The Grimm Chronicles, Vol.1 (25 page)

The monster tugged on his fur. A little cackle escaped his lips.

“Right. Not that I need you to glow to know you don’t belong here.”

The monster tried to step around the bed again. I pulled on the bed again. Its wheels made it easy to move along the floor. The monster took another step. I wheeled the bed again.

“Just an uncomfortable mattress between you and your dinner,” I said. “Why don’t you just jump over it?”

The monster cocked its head. Apparently he hadn’t thought of anything so clever. He crouched down, then jumped. I rolled the bed backward so he landed on it and, with one massive heave-ho, rolled the bed—and Hans—to the other side of the room. His big legs wobbled on the bed, as if he was on a surfboard for the first time. When the bed hit the wall, the monster toppled to the floor.

I turned and grabbed my pants from the closet. The magic pen was still in the pocket! I uncapped it and turned back to the monster.

“Go back to the person who sent you,” I told him. “Or I’ll kill you right here. Give your master a message: I won’t go down so easily.”

The monster glanced at the pen. The quills on his back shuddered. He looked surprised, the fur between his little floppy ears standing up the way a cat’s might. He was breathing heavily; I wasn’t. I was just getting warmed up. The pen was steady in my hand even though deep down I was terrified. My strength felt like it was draining from my body. I was putting on a good show, but I wouldn’t be able to keep up this fight.

But he didn’t need to know that. All he needed to know was that the formerly bed-ridden hospital patient currently staring him down was wielding a nasty little pen that could kill him.

We stood staring at each other. My heart beat in my ears. Underneath that, I could hear voices in the hall.

Finally, the creature reached over his shoulder, plucking another quill. He ran its sharp tip along the window, popping out a big circle-shaped opening. He took one more look at me, narrowing his black eyes, then jumped right out the window.

My parents and the nurse came rushing in a moment later. Mom reached me first, taking me in her arms.

“You’re awake!” Mom exclaimed. “Oh, sweetie, we were so worried about you.”

“God, I’m glad we’re insured,” Dad said, hands on his hips. He surveyed the messy room.

“What happened?” Mom asked, clutching my cheeks. “Why are you holding a pen?”

“And why is there a hole in the window?” Dad asked.

“I don’t know … and I don’t know.”

The nurse gently grabbed my hand and pulled me back to the bed. “Sit down,” she directed. “You have a lot of antibiotics in your system right now.”

I sat on the bed.

“Look at this room,” Dad said. “Oh my god. Oh, darling, please tell me you didn’t slam the bed into the wall. Our insurance is good, but it’s not going to pay for that.”

I shrugged. “I … had a nightmare. I must have been thrashing around. Maybe I threw something through the window.”

“I can’t believe you’re awake,” Mom said. She grabbed my cheeks again. Her eyes were teary.

“Deep breaths,” the nurse said, sliding a cold stethoscope underneath my gown and pressing it to my chest. I breathed in and out. “Rapid heart rate. We need to get you back in bed and settled down.”

“What was it?” I asked. “What happened?”

“You collapsed in the kitchen,” Dad said. He was obsessed with the dent in the wall. “Oh man, they’re going to add this to the bill …”

“The kitchen?” That didn’t make any sense. I’d been in the forest.

“You had a bacterial infection,” said the nurse. “Probably caused by bad food, although the cuts on your arms suggest it might have gotten in through there somehow. It was a very rare strain. We had to use several broad-spectrum antibiotics to fight it.”

“Yay, antibiotics,” I said, raising my arms in a cheer. They felt sluggish. Whatever adrenaline had been running through my system was gone now and I felt a heavy weight pushing me back toward the plump little white pillow on the bed.

“You’ll need to take it easy,” the nurse said. “The bacteria released toxins into your system, which may leave you feeling weak for a few weeks while your body is on the rebound. Also,  antibiotics can have some side-effects, especially if you use a lot of them. You might feel an upset tummy because the antibiotics sometimes result in the overgrowth of pathogenic bacteria …” she blushed. “Sorry. That probably just sounded a lot more complicated than it needed to be.”

“It did,” I said. I could feel the strength sapped from my body. I didn’t want to sleep, though. I felt unsafe now, as if Hans might just be lurking outside waiting for me to fall asleep again.

The nurse pulled the white blanket up to my neck. “Just get some sleep. Rest for the next few days and you’ll be fine.”

“Don’t worry,” Mom said, running a hand along the top of my head. “We’ll take you home in the morning.”

“We have to,” Dad added. “Our insurance won’t cover another night.”

“Thanks,” I murmured. For a brief moment, I fought sleep, afraid that something else might be coming for me. But when my eyes closed, for the first time all summer there were no weird or scary dreams.

Chapter 3

Briar was waiting in my room when we got home the next morning. His fur was standing on end and his normally clean vest was wrinkled. He kept himself calm until the door shut, then began hopping up and down excitedly.

“I can’t believe you’re alive!” he exclaimed.

“Oh, gee, thanks for the encouragement,” I said with a smile. “I honestly don’t remember much of what happened.”

Briar filled me in on the details in the sort of roundabout way he was most comfortable with. There were plenty of digressions and side-stories totally not related to what happened, but that was Briar for you. I caught the gist of it, though: he carried me home, then staged a fall to get my parents to notice me.

When he was done, his paws reached for his vest, clutching it nervously. Well, that would explain the wrinkles, I thought.

“Thank you for saving me,” I said.

Briar waved it away with a flick of his paw. “Just doing my job.”

I sat down on the bed, thinking. “OK, so this Grayle guy probably sent the hedgehog monster our way. Probably. I hope. I
hope
there aren’t multiple Corrupted sending out assassins to kill me.”

“Agreed. One is enough.” Briar’s paws found his vest again.

“Give me that,” I said, pointing to his vest. “It’s all wrinkled. Let me go iron it quick.”

“But … but I’d be half-naked!”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re a rabbit. What would I see? A furry chest?”

Briar raised his little pink nose high into the air. “I have my scruples.”

“Your scruples aren’t visible underneath your fur,” I said wryly. My hands found my hair. It felt greasy and unwashed. Totally unbecoming, that was for sure. “Gawd, I need a shower. Give me your vest so I can iron it.”

Briar undid one button. His whiskers twitched. “If you would be so kind as to turn your head.”

“Oh come on!” I exclaimed, spinning around. “This is a bit much. You have
fur
, for crying out loud.” The vest landed on my head. I grabbed it, along with clean clothes from the closet.

I took my time in the shower, toweled off, then pulled my hair into a perfectly disheveled knot at the nape of my neck. After a bit of makeup and a fresh set of clothes, I was feeling like myself again. I stared at my outfit in the mirror. Violet v-neck shirt with frilly short sleeves that just
screamed
“summer.” My canvas sneakers with a pretty floral print were stylish yet practical enough to ensure I’d be prepared, if needed, to kick some serious Corrupted butt. Khaki shorts with a cute scalloped hem and of course a clear mark along one pocket where the magic pen was. Maybe storing the pen in a hand purse wasn’t such a bad idea. Then at least I could wear my amazing new dress once in a while. But I could be such a bonehead sometimes … what if I forgot the purse somewhere? How would I find it?

I went downstairs, looking around for my parents. They were already gone, no doubt on another golf outing. Apparently they were pretty confident in the medicine I got at the hospital. Nope, no need to sit around and nurse poor Alice back to health, I guess. Not even a glass of white soda and a plate of crackers, my favorite meal whenever I was sick as a child.

Well, more power to them. Just one more reason growing up sometimes stinks: no more getting babied when you’re not feeling well.

I went into the basement. I hadn’t actually been in
any
basement since that fateful night at Edward’s house. I didn’t like to think about him or the skeletons, and quite frankly I was more than happy to let Mom do my laundry whenever possible. Our basement was dark and small, with just two rooms. Both had concrete floors. One room had a rug and a treadmill and small tube TV sitting on an old end table. The other room had the washer and drier and an ironing board.

I put the vest on the stand and turned on the iron. While it was heating up, I ran a variety of scenarios through my mind. What if I just barged my way into Grayle Tower? What if I snuck in and killed all three of those pesky dwarfs? What if the hedgehog started chasing my parents around the golf course to get back at me?

The last one was a bit of a stretch. So far, the Corrupted seemed more than happy to focus all of their energy on me, and I was willing to bet that was only going to get worse once the hedgehog gave my message to the dwarfs. How far were they willing to go to ruin my life? It was a question I needed answered.

“What if the Corrupted go after my family?” I asked Briar when I returned upstairs.

He made me turn around while he put his vest back on. “Well, only the Grayles truly know who you are, and even then they might have simply guessed by sending the hedgehog after the most obvious suspect. You may turn around, and I thank you. Ah, there’s nothing quite like a warm piece of clothing.”

I turned. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Yes. Well. I must confess, most of the heroes I’ve worked with haven’t had such wonderful encumbrances.”

“In English, please?”

Briar clicked his tongue, searching for the words. “Um … many of the heroes were not so lucky—or unlucky, in some ways—to have loving parents. I remember one hero from the thirties, Grace, didn’t have any parents at all.”

“The thirties? Like, the nineteen-thirties?”

Briar nodded. He sat down at the desk, putting his legs up. His furry little toes wiggled. “Not a good time to be alive, when the Great Depression hit. It seemed like everyone was out of work and starving. There were bread lines so long that you would have sworn nothing could possibly be worth the wait. But then you saw the faces of the people waiting in line, and you realized just how desperate things had suddenly become. When I found poor Grace, she was fighting with a much older gentleman for a loaf of bread. She was starving to the point that she could barely stand under her own strength.”

“Grace …” The name was beautiful. I imagined her much like myself, only that wasn’t true at all. I lived in a suburb. We always had food. Heck, my parents had taken me down to Chicago for a day on a whim. I’d just spent a night in the hospital and it was covered by our insurance. And now my parents were golfing, their favorite pastime when they weren’t working.

“I have it easy,” I said. “And that makes it harder. Is that what you’re saying?”

Briar shrugged. “Time will tell. The Grayles did not survive this long by being foolish, I can tell you that. It may very well be that they aren’t even worth the trouble right now.”

“I suppose. Did Grace … did she ever think about fighting Death?”

Briar grunted. “No doubt she did, the crazy girl. But … well, there were more immediate issues that needed our attention. And I would have tried to talk her out of it.”

“It doesn’t sound like any hero is up to the task of facing Death.” I sat down on the bed. “Open up my music player. Turn on some Florence and the Machine. I need to hear her voice.”

“Of course.” Briar turned on the music. Steady, thumping drums escaped from the speakers. For a brief moment, I felt relaxed.

Then my phone buzzed. “If that’s Tricia telling me to download
Castle Cats
again, I swear I’m going to lose it,” I muttered, grabbing the phone. I had three missed calls. All of them were from the library. “Oh cripes!”

Briar’s ears perked up. “What is it? A nefarious text message from the forces of evil?” He jumped off the chair. “Is someone dead? Is there some Corrupted monster attacking the city?!”

“Worse! I’m supposed to be at the library today!” I grabbed my purse and double-checked to make sure the magic pen was still in my pocket. “I’ll be back in the afternoon … provided Fran doesn’t kill me.”

“Please don’t forget your pills!” Briar called out after me as I barreled my way down the hall.

I doubled back to the bathroom, grabbing one of the antibiotic pills sitting beside the sink. “Thank you, modern medicine,” I said. How many people had the Frog Prince killed before antibiotics had been discovered? I could only shudder at the thought.

I jogged to the library, trying to block out the beautiful sun and the warm, dry weather. There would be more nice days, I kept telling myself. Plenty more nice days. Hundreds, maybe even thousands provided the scary dwarfs didn’t kill me first.

“Why oh why did I volunteer for the library?” I asked, high-tailing it down busy Mooreland Road. At the end of the block, I nearly ran headfirst into a young woman walking out of a small nail salon.

“Whoops,” she said, not looking up from her smartphone. I heard a “meow” and couldn’t help but steal a glimpse of the screen: there were a dozen cartoonish cats sitting in a little castle, waiting to be cleared out by a few swipes of the woman’s thumb. She turned to me, smiling. “I’m on level twelve!” she exclaimed.

“Oh. Awesome for you.”

She walked to the end of the block, crossing the street without looking up from her game.

“Dumb, dumb, dumb,” I said, jogging across the next street. I hadn’t even seen her. I was so transfixed with my own thoughts that I hadn’t been paying attention to the world around me. I’d almost gotten knocked over by someone playing a brainless video game.

When I reached the library, I was surprised to find I was a little out of breath. Not only that, but my legs felt sore. Whatever the Frog Prince had given me hadn’t yet been completely wiped out by the antibiotics. My heart was racing, too—but that was less due to the exertion and more due to the fact that I was no doubt going to get a severe talking-to by Fran.

I walked inside. A cool rush of air kissed my skin. The smell of thousands of books hit my nostrils. I felt my heart rate slow down. My breathing calmed. Serenity! Being outside was nice, especially on beautiful days. Being in the library … boy, I loved it.

And even better: Fran wasn’t working. It was Mary! Oh, sweet, sweet Mary. Mary, the nicest librarian to ever have lived. I could have kissed her.

When she saw me walk in, she smiled. She smiled! Fran never smiled.

“I was growing worried,” Mary whispered with a wide eyes that raised her thin brown eyebrows. Oh, Mary … thank you for making my day, I thought. “Are you all right, dear?”

“I’m definitely OK,” I said. “Well, I was a little sick yesterday. But I’m doing better now. I had a good night’s sleep.” Minus the hedgehog fight, I could have added.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go home for the day?” she asked with motherly concern.

I glanced at the massive stack of returned books sitting behind the checkout desk. “I’m absolutely sure,” I answered.

“Well, you just take it easy today.” Mary gave me a little nod. That was becoming her trademark. It was a crisp, knowing nod, as if we had some secret psychic connection.

“I will. Thank you.” I reached for the books, then stopped. I turned back to Mary. “Um, how is Fran doing?”

Mary looked at me over her glasses. “I think she’s doing just fine. Why, dear?”

“Oh. Um. She just hasn’t seemed herself lately.”

Mary smirked. “Don’t tell me she’s actually acting
nice
?”

I couldn’t help but chuckle. “It’s not that. She just seems like she’s … distracted.”

Mary pursed her lips, thinking. Finally, she shook her head. “I couldn’t tell you.” She sighed, pursing her dark red lips. “Fran likes to keep to herself. Her husband passed away five years ago. Would you be surprised if I told you she was quite the adventurous little vixen?”

“It would!”

“Well, she was. By day, she was a wholesome librarian. By night, she and her husband used to cruise around the city on their motorcycles.”

“Get out!”

Mary nodded. “I’m all serious here, dear. You should ask her about it sometime.”

“Maybe I will,” I said.

“Hmmmm.” Mary was staring over my shoulder, as if she expected Fran to walk through the front doors. “We used to get coffee a lot. I miss it. She’s actually quite nice when you get to know her.”

I had a hard time to believing that. But I trusted Mary, too. So why wasn’t Fran nice to me? Heh. Maybe she knew I was the hero and she was jealous. Not likely, Alice … you’re on your own with this whole crazy situation.

I started on the first floor, putting away a few woodworking how-to manuals and a dozen or so magazines. I stopped in the Animals section, which consisted of two long bookshelves near the computer table, and grabbed a book on hedgehogs, studying the nuggets of information tucked between pictures of creatures much cuter (and smaller!) than the one that had nearly killed me.

When I was sufficiently saturated with new hedgehog-related knowledge, I took some Young Adult books upstairs, distracted for a moment by the stacks of books lying around from one of the morning reading groups. My thoughts went back to Fran: she was losing her house, but she hadn’t told Mary. Or was Mary trying to keep the secret from me? I didn’t think so. Mary was pretty easy to read; she would have given away the secret if she’d known. So why was Fran keeping it to herself? How could she get any help if she didn’t tell anyone?

I put all of the books on the kids’ table and started dividing them into Young Adult and Middle Grade, which were both separate sections. Downstairs, someone sitting at one of the computers was pecking loudly at the keyboard.