The Grimm Chronicles, Vol.3

by Ken Brosky

  To the empty bedroom.

  I got two chapters in before I saw the first spider.

  Now, I’m not one to complain about a big, soft bed. And as far as accommodations went, you could do a lot worse than a castle chamber full of beautiful antique paintings, a giant bookshelf full of old books, an antique dresser, and a flatscreen TV. Really, I’m not complaining. It was almost perfect.

  But the moment I saw that little six-legged critter skitter under the bed, I saw the place for what it really was: an old, old castle. I opened my eyes. Like, I really, really opened my eyes. Every corner had a spider web in it. Every. Single. Corner. And so naturally I got the heebie-jeebies, as Briar might say. I lay in bed with the nightlight on, trying not to think about big, creepy spiders crawling on my skin. But the more I thought about it, the more I could feel them.

  “Some hero,” I muttered, staring up at the ceiling. My stomach lurched. “Ugh. Et tu, Brute?” Even the ceiling had spider webs. Old, dusty webs that hung and drifted from side to side like little spider flags flapping in the wind. Staking their claim on the room.

  I got out of bed, putting on my pants and black sweatshirt and grabbing the magic pen. I stuffed it in my pocket, wondering where Briar might be. If I stand on his shoulders, I might be able to tear down all of the webs …

  “No,” I whispered. I had an even better idea: take a short jog around the castle, wear myself out, and then collapse exhausted on the comfortable bed and sleep until morning. That was the trick, because getting to sleep was the hardest part. Once I actually fell asleep, my fear of spiders would drift back into a dark corner in my mind—perfect for spiders anyway—and I wouldn’t think about them again until the next evening.

  Plus, I needed to know this place.

  I quietly left my room, entering the main foyer with the grand staircase. I stood beside one of the stone lions, looking up at the red double doors at the top of the stairs. What are you hiding, prince?

  From one of the other rooms, I could hear a TV blaring. At least a few of the boys were still awake. I went to the front door, pulling on the heavy iron ring that was in the place of a regular ol’ doorknob. It gave way just enough for me to slip through. I got the feeling the prince’s servants all used the rear entrance of the keep. The prince? Well, maybe he and his daughter just didn’t go out much at all.

  Which made everything just tad bit stranger.

  I followed the gravel path through the courtyard’s skeletal flower beds, weaving my way around bare shrubs and rose bushes swaddled in burlap and twine. Lanterns were hung from wrought iron brackets bolted to the massive stone wall, providing enough illumination for me to comfortably jog my way around the entire courtyard. Gravel crunched underneath my feet. My breath came out in hot clouds of steam. I could feel the cold nipping at my ears but ignored it, pushing my body faster. My ribs stung, so I tried to not swing my right arm quite so much.

  Focus, Alice! Focus …

  Towers with tooth-shaped parapets, twice as high as the wall. Crumbling stone along the wall’s base. A hundred steps from tower to tower. Three trees on the west end, all of them too tall to climb. Two saplings on the north end. Two trees on the east end. Two trees on the south end. All of them the same species. All of them creepy-looking, with twisted branches that had been groomed no doubt by that creepy Sorin guy.

  The crunching of my athletic shoes on the gravel …

  A thump …

  The crunching of gravel, this time more pronounced. Faster footsteps, not my own.

  Coming up behind me.

  Adrenaline coursed through my body. My fingers tensed. In a split second, I made a decision: reaching for my pen would hamper my right hand; heck, it might even get caught in my pocket and then what? Doomsday for the hero, that’s what. But the steps were coming fast and the momentum would all be centered right on my body. I needed to move. I needed to adjust the momentum.

  All in a split second.

  And so I turned, letting my body fall backward. The dark mass was right behind me, lunging for me, and I used my legs to kick it over me, letting its momentum do most of the work. I caught a fleeting glimpse of a pair of dark jaws snapping at me, drool flying, and then the creature landed on the path, sliding on the gravel.

  I hit the ground hard. My ribs cried out in pain. Breath escaped my lungs. The sharp gravel dug into my back. I rolled over, reaching in my pocket for my pen as I pushed myself to my feet.

  The creature stood on all fours, growling a low growl. Its paw swept across the gravel path and kicked it up at the wall. Rocks hit the lantern, shattering the glass and bulb and cloaking the space between us in darkness.

  Now it was nothing more than a shadow. What was it? I sidled left, off the path and onto one of the prince’s empty flower beds, trying to gauge my enemy. A wolf? No … too big. A werewolf? Maybe … but the creature wasn’t moving like one. The creature was moving more like a … like a …

  “A big cat,” I whispered. “A big, big cat with a horse face.”

  And a long, flowing mane.

  “Well, at least you’re an original creep,” I told it. “I’d have been disappointed if you were just a run-of-the-mill werewolf or something.”

  The shadowy creature skulked closer, following me off the path. It whinnied with a mouthful of drool. My eyes darted to the wall, glancing upward. I held my breath, listening. The soft pads of the creature’s paws crunched on frozen blades of grass.

  “You were up on the wall,” I said, stepping sideways again. “You live here. Who are you?”

  The creature skulked closer. I studied its hind legs, knowing full well that my magic pen was the only thing keeping it from coming at me head-on. I couldn’t outrun it. Even a slow big cat like a tiger could top 30 miles per hour, and this was some kind of cat-horse hybrid from the Horse Whisperer’s worst nightmare. I needed a smarter way out of this.

  And calling for help wasn’t an option.

  “Does your master know you’re here?” I asked. “I mean, no offense, but I’m a pretty big deal. I don’t think you have permission to do this.”

  The creature followed me into the rose garden, weaving around the burlap-cocooned rose bushes and leaving a faint golden trail. It was taking its time, I realized. Why not? I wasn’t going anywhere. All it needed was an opening. Like a lion waiting patiently in the grass, it was waiting for me to make the first mistake. The only mistake I would be allowed to make. I couldn’t stop my mind from picturing a gazelle being chased down by a lion, both of them hitting the ground hard enough to kick up dry Serengeti dust.

  I took another step left, holding the magic pen out in front of me like a little knife. “Who are you?”

  The creature darted right. I spun on my heels and took a step back. My foot got caught between two brambly branches of a bush. I nearly fell, feeling my heart thump in my ears. The creature moved closer, then halted when I aimed the tip of the pen at its nose. It was close enough now that I could see its long snout, the nostrils flaring and releasing little puffs of steam. I could smell its hot breath: rotten meat.

  The clouds above us parted. Yup, the creature definitely had a horse head. A mean-looking, feral horse head with flaring nostrils and a long snout. Moonlight reflected in its big eyes. Its slit-shaped pupils narrowed.

  “You can see me pretty well with those big pearly whites,” I said, maneuvering behind the bare bush. I got on one knee, bending down. “But I’m not too excited about sitting out here all night waiting for you to attack me. Your fur coat might be nice and comfortable, but this jacket really doesn’t keep the cold away. And I hate. Being. Cold.”

  The creature growled, leaning forward to snap at me. I pulled my head back, giving myself a good foot of space between us. No need to get too close, Alice. Just get it to take the initiative. You can’t win this fight if you attack first.

  I ran the magic pen across the frozen dirt.

  The creature snapped again, long mane flowing from side to side. It lowered its back le
gs, crouching. Ready to pounce.

  “Oooooooooo-kay,” I said. “You win. Drawing a sword is a bad idea.” I stepped back. I was near the fattest tree in the entire courtyard. It had a few sturdy branches that I could reach with a good jump, but I hoped it wouldn’t come to that. The last thing I wanted to do was get caught in a tree.

  The creature stepped on the bush, snapping its little branches and squishing it good. Then it took another step …

  Right on my glowing half-finished sword.

  The creature howled, trotting backward. The bottom of its paw was burned, smoking just a bit. I took two steps back, reaching my left hand back and feeling for the trunk of the tree. My fingers found the bark. I moved closer, holding the pen out, watching the creature skulk around the bush, limping on its burned foot. It let out another low growl, then a distinct horse-like “nay-ay-ay.”

  “What are you waiting for, Black Beauty?” I asked, shaking the pen at it. My hand was sweaty. My legs trembled, begging for me to run even though it was suicide. “What are you waiting …”

  The entire courtyard grew darker. I glanced up and, seeing the clouds slipping over the moon, felt my entire body go numb.

  The creature moved with all the swiftness you’d expect from a seasoned predator, slipping around to my right and testing my eyes’ reaction time. I followed the curve of the mighty trunk, letting it protect my left side while I kept the pen’s tip aimed squarely at the creature’s black snout. It was nothing more than a shadow now, and my brain was more than happy to fill in the details. My heart raced. The tips of my fingers tingled.

  “Come on,” I said. “Come on!”

  It moved closer, snapping its jaws at me. I swung the pen at it, forcing it back. I slipped around the trunk of the tree, using it like a shield. The creature growled and snapped its jaws again, aiming for my legs. I swung the pen low, but it was too fast. It darted around to the other side of the tree.

  “No!” I shouted, switching hands just in time to stab at the creature again. Its glowing flat horse’s teeth greeted me, nearly taking off my fist. Instinct told me to pull back so I did, giving up my cover behind the tree. Maybe swallowing the pen would kill it, I thought, but what good is a hero missing a hand?

  I took three quick steps back, glancing quickly over my shoulder to get a good idea of my bearings. The creature followed, sensing an advantage now. We stood together on one of the frozen, empty flower beds.

  “All right,” I told it. “Just you and me now. Give me your best move, and I’ll give you mine.”

  The creature cocked its head, then opened its mouth. A distinct, throaty laugh escaped in clouds of steam.

  “I’m serious!” I said, taking three more steps back. “We’re going to have a good old-fashioned rundown, you and I. No holds barred. No do-overs. You wanna eat me? That’s how it happens.”

  The creature nodded and took a step closer, its long mane dragging on the frozen ground.

  “Oh, you like this idea?” I took three more steps back. “Good. I hope you know what you’re doing!”

  … Because I sure do.

  We stood twenty feet apart, breathing heavily. I listened close, half-expecting to hear another set of footsteps coming up from behind. But no—this creature was alone, clearly letting the Corruption get the best of it no matter whose protection I was under while here. That, or it was just really, really hungry. Judging by the drool, I couldn’t rule “hunger” out as the primary motive here.

  The muscles in my legs tensed. Clouds revealed the moon for a split second, bathing the courtyard in a soft blue light before hiding it once more. We started running at the same time, as if our minds were linked. The space between us closed impossibly fast. My vision seemed to blur. The dark creature moved so swiftly it was as if it was cutting through the night air. Wind whistled in my ears.

  This is it …

  The creature’s legs launched it into the air. I pushed off on my right leg, executing a horizontal fleche. The creature opened its mouth. I twisted my body, dodging its mouth and reaching out for its flowing mane with my left hand. I grabbed a handful of hair, pulling hard, twisting the creature’s body. I brought my right hand up.

  The tip of my pen drew a golden line across its torso.

  We tumbled to the ground and I curled up quickly into a ball, rolling for my life. My ribs stung from the impact. As I rolled away, I had the sudden fear that the creature would land on me at any moment, ready to tear me apart and finally get its meal.

  But it didn’t come. I stopped rolling, dizzy, and forced myself to my feet, searching for the pen. There it was, right underneath the creature, who was bucking like a wild bronco as the burning blackness spread up its body. The little golden embers spread to one leg and it fell over, exploding into ashes as it hit the frozen ground.

  I took a couple short, quick breaths, clutching my side. A searing heat spread through my right shoulder. I ignored it, sifting through the ash pile for the magic pen. It was only after I put the pen in my pocket that I absently reached for my shoulder. My fingers pulled away as if they’d been electrocuted.

  “Crud,” I said. “Crud, crud, crud.”

  I hurried back inside. The foyer was empty and quiet. The sound of TV’s blaring through the doors was gone. Everyone was asleep, completely oblivious to the turmoil that had happened outside.

  I went into my room, navigating around the giant bed and nearly tripping on its curved foot. The blue nightlight illuminated the bathroom door. I opened it, turned on the light, and groaned at the image reflected in the mirror.

  Two red cuts. Right through the fabric of my jacket and my blue Milwaukee Brewers night shirt. A gift from Chase, by the way. I grabbed one of the two white towels hanging from the towel rack, pressing it down on my shoulder. The cuts weren’t deep, at least. Maybe they wouldn’t scar.

  “Just another day,” I told my reflection. I needed sleep. I looked like a zombie: my hair was a tangled mess and my eyes looked puffy and stressed. I ran water in the sink, filling up the plastic “Castle Vontescue” collector’s cup. I drank, put a few strips of toilet paper over the cuts, then changed into a fresh white t-shirt and pajama pants.

  I sat down on the bed and brushed my hair into a semblance of order. “OK,” I said, crawling under the covers. “You’re a hero, Alice. You just killed a giant horse monster with a freakin’ pen. You are not afraid of spiders.”

  I closed my eyes.

  A tingle spread down my arms. My eyes shot open and I reached out, brushing off imaginary spiders. I pulled away the covers, using the light from my cell phone to check the bed for any little black creepy shadows. Nothing.

  “But you’re there,” I whispered. “I just know it!”

  The room was quiet. I held my breath. Something caught my eye near the foot of the bed. A shadow … a little, M&M-sized shadow! I crawled to the other side of the bed, watching the little thing scurry along the base of the dresser.

  “Please don’t go under the bed,” I told it. “Pleeeeease don’t go under the bed!”

  It stopped. In the blue light of my phone, it cast a terrifying little shadow. A spider with a shadow. A black spider, probably chock-full of venom, ready to kill me in my sleep and cocoon me and suck my blood.

  “Easy, Alice,” I whispered, grabbing a spare pillow. My plan was simple: squish the spider with the pillow, shove the pillow under the bed and never think about it again.

  “It’s just a spider,” I told myself. “It’s a little, itsy-bitsy spider …”

  It turned. My heart skipped a beat. Both of its hairy front legs raised up.

  “All right!” I said, surrendering the pillow. “You win. You win, you win, you win!”

  I hopped off the bed, hurried to the door, and escaped with my life.

  After a few knocks, Chase mumbled a muffled “Come in.” I slipped inside, shutting the door behind me. He peered out from underneath the covers, his hair disheveled and his eyes half-closed.

  “Alice? What the h
eck is going on?”

  “There was a spider.”

  He blinked. The blue glow of the nightlight plugged in beside the dresser gave his face a pale, innocent look. Cute, too. “So …”

  “Well, obviously I can’t sleep in my room!”

  He sat up. “Am I dreaming? I have dreams that start like this.”

  “There’s not going to be any funny business,” I warned, sitting on the bed.

  He slid over, then reached out and touched my back. “Hold on. You’re bleeding.”

  “Oh. That. There was a monster outside. It’s not a bad cut, though.”

  He sighed. “A monster, eh?”

  “Big. Horse-like. I didn’t even have time to draw a sword or anything.”

  “Go into the bathroom and get the little black bag from the sink.”

  I went into the bathroom, grabbing the bag. I set it on the bed, then sat down. “What are you going to do?”

  “I packed a little first-aid kit for you,” he said, sitting up and unzipping the bag. “Turn on the lamp.”

  Tears welled in my eyes. “Chaaaaaase!”

  “It’s less romantic than you think. Unless me worrying about a monster killing you is romantic.”

  “That’s totally romantic!”

  “Turn on the lamp. Lift up the back of your shirt.”

  I turned on the bedside lamp and rolled up the back of my shirt, revealing my bare back and shoulders.

  “You know, this would be pretty sexy if you didn’t have a gross wound,” he pointed out.

  “I still think it’s pretty sexy,” I said. “Hero emerges victorious from battle … her dude tends to her wounds … they smooch a bit …”

  He chuckled. “Maybe it’s a little sexy. Hold still a moment.”

  “Ow!” I said, flinching when he dabbed at the cuts with a cold, wet piece of gauze.

  “Oh please.” He ran the wet gauze down the wound. It stung something fierce. “You want pain? Get beaned by a fastball right in the butt cheek.”

  “At least your butt cheek has some padding,” I said wryly.