The Grimm Chronicles, Vol. 2

by Ken Brosky

  One of the rabbit’s ears perked up, as if he knew what I’d written without even seeing the paper. He didn’t have much interest in seeing anything I’d written. “That’s mighty kind,” he said, hefting the book of fairy tales, “but I suspect it will only stave off the inevitable. After all, many characters in this book end up living happily ever after. And yet here they are, turning all sorts of evil.”

  “You’re right,” I said.

  “And so you shall have to write in my official position as deus ex machina. Helper extraordinaire. Assistant to the hero.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “You sure? Once I write it … I don’t think I can change it. You’ll be shackled to your duties.”

  Br’er Rabbit set a hand on my shoulder. “Dear Eugene, you must understand I’m not the Br’er Rabbit from the stories you were told as a child. I am your creation. I have appeared out of thin air as the result of magic. And I shan’t go off frolicking in the woods living in a briar patch. The only purpose I could possibly serve is to assist the hero. And I should very much like it.”

  I sighed. The tip of the magic pen sat on the piece of paper. “All right,” I said finally, and wrote down the words that would forever bind my furry savior to this new world …

  Br’er Rabbit’s job was to serve the hero and assist in the destruction of the Corrupted. And by gosh, Br’er Rabbit was good at it. He was smart, capable, witty and sleek of foot. He could turn invisible at will, keeping himself hidden from the rest of humanity. And he had the peculiar quality of communicating with his fellow animals …

  “Ahem!” Br’er Rabbit tapped his foot on the ground, staring at me. “It’s hardly necessary to mention my intelligence or wit. Such qualities are natural in a fellow like myself. Don’t you remember the stories your parents used to tell you?”

  I laughed. “I sure do, Br’er Rabbit.”

  His whiskers twitched. “Call me Briar. My friends call me Briar.”

  Book 5: Blood and Thunder

  Chapter 1

  “O man of the sea!

  Hearken to me!

  My wife Ilsabill

  Will have her own will,

  And hath sent me to beg a boon of thee!”[iii]

  A giant lizard. A terrible stepmother. Vats of disgusting porridge.

  Yup … you can bet I was more than a little anxious to get out of the orphanage. But not before Sam Grayle understood where the two of us stood. I don’t know if I’ve been clear about this just yet, but I didn’t trust Sam Grayle farther than I could spit. And I had a funny feeling the Corrupted jerk wasn’t going to be swayed by any of my “help the children” speeches no matter how reasonable I was being.

  So I had a plan. A devious little plan. OK, that’s not entirely true—it was originally Briar’s idea. He really is a clever little trickster. But I was the one carrying it out. I was the one holding the ace up my sleeve. Sam Grayle wants to boss me around? Fine.

  Two can play that game.

  So let’s set the scene: I’m standing in the mansion foyer with Briar. Seth is in one of the first-floor living rooms with the children, keeping them entertained with—surprise, surprise!—a copy of Grimms’ Fairy Tales. “Sweet irony,” as Briar might say. No one was in a good mood. One of the pots of porridge had overcooked and the crispy stench was clogging our nostrils.

  After about ten minutes, the dwarf returned from his upstairs inspection with a sigh. “That cursed woman doused two entire rooms in oil. What the blazes was she thinking?”

  “Burn and move on,” I murmured, staring at one of the maps Briar had found in the first-floor parlor. There were dozens of others, too, each one measuring something different: wind, temperature, annual rainfall.

  “She was looking for a seed,” Briar said, rubbing his chin with one paw. “Somehow, she believed the seed had slipped underground at some point. I can’t make sense of it. How could a seed possibly bring back her stepson?”

  “Perhaps her stepson is a seed,” Sam said, rolling his eyes. “Perhaps the seed blossoms into a tree that bears delicious fruits and the stepson returns to eat them. Who knows? Who cares? I have my mansion, and I want everyone out.”

  “Are you sure you won’t reconsider the kids?” I asked. “They could use a good foster home. They deserve an education, too, just like everyone else gets. They haven’t exactly had it easy.”

  Sam raised an eyebrow. He was standing on the third step of the staircase so he was eye-level with me. “Are you trying to sway a Corrupted with compassion?”

  “Worth a try,” Briar said. “Oh, I do so enjoy children.”

  “Yes, they’re wonderful at wasting money and wetting the bed and other such things,” Sam snapped. “If you’ll excuse me, I’d very much like to see all of you off my new property. You have no idea how much paperwork must be filled out to cover up this event.”

  “Oh, sure,” I said, raising my hands. “Sorry. We’ll leave. But you might want to check the basement first before you commit to this place, though.” I glanced at Briar. “I hear it’s a total mess.”

  Sam narrowed his eyes, then slipped past us, hurrying to the basement door.

  “How are the kids?” I asked Briar.

  The rabbit shrugged. One ear flopped down. “Terrified. No doubt this will be traumatic for some. Hopefully, your friend Seth is doing a better job of comforting them than I did. Thankfully, kids’ imaginations are usually an excellent excuse for their interactions with me.” He cleared his throat. “I don’t mean to suggest doing anything unethical, per se, but now might be a good time to do a little more snooping before the dwarf returns.”

  “Right.” I made my way past the living room, where all of the kids were sitting on the floor, some of them zonked out on the carpeting. The fake playroom. The room the kids probably never even got to use. It had just been for show, in case someone important had come to visit and check up on the kids. To make sure this place was indeed an orphanage and not, say, some creepy child slavery operation complete with an illegal mine and giant subterranean lizard.

  I walked to another room near the end of the hall, one that had always been closed in my dreams. The floor slipped underneath me like ice—the magic boots weren’t exactly the easiest thing to get used to, especially when I forgot I was wearing them. They moved me forward so quickly with each step that my mind couldn’t keep up without effort. Nor could my stomach.

  I pulled off the boots and opened the door to the room, surprised to see two twin size beds pressed up against opposite walls. So they slept in beds. And here I was expecting coffins or foul nests made of bones and refuse—something more suited to the character of the occupants.

  The room was plain looking, with old faded brown striped wallpaper that had begun to peel near the ceiling. There was a single lamp with a dusty yellow shade sitting on an end table beside the bed, and an old white ticking alarm clock sitting beside the lamp. There was a dresser, no doubt full of neatly folded clothes, and two closets each with a dozen or more plain-looking dresses hanging from old metal coat hangars.

  Practical and boring. It seemed impossible that such evil, cold-blooded creatures could have inhabited this mundane space. After a closer inspection of the closets I concluded that unless Victorian-era culottes were going to make a comeback in the near future, nothing in here was going to be useful.

  “Um, excuse me.”

  I spun around and gasped. There, on the dresser: a fish. A gold-colored fish bobbing in a small glass tank. A talking fish with its head poking out of the water, one glossy eye staring right at me.

  “Oh now I’m dreaming again,” I muttered, slapping my forehead.

  “Ah,” he said in a distinct man’s voice with just a hint of a British accent. “Wonderful. I take it the mistresses are dead then? Very good, very good. I can’t say how many times that miserable old woman dressed right in front of me.” He made a hacking noise, dipping below the surface of the water so that a flurry of bubbles escaped his mouth. He surfaced again, his tail swishing
rapidly to keep his head above water. “I daresay I’ve seen enough girdles to last me a lifetime.”

  “You’re glowing,” I said. “Which means I have to destroy you.”

  His little fins flapped faster. “Don’t be so hasty now, I have a better idea. How about you and I make a deal?”

  From the depths of the basement, Sam Grayle’s startled shriek echoed up the stairs. I turned back to the fish. “Say what now?”

  “Get me out of here,” the fish said. “Drop me off in Lake Michigan. In exchange, I’ll grant you a wish. Any wish you’d like.”

  I pulled my fountain pen from my pocket.

  “No, no,” said the fish, his eyes widening. “That’s no good. What would that serve? Hasn’t there been enough death tonight? Goodness! Didn’t you hear me? I can grant you a wish. Anything you desire, just for tossing me in the lake! All you have to do is release me. That’s how it goes. That’s how I was written, you see.”

  “I don’t think so, buddy. Lake Michigan already has enough trouble with invasive species.”

  “Indeed, indeed!” He dipped back into the water for a moment, then lifted his head up again, his tailfin flicking madly. “But, you see, I do believe I can offer you something you desperately deserve. Something I once granted to a previous hero …”

  “You’re a Corrupted, I can’t trust you.” I tried to sound resolute, but my statement came out more like a question and I felt my grip on the pen loosen slightly.

  “Ah, ah! Excellent. You’re listening. Well, this particular hero found me well enough, and … let’s just say he’d had it with the whole hero business. Too cut-throat for him. Too much hacking and slashing. No, he had better things to do. Really, who doesn’t? And so before he returned me to the ocean—this was in New York, mind you—he asked for a new hero to take his place. And I happily obliged with that wish. Simple as that! He was no longer the hero. He was free. And best of all, continuity was maintained. A new hero punched in and immediately started fighting the Corrupted. Just as another can take your place.”

  “Free …” My mind reeled. Was it a trick?

  “Please, do hurry and decide,” the fish said. His little pale fin wiggled a few times so that he faced me. His eyes bulged out of the sides of his face.

  “Why would you grant me a wish, just like that?” I asked.

  The fish took another breath underwater, then surfaced again and released the breath in a long, drawn out sigh. “Because as I said before, that is how I was written. I must obey the rules set by the Brothers Grimm.”

  “Why did the mistress have you?”

  “Because I could, technically, bring her stepson back. But in order to do it, she would have to release me. And in doing so, she would lose her one wish. It’s a powerful thing, you know. Wishes don’t just come by every day.”

  I nodded, running my lower lip across my teeth. If I wasn’t the hero anymore …

  “And of course she believed she was close,” the fish continued, flapping his fin a few times to right himself. “I could tell because the old bat wouldn’t stop humming that same song over and over. A dreadful old woman. Couldn’t carry a tune.”

  I was barely listening. All I could think about was my old life. Long nights of peaceful sleep. Spare time to discover new books. Not having my life threatened by dwarves, hedgehogs and giant lizards …

  The sound of Sam Grayle’s shoes tapping on the stairs broke my trance.

  “OK, how do I hide you?” I asked.

  “No need,” said the fish. “Just put me in your pocket. I’ll hold my breath until we get to the lake.”

  “Yeah …but you see, I don’t really want to smell like a fish …”

  The fish’s bulbous eyes rolled upward. “There is a purse in the second drawer of the dresser below me. I trust the owner won’t mind if you take it, considering she’s quite dead.”

  “But what if I don’t get you to the lake before you suffocate?” I asked, suddenly afraid that my one chance to get my normal life back might not happen.

  “Little girl,” he said in a stern voice. “I’m not a real fish. You know there’s only one way I can die. Please don’t be so stupid.”

  “Right.” I opened the second dresser drawer, surprised to find three purses, each of them hideous and out of fashion. I picked the brown leather one only because it was big enough to fit the magic boots as well. “Hello … what’s this?” I asked, grabbing something cold and metal tucked into the corner of the purse. I pulled it out.

  A gold coin. It was twice as big as a quarter, twice as heavy, with ridges along its rounded edge that had been worn down so that they felt smooth. Both sides had the same engraving: a dragon with its wings spread. It had thick, curved horns and a long snout and a tail that wrapped around the bottom. Above the dragon were the words EX MULTIS UNUM.

  “Hurry now!” the fish exclaimed. He was right: the sound of the dwarf’s shoes was louder now, echoing up from the first flight of basement stairs.

  I grabbed the slimy fish and put him in the purse, then closed it just as Sam stepped through the basement doorway, slamming the door shut behind him. His face was flushed, his hairline glistening with sweat. He walked into the mistresses’ room, pointing one fat nail-bitten finger at me.

  “I demand you destroy that … that thing!”

  I shrugged. “Wasn’t part of the deal.”

  The dwarf inhaled sharply through his nose. His fingers clenched into fists. “Do not play coy with me, young lady.”

  “I’m not being coy. I’m playing by your rules. You told me to get rid of the mistress so you could have your mansion. I did that. You didn’t say anything about the giant terrifying lizard in the cavern below, which technically isn’t even part of the mansion.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Kill it.”

  “Set up a foster home for these kids,” I said. “Just them. Make sure they get an education and a safe place to live. That’s it. How much would that cost you?”

  “An excruciating sum, I can assure you. I’ll have to come up with a dozen plausible lies just to explain this entire incident to the proper authorities. It will take another dozen lies to explain the kids.”

  “Well, they’re not being herded out onto the street to die.”

  “Oh, please?” Sam asked. “That would make things so much easier.”

  I crossed my arms. “A foster home and an education in exchange for the lizard.”

  He said nothing for a few moments, grinding his teeth side to side. Finally, after considerable growling, the word “Deal” escaped his lips.

  I smiled, relieved. “And I can trust you to keep your side of the bargain?”

  Sam’s face darkened. “Never doubt my word, hero.” The word dripped off his tongue like acid. It was enough to send a cold feeling running through my body. “You’ll get your precious foster home, the best foster home these little rats could ever imagine, and they’ll get it in exchange for a basement FREE OF GIANT LIZARDS!”

  His shout echoed down the hall. I heard Seth’s calm voice over the frightened murmuring of the children: “It’s OK. Everything’s cool, little dudes and dudettes.”

  “A deal is a deal,” I said, and went down into the basement to finish the job. I have to admit, I was more than a little excited. A magic fish! One that could grant a wish in exchange for freedom. One who’d done it before. Faint music played in my head, some unfamiliar happy tune that had me descending the basement steps two at a time. I thought I had my chance, the chance I’d been hoping for since this whole “hero” business began. I thought I had a way out.

  Little did I know …

  Chapter 2

  Sleep, wonderful sleep! Peaceful sleep. No nightmares. No Corrupted. Just me sitting in a diner and who should walk in? None other than a young Clint Eastwood. Looking for a cup of black coffee to wet his whistle before rounding up baddies. We talked. Mostly about waffles. Then in came James Dean. He wanted a cup of coffee, too, but we had the last pot at our table. He slid into the
booth, right next to me. I smiled at him. His green eyes sparkled mischievously as he complimented my violet shirt.

  Hey! It was a dream. My dream.

  One I didn’t have any control over. One lacking monsters. Gawd, how I missed that. And I certainly didn’t mind the addition of James Dean. Pretty soon I’d be able to have my own dreams back every night.

  When I woke up for school just two hours later, I felt more rested than I had in over a week. I yawned, stretched, then wandered sleepily into my closet. The fish was there, quite angry that he wasn’t yet in Lake Michigan. I’d placed him behind a pile of dirty clothes, inside the deepest container I could find in our kitchen cupboards. It was a large ceramic soup tureen with a deep bowl and notch in its lid where, under normal circumstances, the handle of a ladle would rest. But my life was having a definite shortage of normal circumstances. Instead, a cold round eye glared out at me from the small opening.

  “Freedom!” he said harshly. “I offer you freedom and in return you put me in a soup dish and nearly smother me with your laundry! You could use a lesson in hospitality, my dear.”

  “Shhhh,” I said, glancing over my shoulder. Briar was fast asleep under the window, snoring softly amongst a motley collection of throw pillows that had once decorated my bed.

  “Oh. Right. The rabbit.” The closet was dark, but I swear I caught him rolling his eyes. “Incognito. Secrecy. Silence. All that jazz. Well, fine. But I do hope you’ll at least give me some bread crumbs to tide me over.”

  I nodded, contented. Silence was what counted. Because I hadn’t exactly informed Briar that I was harboring Corrupted in my closet.

  I picked out some clothes and opted to get dressed in the bathroom, away from that hostile fishy gaze. I came back and made sure the closet door was closed tightly before giving Briar a kick in the butt.

  “What now? Carrots for whom?” he asked, sitting up and licking his teeth.

  “You told me to wake you up.”