Gretel

by Kim Faulks

  “Thank you. But I’d prefer to stand, if I may.”

  I nodded, taking a step closer. He didn't look so bad, now that I’d taken a good look. There were noble features in his face. With a harsh scrub and steaming water they might eventually shine. I felt myself warming to him. The constant presence of my brother gave me comfort. “So, you have a farm? What other animals do you have?”

  “Chickens’n pigs. They take up all my time. Well, that and the drinkin’. I could take you there one day, if’n you like to see it. The farm that is, not the damn drinkin’. You don’ wanna see that. I tend to piss and shit meself.”

  I winced as revulsion weakened the need for food. “Perhaps, one day.”

  He shifted from one foot to another. His eyes blazed. “Would you let me touch your face? Please, just your cheek I promise.”

  I shuffled backwards and gripped hold of the desk. “I....”

  “I bought you enough food for a fuckin’ week. At least you could give that?”

  My insides tingled. The air was alight with a charge. I waited for Hansel to step in and put an end to this barter and throw this man out of our house. But, Hansel remained silent, and with his silence, the stranger shuffled forward. I flinched from his hand as he reached toward my face. One light brush from the back of his finger made me flinch. His skin was rough, nails long. He curled his finger, drawing a knuckle down my cheek to my jaw.

  “God, you’re so beautiful. I neva seen such beauty before. I....”

  His touch dipped under my chin. I expected him to stop. His fingers drifted to the small rise of my breast. The sudden touch had me stumbling. I clapped my hands over chest. “Get away from me.”

  Hansel moved then, thundering across the room. He grabbed the scoundrel by the shirt and dragged him away. “That’s enough. You got what you damn well came for, now get out!”

  Scuffed steps echoed along the hall. I clutched my dress, shaking of the touch of his hand. The front door never slammed, my brother wasn’t angry. I waited, needing answers.

  “Did you know he was going to do that?” I asked as my brother stopped at the doorway.

  “No, he asked for a touch of your cheek and a few kind words. I didn’t know, Gretel. You have to believe me, I didn’t know.”

  I searched his voice for a tremor of guilt and found none. I searched for tears and found none, the gnawing inside my belly filled me. “It is done now. The food, where is it?”

  “It’s in the kitchen. There’s enough eggs for a feast. I put the chickens in the pantry and closed the door. In the morning, I’ll figure out how to build you a coop. How would that be, sister? A chicken coop? You could have fresh eggs every day. You could raise them. I’ll ask around for second of corn and rye to feed them.”

  My mouth watered with the thought. Fresh eggs. Every day. I kept to the other side of the doorway, pushing past my brother and raced for the kitchen. The lights were still on, the dim light covered the counter and the small crate.

  The pantry door was shut. I wanted to wrench it open, to feast my eyes on our salvation. But fresh eggs called to me. I stumbled to the oven and wrenched open the door, wincing as the sound drove a spike through my head. I started a flame, then stoked the fire, waiting until the stove warmed. I grabbed a saucepan and filled it with water, pulling four eggs from the crate.

  “You should see your face right now.”

  My chest ached and my hands trembled. I placed the eggs in the pan and carried it over to the stove, wincing with the effort. “Do you want some?”

  “No, I already ate. Enjoy your eggs, Gretel. You earned them. I have other friends who’d like to visit you, we can have chickens, eggs, any damn thing you wanted—all for a little of your time.”

  His voice was just a whisper. Still, the ache in my head flared like poisoned thorns. I grabbed my head. “My medicine.”

  I jumped from his touch as he swept the hair from my eyes. “Yes, my sweet sister. There’ll be plenty of medicine. All you want.”

  Chapter Eight

  Gretel

  I wrenched my gaze from the dancing flames. That sound. Go away. Get away from me. The crackle drew me back to the open door of the stove. The hard thud inside my head was all I could hear, until something brushed my arm.

  Another man. Another man who wanted to see me, who wanted me to undress in front of him. Another man who wanted to touch me and wanted me to touch him. I shook my head, shoving the image aside and they melted under the heavy curtain of the medicine. The eggs hadn’t lasted, neither had chickens or the lamb. There was never enough food, but always plenty of friends.

  Hard eyes. Blue eyes. A narrowed gaze followed with the movement of lips. I nodded, not hearing the words until he brushed my face.

  “Gretel. Are you ill?”

  Jerked from his touch, then smiled. Ghost was here. He’d come for me, just like he promised. “It’s the headaches. I’ll be okay. It’s just my head.”

  He lifted his head, then dropped his gaze to my body. “When was the last time you ate?”

  The sunken pit of my stomach no longer made any sound. I trembled and shook my head. Cramps had followed the bitter root soup yesterday. I had spent the night huddled over the toilet until I cold no longer stand. Blood had swiftly followed. No. No more soup.

  My blue-eyed wolf dropped his hand and I was left with the ache that filled my chest instead of my head. He looked different, weathered and worn. So much had changed in the three months he’d been gone—too much. I dropped my hand and fumbled for the amber vial. My hands shook as I worked the top free.

  “What is that?” The bottle was gone from my grasp.

  I lunged from my seat. “No. Give it back. Give it back to me!”

  “Okay. Okay, Gretel. Hush now.”

  I tasted salt on my lips, then brushed my cheek. The back of my hand glistened with tears. I touched my face, unaware I’d been crying. Ghost pushed the bottle into my palm and I twisted the cap, pouring the liquid into my mouth.

  “I’ll be back soon. Hold on. Gretel, are you listening to me? Don’t go anywhere.”

  I nodded. The fire waited for me. Even before the chill of winter had set in, I was always cold. I wrapped my arms around my midriff.

  The heavy echo of his steps drew my gaze. I forced down the hard lump in my throat. He was always gone. I turned back to the fire. It was better this way. He wouldn’t want me. Not after... I shifted on the seat. My body ached.

  I bent to grab the last pieces of wood beside the stove and shoved them, one by one, through the grill. Sparks flew as I pushed them to the rear of the stove with the poker, then sat down. I was always tired—always aching.

  The back door slammed shut. Ghost strode into the kitchen, his shirt stained bloody. I dropped my gaze to his hands and stared at the bright pink flesh. The bodies dropped to the sink. Rabbits. There were so many. I glanced up as a whimper slipped free.

  He worked fast, making use of a kitchen he didn’t know, grabbing a block from the sink and the butcher’s knife, making short work, skinning the animal and opening its belly.

  “The fur,” I croaked. “Can I keep it?”

  The tonic kept the bite of winter at bay. Still there was next year in this godforsaken place—if it lasted that long.

  “As much as you want. I have more back at the cabin, I’ll fetch for you.”

  Still he worked breaking joints to slice the meat thin. I licked my lips, wanting to say something, yet no words came.

  He searched the overhead hooks for a pan and scooped the meat into the base before marching to the stove. The sizzle was slow, the fat on the meat turning to render and soon the kitchen was filled with the aroma of frying meat.

  My body shuddered as he turned toward me. “Wait for it to be cooked, I’m going to get some more wood, keep an eye on the pan. Jesus, you’re freezing. Why are you so cold, Gretel? Honey, why are you so cold?”

  I shook my head as he bent and pulled me into his arms. “What’s happened here? Please, Gretel
. You’re starting to scare me.”

  I dropped my head to his shoulder and inhaled. That scent urged me to fight through the haze inside my head. I wrapped my arms around his neck, still gripping on to the amber bottle. “It’s nothing. Just hold me.”

  He felt bigger in my arms than I remembered. His muscles were hard and his tendons taut. I imagined the swing of the axe in these hard hands. He’d come back for me.

  The smell of the meat soon became overwhelming. I dropped my hands and stumbled for the sink as my stomach clenched. He massaged my shoulders while I retched.

  I turned my back and shoved him away. He didn’t need to see this. He didn’t need the truth of what I’d become. I was no longer the pure woman he deserved. I was no longer a woman anyone deserved. “Go away. Run. Run away from me.”

  “Stop this. Stop pushing me away. Let me take care of you. Let me love you.”

  The sink blurred. “You can’t. Not anymore.” I lifted my head, readying for the brutal blow as I stared into those perfect eyes. “You need to leave me, Ghost. You don’t want me anymore.”

  His eyes widened for a second before the crease deepened between his brow. His voice had a hard edge, one I’d never heard before. “Don’t tell me what I want, Gretel. I want you and I want to know what the hell has gone on while I was away.”

  I shook my head and hid my eyes.

  “This.” He snatched my hand, lifting the medicine high. “I can smell it on you like a disease. When was the last time you took care of yourself? You’re so thin, so thin.”

  He dropped his hand and turned away. My heart followed him, lunging inside my chest until he turned back with the pan and sat it on the counter. He picked up the meat, blowing it gently before he took a step, lifting the morsel to my lips. I saw the panic in his eyes as whispered. “Eat. Eat or so help me God, I’ll force your mouth open and make you chew.”

  I opened my mouth to his fingers, letting him push the food into my mouth. My jaw panged as I chewed, then slowly swallowed. I chased the remnant on my lips with my tongue as he picked up another piece. I opened my mouth, reaching for his hand and ate from his fingers.

  My body came alive, howling in a sudden frenzy. I ate another three pieces until the mania turned angry, spearing my body. I doubled over, but reached for the pan. I needed more. I wanted to eat until I couldn’t eat anymore.

  “Easy. That’s enough for now. There’s plenty there for later. I’ll bring more food. You won’t go hungry again. Never again, Gretel.” He wiped his fingers against his pants and reached for me. The pain eased as I melted into his embrace, pressing my head against his chest.

  His voice echoed through his chest. “I don’t feel safe leaving you here. I want you to come with me. We can run away, just like we planned.”

  That dream was a distant memory. So much had changed in three months. I couldn’t bear the thought of rejection. I licked my lips and grasped what little strength I had left. “I’ll be fine. Thank you for the rabbits. Mother will be most grateful. You go now. I’ll be fine.”

  I turned away from him then, reaching for a plate. Mother would be hungry. She was always hungry. His steps rebounded through the kitchen behind me. There was nothing left to be said. There was nothing but the truth. I’d rather be dead than allow that. I’d rather he hate me than know what I’d become.

  My brother’s whore.

  Chapter Nine

  Hansel

  I stared into hostile eyes. I would've been concerned four hours ago, but with a bottle and a half of whiskey under my belt, I couldn’t give a damn. “Get away from me, Wolfrick.”

  “I want to know what the hell is going on? Your sister... your sister is nothing but skin and bones, while you sit here drinking.” His lip quivered and blue eyes turned a shade darker. “She is ill. Let me take care of her. Let me help her.”

  “My sister is of no consequence to you. You might’ve had certain luxuries when you worked for my father. But, please don’t think you’ll get the same treatment from me.”

  Stupid, fucking cutter. People like him were why my estate had been bled dry. People like him thought themselves my equal. The town had been rife with gossip. I glanced toward the bar. The sonofabitch Morgan nursed his glass like a mother’s teat. He turned his head, shit-eating grin stretched wide. The bastard had the audacity to raise his glass to salute me. I oughta—

  The woodcutter lunged, grabbing the collar of my shirt. My drink spilled as the bastard wrenched me across the table. “Tell me what’s going on. Tell me, or so help me God, I’ll spill your little secret to every man in this place.”

  My bowels clenched and my insides turned to water. How had he found out? He had to have flogged his horse to get back home so fast. The others wouldn’t be back for another two days. Fresh men, with heavy pockets. I had plans to entertain them with Gretel and get some of my damn money back. I held his stare, keeping my voice low, while my heart thundered.

  “Let me take care of her. I don’t have much, but I can keep her safe, well fed and happy.”

  My bark of laughter cut right through the tavern roar. “Ha! You? You think my sister wants anything to do with you?”

  Wolfrick Sylvan glared at me. The bastard had been a thorn in my side since the first day I’d met him. But he was the heart of the cutters. A team built to work, cleaving their way through the forest, one tree at a time. We’d made good money from them. But with the contracts costing more than they were making, they were bleeding me dry.

  His thick forearms bulged as he leaned forward. Snake-like veins wound around the trunks. His long blonde hair fell forward, the edges braided along his scalp. “You hurt her, and I swear, I’ll murder you myself.”

  I met his hard stare. Strength was no match for authority. “You have no claim over my family, Neanderthal. Not my father, and especially not my sister. Now, get away from me, or I’ll have you flogged.”

  His lips curled. Hard white teeth glinted as a growl slipped free. I cast my eyes to my glass, then lifted and drained the contents. This seedy place had been a refuge. But now the cutting teams had arrived in town, I could see I should be moving on. Wolfrick straightened, shoving the hard edge of the table into my stomach.

  The man thought he could intimidate me. I was sick of his judgmental gaze. He knew nothing of my pressures. I’d done things I’d never dreamed about—I glanced toward Cecil Morgan—dark things, terrible things. I’d traded our riches for rags. Our luxuries for the food in Wolfrick’s mouth and the roof over his damn head. Was it too much to ask for a little appreciation? The eggs we had barely lasted a week. The pork was almost gone at three weeks later and I had no way to replace them.

  Gretel was worn and weary. But Mother was a different story all together. My hand shook as I filled my glass. The constant search for money had driven me here day after day while I searched for a way out of this damned mess.

  Movement at the bar dragged me from my thought. A squat, older gentleman bent low to whisper in Morgan’s ear. He nodded, turned and pointed straight at me.

  I gritted my teeth and slammed the glass on the table. Fucking cocksucker. My face burned like the bite of a hard winter chill. I drained what was left of the bottle and stood. The tavern swayed, loud and vibrant. Too loud and too vibrant for me. I took a step for the doorway, the entrance wavered. I aimed for the middle and stumbled forward.

  The night cautioned me, careful with your steps. I held onto the building and made my way in the dark. My horse nickered, low and soft. She’d find her way home tonight, just as she did every other night. I stumbled to the railing, my fingers searching for the tether.

  “Money.”

  The word was whispered behind me. I turned, catching the shadow move. “What do you want?”

  The man whispered. “How much?”

  I squinted. I could just make out the fat lines of his face. “Go away.”

  “I said, how much?”

  He stepped closer. The fat little man from the tavern. He’d spoken to M
organ. He’d heard the rumors. “For what?”

  “To hurt her.”

  I dug my fingers into the timber. “No.”

  “Name your price. One hundred pounds, one thousand?”

  I clenched my eyes, trying to keep his words out. But the money... the money. I shook my head. My body came alive. The wickedness of it sent heat to my groin. My sister. She was my damn sister. Still, in my mind, I saw her there. The study light bouncing off her pale skin. Curves untouched by a man. What did she look like under that dress? I wanted to say I’d never thought of such things before, but it’d be a lie. Gretel was always a different animal. So sweet and perfect. I’d thought of such things before and my own depravity sickened me.

  My throat was tight and arid. I tried to swallow. “What will you do to her?”

  “Does it matter?”

  Electricity raced through my veins. The thought of her broken and bleeding unleashed something inside me. I could feed Mother. I’ve already paid the cutters. If Father hadn’t trusted that sonofabitch Scott with our money we might’ve had a chance. But he took every penny, I know I saw the records... every blasted penny. Father turns up dead, he disappears and our money is gone and now....

  I licked my cracked lips as my heart thundered. “Two thousand.”

  He didn’t even blink. “Two thousand it is.”

  “Your name?”

  The darkness reached for me, extending his arm. Taking my hand in his. The chubby hand was slick. Hot whiskey rose, burning the back of my throat. “Theodore Adams.”

  “Tomorrow night, at eight. Come to the rear of the house. Don’t knock. I’ll be waiting. Oh, and I want you to bring something else when you come.”

  I leaned in close, keeping my voice soft.

  The dark stranger stepped backwards and nodded. The deal was done. God forgive me.

  Chapter Ten

  Hansel

  Those hazel eyes haunted me the next day. She worked tirelessly, oblivious to my hovering presence. Guilt turned my stomach to stone, until I couldn’t stand to look at her. I retreated to my room, playing out what I’d remembered from last night. How could I do that? How could I say yes?