The Grimm Chronicles, Vol. 2

by Ken Brosky

  I shrugged. “Then you’re stuck down there until the police arrive.”

  The other two men pulled themselves to their feet, pulling off their hoods and wiping dirt off their robes. The box was a tight fit—they jockeyed for breathing room, searching the dirt walls for a way out.

  “No way but up,” I said. “And you’re not getting up here with those very fancy claws of yours.”

  The balding man—obviously their leader—flashed his most fearsome snarl. “The dragon’s claw is as much a part of us as our own fingers, you fool.”

  “Dude!” I exclaimed. “I just saw you guys take them off so you could climb in the window.”

  The three robed figures mumbled amongst themselves. The other two were younger-looking. Shorter, too.

  “If we relinquish our claws, what guarantee do we have you’ll honor your bargain?” asked the balding leader.

  “You don’t have any guarantee,” I said.

  They mumbled amongst themselves again. I sighed.

  “Guys, seriously. I’m going to call the police. Do you really want to be here when they show up?”

  More mumbling. I was beginning to think I’d overestimated my enemies.

  “All right,” said the leader, removing the golden claws from his hands. He tossed them out of the hole, onto the grass beside my feet. The other two men followed suit.

  I picked up the creepy claw-looking things, examining one of them. I used my finger to pick away at a little chip, surprised when it flaked off. “Hey, these aren’t made of gold. It’s just metal that’s been spray-painted!”

  “The gold has been promised to us by the master,” said the leader. “When the dragon awakens.”

  “Wonderful.” I tossed all of the claws into the rose garden beside Chase’s house. “Now your robes, please.”

  “What?!” The leader’s graying eyebrows shot up so high I thought they might both go airborne. “You said … you said …”

  “What, are you naked under those or something?” I asked, hands on hips.

  “I am,” said the youngest of the three. “Well, I have underwear but it’s laundry day so the underwear has some holes in it.”

  I groaned. “Boys! I swear, it’s like you have an allergy to buying new clothes.”

  “What is the purpose of this?” asked the leader. “Really! You’ve won. You’ve disarmed us. We’re harmless. Embarrassing us won’t change things.”

  “Not for you,” I said. “But it would make me feel soooo much better to know you don’t have any hidden knives or other dragon-inspired weapons. I know I’m being a little paranoid here, but I’m just trying to be safe. And since you guys probably aren’t going to write a check for the window you broke …”

  They tossed up their robes. Sure enough, they’d chosen to wear nothing underneath but their underwear. I understood why when I pinched the fabric of the robe between my fingers. “These are, like, really nice robes!” I said, whistling low. “I mean, really, really nice. I bet this is totally cozy in the wintertime.”

  “Oh, you can’t beat it,” said the young one. He was very daintily covering his man-nipples with one arm. “The wool does wonders for staving off the cold.”

  “Silence.”

  I looked up, stepping back. The toe of my shoe found my saber and slipped underneath the blade, kicking it up. I grabbed it in mid-air, pointing it at the dark robed figure standing in front of the bushes that divided Chase’s house from the neighboring property.

  “Who are you?” I asked.

  The figure moved closer. He was still a good fifteen feet away, but it didn’t stop a cold feeling from running through my body. My muscles tensed, as if expecting him to close the distance between us and strike before I was ready.

  “Who are you?” I asked again. The men stuck in my trap had gone eerily silent. I positioned myself behind the opening. If the mysterious figure did plan an attack, he would need to jump over it to reach me … or run around it, giving me an extra precious second to react.

  He moved closer. He was wearing a black robe just like the others, only he was taller, and red velvet trim adorned the edges of his robe. With the light shining through the windows next door, I could see the intricate golden pattern embroidered onto the trim.

  Claws.

  And how much do you want to bet they were dragon claws?

  “My name is Agnim,” said the figure. He raised his head a bit revealing two eyes, glowing a soft gold, deep inside the darkness of his hood. A Corrupted. I was sure of it. The rest of his face was hidden but the eyes were enough. He moved closer, and I realized why my body was so tense: his feet weren’t touching the ground. He was hovering over the grass, his robe trailing behind him.

  “Very clever trick,” I said. “What story are you from?”

  He chuckled. His laugh came out wet and throaty. It reminded me of my grandpa’s laugh—a lifetime of cigarettes and all he got out of it were bad lungs. “In due time, hero.” He glanced down at the trap. “Clever. Most clever. Or perhaps my minions are simply foolish.”

  “Oh we’re in so much trouble,” whispered one of the trapped guys. The other two hushed him quickly.

  “No matter,” said the mysterious Agnim. “They’ve served their purpose.”

  “And what was their purpose?” I asked. “To act like dummies? To break a window?”

  A quiet, animal-like growl escaped the darkness under his hood.

  I fought the urge to switch the saber into my left hand. My right hand was sweating something fierce. Not a good spot to show weakness, Goodenough. Especially not with a Corrupted like this. There was something about him I couldn’t quite place, as if I instinctively knew what he was capable of. Somewhere, deep down, I knew Agnim was dangerous. Different, somehow, from the others I’d faced.

  “The purpose was to reveal the hero,” he said. He stood still as a statue, his hands hidden in his sleeves. “I have seen you in my visions, but your face has always been hidden. Protected, perhaps. But now … nothing can stop the Awakening. The Order of the Golden Dragon will finally see its plans through.”

  Somewhere above us, an owl called out. Agnim glanced up, searching for the sound. Now I caught a glimpse of his chin as it jutted out of the darkness underneath the hood. The skin was green, flaky, a few dark black hairs poking out.

  “The owl hunts like no other,” said Agnim, taking a deep raspy breath. “He slips through the sky in complete silence, the serrated edges of his flight feathers muting his attack. He consumes his prey whole, regurgitating what he cannot digest.”

  “Stop. Please. You’re making me hungry.”

  He looked at me. Definitely not amused. And there came that uneasy feeling again.

  “So now you know I’m the hero,” I said. “Good for you. And I get it, I totally do! I can see why you probably want me dead. But I swear, if you try to hurt my friends …”

  The owl’s call stopped. Agnim the Mage cut me off. “I have no intention of hurting your friends, so long as they stay out of my way.”

  “Oh, good. A nice Corrupted for once.” I stepped into a wide stance, holding my saber in front of me. “Let’s do this then.”

  But Agnim simply shook his hooded head. “Tonight, I want only to give you a gift.”

  His hand slipped out from the sleeve of the robe. My leg muscles tensed. I had to fight the urge to run. His green, rotted fist unclenched, revealing a small coin. He flicked it at me. Rather than embarrass myself by trying to catch it, I let it fall by my feet. I didn’t need to examine it closely to know what it was.

  The dragon was recognizable enough.

  “When you destroyed the fiddler,” Agnim said, “you did not bother to search his dwelling. Had you done so, you would have found this.”

  My heart skipped a beat. The fiddler … “You’ve been following me since then?”

  “We were only informed that the fiddler was dead. He was a member of our order. Not a particularly good member …” He glanced down into the pit, where t
he three fellow robed guys were huddling together. “Then again, it seems our order has no shortage of fools.”

  “Why are you giving me this?” I asked.

  “Because now you have three,” he answered sharply. “The fiddler and the stepmother and the captain make three. Three gold coins, just as I have seen in my visions. You will find a fourth coin. When you do, we will meet again.”

  “Why?” I asked. “What’s so important about my having four coins?”

  “There is a reckoning coming, hero. The time is drawing nigh. When you collect the fourth coin it will signal the Awakening of the Golden Dragon. This dragon will consume everything in its path, including your precious friends.”

  “Are you sure we can’t fight now?” I asked, taking a careful step around the trap. “I have the sudden urge to kill you.”

  “Enough,” he said sharply, holding out one hand. With a flick of his wrist an invisible force knocked me backward. I landed in the rose garden beside Chase’s house, the thorns painfully digging into my back.

  “What was that,” I whispered, keeping my saber in front of me. Agnim had barely moved, but it was clear whatever magic he’d used on me had taken its toll on him, too: his breathing came fast and his shoulders slumped in exhaustion.

  “You will know more soon enough,” said the magician. He stepped back, away from the light shining through the neighbor’s window. Back into the shadows where he looked much more comfortable. “And when the dragon wakes, nothing will stop us.”

  He took one more step back and then—surprise, surprise—melted away into the darkness.

  “Well hooray for you,” I muttered.

  “Um, can we go?” asked one of the guys in the trap.

  I ignored him, walking over to the rose bushes. I grabbed their ridiculously scary steel claws and went around the back of the house to the dumpster, tossing them inside.

  Chapter 2

  Parents. Just when you think you have them figured out … they go and surprise you.

  I can only imagine my parents thinking the same thing about their daughter, too. Case in point: I’m pretty sure they were more than a little flabbergasted when I arrived that night with Seth and Chase in tow. Just imagine if they’d seen the giant talking rabbit as well.

  But you know what? They were pretty cool about it. Mom understood the moment she saw Chase back in his wheelchair. And she didn’t ask questions, other than to inquire politely about the sleeping arrangements. Chase and Seth volunteered the living room, setting their backpacks on the coffee table.

  “Woah, Mr. G!” Seth said, bending over to examine the DVDs under the television stand. “You got Blu-Ray now? You’re so twenty-first century!”

  Dad stuffed his hands in his pockets, obviously proud. “Bought it this afternoon. Pretty soon, we’ll be watching TV in our minds, my boy. Ten years, tops.”

  Mom brought down pillows and blankets, moving the coffee table near the TV so there was ample room. “What else do you need?” she asked. “Chase? Is there anything?”

  Chase shook his head. He’d calmed down, not quite sure what to make of everything. Not quite sure if he should look around for the giant talking rabbit.

  Thankfully, Seth was here. He gave Chase a solid pat on the shoulder. “He’s in good hands, Mrs. Goodenough. I’ve even valiantly offered to sleep on the uncomfortable couch so he can have the comfy floor.”

  Chase cracked a smile.

  “Oh no,” Mom said. “You give him the best spot. And no television. Right to bed, the both of you. No staying up late gossiping, either.”

  Seth’s face turned serious. “Mrs. Goodenough. Chase and I only gossip by phone.”

  “Do you need a toothbrush?” Dad asked. It was late and he was already wearing his Green Bay Packers pajama bottoms and his favorite old gray Washington High t-shirt. Chase was staring at the name, which was crossed with baseball bats. Below it was a football.

  “Oh, I think we’re all right,” Seth said with a polite smile. “I didn’t eat too many sweets today, soooooo …”

  Dad slapped him on the back, pushing him toward the bathroom. “There’s spare toothbrushes in the cabinet there. You too, Chase. Otherwise your teeth are going to rot out of your skull and we can’t have that. Chicks dig teeth.”

  Chase glanced at me, raising an eyebrow.

  “Have a fine sleep,” I said with a smile.

  Mom cornered me upstairs. At first, I thought she was going to yell at me again. But her eyes were soft, almost glassy. She had that look she always gave me when I ran home from Seth’s as a child with a scrape or boo-boo.

  I mean owie.

  I mean injury.

  “Was Chase really walking before?”

  I nodded. My teeth found my lower lip, biting hard to keep the tears from pouring out. I don’t know why I was so emotional about it. Maybe it was the stress of the entire night all crashing down at once. I’d managed to hold it all together with surprising force. It was as if a switch turned on when I was dealing with the Corrupted, and while I was in “hero” mode I was on a different level.

  Now, the switch had turned off. I was back in the “real world” again.

  “And now Chase can’t walk again?”

  I nodded again.

  “Should we call his parents, just so they know where he is?”

  I shook my head. “We … he left a note.”

  She put a hand on my back, rubbing gently. “Honey. Don’t you think his parents will want to be with him tonight?”

  “They’ll be too disappointed, Mom. Just like they were after the accident. They hurt Chase’s feelings. They were more worried about their stupid get-togethers with the other parents of kids on the baseball team. They didn’t care, Mom. They didn’t—”

  She held me tight, hugging me.

  “I’m sure they care,” Mom said. “Deep down, somewhere. And Chase is going to have to work things out with them. But don’t think his parents don’t care just because it looks that way. Sometimes, parents forget, too.”

  “But he’s hurting.”

  “So are they. And they’re adjusting to what happened. They’re only human, after all. It’s up to Chase and his parents to work through this.”

  “What if they can’t?”

  “If they care, they will,” she said. “And it’s up to them to do it, not you. You don’t have to fix their problems. You’re not a superhero.”

  “OK.” I wiped my eyes. “They’re still buttheads for being so selfish.”

  Mom smiled and nodded. “Just more proof you have great parents.” She ran a hand through my hair, catching it with her fingers. “Why is your hair damp?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  “All right,” she said with a sigh. “I’ll let it go, but only because I don’t want to ruin this excellent mother-daughter moment.”

  I laughed. “Thanks, Mom.”

  In my room, Briar was waiting patiently at the desk, legs crossed.

  “I don’t know if I’m ever going to get these wrinkles out of my trousers,” he said with more than a little defeat in his voice. “They’re soggy, too.”

  “Relax, rabbit. I’ll iron them tomorrow.” I went into my closet, closing the door and changing into fresh clothes. The underwear was the most important part—while my shirt and pants had mostly dried, the underwear hadn’t been so kind. “I bet Wonder Woman never has to worry about soggy wedgies,” I muttered.

  “What’s that now?” Briar asked once I emerged.

  “Oh nothing. Let’s talk strategy.” I sat on the bed, putting the magic pen in the top drawer and setting the gold dragon coin on the desk.

  Briar looked at it hesitantly. “Um … wouldn’t you rather sleep? You know how you get when you don’t get enough sleep.”

  I narrowed an eye. “No. How do I get?”

  “Oh. You get … uh …” He tapped his paws together nervously. “Just a little edgy, that’s all. Grumpy, too. Er, you have a tendency to forget to brush your teeth in the mo
rning and your breath smells a bit …”

  He trailed off.

  “No, please … go on!” I said, eyes wide. “Let it all out, furball. Then we can have a loooooong discussion about how gross it is to talk to you when you have bits of carrot and lettuce stuck between your teeth. Which is, like, always.”

  “Perhaps we should talk strategy.”

  “I wholeheartedly agree.”

  His paw wrapped around the gold coin. “Tell me about this wizard fellow.”

  “The magician?” I shrugged. “Creepy. Dangerous.”

  “Dangerous?”

  “Yes. Definitely. I could just feel it. Like, my entire body wanted me to run. The whole moment seemed so incredibly weird that I wanted to just get the heck out of there, even though I had a weapon to protect myself.”

  “We must know who this particular Corrupted is,” Briar said. “There are only a few options. The Brothers Grimm only mentioned a few wizards or magicians or fellows of the like. One was from Jorinda and Jorindel, but another was from The Glass Coffin. And then of course there are fairies, who I don’t particularly enjoy bumping into. I need more to go on.”

  “Do you want me to call him?” I asked.

  His ears perked up. “Brilliant! Does he have a landline or cellular phone?”

  “I’m kidding.”

  “Oh. Right.” He grunted. “You snookered me.”

  I put a hand on his shoulder. “Cheer up, old boy. My dreams will tell me more, right?”

  “Perhaps …”

  “So we wait until he appears in my dreams. Then I sneak around, find some information about him, and wham! We take him down.”

  “Wham? I don’t think such a word …”

  “Shhhhh,” I whispered, lying down on the bed. I tossed him the spare pillow. “I think you’re right: it’s time for sleepy-sleep, my friend.”

  And so it was. My dreams, thankfully, were peaceful. Relaxing. No Corrupted. No monsters or weirdness. In fact, it wasn’t even really a dream at all; it was a movie. An old, grainy black and white movie.

  In the movie, I stood in the back of a small schoolhouse. The house had one room, and sitting on the dirt floor were a dozen African-American children, each one wearing overalls and striped shirts. The woman at the head of the class was white, beautiful, with blonde hair and a sprinkling of freckles. She stood clutching a small green chalkboard no bigger than a laptop screen. She wore a white sundress that was dirty at the bottom, no doubt from the dirt floor.