The Grimm Chronicles, Vol. 2

by Ken Brosky

  “Her son …”

  “The stepmother in the story of The Juniper Tree had a daughter and a stepson,” said Briar.

  I turned back to Alex. “How will the Juniper Tree help the mistress find her son?”

  He shrugged. “All she’s ever told us is that her son is gone. Taken by Death. She said once that her husband blamed her. He’d forgiven her once before. But the tree can take you to another place in another time. It can bring people back from Death’s embrace.”

  A cold feeling crept through my body. “OK. You go with Briar now. Let him take care of you. I need to go save your brothers and sisters.”

  Alex walked past me, giving me a satisfied nod. “I’m glad you’re not wearing your pajamas.”

  “Me too,” I said with a smile.

  “Come along,” Briar said as I made my way to the stairs. “We’re going to find the best possible hiding place in this entire mansion …”

  Downstairs, I slipped down the hall to the heavy door near the kitchen, checking each room just to be safe. From somewhere below, I heard the same roar followed by children’s cries. The entire floor rumbled, shaking the glass lamps on the walls.

  The basement stairs were just as I remembered them from my dreams: spiraling down, they changed from wooden planks to stone blocks after the first landing. The air grew colder. I could smell something burning. The deeper I went, the longer it took to come upon another lit lamp hanging from the stone wall. My eyes adjusted slowly. My body trembled. I didn’t like being in such a cramped space. I didn’t like the darkness.

  The floor leveled out. I walked slowly, my ears picking up the sound of heavy clanging and the sharp voice of the head mistress as she shouted for everyone to shovel more, more, more. My free hand crept across the cold, slimy wall.

  There. Just ahead, I could see firelight reflecting off the glossy wall where the tunnel made an abrupt turn right. Beyond that was the cavern.

  And the children.

  I took a deep breath, then stepped around the corner. The long rows of wooden crafting tables were empty, a stack of blue jeans sitting on one end. To my left was the giant coal pile, stacked high directly underneath a steel chute that had been built into the cavern walls.

  Right where the garage was. Of course! That was how they were getting the coal inside. And the factory across the street … that was probably where the furnace pipes went. The factory was probably an empty building and nothing more. A cover.

  Some of the kids shoveling coal stopped when they noticed me. Deeper in the cavern, where the furnaces lined the wall, the head mistress was using both hands to guide the children to the correct furnace.

  “Keep them hot!” she shouted. “Faster now! This is our last night. Our last night of work! The furnaces at the far end are cooling. They must be kept hot!”

  A grunt from deeper in the cavern, where the light of the furnaces seemed to be suffocated by the darkness. I could see the lizard’s thick tail well enough, though. Moments after the sound of its claws raking across the far end of the cavern hit my ears, a massive chunk of rock rolled toward us, nearly knocking the head mistress over.

  “Well?” she asked the frightened kids standing beside her. “Get the pickaxes and break it apart! We must keep moving! Keep moving, children! Find the seed! Find the seed!”

  “The seed,” I repeated.

  Everyone stopped. The mistress slowly turned. In the light of the furnace flames I could see her lip curl into a snarl as her dark eyes landed on me. She raised her left hand, letting her fingers curl into a fist.

  “Yes,” she said, her voice echoing in the cavern. “The Juniper seed.”

  “Run,” I ordered. When the children didn’t move, I stomped one foot on the hard ground. “Run fast! Upstairs!”

  The children dropped their shovels, pushing past the mistress and weaving their way around the wooden tables. The mistress watched them, her eyes narrowed.

  “It has been a long time since I’ve seen a hero,” she said in a low voice. She was staring at me, her gaze so penetrating that I was having a hard time preventing myself from turning away. Behind her, beyond the farthest furnaces, there came a low bestial grunt.

  “Why do you want the seed?” I asked.

  The mistress cocked her head. A few strands of dry gray hair escaped from her tight bun, falling in front of her wrinkled face. “Why, don’t you know anything?” She laughed. “Oh, sweet little hero. All I want is to have my son back. Is that so much to ask for?”

  “You hated your stepson,” I said. “Why would you want him back?”

  The stepmother smiled wryly. “Can you not see that you stand before a tortured, grieving mother? I seek only my son. Nothing more.”

  “And how many children are you willing to kill to get him back?” I asked.

  “All of them!” she snapped. The last of the children scurried past me, making their way into the tunnel. The mistress’s voice continued echoing, as if trapped inside the cavern with no escape. I was beginning to feel the same way.

  “These children have no families,” the mistress continued. “They have no parents. They are serving a greater purpose.”

  “Not anymore. They’re going to be kids again from here on out.”

  She glared at me, a look so sharp that I couldn’t stop myself from stepping back. That was all she needed—she stepped forward, then took another step, and with those two steps she’d already closed the distance between us, as if propelled forward by some magical wind. She grabbed one of the pairs of jeans as she passed the last table, and just as I brought down my saber, she wrapped the jeans around the blade, twisting me around.

  “You dare to get between a mother and her child?” the mistress screamed, her voice stinging my ears. “Are you such a fool, hero?”

  “You can’t stop me,” I said, using my free hand to try and pry the mistress’s hands from the pair of jeans. She had the denim wrapped tightly around the blade of the saber, her body weight pushing me backward with incredible force. I took another step back, then another, feeling the heel of my shoe rub up against the foot of the nearest wooden table.

  From the darkness came another grunt. Then another massive jagged chunk of rock rolled out of the darkness, stopping beside us.

  “Hilda!” the mistress called out. “Come eat this little fly!”

  Another grunt. I felt my heart nearly thump its way through my rib cage, letting go of my saber so that I could maneuver myself away from the mistress. I stepped around the tables, feeling the mistress on my back.

  Wham! We both went tumbling to the ground. I’d completely forgotten about her strange ability to move quickly. I realized then and there what was happening: she had the fiddler’s boots. The boots from his story that let him cover great distances in a short amount of time. Somewhere, over the course of two hundred years, those two had crossed paths and now the mistress was wearing the boots.

  A handful of claws came at my face and I leaned back, feeling two fingers catch my hair and pull a few strands out. My eyes began to water from the pain. She was on top of me, her knees holding me in place. I risked a look left—the tail had disappeared deeper in the cavern, lost to the darkness. Either the lizard had run away … or it was turning around.

  I had a feeling it was turning around.

  “You could never understand!” the mistress screamed. Her mouth had spread across her face, wider now, stretching her papery skin. She swiped at me again and I clutched her wrist, keeping her sharp nails from digging into my face. “I lost my stepson twice! Once to my own schemes and then once to Death himself! And when I lost my stepson, I lost my husband!”

  “Woe is you,” I said, squeezing her wrist tighter. She was strong. I would need to do something quick. Her other hand was holding mine tightly against my body, keeping me from gaining any leverage.

  “I will get my son back!” the mistress said. Her eyes widened, almost comically so, her irises as black as her pupils and big as the chunks of coal sitting on
the pile beside us. “I can find the Juniper seed and get him back and then I will get my husband back! And if he doesn’t return to me, then I’ll kill his son all over again! Right before his eyes!”

  Another grunt deeper in the cave. The mistress cocked her head, pushing her claws closer to my face.

  “Revenge is a dish best not served,” I said through gritted teeth. I used my other hand to reach for the pen in my pocket, pulling it out with the tips of my fingers. I pressed it to the mistress’s bare wrist.

  She screamed out, releasing her grip. It was all I needed—with the flick of my thumb, the cap popped off and I swung the nib, raking her across the face. The cut grew a fiery orange, then slowly began burning her away. She cried out, pulling away.

  “No!” she screamed. “I’m too close! I can hear his song so clearly! I can hear the boy’s song!”

  I got to my feet, stepping back and watching the mistress tumble over the nearest table, knocking over the carefully folded jeans as the orange flame consumed her. I needed to speed things up so I lunged forward, pushing her with all my might. She tumbled backward …

  Right into the nearest furnace. The flames crackled and grew a bright orange, thoroughly satisfied by the Corrupted treat.

  Another grunt. I turned. My heart began to race. I could see the terrifying lizard’s face creeping out of the darkness as it stepped closer. The fire from the furnaces danced over its thick, reptilian skin. A tongue darted out, tasting the air. It stopped for a moment, cocking its head so that one giant black orb could study me.

  It was thinking.

  Well, guess what? So was I.

  I bent down and grabbed one of the metal coal shovels, sliding it across the ground and scooping up a pile of soft dirt and pulverized rock.

  “I know you,” I said, stepping closer to the nearest furnace. “Well, I don’t know you personally, but I know about you.”

  The lizard stepped closer. It was only a hundred yards away. It took a slow step, then another, then as more of its body emerged from the darkness, I could see its chest rising and falling more quickly. It was using the heat. It needed the heat.

  I tossed the first shovelful of dirt into the furnace, turning away as the hot coals hissed and burned the dirt. I could feel the air next to the furnace cool a bit, but not enough. The lizard took a few more steps, faster now. I needed to hurry.

  Another shovelful and the coals were completely smothered. I hurried to the next one, my entire body screaming No! Don’t get closer to the lizard, for cryin’ out loud! I scooped another shovelful of dirt into the furnace. A hissing sound echoed across the room, joined by a low growl from the lizard. It stepped closer to me, its tongue darting out almost close enough to touch me.

  “Careful,” I said, stepping back. “If you are a gila monster, you’re poisonous. You don’t want to kill me, right?”

  The lizard stopped, cocking its head. It took another step, slower this time as it moved away from the nearest lit furnace, closer to the ones that were already put out. We were so deep down that the heat had already begun dissipating, cooling the sweat on my skin.

  “Come on now,” I said, stepping back. The lizard stepped closer, its breathing slowing a bit as it approached the first extinguished furnace. I moved back quicker now, making my way around the wooden tables. My foot touched something. I risked a glance down, then did a double-take.

  The boots. The boots the stepmother had been wearing.

  I reached down and grabbed them, kicking off my shoes and stuffing my feet inside. They were a little big at first, but then a curious thing happened: I felt them tighten around my toes and heel!

  The lizard growled, stepping closer to the tables. There was only one burning furnace on this side of the room, and it was off to my right. If I could just get over there and smother the coals, I could slow it down enough to make it a fair fight.

  A massive shadow loomed over me, snapping me back to attention. I fell back and watched in terror as the lizard’s jaws snapped the nearby table in half. The wooden splinters flew into the air, followed by pairs of ripped jeans. The lizard spat out what remained, then stepped closer.

  Close enough to smell its disgusting breath. Close enough to feel its breath on my cheeks. Warm, but not hot. Every movement was spent energy. It was cold-blooded. It needed the heat. But I wasn’t going to survive another quick attack like that. I looked up at it, wiping the cold sweat from my forehead.

  “Man, I hope these boots work,” I said quietly.

  The lizard’s head lifted up again. Its tongue darted out, testing the air between us. And then its mouth was open, coming toward me. I shifted my feet sideways, feeling myself float before my foot finally touched the ground again.

  The lizard’s mouth closed around empty air. Its nostrils blew up clouds of dirt. I was nearly five feet away, an impossible distance to have covered without the boots.

  There was no time to marvel at it. I reached down and grabbed another of the metal shovels, running toward the last furnace and feeling my body propelled forward with each step. I closed the gap so quickly that I had time to turn over my shoulder, time to stick out my tongue at the lizard who was still spitting out splinters of wood, and enough time left over to scoop dirt onto the burning coals.

  They began to hiss. The lizard growled. I glanced over my shoulder to make sure it wasn’t sneaking up on me—it wasn’t. In fact, it was barely moving now, its legs picking up and hitting the floor as if it were on the verge of falling asleep.

  I shoveled more dirt onto the hot coals, wrinkling my nose at the bitter stench of burnt dirt. With that finished, I hurried back to the nearest table, aware that the lizard was on the other side, trudging slowly around it, grunting loudly. I drew a new saber, pulling it from the table and stepping away just as the lizard’s mouth came down again, crashing through the wood, chomping at the splinters and spitting them out along with a healthy amount of poison drool.

  “OK,” I said, taking another step back and feeling myself float for a moment before landing on the ground a good five feet from where I’d just been. “So you’re not slowing down that much.”

  The lizard smacked it black lips. There were only two furnaces burning farther down the cavern, and their coals were already beginning to burn low, casting the giant creature in menacing shadows. The tan spots on its skin were the only thing letting my eyes get a good idea of the creature’s true size. Maybe if I could reach around its mouth and stab it with all my might …

  “Yeah, and maybe it won’t snap me in half, too,” I murmured, clutching my saber hilt tighter in one sweaty hand. The creature moved closer. Slowly. Whatever energy it had left, it was saving for one final bite. It wouldn’t have to chew me up, either. If it really was a Gila monster, then its poison would do the trick.

  The lizard took another step. Its tongue darted out, running across my leg before my saber could stab it. I could run around it. But if it got closer to the furnaces, it would regain its strength. It was my only hope, though. Fighting this thing face-to-face was a losing proposition. I needed to—

  Something flew past my line of vision. The lizard’s head lifted up and its wide mouth opened, letting out a loud groan. I clutched my saber, half-expecting the mouth to snap at me once again. But instead, the lizard’s head simply dropped. Its legs followed, folding up so that its belly landed on the ground. Its big eyes blinked in surprise, watching me cautiously step to my left.

  Then I saw it: an arrow, planted firmly in one of the tan spots near the creature’s tail.

  “Holy crap.”

  I turned toward the entrance. Seth was standing in the tunnel, staring at the little bow in his hand. He had the quiver sitting by his feet.

  “Seth! You did it! The bow works!”

  He laughed nervously. “Yeah. Except I was aiming for the thing’s head.”

  I turned back to the lizard. The arrow, a good fifteen feet from its intended mark, was doing its job: the lizard couldn’t move. Its right leg was s
tretched out under its belly and I could see its tan foot: there was a chunk missing from the heel.

  Cinderella’s stepsisters. They’d cut their feet to make the glass slipper fit. Was this one of them, changed by the Corruption?

  “Holy crud!” Seth said. “That was the coolest thing ever. I’m a hero too! Kind of. OK. Not really. But I’m totally stoked about this. I should have a nickname. How about The Dark Archer? That sounds pretty sweet. Like, not too goofy, but also terrifying.”

  I walked around the lizard, staring at its filed-down claws. Tunneling. Searching for a seed from a magical tree. What did it all mean? Hopefully, Briar would be able to find answers.

  “Well?” Seth asked. “Aren’t you going to kill it?”

  “No,” I said, grinning. “I’ve got a better idea.”

  The Lost Journal of Eugene Washington: Part One

  June 1, 1864

  Never thought I’d keep a journal. Boy oh boy, just seeing my handwriting gives me chills! Five years ago, I was fifteen. Couldn’t read. Couldn’t do much of anything except serve the master drinks while he sat in his fat red chair and sweated something fierce.

  Wasn’t my choice, of course. I was bought and paid for. Separated from my parents at the age of 12, sent to a farm in Georgia where I spent three years as a fetcher. I fetched everything. I fetched farming equipment, I fetched slaves from different parts of the cotton plantation, I fetched food from the storerooms for the cooks.

  My parents told me that our family once belonged to the Oyo Empire in Africa. My grandparents were merchants who deplored the slave trade and refused to sell human beings to the European traders. Wasn’t long before they caused too much trouble and were sold themselves. When my mother was born, she was shipped down to Georgia. Arranged to marry my father, and boy if he wasn’t the happiest son of a gun on the whole plantation. She was the prettiest woman he’d ever seen, or so he told me. I believed him. I remember my ma being pretty. Proud, too. Proud that her grandparents had refused to treat their brothers and sisters like animals.