The Grimm Chronicles, Vol. 2

by Ken Brosky

  Clyde shrugged, pushing his sunglasses back up.

  “I was getting used to it being quiet back here,” Seth said. “It was peaceful. Now it’s … boy, I dunno. Hard to describe.”

  “Tense,” Chase offered.

  Seth snapped his fingers a few times. “That’s the word. Tense.”

  “Still better than being over there,” Chase said, nodding his head toward the baseball and track clique congregating near the center of the cafeteria. When Seth looked, Chase stole a few of his fries. He immediately regretted it, holding the ketchup-slathered potato strings like they were worms. “Ew, that’s a lot of ketchup.”

  I felt the tension, too. I knew exactly what all these students around us were feeling: anxiety. Fear. Worry. Worry that any moment, Joey might decide “Hey, you know what would be fun? Picking on someone.” And then he would look around, and that’s when all these underclassmen’s stomachs would hollow out. A sick feeling would come over them. Their hearts would start racing. They would think to themselves, please don’t pick me, please don’t pick me.

  Then Joey would choose his target. It could be totally random or he could have a bone to pick with someone, even for something as ridiculous as a weird look in the hallway or someone accidentally bumping into him. It didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was how bad it would be. Would Joey just throw something at them, or would he say something mean? Would he keep saying mean things until the person cried? Would he push the person? Would he corner the person in one of the stairwells where teachers rarely patrolled? There were a million options for bullies like Joey. He could even enlist the help of the Mean Girls who hung out with his clique. They could go online and continue the torment.

  Girls like Trish. She was watching us, sitting between Joey’s friends and Chase’s old friends, laughing at one of the sinister comments made by Cynthia Blake, Mean Girl Number One. They were all wearing light pink blouses, gold necklaces, their smartphones sitting next to their salads. So alike. And they’d managed to assimilate Trish to the point that she wouldn’t even talk to me in the halls.

  Thinking about all of it made me sick to my stomach.

  “Hey,” Chase said. “What’s wrong?”

  “What?” I shook my head. “Huh?”

  “You’re frowning,” Rachel said. She looked over her shoulder. “Did you see a mouse?”

  “Oh no way, man,” Clyde said, lifting his feet onto the table. Seth and Chase groaned, pulling their food away from his dirty brown sneakers.

  “I’m just thinking,” I said. “That’s all. Eeeeew, Seth! You have ketchup all over your face.” I tossed one of my napkins at him. “You really need to carry wet-naps or something.”

  Seth sat up straighter, using the napkin to test one of the many ketchup smudges around his mouth. “I’m comfortable with who I am.”

  Chase stifled a chuckle.

  Rachel shoved Clyde’s feet off the table. “Woah!” he exclaimed. “Did you guys see that?”

  “She pushed your feet off,” Chase said, shrugging. “So what?”

  Clyde smiled. “That’s the first time ever that Rach has done something unexpected, man.”

  A little meek smile crept up one side of her face.

  “Elaborate,” Chase ordered. His eyes were narrowed, almost suspicious.

  Clyde tugged on his flannel sleeves. “Rachel’s predictable, man. Always has been. It’s why I dig her. I don’t have to think too much around her. You guys on the other hand … man! You make my brain hurt.”

  “She is predictable,” Chase said. He rubbed his stubbly chin. “She’s also got great fencing potential.”

  “No, not really.” Rachel laughed nervously. “You’re just being nice.”

  Chase shook his head. “Nope. I’m being honest.”

  Rachel sat up a little straighter. She cleared her throat. “Still don’t believe ya.” But she totally did. She looked proud. Confident.

  At least there was that.

  This is the part where I leave school early for library and everyone else finishes up classes for the day. Then, in the early evening, everyone gets some homework done—the good students do, at least—and then whittle away the time before bed. Then everyone goes to bed and has wonderful dreams about sugar plums and supermodels and Hollywood hunks.

  But not yours truly. Yes, I understand I’ve complained about this before. But you know what? I’m allowed to complain a little bit. I was sacrificing my beauty sleep and social life to save the world, for crying out loud. And besides, what was about to happen over the course of the next week was like nothing I’d experienced before.

  I fell asleep that night listening to Briar’s soft snoring, and felt myself jolted back to that very same schoolhouse. Only this time the classroom was empty. I stood patiently, digging my toes into the dirt floor, waiting for something to happen.

  Thunder happened.

  The rumble shook the window in its frame. I hurried over, searching the little town. Sure enough, the same cloaked figure was advancing down the hard-packed dirt road. The pitch-black thunder clouds churned above him, seeming to follow his progress like obedient pets. His hood was drawn over his face, his wart-ridden green fingers slipping out from the sleeves of his cloak. His dragon pendant swung from his around his neck.

  I ran outside. Yup, Crazy Alice the hero ran outside to meet him, not realizing she didn’t have her trusty magic pen with her. Not realizing just what kind of danger she was in.

  The moment his hood lifted up, a blinding bolt of lightning hit the road between us. I felt my feet lift off the dirt.

  “Woah,” I said, surprised to hear my own voice. I held out a hand—I was visible. I could hear my voice. This wasn’t the usual “follow the Corrupted” dream.

  Another crack of lightning hit the metal sign of one of the small square buildings beside the road, sending a shower of sparks that landed on the cloaked figure. His black robe caught fire.

  “Yessssss,” I hissed, clenching my fists.

  A drop of rain landed on my forehead. Then another. Then a dozen more. I wiped the water away from my eyes. When I opened them again, I could see the sheet of rain approaching me. It was like a curtain of water, traveling down the road, hitting the cloaked figure and putting out the flames on his robe, then slamming into me like a ton of bricks.

  The sound was deafening, like applause in a sports stadium. I floated backward, wiping furiously at my eyes. I tried to step on the ground, but my ghost form wouldn’t fully obey my commands. All around me, the dirt road seemed to be exploding as the thick droplets landed and burst.

  “Come on,” I said, reaching down with my tippy-toes. The rain soaked through my shirt and pajama bottoms. I wiped the water from my face again, then searched for Agnim.

  And screamed.

  Before I could lift my arm to defend myself, his sickening green hand was around my throat. I clutched his arm. The sleeve of the black robe was pulled back and I could see the green hideousness of his boil-ridden skin, blackened in places as if he’d been recently burned.

  “You think you control this dream?” he asked in a low, guttural growl. I kicked wildly at him, but his reach was too long. He kept his head down, his hood covering his face. Water slid over the fabric, the rain coming so fast that it created little waterfalls at the edge.

  “Let go,” I choked out. I didn’t even want to touch his disgusting hand, but I had to try and pry his fingers away. His wet skin was slippery, his nails black and broken.

  “A storm comes for this town,” he said, squeezing tighter. I coughed, feeling my lungs fight desperately to open up an airway. “Or should I say came? After all, this has already happened. What you see now is nothing more than a fleeting after-image. You and I aren’t here. I’m safely in my lair. You’re tucked in bed with your loyal leporidae companion sleeping peacefully on the floor.”

  “Leporidae?” I asked, picking at his fingers for a reprieve.

  “Otherwise known as a rabbit.” He cocked his
head. From somewhere underneath that black hood, I was sure he smiled. “You’re not the only one armed with knowledge, hero.”

  Above us came a loud crack of thunder. I felt my breath escape my body. I was choking. I was really, really choking! My fingers clawed desperately at his, pulling one away, then another, then a third, screaming out the last little bit of air left in my lungs.

  Agnim let go. I floated backward, taking in a long breath. The rain pushed me downward. I felt my feet touch the wet, muddy road. I scraped my toes, scooping up mud, trying to gain some kind of traction.

  “Come on!” I shouted, looking around frantically for something, anything that I could use to defend myself. I felt a surge of panic. It was as if his cold, strong hands were still tight around my neck. Whatever was happening here was even more intense than the dream experience on the cursed ship. This dream felt real enough to kill me. Man, was I missing the good old days when Corrupted couldn’t see me in my dreams.

  Agnim stood silently in the middle of the muddy road, watching me from underneath his hood. The rain didn’t seem to be soaking through his robe at all, as if it was made of some water-resistant material. And he wasn’t standing on the road, either. He was floating, just like me.

  He moved forward. Slowly.

  “Give me a break!” I shouted, using my heel to push myself backward. I turned myself around, trying to swim through the air. It was working. It was working! I swam past an old general store, then a red house with shuttered windows, then a store that had recently been painted white, its paint slowly washing off onto the porch, pooling at the base of the steps where the road dipped. The sign—Ace Telegraph Service—had been recently painted, too, and the red letters were quickly bleeding away under the intense force of the downpour.

  “Come to me,” Agnim whispered.

  I spun around. He was following me, his green hands folded together in a patient vigil. A strange, red glow appeared between his fingers.

  “Come on!” I shouted, kicking my legs wildly in the air. Go lower, I told myself. Go lower. Envision yourself dropping to the ground.

  The rain hit harder now, painfully pelting my face. I risked looking up into the black clouds. They blotted out the sun, casting the entire empty town in a shadow. Looking up and seeing the millions of thick rain drops only made me dizzy, so I turned back to Agnim, hoping I could keep the distance between us for a few moments more. Until I could reach something.

  “Wake up,” I hissed between clenched teeth. “Come on, Alice. Sleep’s overrated anyway. Let’s just read a book until it’s time to go to school.”

  A sinister laugh cut through the loud pat-pattering of raindrops. “Do you not understand, hero? You are not. In. Control.”

  His spread his hands. The red glow grew brighter, forming a ball shape that flared with energy. This was bad news—I had to move.

  But how?

  The light post! There, just past the Ace Telegraph building: a light post, tall and green and only a few feet away. If I could just swim my way there …

  I kicked my legs furiously just like I learned in swim class, floating through the air. An intense burst of raindrops blinded me and I had to reach out with my hands, grasping for the cold metal. I got it! I clutched the post, wiping my eyes, searching for Agnim.

  He was still in the middle of the road, still clutching the fiery red ball between his hands. His fingers shook violently, as if he was struggling to contain the magic. Water drops landed on the ball, hissing and evaporating into steam.

  “Oh that is so not good,” I said, tensing my bare feet against the wet light pole.

  The fiery ball expanded. The light from the flame illuminated Agnim and even with his head bent low, I could see his green chin, his pointed green nose, his black lips pulled back to reveal a set of sharp carnivore’s teeth clenched together.

  “Pretend this isn’t a dream,” I ordered my tense legs. “Pretend we might actually die, legs. Because we might.”

  Agnim brought his hands forward. The ball followed, breaking apart and growing a hundred times brighter. My legs pushed me off even before I was ready, propelling me across the street. I spun, watching the ball turn into a dozen small beams of red light, slicing through the air and evaporating the rain. Three of the beams cut through the light post, melting the metal. The rest traveled another dozen feet, then seemed to fizzle out under the downpour of rain.

  With part of its structure melted away, the light pole slowly bent over, then snapped in two, splashing mud as it hit the road.

  “Oh holy crud,” I said, turning swiftly around just in time to reach out and grab the edge of a small house on the other side of the road. The wooden panels were rough hewn, and I felt a sharp pain as a large splinter of wood dug into the palm of my right hand.

  But at least I had something to hold onto. At least I wasn’t floating helplessly like an astronaut in the middle of space. I looked back to Agnim. He’d turned to face me. Another fiery red ball was forming between his green hands. As the glow grew more intense, the rain near the ball hissed and turned to steam. The glow illuminated Agnim’s rotten teeth.

  He was smiling.

  He pushed the ball toward me. I jumped, watching the ball break off into a dozen beams of red light that peppered the house, burning through the wood like it was made of paper. Little snake-like trails of steam rose up from each beam before they dissipated.

  This time, I didn’t have a chance to reach the other side of the road. Agnim moved quickly, crossing the road and reaching out. I could feel his grip even before his repulsive hands closed around my throat. He held me up in the rain.

  “Are your dreams safe?” he asked, digging his nails into my skin. He pulled me closer. I could almost see underneath the hood. I didn’t want to, though. I didn’t want to see his face. I closed my eyes, letting the hard raindrops pelt my soft eyelids.

  “Wake up,” I whispered.

  “I will torment you,” he hissed, spitting rainwater onto my cheeks. “I will break your mind and then, only then, will you face me. Broken. Defeated. And before I kill you, you will watch the Awakening and know that your world is doomed. Open your eyes.”

  My eyelids forced themselves open against my wishes. I looked away from Agnim’s shrouded face, then gasped. It wasn’t just rain falling from the sky anymore.

  There were frogs, too.

  Chapter 8

  I woke with both hands clutching my neck. Briar’s furry paws were wrapped around my fingers, pulling desperately.

  “Gak!” I coughed out, letting go.

  Briar’s fur stood on end. He pretended to wipe sweat from his brow, then glanced nervously at the door. My alarm was going off, morning sunlight streaming in through the window. “Er, I’m not sure exactly where to start.”

  I turned off the alarm, waiting a moment for my mind to get itself right. “Hide,” I said, recognizing the stomping of my father’s feet on the staircase.

  Briar disappeared.

  The door opened. Dad had his hair combed. He was wearing a red tie, too, which was totally weird.

  “You OK?” he asked.

  “Are you?” I asked, nodding to his tie.

  “Oh. Um.” He grabbed the tie, staring at it. “I have to give a presentation to the ad agency’s board this afternoon. They’re going to yell at me, so I thought I’d wear a red tie.”

  “What the heck does that mean?”

  “Red is a power color.” He shrugged. “It can’t hurt.”

  “Those khakis will,” I said, getting out of bed. I glanced down, half-expecting to see my feet caked with mud. But they were clean. I pushed Dad into his bedroom and opened his closet. I grabbed a pair of dark gray slacks. “These,” I said, “will help give the impression that you know what you’re doing.”

  “Thank you, dear.” He started unzipping his pants. I turned away, pretending to throw up.

  “Gross, Dad!” I ran to the door, shutting it behind me.

  “Just kidding!” he called back.
/>
  I waited, scratching at a dull pain in my hand. I looked down and gasped. A splinter! I used my nails to pull it out, wincing in the process. Great, I thought, my dreams are trying to kill me.

  “Where’s Mom?” I called through the door. “Doesn’t she usually dress you so you don’t look like a dork?”

  “She does,” Dad called out. “But she had to get to the office early. Her agency’s ads didn’t do so well last quarter, either.” He opened the door, proudly showing off the gray slacks. “Good?”

  I nodded.

  He bent down, kissing the top of my head. He sniffed in. “Better take a shower. You smell a bit like a wet dog, dear.”

  I aimed to give his butt a swift kick, but the old fool jumped out of the way. “We’ll both be home late,” he said, hurrying down the hall. “Late late. You’re on your own for dinner.”

  “Pizza it is!” I called out. I went back into my room, shutting the door. “It’s safe.”

  Briar reappeared beside the desk. He sat down and flipped open my laptop. “I do say, I feel quite good about my invisibility once again. I feel in control.”

  “Wonderful,” I murmured, opening my closet door and searching for fresh clothes. Lots of them were piled on the floor, waiting to be washed. Just another thing I needed to find time for this week. First: find and destroy the maniacal wizard. Second: laundry.

  “So … why exactly were you choking yourself?”

  “I wasn’t,” I said, searching my sock drawer for two matching socks. “It was the wizard.”

  “Agnim?” Briar asked, his voice cracking.

  “Who else? We only have one maniacal wizard tormenting us. I hope.”

  “You mean he saw you?”

  “Yup. Hey, remember when you were like Oh, don’t worry—the monsters can’t see you in your dreams, and then the monsters were all like Hey Alice, we can totally see you! Remember that?”

  “Not exactly.” His whiskers twitched. “Although I do see what you’re getting at.”

  I grabbed a violet sweater and a pair of blue jeans. “Stay turned around, please.”