate it if you limited yourself to one—”

  Another pop. Sam turned to Briar, who had a bottle of the water squeezed deftly between his legs as his paws twisted off the cap. He looked at us. “I’m just so famished is all.”

  Sam sighed. “Such a merry band of heroes. I do hope you have a plan.”

  Briar snorted. “Fat chance of that.”

  “Nice arrows,” Seth said, grabbing the leather quiver and pulling out one of the short arrows. “Where’d you get these?”

  “I procured them,” said Briar, puffing his chest out. “Through trickery.”

  Sam Grayle leaned back, closing his eyes and rubbing the bridge of his nose. I hated how comfortable he looked. He should have feared me. He should at the very least have had a guard or something. But he knew I wouldn’t harm him. Not with the threat of my family looming over the decision. He had all the power.

  No. I had a little power. He really, really wanted that mansion. And once he got it, he would want something else. That was the corrupting power of greed. It was consuming him. I had to extract everything I could from this arrangement. Carefully.

  “Are you tired?” Seth asked. He’d found the snack drawer and was fumbling with a bag of chocolate-frosted cookies. “Do you Corrupted dudes get tired?”

  “I find sleep incredibly restful,” said the dwarf. “Sometimes I even have wonderful dreams where I’m swimming in a lake of gold coins.”

  “Ha! Just like Scrooge McDuck!”

  Briar snuck a cookie from the bag. “Who now?”

  Sam ignored them. He opened his eyes and looked at me. “What about you, hero? What do dream about?”

  “A stepmother,” I said. “And her guilt-ridden daughter. And one very big lizard.”

  “Gross,” Seth said. “Count me out of this one.”

  “Ah, mutations.” Sam smiled. “Just another gift from our creators. I wonder who this lizard started out as? No doubt it was a woman, given that the other two mistresses are of the female persuasion. Perhaps she was just a simple peasant girl, written into one of the Grimms’ stories as nothing more than a side-character. Perhaps she even found happiness for a time after her story was done. Settled down. Maybe even fell in love at some point.”

  His eyes darkened as we reached the onramp for the freeway. With no streetlights along the ramp, only the soft track lighting above the limo doors illuminated his face. “Then her love grew old while she remained forever young. Or perhaps he ran away, seeing the first changes occur. Maybe it was just a few teeth at first. Maybe her tongue thinned out. Maybe a few scales here and there. Soon, she was no longer a maiden at all. She could only hide away, lost and alone.”

  “That’s incredibly sad,” Seth said. “Is that real, Alice? Is that what happens?”

  I had no answer. What was I supposed to say?

  “All Corrupted turn evil,” Briar said. “It is, perhaps, unfortunate in some rare instances.”

  Sam Grayle reached into the ice bucket by his feet, grabbing a bottle of red wine and pouring himself a glass with the kind of expert precision of someone who’s traveled in a limo for a long, long time. “Yes, perhaps the talking rabbit is right. No doubt the stepmother is quite evil. What is it she plans to do, dear hero?”

  “Burn down the mansion.”

  The glass of wine touched his lips, then stopped. “Now that is evil. Quite evil.”

  “Arson?” Seth smiled, handing the bag of cookies over to Briar so he could wipe his hands on his shorts. “That seems tame compared with what we’ve been through.”

  “They’re going to burn the children.”

  “Oh holy crap!” Seth pounded on the dark window dividing the driver from us. “Faster, Jeeves! We got kids to save!”

  “I wouldn’t do that,” said the dwarf, sipping his wine. “Our driver is … not all that happy to be awake at this ungodly hour.”

  I pointed a finger at Seth. “You’re not helping.” When he smiled, I felt my blood boil. “I’m serious, Seth! This is going to be dangerous.”

  “It’s just funny,” Seth said. “I’m in a limo with a horrible dwarf and a giant talking rabbit and you’re lecturing me on safety because of a giant lizard.”

  “Easy with the insults,” Sam muttered.

  My hand fell to the seat, brushing against the bow. I grabbed it and tossed it to him. He caught it with both hands and a “Woah,” nearly dropping it. “You want something to do? You’re going to make sure no one escapes. Got it?”

  He looked at the bow. “So what should I do, just shoot an arrow? I don’t really know how to do it.”

  “It’s really quite easy,” said the dwarf. “Aim the pointy end at someone. Then shoot.”

  “The cretin sums it up well,” Briar said. “No doubt I would be quite the crack shot … if only I had more dexterous fingers.”

  “It’s that, or sit in here with him.” I jabbed a finger at the dwarf. Please say OK, I thought. I didn’t want Seth sitting alone with the dwarf. It would put me at a negotiating disadvantage if I did manage to kill all three of the Corrupted …

  Because the truth of it was I had no idea of just tossing the orphans to the street.

  “Alice? What are you thinking?” Briar asked. “We do have a plan, right?”

  “Oh, sure.” I forced a smile. “We’re going to kick some butt and take some names and all that jazz.” I turned to Sam. “Do you have a smartphone, by chance?”

  He sighed and leaned over, grabbing something much bigger from the sleeve on the door. “I have a datapad that I use for work. It has a satellite connection, if that helps.”

  “Perfect.” I grabbed the datapad, sliding my finger across it to wake it up. I tapped on the little icon that took me to the Internet.

  “What are you doing?” Seth asked.

  “Studying,” I answered.

  We reached the mansion’s gates ten minutes later. I took a breath, glancing at Sam. The dwarf looked anxious, unsettled. He had some stake in this too: the mansion. The kids burning alive? That I’m sure he wasn’t worried about.

  “Let’s go,” I said, grabbing for the door. Briar put his bag of cookies and empty bottle of sparkling water in the little trash can beside the mini fridge. Seth followed with the bow and arrow quiver.

  “Be careful with my house!” Sam called out after us.

  “Yeah,” I murmured, shutting the door. “I’ll be sure to wipe my feet.”

  “What will we do?” Briar asked.

  I stepped up to the gate and pulled out the fountain pen. Carefully, I drew a horizontal cut across three steel bars. The bright gold line seemed to fade almost immediately.

  “That’s strange.” I pulled one of the bars away before the glow disappeared.

  “What is it?” Seth asked.

  �
��My pen … I don’t know.” I drew another line, then quickly pulled on the bar. It didn’t budge. “It’s not working.”

  Briar clicked his tongue. “A spell, no doubt. These two Corrupted are a dangerous lot. They expect trouble.” He leaned close as I drew another horizontal line. His ears perked up as the glow began to disappear. “Or perhaps they expected trouble a long time ago. This spell is old. It is expiring. Try again.”

  I chose another spot on the gate, cutting at the bars and then pulling. This time the golden lines faded more slowly, and I managed to pull three bars away.

  “Spells!” Seth exclaimed, following me through the hole in the gate. “What about security cameras?”

  “Such technology is rarely employed by Corrupted,” Briar said, hopping beside us. “With the exception of the dwarfs, most Corrupted prefer to live as they did in their stories. No doubt an advantage we may exploit.”

  Above us, the clouds lit up again. Long, growling thunder rolled across the sky.

  Ahead, the mansion loomed on the top of a small hill, surrounded by maple trees and tall shrubs that stood in the yard. More tall, pillar-like shrubs lined the perimeter, partially hiding the brick wall from the outside.

  Closer now, we stalked the last fifty feet to the front door. The house looked empty. There was a light on in only one of the many tall windows. The mansion looked old: it had four marble columns at the front propping up the stone pediment.

  “Is the door locked?” Briar asked.

  I nodded, examining the exterior. “Bars on the inside of the windows, too. All of them.” I used my pen draw a line on the door. The glow quickly disappeared.

  “Ah, and so they are not quite as comfortable as we thought,” Briar said. “A much more powerful spell. I say, this isn’t exactly reassuring.”

  I turned to Seth. “Go to that shrub and stay behind it. If any grown-ups come through this door, shoot them with the arrow.”

  He looked down at his flimsy bow. “What if I miss?”

  “Don’t miss.”

  “What if it doesn’t kill them?” he asked. “Briar said you were the only one who could kill them.”

  “This bow won’t kill them,” I said. “But it’ll stun them. Just like in the old Brothers Grimm story.”

  His eyes widened. “I never read it! You told me about it, but I never read it! Oh crap, I should have just stayed in the limo.”

  “OK, OK!” I waved my arms around frantically. We didn’t have time for this. “New plan. You just hide behind the bush and don’t do anything. Leave it all up to me.”

  “Can do!” He got up and hurried behind the pair of egg-shaped shrubs sitting beside the driveway.

  Briar was staring at the shrubs. “I might be of use there as well. That is, to protect him, you see …”

  I gave him the stink eye. “Your abilities are needed.”

  “Ah.” He tapped his paws together nervously. “Doomed by my usefulness once again. I acquiesce to your commands.”

  “I don’t know what that means. Just put your foot here.” I locked my fingers together, creating a little step with my hands.

  Briar looked down. “Um … what am I doing, exactly?”

  “You’re jumping to the second floor,” I said simply. “There aren’t any bars on the windows on the second floor.”

  “Are you sure?”

  I smiled. “Yup. Remember when you were all like, ‘Look for the details in your dreams, Alice! Duh, we need details!’ Remember that?”

  The rabbit’s fur stood on end. “I don’t recall using the word duh.”

  “Hop up.”

  He put one long foot on my hands. I nearly tossed him before he was ready, unprepared for the feeling of his soft padded sole, not to mention a handful of stray ankle hairs that tickled my wrists.

  “One … two … three!” I pulled my arms upward as hard as I could and felt the rabbit jump off. He reached out with his paws for the second-floor pediment and grabbed on, deftly swinging himself onto the short stone ledge in front of the second-floor windows.

  “Be careful!” I half-shouted, half-whispered.

  And then he was gone. I heard the sound of a window being opened.

  “That was crazy!” Seth whispered from the bushes.

  I ignored him and bent down, drawing a saber in the concrete patio step. Here, at least, there was no magic spell preventing its use. I pulled the saber free, swinging it a few times to get a feel for it.

  “Be careful!” Seth called out.

  I smiled. Be careful? How do you do that in this instance? I was replaceable, after all … at some point, a new hero would emerge to take my place regardless. Somehow, she (or he) would get her (or his) hands on the fountain pen and Briar would begin the routine all over again.

  The locks on the other side of the door clicked one after the other, drawing me out of my totally mental conflict. When the door opened, Briar whisked me inside quickly.

  “Someone is upstairs,” he whispered. We were in the familiar foyer, with the grand staircase off to our right. The mansion was quiet, the lights in the foyer out so that only the lamps in the hallway ahead kept the place from complete darkness.

  “Who?” I asked, wrinkling my nose. The mansion smelled like dust and mothballs.

  The rabbit shrugged. “She was behind a closed door. She was … singing.”

  Marleen. The one with the sweet voice. It had to be her. “We’ll finish her off first,” I said.

  “Ah, divide and conquer.” The rabbit nodded approvingly. “An excellent strategy. No doubt gleaned from our training exercises.”

  “Right. You stay here and keep an eye out.”

  “I shall. Do be careful.”

  I crept my way up the stairs, keeping the toes of my feet near the edge of each step to prevent the old wood underneath the carpet from creaking.

  In the hallway upstairs, there were two lit lamps hanging on the walls between the doors where the children slept, giving me only a little light to see. I crept along the wall, following the sound of Marleen’s singing. My heart beat heavy in my ears. I could feel adrenaline running through my body. The saber switched hands so I could wipe the sweat on my pants.

  She was singing, all right. As I crept closer to the room, her voice grew more clear:

  “Flames to purify, flames to hide … flames to hide all of our lives …”

  Definitely not a Top 40 hit.

  She continued singing those words, and as I stalked closer, I had to fight the urge to barge through the door.

  No.

  Now I had to be patient. Let the situation present itself.

  I could smell oil. I could hear it splashing onto the children’s beds. The floor. The walls.

  “When children burn, they smell like bacon … oh dear tree, our love forsaken …”

  The voice was getting closer to the door. I gripped the hilt of the saber, ready. My mind pictured Alex, caught in the flames. It was all I could do to keep myself steady.

  The door opened. Marleen turned her head as she walked through the doorway; I saw her face and saw the glow beneath her fair skin. I stabbed but her eyes had already found me in my split second of hesitation. Her hand reached out, grabbing the blade. It cut deep into her hand and she cried out. Her hand began burning away.

  “Oh you horrible little monster!” she said, her voice still sickly sweet. The burn was traveling slowly up her arm, and as I stabbed again she swatted the blade away with her good hand, then fell on top of me.

  Her breath reeked of death. A hiss escaped her mouth. Her eyes were no longer soft and wide—they’d narrowed, her pupils slit the way a cat’s did in the noon hour.

  “Get off!” I growled, pushing wildly. I could feel the heat traveling up her arm, slipping between my fingers and burning them hot enough that I had to release my grip. Marleen’s tongue lolled out, sharp as a nail, and cut across my cheek. Her other hand—her only hand at this point—clutched my wrist, making it impossible to strike at her with my saber.


  “You’ll burn with me!” she sang as the bright orange flames licked at the skin around her neck. I felt an intense burning on my wrist—she was right! As the flame consumed her other hand and turned it black, I could feel the intense heat on my bare skin. I struggled with all my might, kicking wildly. Black ashes fell from the woman’s body, tickling my nose, irritating my eyes so that they began watering. More ashes fell onto my shirt, threatening to ignite it.

  A black shadow slammed into the burning creature. With a poof, she burst apart.

  I wiped the water from my eyes, sneezed twice, then sat up. Briar was sitting on the other end of the hall, brushing black ashes off his vest and pants. He shook his head like a dog shaking water.

  “I didn’t expect quite so much ash,” he muttered. “I do hope we can have these clothes dry-cleaned at some point.”

  “Count on it,” I said.

  Briar’s whiskers twitched. He nodded over my shoulder. I turned. The boy—Alex—was standing at the top of the stairs.

  “You’re the ghost girl,” he said.

  I nodded, grabbing my saber and standing up. I sneezed more ashes out of my nose.

  “Bless you.”

  “Thanks.” I smiled, not wanting to step closer with my sword. He looked uneasy. Weak. Tired. “I need to rescue everyone downstairs. What can you tell me?”

  He shrugged. “Who’s the rabbit?”

  I turned to Briar. His ears drooped.

  “Ah, heh heh. Just a minor invisibility malfunction.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Well, as long as he can see you, you might as well keep him safe.” I turned back to Alex. “How about that? Briar here is going to keep you safe.”

  The boy nodded. He rubbed his eyes. “They have everyone feeding the furnaces now. Some are carting away rocks. The lizard is digging even faster than she usually does.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “The tree.” Alex’s eyes widened. “She wants to find the tree. She wants to find her son.”

  He pointed to my right. I turned, clutching my saber, expecting something terrible to be sneaking through one of the open doorways. But he was pointing to the wall, to the picture hanging there. A portrait. A portrait of a young boy dressed in a blue suit coat. He couldn’t have been much old than Alex.