by Ken Brosky
“I can hear ‘em laughin’,” McCormack said. “They’re everywhere!”
I couldn’t hear a danged thing. My ears were ringing worse now. They hurt. I was short one sense, relying only on my eyes. It’d be nice if they left a glowing trail … but things are never easy anymore, are they Alice?
“Here!” Cixi shouted. I turned the flashlight just as another cloud of ashes appeared, landing on Cixi’s outstretched dagger. More shadows moved in the darkness and Wodehouse and Harper both fired.
“That’s eight, I think!” Harper said. “Stay sharp. Watch … Alice, what are you—”
“It’s not me!” I said, tapping the flashlight. The bulb turned back on, flickered, then turned back on, only to turn off again as something knocked it from my grip. We all watched in horror as the light flew through the air, landing on the hard ground.
The glass bulb cracked, leaving us alone in the gloomy blue light.
Wodehouse fired his gun, then again. Bark erupted from the nearest tree. The branches shook, knocking loose three more blue plums. Two of them split when they hit the cave floor, the glowing blue juice seeping out and slowly losing their light.
Leaving one big patch of darkness off to our right.
“You fool,” Harper snapped. “Without those blue lights, we can’t see—”
“Gaaaaah!” Wodehouse screamed. His body lifted from the air, his back arched. Cixi stepped forward, but an unseen force pushed her aside, throwing her against the tree to my left. Another of the blue plums fell, rolling under Wodehouse’s kicking feet.
“Cripes!” McCormack spat.
Shadows slipped through Wodehouse’s body, pulling him higher. His body jerked as if it was being electrocuted. He opened his mouth and a black shadow slipped out.
Harper pointed his gun. I jumped toward him, punching his wrist. The gun’s angle tilted and it discharged, sending a glowing bullet into the dark patch of forest to our right.
I turned back to Wodehouse, wondering if I could swipe at the shadows without hurting him. Too late—an unseen force knocked me back, right into McCormack’s big belly and knocking both of us over.
Wodehouse fell to the ground. Diamonds spilled out of his breast pocket. The shadows grabbed his legs, dragging him into the forest where there were no glowing blue plums.
Toward the old castle.
“Wodehouse!” Harper shouted, aiming his gun again.
“I wouldn’t do that.”
Harper aimed left, searching the trees for the voice. We stood together, breathing quickly. My ears had stopped ringing, at least a little bit. I could hear the distinct popping sound of a plum being plucked from its branch. A woman stepped out from behind one of the taller trees, clutching a blue plum with long fingers that were twisted like old branches. The blue light illuminated her pale skin. She was pretty, with curly red hair and a flowing blue dress with white frills around her shoulders and long sleeves.
She took a bite of the plum. Her veins began to glow blue.
“He’ll be taken to the castle. He is our dancing partner now.”
“You already have dancing partners,” I said, trying to shake the ringing from my ears. “Your princes were your dancing partners.”
“Yes, but they’re so old and decrepit and never want to dance anymore,” she said, pouting. “Now go.” She pointed to our left. “The tunnel that way leads to a secret passage. Take your diamonds and gold and silver and leave. Never come back.”
Harper pointed his gun and fired. Click.
The princess smiled. Her eyes lit up—not blue, but a fiery gold. “I could see inside the chamber. I knew it was empty. I can see you are all afraid. I can see a great many things, just like my foolish little sister who hides deep within our castle.”
Cixi ran forward with incredible speed, so incredible that I barely trusted the image my eyes were giving me. Within a hare’s breath, she’d closed the gap between them, both daggers slicing upward, each of their tips still glowing just a little bit.
The princess moved, her body becoming little more than a shadow as she slipped behind Cixi, her shadow pressing forward and shoving Cixi against the trunk of the tree. Blue plums fell all around them, their blue light bouncing across the trees and causing the trees’ shadows to dance.
The princess reappeared. “Escape before I change my mind,” she warned, stepping away from the fallen plums, back into the shadows, only the eerie blue glow of her veins visible until that too disappeared.
Leaving us in darkness.
“Come on,” I said, helping McCormack up and putting his big arm over my shoulder.
“We have to rescue Jack,” Harper said. “And Wodehouse … if we have time.”
“I’ll get him,” I said. “The rest of you can take the tunnel out of here.”
“No.”
“Why?!” I asked, turning back to him. “You can’t do this. I can. I can’t explain …”
“I know what you are.” Harper bent down and grabbed one of the glowing plums. “The spirit in the bottle … I still remember it as if it was yesterday. The spirit had us trapped in the old Assassins library. The old, burnt pages swirled around the room. It took one of the older gents we were with, sucking him right into its body. Then it came for us. It could have gone after any of us, but it went after me. Old Jack stepped in front of me, telling me to run. But I couldn’t. I was frozen.
“Then, a miracle happened: a woman appeared. She tore away her robe, revealing a stick of dynamite and a small blade that was glowing like the sun. She told us to escape. We ran through the old castle’s corridors. Moments later, there was an explosion and a cave-in. The woman met me at the entrance to the castle. All of the people we’d been with had perished. But so had the spirit. She told me this was worth the sacrifice.”
“Juliette,” I whispered. It had to be her. Twenty years ago … that was when she’d been the hero. “Harper … I’ll save Jack,” I said. “And I’ll throw in Wodehouse, too. I promise.”
Harper shook his head. He took a bite of the blue plum. Glowing blue juice ran down his grizzled chin. His eyes began to glow. Then his veins. “You don’t understand. But you will some day. The people you care about will be in danger. And then you’ll do anything you can to save them.”
I turned to Cixi. “Take McCormack …”
But she’d already taken a bite of a plum, too. Her eyes glowed an even brighter blue. Her veins lit up. “With this, we do not need light.”
“Wait for me,” I said. “Let me just get McCormack to the tunnel …”
“You’re afraid,” Harper said, his blue eyes widening. “I can see the fear inside you. I can see your beating heart … I can see in the darkness!”
“I …” Was I afraid? I couldn’t tell. It was as if I’d grown used to the feeling, so much so that it was nothing but a dull throb that complemented the pain in my ribs and the cut on my shoulder. Now frustration? That I was definitely feeling.
They both disappeared into the forest, the soft gold glow of Cixi’s blades periodically appearing as they weaved between the black trees.
“Come on,” I said, helping McCormack along the edge of the forest and kicking two of the fallen plumbs ahead of us to light the way. Sure enough, there was a passage at the far end of the cavern. I kicked one plumb into the tunnel, where it rolled up a gentle slope before coming to a stop beside a greasy-looking stalagmite.
McCormack pulled his arm off my shoulder. He leaned on the limestone. “Go now. Save those bloody fools. But don’t you eat those plums.”
I turned back to the dark forest. “I won’t be able to see.”
“Take this.” He handed me the lighter.
“That’s not going to help me. Especially not inside the castle. The plums will help me see, though.”
“Aye? And what’s the catch, lass?”
The words struck me like a brick. “The catch …”
“Break a branch from that tree,” McCormack ordered. I walked over to the nearest tree,
using both hands to snap one of the smaller branches in half. McCormack reached into his backpack, pulling out a piece of brown cloth. He wrapped it tightly around the top of the branch.
“Fire needs oxygen,” he said, “and a combustible material. And fuel.”
“Wait,” I said, uncapping the magic pen. I colored in the cloth so that it had a golden glow. “OK. Now.”
McCormack poured lighter fluid on the cloth, then lit it on fire. The flames caught, burning a golden orange. “You’ll not have much time,” he warned. “And here. Take this.” He reached into his pocket, handing me an acorn. “Acorns are good luck in Norse folklore, ya know.”
“Uh … thanks.”
“Just come back in one piece and we’ll call it even!” he called out after me.
I hurried through the forest, using the golden torch to guide me between the trees. The closer I got to the castle, the fewer blue plums there were. The air was cool and wet, sticking to my skin. I breathed short breaths, aware of the pain in my ribs that had begun to return. I had to hold the torch with my left hand so I could hold the gladius with my right, and the strain on my left shoulder kept me aware of the pain there as well.
Block it out, Alice. Open your senses.
I stopped at the open gate to the castle, listening. I couldn’t hear anything except the dull thud of my heartbeat, but I could feel the air changing all around me. My skin chilled. I spun, holding the torch in front of me, revealing one of the princesses. She hissed, shielding her eyes from the light. I shoved the torch at her and the golden flame leapt onto her tattered black dress.
In the blink of an eye, she was gone.
“Good to know the flame works,” I murmured, slipping inside the castle. I kept the torch in front of me, keeping an eye out for the creepy glow of Harper’s or Cixi’s eyes. But there was only blackness ahead.
Blackness … and music. Classical music with sharp violins. Just like in my dreams.
“Harper!” I whispered. My voice echoed down the old hallway.
“He can’t hear you.”
I spun around, holding the torch out and bracing myself for another scary princess to appear. But there was only darkness behind me.
To my left, though …
I moved closer to the stone wall, holding the flame close. The golden light illuminated the carving, the warmth of the flame warming the left side of my face as I peered closer. A shadow. A creature. And someone else, too. Two of them.
“The Brothers Grimm …” came the soft, velvety voice.
“I know.” I swallowed, trying to calm my shaking left hand. “And the creature …”
“The Malevolence.” Her whisper carried through the darkness. “I can see it happening. The Malevolence approached the brothers and gave them the gift of black magic. They used the magic to bring their stories to life … but they changed our ending. They cursed us. They cursed us!”
“How?” I asked, aiming the torch down the hall.
“In our original fairy tale, all twelve princesses were executed by their father. The Brothers Grimm changed the ending so that we lived. They cursed us to this life.”
I looked left. There were more intricate carvings in the stone. Carvings of battles. First, the soldiers had spears, then swords, then horses …
“Vlad the Impaler,” I whispered, staring in horror at the third carving.
“The Malevolence is older than the Brothers Grimm,” came the whisper. “It is an evil as old as time itself. It haunts all of my visions. I have seen your arrival. I have seen you trapped here, searching for answers. Here is your answer: the Brothers Grimm cursed us with life so that I could warn you.”
More carvings. More wars. Battles. And through it all, the strange shadowy figure was present … hiding behind the warriors. The last carving was the castle, with the shadow-like creature inside its walls. In each corner was a symbol. But what did they mean?
“The Brothers Grimm changed your story,” I said, “so that you could warn me about the Malevolence. But why?”
“Because the darkness is rising.”
“What do you mean? What else did you see?” I asked, turning and burning away the darkness with the torch. I winced, feeling fresh pain in my shoulder. “Did you see the death of my loved ones?”
No answer. I waited, taking shaky breaths. But she was gone.
The Malevolence … if it’s the source of the Grimms’ magic … does it have the power to undo the magic as well?
The haunting music grew louder, echoing down the hall.
“Always with the scary violins,” I muttered, keeping the torch in front of me as I walked. The room opened up—I was in the dance room. And ahead, lying on the ground, were four bodies.
I hurried over, kneeling beside them. They were breathing, but only the guy named Jack was conscious. Cixi clutched one dagger, the other nowhere to be seen. Already the golden color on its blade had faded. Wodehouse lay beside his gun, its barrel snapped in two.
“No more dancing,” Jack said. “No more dancing … no more …”
“Definitely no more dancing,” I told him, looking him over. His shoes were worn away and his toes had been bleeding at some point. He looked dehydrated and exhausted. I set down my sword and grabbed Harper’s coat, pulling him up. “Harper! Snap out of it, dummy!”
“He ate a plum,” Jack murmured, rolling over and pushing himself to his knees. He fell over, coughing. “The plums pep you up and help you see in the dark, but then the juice affects your nervous system. They fed the plums to me to keep me dancing. It’ll take time for them to snap out of it.”
Laughter echoed in the darkness.
“Looks like I’m about to tango,” I said, grabbing my gladius. I stepped away from them, holding the flame high. “Ugh! Bad joke, Alice. Bad joke.”
“I recognize her,” came a voice. The violins responded with a high-pitched screech. “I saw her reflection in the lake when we took the first man from his boat!”
“Kill her,” came the other voice.
The princesses appeared before me, screeching even louder than the violins. Their tattered dresses—blue and pink—clung to their pale bodies and their hair stood on end as if they’d been electrocuted. I swung at them but they moved swiftly, circling around the flame. I felt an ice-cold hand run across my bare neck, a single nail cutting my skin. I turned, swung the blade, then shut my eyes as a cloud of ash exploded in the air.
“This is all that cursed prince’s fault,” shrieked the princess with the blue dress. “He could have left us alone to dance with our wonderful princes, but all he wanted was our father’s wealth. He stole one of our sisters, but we got her back, oh yes, and we made sure he would never steal from us again!”
“Yeah, the princes are usually jerks.” I spun, waving the torch from left to right. The princess with the blue dress emerged from the darkness, reaching for me. I swung my sword but the blade missed low. My ribs cried out in pain. The princess reappeared, to my left again. There was no way to reach around and hit her with my sword. I swung with the torch instead, and the flame caught the bottom of the princess’s dress. The fire consumed her, sending ashes raining down over my head.
The music stopped.
I held out my torch, fighting to catch my breath. At first, I could hear only the shuffling of feet. My heart raced. What now?
The first one appeared at the edge of the flame’s light. A shadowy man dressed in ashen princely duds, his head lolling forward as if his neck were too tired to prop up the weight. His skin was gray and shriveled like a mummy’s, the eye sockets empty.
“Oh. Right. There were twelve princes too.” I threw my gladius aside, kneeling and drawing a saber in the wooden floorboards. I pulled it out, standing up, swinging it through the air. Good balance. Good weight.
Four more shuffled into the light. One was still clutching an old violin. Another dragged a much larger cello along the floor, clutching its neck.
“Come on,” I said, waiting.
&nbs
p; They shuffled closer. Slowly.
“No. Really … come on!”
They shuffled a little closer. Slowly.
“I can see why you stopped dancing.” I closed the distance between us, throwing the torch on the floor. The flame caught the pantaloons of one prince, burning him to ash. I swung in a wide arc, then ducked low and sliced left to right. Ash burned my eyes. I blinked away the discomfort, hopping over the torch and sweeping my blade downward. My foot reached back, kicking the torch behind me. Another prince caught fire. Two more shuffled toward me like zombies clothed in tattered medieval garments. I brought my blade low, then drove it in an upward arc across my body.
Ashes floated in the air all around me. I took slow, deliberate breaths through my nose. In my mind, the action was still unfolding: two princes bursting apart, then another one, then the one raising his violin over his head like a club, then my saber striking him in the chest and turning him to ash … it had all happened so fast, my fencing moves so mechanical that I could barely believe it.
I picked up the torch, returning to the others. Wodehouse was sitting up, rubbing his head.
“I do say, this hasn’t been the most pleasant experience.”
“No,” I said, crouching down and pulling Harper up.
“Jack,” he mumbled, drooling all gross-like. “My friend …”
“First: Jack’s fine. And second: ewww.”
“Thank you,” he whispered.
“You’re welcome. I hope—”
Something shiny appeared in my peripheral vision. I pulled Harper down, turning, feeling a sharp stinging sensation run through my ribs, reaching out with both hands and grabbing Cixi’s forearm. I squeezed, forcing her to drop the blade. She fought back weakly, then collapsed in exhaustion.
“They must all die,” she whispered. Her eyes were still a hint of blue, and the fingers on her left hand were twitching as if they’d just been thawed out of a block of ice.
“That’s why you’re here,” I said, squeezing her wrist. “To make sure Grayle gets all the treasure. Isn’t it?”
She winced, nodding. “They … all … must die. G-G-Grayle …”
“What is she speaking of?” Wodehouse asked.
