The Grimm Chronicles, Vol.3

by Ken Brosky

  Suddenly, a strong pair of hands grabbed my foot!

  “Oh no, I’m done for!” I wailed, kicking wildly. But then Nibbles was there, deftly giving the hand a bite that was quite a few degrees meaner than a “nibble.” The hand let go. We scurried down the vent, turning a corner.

  Waiting with baited breath.

  I peered around the corner. In the darkness, I could see only the outline of the vent opening.

  Then the creature appeared, snarling, its animal-like snout pushing into the vent. It tried squeezing inside, snapping its jaws wildly. But it was too big.

  Nibbles and I exchanged a wary look.

  “Indeed, my friend.” I smoothed out my vest. “All in a day’s work, I’m afraid.”

  Chapter 3: Alice

  We landed in Berlin jet-lagged and out of our element. Sam Grayle looked even worse for wear, and the sight of him in a miserable mood was just about the only thing keeping me from falling over in exhaustion.

  Berlin’s airport was gigantic. It had a modern-looking design with skylights and diamond-shaped steel bars underneath, as if the designers wanted us to see the building’s skeleton. With the sun shining directly overhead, the steel bars created diamond-shaped shadows on the tile floor that had a dizzying effect on us worn-out first-time travelers. Shops lined the terminal; signs hung in the windows advertising deals for books and magazines and food and drink, each sign in a different language (including English).

  “Can we get some caffeine?” Jasmine asked, dragging her feet.

  “I told you crazy kids to sleep,” Mr. Whitmann said. “Please stay close to either me or Mrs. Satrapi. Or Mr. Grayle, I guess … Seth, what the heck is that?”

  Seth looked down at his plastic cup of foamy yellowish liquid. “It’s a beer, duh.”

  Mr. Whitmann’s face reddened.

  “What? It’s totally legal for an eighteen-year-old here!”

  Mr. Whitmann grabbed the beer, drank it down faster than any of us would have thought humanly possible, then burped. “Let’s get a move on. Stick together. And no drinking, dang it!”

  People crowded the terminal, some moving past us with a marked determination. There were people of all colors here, and over the loudspeaker came announcements for flights to Moscow, Alexandria, New Dehli, and Hong Kong. Hanging from the steel girders above were colorful green and yellow signs pointing out the direction to baggage claim with helpful pictures.

  “Gaaaah!” Chase said. I turned my attention from the colorful signs above to the crowd in front of us just in time to swerve around two African men wearing orange and black robes. “Careful, Alice.”

  “She’s merely taking in her surroundings,” Sam Grayle said. He was walking beside me. To his left was a brutish-looking guy who wore a dark black suit. He was wearing sunglasses, walking with his hands clenched into fists. A human being, not a Corrupted.

  Grayle’s wry comment betrayed his ignorance. I knew more than he thought. I knew, for instance, that lots of people were avoiding walking too close to the shops, giving me and Chase room for a quick escape should something happen. I knew that deep down, Grayle appreciated the crowd; it forced us to walk slow, making it easy for him to keep up with his short legs. I knew if we were walking faster, he wouldn’t try to keep up and risk embarrassing himself. He would keep his own comfortable stride and force the rest of us to match his pace.

  I knew Sam Grayle. I knew the “comfortable stride” wasn’t all that comfortable. I saw the way he favored his left leg, the way his hard face steeled into a grimace as he straightened his back.

  Achondroplasia. I’d Googled it in my spare time. It’s the main cause of dwarfism, and whether or not the Brothers Grimm had imagined it while writing about the seven dwarfs, I was sure it was the cause of Grayle’s discomfort. Maybe the Corruption was making it worse, damaging his spine and shortened limbs while he tried to hide its effects.

  “I don’t suppose you can pick up the pace, can you Mr. Grayle?” I wanted to say, just to get under his skin. But I didn’t want him to know just how much I knew. Not yet. Because I knew somewhere up his sleeve, he had an Ace too. That was how Sam Grayle worked.

  “So what is the plan?” Chase asked him. “You said we’re not taking another flight, right?”

  Grayle waited for the announcement for the flight to Paris to finish blaring overhead in three different languages, then answered, “Europe has an amazing rail line that conveniently takes you right into Romania. There, you’ll be staying with a prince.”

  “A prince?” I asked. “Like … a real prince or …”

  “A real prince. Leo Vontescue. A generous host who is blissfully unaware of your, ah, unique qualities.” Grayle tugged at the collar of his dress shirt. “This way. Let your friends take the escalator.”

  We followed him to the silver elevator next to the escalator. Grayle’s big bodyguard pushed the “down” button. The doors opened and we got inside, the bodyguard giving the busy terminal a wary look as the doors closed.

  “You mean us,” I said. “You’re coming with.”

  Grayle shook his head. He didn’t look up at me as he talked. “No, Alice. I apologize for misleading you a bit, but you must understand that I don’t have the same power here as I do in the United States.”

  “Explain,” I said, biting my tongue for the moment.

  “My business interests are in the U.S.,” Grayle explained. “Not here. Here, in Europe, there are … others like me who have the power. I have to lay low, but I assure you I will rendezvous with you soon. It will just take time. I can’t simply board a train like you.”

  “That is soooo like you—”

  He held up a finger. “Ah, ah. Remember what I said about powerless language?”

  “That is definitely like you to—”

  “Try it without an adverb.”

  I fought the urge to grab his finger and give it a twist. “It’s just like you to change the rules, Grayle.”

  He shook his head. “In Europe, I have no control over the rules, Alice. And here, in the backyard of the Brothers Grimm, you will find that there are people like me who make yours truly seem quite insignificant.”

  Chase looked up at me, giving me an inquisitive look that would be cute under non-Corrupted circumstances. I shook my head quickly, waving off his concern. The truth is I hadn’t told Chase everything about Grayle, only that Grayle had powerful connections and his own interests. I didn’t want to tell Chase everything, either. I wanted him as blissfully ignorant as possible so there was less chance of him getting any more involved than he already was.

  The elevator doors opened. We joined up with the others and walked to baggage claim, waiting for the carousel to spit out our bags. Jasmine and Rachel and Margaret all had matching purple bags that belonged to Jasmine’s mother, the only person among us who’d already traveled outside the country before. The boys had duffel bags and old suitcases borrowed from parents. Mr. Whitmann had a bright red hardshell suitcase that looked like it was from the 1970’s.

  I grabbed Chase’s black duffel bag, then grabbed my parents’ blue suitcase, pulling the handle out and wheeling it beside Chase’s chair. I watched Grayle’s bodyguard grab a black suitcase, then another, then another.

  Then another.

  “What?” Grayle asked.

  “Are you sure you brought enough?” Chase asked. “Alice says you just wear the same gray suit all the time.”

  I barely stifled a laugh. Grayle’s face darkened.

  “There are more than seven distinct shades of gray in this suitcase alone,” he said, nodding the smallest of the four suitcases.

  “Step aside, fools,” Seth said, squeezing between Chase and Grayle to grab his suitcase before it could be ferried away on the conveyor belt. He gave it a tug and the top flipped open.

  “Oh my gawd,” I muttered. Chase gave the suitcase’s contents one look, then closed his eyes and shook his head.

  “Well,” Grayle said with a wry smile. “It was short n
otice, I suppose.”

  “Seth!” Mrs. Satrapi exclaimed in horror. “What were you thinking?”

  Seth looked down at the contents of his suitcase. Inside were two pairs of boxers, a faded black Black Sabbath t-shirt and three comic books. “What?” he asked innocently.

  “You have no clothes! Oh my oh my oh my,” Mrs. Satrapi said, delicately touching her bony brown cheeks. “How will you dress?”

  “What?” Seth asked, defensively zipping the suitcase shut. “I’ve got clean underwear. I’ve got two shirts—including the one I have on. The rest can be improvised.”

  Before Mrs. Satrapi could lose it again, Sam Grayle cleared his throat to get our attention. Mr. Whitmann brought everyone in.

  “I hope you will enjoy the train ride,” Grayle said. “It will take you along some of the most beautiful countryside on the planet, so be sure to look out a window once in a while. I have some business to attend to, and then I will be there with you, cheering you on!” Mr. Whitmann initiated an impromptu round of applause, which quickly died out. “And so I say good luck to you.” A little half-smile crept up his face. “You’re going to need it.”

  And with that, Grayle and his bodyguard walked through the sliding glass doors. Parked at the curb was a sleek black limousine.

  “Huh!” Mr. Whitmann said, scratching his stomach. “That was a little weird. Those rich types aren’t very good with the people skills, are they?”

  “Definitely not,” I whispered.

  From the ceiling speakers came an announcement, first in German, then French, then Chinese, then English, announcing the departure of a rail line.

  “That’s us, kids!” Mrs. Satrapi said. “Grab your things! Let’s go let’s go let’s go. They won’t wait for us.”

  “Come on, Seth,” I said, setting Chase’s duffel bag on his lap and wheeling him around the last few travelers who were still waiting for their suitcases. I didn’t want Seth or Chase or anyone else out of my sight now. Grayle’s words about Europe had had a chilling effect on me: if someone as powerful as him wasn’t in control here, then how could I be?

  “Did you get the feeling Grayle wanted to get outta here?” Seth asked, hurrying beside me.

  “I totally got that,” Chase said. “He looked … antsy. The way Alice was talking him up, I wouldn’t have guessed he could pull off anything but calm.”

  “Let’s not talk about it,” I said. “Let’s not think about it. In fact, let’s cherish our time away from him.”

  Chase’s hand reached back and found mine. I slipped my hand out of his grasp, looking around warily. Who else knew we were here? Who else knew I was the hero? Agnim the Magician’s voice echoed in my ears.

  I see the death of your loved ones …

  “Everything cool?” Chase asked, glancing over his shoulder. Gawd, he had such nice eyes. And … was he pouting just a bit? I could have swooned.

  “Yes. Sorry.” My brain scrambled to change the subject. “Look, up ahead! A train!”

  “Uh … yup, that’s a train, Alice,” said Seth. The train station was directly connected to the southern end of the airport. A sleek white bullet-shaped train was parked at the tracks just beyond the box-shaped ticket booths. Above the train was a massive rounded skylight held up by slender steel pillars. It reminded me of something out of a sci-fi movie, right down to the sleek floors and the glossy HD computer screens listing the arrivals and departures.

  People were boarding the cars hurriedly as another announcement came over the loudspeakers, echoing above.

  “I’ve got the tickets!” Mr. Whitmann announced. “Everyone come grab one and then get on board! Hurry now!” He dispensed the tickets one at a time, saying “Here” to every single person. After handing me mine, he gave me a push toward the entrance. We let a young man dressed in a blue suit scan our tickets, then boarded the K car.

  The car was divided into little rooms with flimsy sliding doors. In each room were four seats—two facing two—with a circular table in the center and a little space for carry-on baggage. I wheeled Chase to room K-3, which was the handicapped one that had only two seats.

  It was also more spacious.

  “Now this is what I’m talking about,” Seth said, parking his suitcase in the little closet beside the sliding door. “Thanks for getting us the roomiest cabin, Chase.”

  “No problem,” he murmured, handing over his duffel bag.

  I slid the door shut, pushing Seth out of the way so I could get the window seat. I looked outside, searching for any sign of Briar.

  “Geez,” Seth said, plopping down beside me. “It’s OK. I didn’t want the window seat anyway.”

  Chase stretched his back, groaning. He reached into the little knapsack hanging from the rear of his chair, pulling out his library copy of Pride and Prejudice.

  “Uh, isn’t that a chick book?” Seth asked.

  “It’s a classic,” Chase said. “You’d actually like it if you gave it a chance. I’m halfway through and I dig it so far.”

  Seth waved off the suggestion. “Sorry, dude. If it don’t got zombies, I ain’t interested. What else you got?”

  Chase dug in his pack, pulling out two more books. All of their covers were wrapped in plastic, a telltale sign that he’d rented them out from the library. A privilege he could thank me for, by the way. I’d taken him there, helped him get a card, and showed him how to use the computers to search for books.

  “In Our Time or The Hobbit,” Seth read, hefting each book. He gave In Our Time, by Ernest Hemingway, back to Chase. “I’ll take the one guaranteed to have monsters.”

  The door slid open. Mr. Whitmann looked in on us, narrowing one eye. The train lurched, forcing him to clutch the doorframe. “You’re not smoking in here, are you?”

  “Seth is,” Chase murmured.

  Seth’s mouth dropped open. “Mr. Whitmann, I can honestly say I’ve never smoked.”

  “Seth, I don’t even know why you’re here with us,” Mr. Whitmann said. “But you’d better believe we’re going to set some rules once we get to this place Mr. Grayle has us staying at. I want a strict curfew on the girls, Chase. No funny stuff, either.”

  “You got it, Coach.”

  Mr. Whitmann gave a solemn nod. “That’s the attitude I like to hear. Mrs. Satrapi and I are in K-2, if you need us.”

  “No funny stuff,” Seth warned him with a grin.

  A low growl escaped Mr. Whitmann’s throat as he slowly slid the door shut.

  “OK, we’re moving,” I said, looking out the window again. “I’m not going to freak. Briar is here somewhere. He’s got to be. So I’m just going to sit back and not freak.”

  “Deep breaths,” Chase urged, leafing through his book. “Maybe lean back in your chair, too.”

  “How can you be so calm?!”

  He set his book down on the table, sighing. “Because I saw you take down a freaking dragon. Like, an actual dragon with scales and fire breath. If Briar missed the train, he can probably catch another one and you’ll be fine in the meantime.”

  I turned to Seth. He nodded enthusiastically.

  “Right. Lean back.” I leaned back, resting my head on the soft headrest. It felt good. Like everyone else on the plane, I’d felt it was absolutely necessary to stay awake during the entire flight. Now it was catching up to me, infecting my limbs with an odd sort of heaviness.

  Darkness. Suffocating, impenetrable darkness. I looked around, calling out. My voice echoed.

  Then came another voice. It was distant, lost, searching for me. I swam through the darkness, desperate to find anything. There was something here. I could feel it all around me. Not a Corrupted. Something … colder. Where was I?

  Nowhere. Lost in darkness. It seeped into my lungs as I took a breath. I tried to scream, but nothing came out. I could feel something in the darkness. Watching me.

  “Alice?”

  A hand grabbed my shoulder. I opened my eyes, feeling a scream claw its way out of my throat. Chase was clutching
me, concerned. “Are you awake? What happened?”

  “Probably a Corrupted,” Seth said, flipping to the next page of The Hobbit.

  I looked around, blinking. “Not a Corrupted. Just a bad dream.” I used my tongue to wet the inside of my mouth. “I need some water. How long was I out?”

  Seth held up the chunk of pages he’d already read through. “This long.”

  “Well,” I said, adjusting a knot in my back, “maybe I should just take a walk.”

  “There.” Chase pointed to me. “Now that is a great idea. Take a break from the nightmare, maybe.”

  “Oh, I’ll take a break all right,” I muttered, getting up groggily and walking down the narrow hallway of the K car. Through one of the closed doors, I could hear Jasmine’s voice, followed by Margaret’s shrill laugh and Rachel tee-he-he giggles. I fought the urge to open the door. What would I say? “Oh, hey gals! I totally want to join the gossip fest. Give me half an hour to check the train for monsters and then I’ll be right there!”

  Sigh.

  I willed my feet forward, to the other end of the car. The train was moving quickly, but ran smooth along the tracks. I opened the door at the end of the aisle, pausing in the inter-car connector, a small covered space between the cars with a single side door where passengers disembarked. The metal under my feet groaned as if it too expected chaos at any moment. A red sign on the door warned passengers in four different languages that the side door automatically locked between stops.

  “Good to know,” I said, sliding open the door to the L car. It was just like the K car, with a narrow aisle and small rooms on either side. Some of the doors were open, the people inside speaking in different languages. I tried not to stare as I passed. The last thing I wanted to do was give the impression that I was a rude American. I wondered what the German word for “Corrupted” was, considered looking it up on my smart phone, then decided against it.

  I walked through the next connector, into the M car.

  And stopped.

  My hand reached instinctively for the sliding door at my back, ensuring it was closed tight. My eyes surveyed the car: gone were the individual rooms; this car looked more like an airplane, with rows of fat seats and well-dressed men filling them, nearly every single one working on a laptop or a tablet. My ears filled with the sounds of a dozen voices, none of them English, all of them quiet and professional. It all looked inconspicuous.