The Grimm Chronicles, Vol.3

by Ken Brosky

  The Grimm Chronicles

  Vol. 3

  By Isabella Fontaine

  -and-

  Ken Brosky

  Cover art by Chris Smith. Edited by Dagny Holt.

  Published 2012 by Brew City Press.

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  Table of Contents (click!)

  Introduction!

  Book 7: The Giant Slayer

  The Lost Diary of Abigail Bauer: Part 1

  Book 8: Darkness Rising

  The Lost Diary of Abigail Bauer: Part 2

  Book 9: Malevolence

  Introduction!

  Well here we are again. The journey is almost over, and it’s been an absolute blast. After we won the Honorable Mention for the Tofte/Wright Children’s Literature Award, things really started to click. It was as if the story suddenly meant something more (the fan mail has helped, too!). Now, The Grimm Chronicles has carved out its very own niche in the YA world, and we couldn’t be happier.

  Sure, it’s not all fun and games. Ken’s arms hurt from so much typing. Isabella’s eyes are permanently dry from staring at a computer screen. But overall? Overall, we’ve really enjoyed putting this together.

  The story has clicked, too. It’s weird, but it seems like every time Ken starts mapping out the next book, the fairy tales just seem to come together. There’s always a way to incorporate some weird fairy tales into each book, and that probably has a lot to do with the fact that the Grimms’ fairy tales do seem to stick with a couple main themes. Not to mention characters named Hans.

  Really … were they short on names back in the 1800’s or something? Literally every other guy in the fairy tales is named Hans!

  So what’s been the funnest part about the first 6 books? (Yes, we know “funnest” isn’t a word and we don’t care.) Well, here’s a list of some our favorite moments:

  - OK, the “Golden Dragon” turning out to be a goose? Come on … that was funny.

  - Cell phones controlling people’s minds … not that much of a stretch!

  - The talking sausage.

  - The Malevolence (you’ll learn about that very, very soon).

  - The cave adventure (another one coming up).

  - The battle on the pirate ship with the giant whale.

  - Alice stopping a bully using non-violence.

  That last one has really stuck with us. It meant something extra important because whatever failings Alice may have, and whatever trials she has had to endure, the last thing we wanted was for her to use violence to solve her real-world problems. People get enough of that already. The Grimm Chronicles doesn’t need to contribute to that.

  But we also wanted to show Alice learning from her mistakes. This is important, because everyone makes mistakes. Everyone fails. It’s how you pick yourself up that matters. Alice is going to have to pick herself up again and again in these last 6 books if she wants to retain her old life, the life she enjoys with Chase and Seth and Rachel and the fencing team. The journey isn’t going to be easy. In fact, these are going to be Alice’s most trying times.

  And if there’s one thing we’ve learned already, it’s that the heroes never have a happy ending. So what hope is there for Alice?

  Let’s find out …

  Book 7: The Giant Slayer

  Chapter 1

  My name is Alice Goodenough, and I’m the hero.

  I’d also like to point out that I’m not stupid.

  Case in point: Milwaukee’s General Mitchell Airport. December 27, the day our fencing team was set to take off for Europe. We were going to compete in the International Fencing Tournament in Romania, and our trip was fully funded by the one and only Sam Grayle, CEO and president of Grayle Incorporated. An all-around stand-up guy.

  And a Corrupted.

  Now, let’s get serious here. If you were me, would you really not expect him to pull some ridiculous stunt?

  It came during the security check. First, the boys went through. Then Mr. Whitmann. Then Mrs. Satrapi, Jasmine’s mom and our second chaperone. Then Chase, who emptied his pockets and had his wheelchair checked over.

  I went last. And guess what? Surprise, surprise: I was picked for an allegedly random security check. Now, maybe I’m just being a little paranoid. Maybe I did look like the suspicious type. Or maybe it was totally random. But I knew better than to take chances.

  I took off my shoes and went through the pill-shaped body scanner, which was more than a little weird. I even answered a bunch of questions, giving the frumpy-looking old security guard the straightest face I could possibly manage under the circumstances. I mean, come on! Are you really asking me if I’ve been approached by any mysterious people, Mr. Security Guard? This is the Milwaukee airport. Who qualifies as “mysterious”? The nice old woman eating a cinnamon roll in the café area? The guy shopping for beer coasters in the gift shop?

  OK. Rant over. The point is I was clean. The magic fountain pen was not on my person.

  “How was that?” Chase asked once I’d put my shoes back on.

  “Oh, just delightful.” I grabbed the handles of his wheelchair, pushing him down the blue walkway that led to the C gates. Lining the walls were big pictures of U.S. cities. Milwaukee. Chicago. New York at night.

  His hand found mine, giving it a little squeeze. I was the only one he let push him in the wheelchair. That was our thing now.

  “Alice, are you sure this guy’s not going to send us a bill?” Margaret asked, walking beside us. She and Jasmine and Rachel were all keeping pace. One big team, ready to conquer Europe.

  “Sam Grayle has plenty of money,” I said.

  “Yeah, but jets don’t normally take off to Europe from Milwaukee,” she said. “I was talking to my dad, right? And he was like, Oh you’ll have to take a plane leaving Chicago because it’s an international flight, and I was like, Dad, shut up! But he was pretty serious about it, you know?”

  Chase chuckled. “That sounds like something a dad would say.”

  “Grayle’s chartered a jet special for us,” I said. “And he’s going to be on board.” I shrugged. “If I had to guess, he probably has some business stuff to take care of in Europe and thought sponsoring our team would give him some good publicity.”

  That was a lie. Sam Grayle was coming along because that was the only way I would agree to do this. He’d put me in a tough spot, no doubt; clearly whatever he wanted in Europe was pretty important for him to craft a complicated little plan. But there was no way I was going on a plane over an ocean without Mr. Clever Corrupted himself. He was my insurance policy to make sure the plane didn’t happen to mysteriously crash halfway across the Atlantic.

  “Do you think we’ll be able to get to Italy?” Jasmine asked. “I’ve always wanted to see the Leaning Tower of Pizza.”

  “Pisa,” Rachel said. “But that would be pretty nifty.”

  “You’re going to practice,” Chase said. “And then you’re going to practice some more. And then you’re going to win some medals.”

  “Chase, are you ever pessimistic?” Jasmine asked. When he shrugged, she wrinkled her nose, pouting. “It would be helpful if you were.”

  “I’m optimistic for a reason,” he said.

  We arrived at Gate C12. Through the tall windows, we could see the jumbo jet parked outside. It was huge. It looked almost comical, as if it had eaten a smaller jet for lunch and was now seriously bloated. The boys and Mr. Whitmann were marveling at it even as the stewardess scanned their tickets, ushering them through the gate and down the little tunnel that led to the plane.

  “You OK?” Chase asked, looking up with a worried expression.

  “I’m
fine.”

  “No you’re not.”

  I sighed. How was it he could read me so well? We were still in that awkward getting-to-know-you phase. I’m not going to lie—the last two weeks had been sort of on and off. I really liked Chase, and I loved being around him. I loved the fact that he read books for fun in his spare time. I loved the fact that he brought out the best in me when I fenced. I loved the fact that he could hang out with Seth and Briar and feel right at home. OK, so most of his jokes were cheesy, but at least he had a sense of humor.

  What I didn’t love was the fact that everyone close to me was at risk. The Corrupted ... 200-year-old creatures that shouldn’t exist and only grew more evil with each passing day … only one person capable of killing them …

  All that fun, stressful stuff.

  “Hey,” Chase said, grabbing my hand. He gave me a warm smile. “We gotta board now. You good?”

  No. For the past two weeks, I’d had no new Corrupted nightmares. Nothing. All I dreamt about every single night was that fateful moment when Agnim the Magician had revealed his new prophecy. A journey … a dark cavern … the death of my loved ones.

  “Let’s go,” I said, squeezing his hand. I wheeled him to the check-in desk, handing over our tickets. In the safety of the cold tube thingy that led to the plane, Chase unscrewed the black rubber pouch next to his seat cushion, pulling out three pens and my magic fountain pen.

  He handed them over quickly, rubbing his hands together. “Woah, that thing gets warm.”

  “Thank you,” I said, putting all of the pens in my pocket. We’d figured that having a couple pens would make more sense than just one just in case security found them … not that you could tell there was anything mysterious about the pen. But if someone else touched it, it had this funny tendency to really, really burn.

  Unless you were Chase, apparently. I tapped the pen from the outside of my jeans pocket. It hadn’t burned him. And today wasn’t the first time we’d tried it, either. It got really hot for Seth and of course Briar, but with Chase ... it was just warm, like a French fry that had been left sitting under a heat lamp. Was there something about Chase that made him special? Or was there something about how I felt about him? It was another mystery to add to Briar’s ever-growing list.

  “Alice,” said Mrs. Satrapi. She gently touched my shoulder. “We should get on the plane, don’t you think?”

  I smiled at her. She was just a pretty woman. She had just a hint of gray running through her pitch-black hair. She was wearing an orange jacket and a dark brown dress underneath. When she walked up to the ticket counter, Chase and I exchanged a look. She was just as Jasmine had described: pretty, touchy-feely, and more than a little maternal.

  We boarded the plane, greeting the pretty young stewardess and letting her guide us past the spiral staircase that led to the second level. The second level!

  “Holy smokes,” Chase said, marveling at the brass banister.

  All of the seats in the plane were spacious, and the rest of the team had staked out their own rows for maximum comfort. Mr. Whitmann was stretched out in the first row, sipping a ginger ale from a plastic cup that was way too small for his big ogre-like hand. All of the seats were black, wide, with fat headrests. Not your normal cramped jet.

  “Here,” Chase said, pointing to the second row, which was spaced out for handicap access. I tried to help him out of the seat but he waved me away. “No. Please.” He used his strong arms to carry most of his weight as he grabbed the armrests, letting his legs take on only a small portion of the burden. He collapsed red-faced in the seat, giving me a reassuring grimace and unzipping his leather jacket. He didn’t want me to say anything at this moment—I knew that, and I respected it.

  The stewardess approached me, bending over and flashing a wide smile. “Darling, Mr. Grayle has requested your presence.”

  Across the aisle, Jasmine raised an eyebrow. “Well? Don’t keep him waiting.”

  “And be sure to thank him,” Chase said, puckering his lips.

  I flashed him a dirty look, then got up and followed the flight attendant to the front of the plane. She halted beside the spiral staircase and gestured for me to proceed, almost as if she wasn’t allowed upstairs with me. I walked up the staircase. The urge to pull the fountain pen from my pocket was almost too much to resist. This was expected, I told myself. I’d told him I wouldn’t do this if he wasn’t here. And I needed to see him here. No tricks. No opportunities to double-cross me. This had to be played on the level if it was going to work.

  At the top of the stairs, the normal rows of spacious seats had been replaced with a dozen or so big chairs spread out, each with their own circular table. There were two couches farther back, along with three good-sized flat screen TV’s hanging from the ceiling. It looked like a rich person’s personal lounging area.

  And of course that was exactly what it was. Only Sam Grayle wasn’t sitting alone in front of one of the glossy wood-paneled tables.

  “Seth!” I exclaimed. “What the heck?!”

  Seth looked up from his laptop, smiling a big dorky smile. “Isn’t this awesome?”

  I stepped forward. “What … I mean, seriously. Why are you soooo OK with getting in cars with Corrupted?!”

  “Oh, come now,” Grayle said, rolling his eyes. He gestured with his head to the black leather seat on the other side of the table, beside Seth. “Do relax. We’re about to take off.”

  I walked over and plopped myself in the seat, fumbling with the weird metal buckles. “Gawd, I hate airplane seatbelts.”

  “You need to flip it,” Seth said. “Like, yeah. There. No, flip the clicker. That thing. Yeah. No, flip it again.”

  “Be quiet,” I hissed. “I’m not talking to you.” I finally clicked the buckles together. The plane began to slowly taxi toward the runway. I groaned. “Seth! You shouldn’t have come.”

  “But how would you ever succeed without the help of your friends?” Grayle asked, just a hint of a smile creeping up his right cheek.

  “That’s funny,” I said with a deadpan tone. “You got me.”

  Grayle sighed, glancing out the window. “Alice, you simply must relax. I can assure you, I was only guarding my own interests. Seth is an invaluable helper, much like that pesky rabbit creature. The greater chance you have of success on this trip, the more wealth you will attain for me.”

  “Glad to be of service.”

  He sniffed the air, wrinkling his nose. “What, exactly, is that horrible aroma you’ve brought into my personal domain?”

  “It’s definitely more of a spring perfume,” I said, shrugging. “A little heavy on the jasmine, but it balances out after a few hours. Look, can we just—”

  Grayle held up one finger. “Ah, ah. We’re about to take off. If you don’t mind, I’d very much prefer a moment of silence.”

  I cocked my head, watching him close his eyes as the plane’s engines revved up. The plane began moving down the runway, picking up speed. Slowly it lifted off, causing a sinking feeling in my stomach. Seth was leaning over me, staring out the window and howling with delight. But I couldn’t take my eyes off Grayle. He still had his eyes closed. His little perfectly manicured fingers were clutching the armrests of the fancy leather seat. He took a deep breath, then another.

  He was afraid.

  He didn’t open his eyes until the plane leveled off and the little seatbelt light hanging from the ceiling turned off with a soft ding. I gave him a wry smile, ensuring he knew exactly what I knew.

  “Oh don’t be so coy,” he said. His dark eyebrows slid down into a frown. “I’m afraid of flying. There you have it.”

  “Oh dude,” Seth said with a tsk-tsk. “There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

  “Thank you, mother.” Grayle sighed and unbuttoned his suit coat. “What were we talking about? Ah yes: Seth’s indispensable ability to turn the tide of battle.”

  “You kidnapped him.”

  “He came willingly.”

  Seth nod
ded. “Free trip to Europe? I couldn’t pass that up.”

  “No, of course,” I said with a groan. “I mean, that’s the first thing I would have thought, too, when a Corrupted stops by for a visit. This is soooo like you, Seth.”

  Grayle winced, stopping me with a finger in the air. He had that power. He looked undersized in the big leather chair and yet his presence was bigger than life. “Alice, I really must insist you stop using powerless language. Your adventure will be filled with danger, to say nothing of the company you will be keeping. You cannot afford to look weak.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked, angry. “Who’s powerless? I’m totally not powerless.”

  “Then stop using words like so and totally and really,” Grayle snapped. “It’s weak language. It makes you sound weak.”

  Seth nodded. He and Grayle were polar opposites on style. Grayle wore a sleek, gray pinstripe suit and dark, glossy shoes. Seth had a black t-shirt and ratty jeans that looked like they needed a washing. And that’s saying something. When jeans look like they need a washing, it usually means they needed a washing two weeks ago.

  My fingers tapped on the armrest. “Any other words of wisdom, Yoda?”

  “I see him more as a dark Jedi,” Seth said. “A master of chaos.”

  “I do have some advice, if you’re finished.” Grayle pointed to the triplicate scars on my arm. “In the future, you should consider carrying some first-aid with you into battle. You never know when it will come in handy.”

  “I’m proud of these,” I said, holding up my arm. I stared at the three pink scars. The stitches had minimized the permanent damage, but they would never fully disappear. Those stupid minions and their stupid claws. “This is a reminder of what human beings are capable of.”

  Grayle nodded with an odd look of approval.

  “Where’s Briar?” Seth asked.

  “Yes, where is that lovable little wad of fur?” Grayle asked. “I do so enjoy having him around, and I’m sure the stewardesses will no doubt love cleaning up after him once he figures out where the treats are stored.”