The Grimm Chronicles, Vol.1 (7 page)

Not a pretty bookshelf, in other words.

Dad was sitting on the couch, watching a sports show on TV. “Can you do your chore this afternoon? How were exams?”

“Yes. And good.” I watched the TV for a moment. “I thought you were working today.”

“Already done,” he said. “Your mom wants me to do some yard work out back. I’m procrastinating.”

“Well you better hurry,” I told him, walking into the kitchen. “It’s supposed to rain again this evening.” I opened the refrigerator door and grabbed a cup of strawberry yogurt, then grabbed a spoon from the drawer next to Mom’s new favorite appliance: the new dishwasher. White, sleek, runs like a jet engine. She was easy to please.

“Where’s Mom?” I called out.

“Working on an ad project all day,” Dad called out.

I went upstairs to my room, tearing off the top of the yogurt as I went. I opened my door and tossed the top in the wastebasket next to the dresser. I sat down at my little desk, opening my laptop to check the ol’ social network. Status updates were an important part of the afternoon.

“Ahem.”

I spun around. There, leaning against the dresser, was the rabbit.

“You look surprised,” he said.

“I am!”

His whiskers twitched. “I don’t see why. It should be painfully obvious what’s happening at this point.”

“Please tell me!” I said with a laugh. “Am I going crazy?”

“No, no,” the rabbit said. What was his name again? Briar. That was what his friends called him, at least. A giant talking rabbit with friends. “Far from crazy. Nor am I a made-up figment of your imagination. If I wanted to, I could walk right downstairs and reveal myself to your father and he would see me, too.”

“Oh my gawd, please do that.” I laughed again. “I would love to see that.”

Briar shook his furry head. “I’m not interested in giving your father a heart attack. And as much as I enjoy a good laugh, I think right now would be a bad moment to engage in such distractions.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re in a serious mood.”

The rabbit meandered over to my closet.

“Don’t go in there!” I ordered.

“Good gracious!” he exclaimed, stepping away from the open door. “How many clothes does one young girl need? And the shoes!”

“Every single pair of shoes is important,” I said, walking over to the closet and shutting the door. “Flats, pumps and tennis shoes all have their place. And I’ll have you know forty-five tops is on the low end of the scale.”

“That’s a terrifying prospect,” the rabbit said. He sighed. “Lots of purple, I noticed.”

“Indigo. It’s blue with a hint of
violet
. It’s my favorite color.”

“It’s a nice color, although I must admit your shirts leave little to the imagination.”

“V-necks are hardly scandalous. I have a nice neck. Lots of girls hide their necklines. We get weird, annoying pimples at this age, if you haven’t noticed.” I sat down on my bed. “I feel like I’m in a nightmare.”

“Ah yes,” the rabbit said, stuffing his paws in the little pockets of his comical-looking pants. “Denial. Refusal of adventure. The second step of the journey of the hero.”

“The journey … wait, what hero?”

Briar chuckled. “I’m getting ahead of myself, I know. If I had to guess, I would say right now all you’re thinking about is that strange trail left by the boy of your dreams.”

My heart sank. “How did you know about that?”

“Because I can see it too,” Briar said. He drew back the dark blue curtain to look out the window. “Gosh, it would be nice if your neighborhood didn’t have all these twisty-turning streets. Easy to get lost if you’re a rabbit without a compass.”

“How did you do that?” I asked. “Draw back the curtain, I mean. You’re not real.”

“I
am
real,” the rabbit said. “And I can do a great many things, young lady. I just so happen to be an amazing cook.”

“The trail,” I said. “What is it?”

“A hint.” His whiskers twitched. “A skill honed by generations of heroes.”

“A hint to what?”

Sunlight gleamed in the rabbit’s dark eyes. “A hint to know who doesn’t belong.”

“Aaaaaand I’m lost again.” I threw up my arms, falling back on my soft bed. I had an intense desire to sleep … even the most twisted dream would make more sense than what was going on.

“Can I tell you another story?” the rabbit asked.

“Yes, by all means. You’re a good storyteller, at least. You’re a giant rabbit, which is creepy and weird, but you tell good stories.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” He removed his paws from his pocket, first smoothing his vest and then licking one paw and matting down the fur between his long rabbit ears. “Now, a long time ago there was a Miller’s boy and a cat …”

“I’ve read that story,” I said, excited. “It’s a fairy tale by the Grimms!”

Briar nodded. “Now that’s true enough. And when those dastardly Grimm brothers wrote down the story using their magic pen and magic paper, you’d better believe all those characters showed up in real life. Not ten miles away from where the Grimms lived.”

“So there was a castle full of cats,” I said, trying to remember back. “And then the Miller’s third boy, Hans, served them for seven years, and then he went back to his father’s mill, right?”

The rabbit nodded.

“And so then a princess appeared with servants and handed over a horse, then took Hans back to a castle made of gold.”

“Close enough, I suppose. Although the way I was planning to tell it would have been more exciting. But what do I know? I’m just a giant talking rabbit.”

I bit my lip, thinking. “There were no bad guys in that story. Unless you count the two brothers who conspired against Hans.”

“No, I suppose you’re right.” Briar glanced again out the window. “But good or bad, they didn’t belong in this world. And that story made quite a mess of things anywho. Seven years after the Grimms put the story to paper, well, the young man Hans and his wife ended up at their castle made of gold. And guess what? There were plenty of folk all across the countryside wondering just where this mysterious princess had come from. Wondering even harder about how much gold they had inside that castle.”

“They took the castle?” I asked, eyes wide.

“Oh, it wasn’t so simple. You see, having that much gold can buy you a great many things. Plenty of men in those times more than happy to take up a sword and shield for just a few scraps. And so when the neighboring lords and kings paid a visit to the princess and Hans, they found themselves staring down a whole army of mercenaries. Pretty soon, every lord within a hundred miles was at every other lord’s throat. And through it all, sweet little Hans and his princess got more and more bloodthirsty.”

“They enjoyed it?” I asked.

Briar shrugged. “Maybe all that gold got to them. Maybe the greed overtook them. Whatever the case, every year that passed they grew darker and darker. Nastier. Meaner. Took over all the land, including the farm the Grimm brothers lived on. Started taking harvests by force. Executing poor folk who couldn’t pay tribute. So the Grimm brothers’ servant paid them a visit.”

“Did he still have the pen?”

“Sure did. The very same one he used to kill the Big Bad Wolf.”

“He killed them?”

“He sure did,” Briar said. “And just like with the wolf, they both burned away into ashes. Gone from this world. Rightly so, I may add. And the servant, he took himself some of that gold from the castle before anyone knew what had happened. And he spent the remaining years of his life searching for the rest of the Corrupted.”

“Corrupted?” I asked.

“Any character from the Grimm fairy tale becomes Corrupted over time because they don’t belong in this world,” Briar explained. “They’re people, only they ain’t like you.” He chuckled. “Sorry, sorry. I’m getting worked up and letting my accent show. I don’t mean to offend.”

“I’m not offended.”

His whiskers twitched. “Well, that’s kind of you. But regardless, I shouldn’t get all excited. Just cause you’re listening to me all spout all this doesn’t mean you’re ready to believe it yet.”

“Say I do,” I said cautiously. “What would it mean? Why are you tell
me
all of this?”

“Because,” Briar said, “you’re the next hero.”

I sat there, stunned. I mean, who wouldn’t? A man-sized rabbit wearing a swanky old-fashioned vest just told me I was supposed to wipe out fictional people.

“You’re at a loss for words,” Briar said, and the white fur around his mouth pulled back just a bit to make way for a smile. “I don’t blame you.”

“OK,” I said. “Say I am the hero …”

“Alice?” came a call from downstairs.

I hurried to the door as if I’d just been caught with a boy in my room. “What, Dad?” I called out.

“Could you please, please do your chore before your mom gets home?”

“OK,” I called back. I turned around, but the giant rabbit was gone.

I crossed the hallway into the bathroom, turning on the light and rummaging through the cabinet under the sink for the cleaning supplies. When I got up, there he was again, standing by the toilet. I cried out in surprise, then quickly shut the door.

“You almost gave me a heart attack!”

“Disappearing and reappearing is never easy on one’s mental state,” he said. A little smile touched the corner of his mouth. “Good for a chuckle now and again, though.”

“Well, I need to clean the floor. Stand in the tub.”

Briar pulled back the forest-print shower curtain and hopped in the tub. He lifted one foot. “It’s wet.”

“Just deal with it,” I said, spraying cleaning solution around the toilet. White foam gathered. “Are you going to keep talking or what?”

“Where was I?” His tongue clicked against his large front teeth. “Oh, of course. You’re the hero.”

“OK,” I said, using paper toweling to scrub the white foam away. “Let’s pretend I’m still going along with this. What, exactly, does that mean?”

“It means you’ve been chosen to rid the world of the Corrupted,” Briar stated. “To put it another way: to fix the mistake of those fiendish Brothers Grimm.”

“How do I do that?” I asked.

“Any way you can.”

I crawled backward on my knees, spraying the yellow tiles near the bathtub. “So I find these, these Corrupted, these fictional characters, and I kill them?”

“Kill is such a strong word,” the rabbit said, clicking his tongue. “You simply cause enough harm to their physical manifestations that they burn away into the black nothingness from whence they came.”

I looked up at him, smiling. “So I kill them.”

A sigh from the giant rabbit. “So to speak.”

“And I have to do this because they’re all evil,” I said, wiping down the tiles.

“The longer they remain on this earth, the
eviler
they get. Might I get out of this tub now?”

“Just hold on.” I pulled back the ugly white bath mat and sprayed another stream of foam across the tiles. “So there’s only one hero, right? I’m the only one in the world?”

“As far as I know. And some day after you are long gone, another will appear. Then another. Until every Corrupted is removed from this world and the mistake of the Brothers Grimm has been fixed. Now, please?”

I nodded. He hopped out of the bathtub, shaking the water away from his furry feet. “And so they’ve just been running around for hundreds of years and no one’s noticed?”

“Oh, I’m sure some have noticed,” Briar said, examining my handiwork. “Hmmmm don’t forget to get that area right at the base of the sink cabinet … yes, right there.”

“Thank you. About the Corrupted?”

“Ah, yes.” He sat down on the toilet seat and crossed his legs in a very human sort of way, tapping his mouth with one paw. “Yes, yes, yes. I do recall quite a few people here and there discussing some strange occurrences … but you must understand the Corrupted for the most part
understand
they don’t belong. And those that are still alive have gotten very good at staying hidden.”

“And so who do we kill first?” I asked. “The three bears? An evil step-mother? A griffin?”

“You
know
who you must kill,” Briar said.

“Who?” I asked. “Please. I really don’t know.”

The rabbit’s ears twitched. “Prince Charming. Of course.”

Chapter 5

I tossed and turned for a long time that night. And when I finally slept, I dreamt. It was an awful dream, so vivid that it felt like I was actually there only instead of inhabiting a body I felt instead like I was looking through a window. I was watching a scene unfold.

It began in a club. I couldn’t tell which club because I’d never been to any of the dance clubs downtown or anywhere else. But it was definitely downtown because it was so diverse and Milwaukee’s suburbs just don’t have much diversity. Everybody was dancing on this little scrunchy dance floor and the multicolored lights above swirled around in circles. Everyone looked sweaty. Everyone was holding a drink steady as they danced. Some danced close together, while others kept space between them.

It was loud. I remember the music, too: some kind of mash-up between an old Beastie Boys song and a new pop single by Lady Gaga. Girls were gyrating and guys tried to keep up with their hips. You could almost taste the sweat.

And then I began to move. Or the scene did, at least. Two people were leaving the club, a guy and a gal. The guy was wearing a silky red button-down shirt and the girl was wearing tight jeans and a white v-neck top. They finished their drinks and set the glasses on a little table near the entrance and I followed them out into the cool night.

Immediately after the door closed, the music was gone. The three of us were on an empty city street with bars on both sides and long rows of parked cars but there was no one else in sight. Not a soul.

“What do you want to do?” the woman asked. I followed behind them as they walked, her high heels clicking on the sidewalk.

“Whatever you want,” the man said. He grabbed her hand. “I could stay up longer. I feel great. I feel like … some kind of electricity was running through us when we danced.”

“I felt that too!” the woman said, turning to him. She was staring at his face, examining it. “I can’t believe you’re here with me. You’re so … hot! Did you see the look on my friend Dina’s face? She totally didn’t think you would come over.”

“Are you sure your friend won’t miss you?” he asked.

The girl laughed. “Pretty positive.”

“OK.” He pulled on her hand, down a side street. “My car’s in here.” He pointed to the three-story parking structure to our right. “Can you drive stick?”

“Of course,” the woman said. “I learned when I was a baby.”

“Have you ever driven a BMW?”

I felt my chest grow cold. I had this reaction even though I knew—in the dream, at least—I wasn’t really here. Something terrible was going to happen and I really didn’t want to see the car. They headed into the parking structure. Wake up, I told myself. Wake up! Before you see the car!

“I totally want to drive your car. What floor?” the woman asked. She giggled. “I mean, what level?”

“Just up the ramp,” he said, then laughed. “I don’t remember what level. I just remember almost slipping when I walked down the ramp.”

“You’re funny. Do you do this a lot?”

A shrug of the shoulders. Square, muscular shoulders. “No. I’m usually more of a stay-at-home type.”

I tried to run forward. I wanted to spin the man around. There was no waking up now. Now I just wanted to see his face. But I couldn’t change my movement. I could only follow behind them, listening, inhaling the sweet smell of the woman’s perfume.

“I can’t believe you danced with me,” the woman said. Her phone rang. She pulled it out of her black leather purse, staring at the number. “Oh god, I have to answer this.”

“Wait,” said the man, wrapping one hand around the phone. “Call them back.”

He pulled her between two parked SUV’s and disappeared from sight. Then the phone dropped to the ground. I began moving closer. I could hear some kind of struggle and now, again, I wanted to wake up. But the invisible force was dragging me closer.

“Please stop,” said the man. “It won’t change what’s about to happen. I know that’s frightening, but you must understand there isn’t any changing things.”

I came into view just as they both fell to the ground. The man was kneeling over her torso with one hand wrapped around her mouth. With the other he pulled out a silver needle from inside the breast pocket of his button-down shirt. The woman’s eyes widened as he pressed it down on the bare skin right below her neck. I tried to scream for her, but nothing came out. Wake up! Wake up, Alice!

The man leaned down, ignoring the woman’s fists as they smacked against his face and arm. He pressed his lips to the little pinprick. And began sucking.

Quickly, so quickly, the woman’s skin began to
sink
. It was as if all of the meat, all of the liquid, all of the
stuff
between her skin and the bones was being sucked out. Her face shrank. Her wide eyeballs
dried up
. Her hair began to fall out. The skin collapsed onto the bone and the once-tight clothes clung loosely to what remained. I tried screaming again. The slurping sound echoed in the quiet parking structure.

When he finished, he stood up and wiped his mouth. A sickening moan of satisfaction escaped his lips. I had this bizarre urge to step forward and attack him. Maybe I could somehow subdue him until help arrived or maybe I could take him down myself with a little luck. And I did move forward, only it wasn’t to attack. It was to get closer. To smell his sweat and hear the words escape his lips between soft breaths: “A virgin.”

Then I screamed. For real.

I woke up the next morning in a cold sweat, the alarm on the nightstand buzzing and sunlight streaming in through the window. I blinked rapidly, convinced that finally—finally!—I was back in reality. Everything that had happened had been a total and uncompromising nightmare. No creepy white snake. No glowing boyfriends. And definitely no life-sucking creatures in parking structures.

I put on minimal makeup for my day at the library: eye shadow and a little blush. I dressed in typical summer gear—tan shorts and a blue v-neck blouse—then added a soft gray long-sleeved shirt to stave off the air conditioning inside the library. I went downstairs, where Mom was already up and making a small stack of French toast.

“On a scale of one to ten,” she said, not turning away from the frying pan, “how excited are you about the library?”

“Eight,” I said. “Your French Toast smells delicious.”

She turned, raising an eyebrow. In the mornings without her makeup and fancy dress clothes she wore to work, she looked so much more like a mom. I’d inherited her black hair and her high cheekbones. Only her hair was short, and her cheekbones just a little higher. She was wearing a flowery nightgown, too, which I would never wear in a million years. Floral patterns? No way. Too 1990’s.

“I bet you can put this on your college applications,” she was saying, placing another slice of sugary-smelling toast on the stack. “I bet they get all excited when they see someone’s actually been to a library.”

“Mom. I’m pretty sure they don’t.”

She tsk-tsk’d me, laying two slices of toast on a plate and placing it in front of me. “People don’t read as much anymore. That’s why they’re so stupid.”

“Mom!” I said with a laugh.

“I’m serious! It’s a form of brain exercise. What do you think happens when you spend all day sitting in front of the TV?”

“I turn into Dad?” I asked. We both laughed.

“Do you want to do anything for your birthday?” she asked, sitting down next to me.

“No,” I said. “I’m going out with Edward and the gang tonight. I … might spend the night at Tricia’s.”

She grunted. “I’ll cancel the clown. But the presents I got you are nonrefundable.”

“OK,” I said. “Can we just have a celebration dinner next week? I don’t know what my schedule’s going to be like.”

Mom sat down next to me and sipped at her coffee. “Oh, I imagine the librarians will want you there until the wee hours of the evening, vacuuming and doing other noisy things.”

“Really?” I asked, eyes wide. I hadn’t even thought of that. When
did
they do the noisy stuff in libraries?
Who
did them? I didn’t want to stay late!

“No.” She smiled. “Maybe a little vacuuming after close.”

I stabbed at the French Toast, slathering it in maple syrup. Thinking. The
refreshing
period following the initial wake-up was gone and now it seemed entirely credible that everything that I’d thought had been a dream had in fact been real. “OK, weird question,” I announced. “Did we have any strange relatives?”

“Hmmmmmmm.” Mom took another sip of coffee, staring up at the white ceiling fan. “Yes. My grandmother was a smuggler.”

“What?!”

She nodded, smiling. “She ran a fruit stand in New York City for twenty years. Sometimes, she smuggled exotic fruits in and paid off the dock workers so she wouldn’t have to pay tariffs.”

“That’s insane!”

“That’s my grandmother. And insanity runs in the family, dear. Never forget that.”

I decided to walk to the library to enjoy the early morning sun. I needed the rays on my skin. I needed to smell the dandelions and fresh-cut grass. Summer vacation had seriously begun, and tonight I’d been partying with all of the cool kids from school. I’d never done that before. I let myself get a little excited and tried to push aside everything strange that had happened.

At the library, I made the choice to not thinking about the basement. At least not for the first three minutes. After that, it was
all
I could think about. Kids and adults came and went throughout the morning, and it was tough to keep up with all of the book returns. Mary’s insidious doppelganger, Fran, was running the check-out desk and seemed in no mood to carry even a lighthearted “How are you?” conversation. Just a little gratitude, please? Walking up the stairs every hour and not asking for a dime in return deserved
some
recognition.

At 11:00, Fran told me to take a break.

“Thanks,” I murmured.

She pressed a finger to her lips. I couldn’t believe it! I’d talked just as quietly as she had!

I went to the science section toward the back of the first floor, stopping near the restrooms for a sip of water at the water fountain. In my purse were a can of sparkling water and a turkey sandwich, and with a gentle rain coming down outside now, there was nowhere to eat it. I could imagine the moment I popped the top of the can, Fran would probably throw me out for being a deviant.

Fear of Fran drove me into the basement. It was the only safe place. Imagine that: the scary basement where I’d killed a terrifying snake was the safest place to eat. If it wasn’t all so crazy, this would be the perfect thing to tell my mom because she would laugh and laugh over the irony of it all.

I went down the stairs, curious about the pen but trying to convince my mind that it wouldn’t be there. Today’s a new day, I reminded myself. Stress from exam week had taken me apart and now I was back in reality. Firmly back in reality.

And then as I reached the other side of the basement, I saw it.

“Shoot!” I muttered.

“Shoot?”

I spun around, nearly dropping my can of sparkling water. “Oh good,” I said. “The giant rabbit is back.”

He seemed taken aback, stepping away from the shelves and giving his vest a firm tug. “I resent that kind of talk.”

A deep sigh escaped my lips. “I was kinda hoping everything that had happened had just been a dream.”

Briar the rabbit shrugged, stepping between the shelves and running a paw along the spines of the ancient books. He seemed to be admiring them. Did giant rabbits read? “A common response. It’s not easy to accept. Nor should it be.” He chuckled. “Why, if you’d have just jumped into this mess without testing the water first, I’d have thought you really
were
crazy!”

“Well that’s just wonderful.” I set my sandwich and can of water on the nearest shelf, beside an ancient worn-out copy of
Catcher in the Rye
. “You’re in no position to call anyone crazy, Mr. Giant Rabbit.”

“The name is Br’er. Briar to my friends. And you may call me Briar.”

“I’m honored, but I don’t really know you that well.” A little light clicked on in my head. “Wait, are you
the
Br’er Rabbit? The one from the old southern stories?”

“To an extent, yes.” He bowed. “Just as cunning as the one you’ve read about, too.”

“How?” I asked. “I mean, if I believe everything so far … your story wasn’t around when the Brothers Grimm were alive and conducting their magical ‘experiment.’ So how did you come into being?”

“Oh, I had a cunning creator,” Briar said with a hint of a smile. “A real scrapper. He was a hero, just like you. He was a former slave, living in New York after the Civil War. He wasn’t a healthy man, though. Lots of sickness was spreading through the city back then. He knew he wasn’t going to make it very long, and he also knew that some of the people coming over on the boat from Europe weren’t who they said they were.”

“Corrupted.”