The Grimm Prequels Book 5: (Prequels 19-24)

by Cameron Jace

  "Please don't hurt me," Jack wheezed.

  "I won't." The hand pointed at the forest ahead. "But she will."

  Jack squinted, following the path of the pointed finger. It took him a while to make sense of it.

  "What are you talking about?" he asked the boy with the hairy hand. "You mean that red scarf floating between the trees?"

  "It's not a scarf. It's the top of a cloak. A red cloak."

  "Is that someone bad?"

  "Bad is a point of view," said the boy with hairy hands. Jack thought his voice suggested he was of the same age. "It's a woman under that cloak."

  "A woman? Why should I be scared of her? All the women I’ve met are friendly and caring." In his mind, even Fable was so. She was blunt enough with him because she cared about him.

  "You could say the woman in the red cloak is also caring," the boy whispered. "Caring enough to kill you when your time comes."

  "What are you talking about?"

  "The woman in the red cloak is Death."

  "You're funny. Death isn't a person."

  "Says the boy who never died," the boy mocked him. "How would you know she isn't Death if she hasn't killed you?"

  "Your logic is confusing. And how about you? Did you die before?"

  "No, but my father did. And I saw her kill him," the boy said. "Now duck before she sees us."

  Ducking, Jack finally saw the boy. He was hairy all over. Basically some kind of boy wolf. I, Grandmother Madly, had told him about werewolves before so Jack wasn't surprised. He just hadn't seen one before.

  "Are you a werewolf?"

  "No, I just don't shave much," said the boy.

  Jack laughed. He liked cocky and funny people.

  "I'm in the middle of transformation," the boy said. "I should return to a normal boy within a few moments."

  "Why did you transform?"

  "Most werewolves turn on full moons or when angered deeply. I turn when I am afraid."

  "Let me guess," Jack whispered playfully, "death scared you?"

  "She killed my father. I have to get revenge."

  "But it must have been your father’s time. I don’t think Death kills people randomly."

  "She has some kind of a list, yes, but I still have to avenge my father."

  "How in the name of all the hair on your skin do you plan to do that?"

  "Haven't figured that out yet."

  "I'm Jack by the way," Jack offered without mentioning he was awesome. Frankly, he thought the boy was the real awesome. He turned into a wolf. That was something.

  "I'm Wolfy."

  "How original." Jack raised an eyebrow.

  "No one makes fun of Prince Charming," the boy mentioned. "I mean, like me, his name sounds like an occupation."

  "I thought Prince Charming was a myth. Someone the girls only read about in books."

  "Sorrow is a weird place. Get used to it. Come on, I want to show you my books."

  Jack followed Wolfy into a cavern, then into a den filled with books from top to bottom. In fact, he realized the walls were made of books stacked upon each other. In one candle-lit corner stood Wolfy's bed, made of more books stacked upon the other. Wolfy's bed covers were tens of pages knitted together.

  "I chose the pages I didn't like in each book and sewed them together so I can feel warmer at night, that plus the fire, of course.

  "If I were you, I'd just let myself get scared and cover myself with the hair," Jack said.

  Wolfy stopped as he'd never thought of it. Then he shook his head and put on his reading glasses. The more his hair shrunk, the more Jack noticed how elegantly Wolfy was dressed. The boy was interesting.

  "Wants pawn term, dare wasted ladle gull," Wolfy began reading from a book.

  Jack didn't understand a word. Wolfy kept reading though.

  "What language is that?" Jack asked.

  "Anguish Language," Wolfy said.

  "Never heard of it."

  "Neither did I."

  "Are you telling me you don't understand what you're reading?"

  "Not a bit," Wolf said, proud of himself as he closed the door.

  "Then why are you reading it?"

  "It makes me feel good. It makes me feel like I am an avid reader."

  "If you want to be an avid reader, go read books you can comprehend."

  "That's the point exactly," Wolfy said. "You see most of these books are about algebra and cosmic theories. Some are about archeology and philosophy. I feel dumb when I read them."

  "Really?"

  "I'm a wolf, yes, but I'm only thirteen. I don't want to know about those things."

  "But you also want to be an avid reader. I get it. So you read books you don’t understand."

  "It feels good. You should try it sometime."

  "I won't, but I will steal some good books for you next time. You deserve a good read."

  "What kind of books are you planning to get me?"

  "How about the Adventures of Robin Hood?"

  "Robin Hood the thief?"

  "He is a good thief."

  "How can thief be good?"

  "How can wolf read books?"

  "You have a point," Wolfy said. "So tell me Jack, I hear you live in a tree."

  "Yes, but who told you that?"

  "Nothing is a secret in Sorrow. Trust me. But that's not an ordinary tree, you know that right?"

  Jack didn't say anything. He wondered if Wolfy knew about the children in the pumpkins. Jack preferred to keep it a secret, to protect them.

  "What do you know about the tree?" Jack asked.

  "It's a strange tree and stranger are the people who live in the house next to it."

  "The house is abandoned. I’ve never seen anyone in there."

  "Did you ever enter it?"

  Jack shrugged. It scared him to even think about it. The house, which was more of a small cottage, was creepy.

  "See?" Wolfy winked. "It scared you. But hey, it scares me too."

  "What do you know about it?"

  "Someone lives in that house."

  "But I told you, it looks abandoned."

  "They want you to think that way. But believe me, I saw someone leave it one day."

  "Who?"

  "Death."

  Jack's curiosity was piqued that day. And even though Fable's words about him escaping his past by occupying himself with anything that he came across still rang a bell, he stood there staring at the house next to the tree.

  It was a creepy house indeed. The windows were dusty as if no one lived inside. The tree where Jack lived on top of was practically in the house's garden. So why didn't Death stop him living in it? Or was she so occupied with her job she didn't bother? Maybe she didn't want anyone to know she lived inside.

  Jack plastered his nose against the windows, wishing he could see anything. In particular, he was curious about a young girl his age. Wolfy had told him about Death having a daughter who never left the house. Wolfy had once seen her and somehow fell in love with her.

  Jack didn’t comment on the love part. Wolfy was weird, but Jack still liked him.

  A few squirrels scurried out of the half open window on the side. Jack needed a moment to think about this. Wolfy had told him that Death's daughter adored squirrels.

  So there is someone really living in there, Jack thought.

  Jack, being the thief he was, had no trouble entering the house through the small gap in the window. But he wasn't planning on stealing anything. What would he possibly want to steal from Death? A scythe?

  Inside, he could hear a girl laugh. It was a nice laugh, innocent and attractive in a deathly way, he supposed.

  Jack was optimistic. He'd imagined Death’s daughter to be viscous and creepy, but this girl he was watching was some thirteen-year-old sweetheart. She seemed bonkers in a way, but clearly the squirrels loved her back.

  "Hey!" She had noticed Jack's presence and turned instantly, holding a ladle in her defense. "How did you get in here?"

  "The squ
irrels invited me." Jack leaned against the window and embodied Robin Hood's style.

  “Did they?" The girl turned to her squirrels. God, Jack thought, she is really naive.

  "I'm Jack Madly."

  "I know," she said. "You live up there in the Tree of Life."

  "Tree of Life? I didn't know it had a name?"

  "It's my mother’s most precious tree. She planned on throwing you out, but she doesn't like to let anyone know we live here either, so she waited."

  "Hmm..." Jack said. "Do you have any idea what your mother does?" Jack was going to saying does for a living, but it sounded strange to his ears. Death killed for a living.

  The girl told him her mother brought bread and wine to the poor. Again, Jack wondered about Death's girl being so naive. He was more curious about the tree he lived in. "Tell more about the tree. Why is it called the Tree of Life?"

  "I don't know." The girl shook her shoulders. "All I know is that it produces fortune cookies."

  "What is a fortune cookie?"

  "Small nuts like those squirrels like."

  "Aha."

  "Only these if you crush them open, you find a piece of paper inside."

  "Paper?"

  "And upon it is a name."

  "Whose name?"

  "I never know. My mother won’t let me pick up the cookies. I guess those are the names of the people she visits."

  Immediately Jack understood. The tree handed Death the names of who she had to kill that day. Like when she killed Wolfy's father. But he didn't bother explaining it to the girl.

  "What's your name?" he asked her.

  "Ladle Rat," the girl chirped happily.

  "Awful name," Jack mumbled.

  "It's not awful. I like it."

  "And I have to leave." Jack didn't find the conversation interesting. But the tree he lived in certainly was.

  "Wait!" Ladle said. "Would come back and play with me?"

  "No," Jack said. "You need to get out, Ladle. The world is much bigger than this small house." Jack left, uninterested in Ladle, though they too would become the best of friends.

  Outside, Jack spent some time staring at the tree. He waited for a fortune cookie to drop, but nothing came. Only when he shook the tree did one fall in his hand. Jack didn't crush it or learn of the name inside. He simply tucked it in his pocket. He thought that keeping the name away from Death would save the life of whoever was next on Death's list.

  Night was falling and he realized he’d had such an eventful day. It was time to climb up and feed his pumpkins.

  The children ate and thanked him for the food. He could see how delicious the queen's food was. The children were really happy. He had even stolen some clothes for them, which were too big, but much appreciated.

  Later, gathered around a small fire, the children told Jack a story he hadn’t heard before.

  “What kind of story?” asked Jack.

  “The story about the real evil in the Kingdom of Sorrow,” the girl in the pumpkin said.

  “Real evil? Like the giant in the trees or the Queen of Sorrow?”

  “Those are barely the evil we’re talking about,” another child said.

  “There is something more evil than that?” Jack again remembered his evil father. Now who could top that kind of evil?

  “The world of Sorrow and the Seven Seas are in a perpetual war,” the girl said. “Good and Evil. White and Black. Sooner or later, you will get to choose a side, Jack.”

  “I’m colorless,” he said munching on some food. “I’m only on my side.”

  “Trust us, not for too long. Sooner or later, you will have to choose.”

  “I doubt it.”

  “The Pied Piper will force you to choose.”

  “Who’s the Pied Piper?”

  “The evil of all evils. He is the master of the black side.”

  “A stupid name he has for an evil man. His name indicates he is merry and lovable.”

  “He once was.”

  “Then why is he evil now?”

  “He’s been hurt by the Lost Seven’s ancestors.”

  Jack dropped his food. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard about the Lost Seven. But he didn’t want to talk about them.

  “The Piper vowed to chase them all over the world. Now that they’re in Sorrow, he is coming for them.”

  “What do I have to do with this?”

  “We think you’re one of them.”

  “I’m not lost. I’m awesome.”

  The children rolled their eyes. “Of course you are, but you will need to choose a side. You will need to find a man by the name of Charmwill Glimmer.”

  “Glimmer?”

  “He is the master of the white side, the good side.”

  “Enough!” Jack said. “I don’t want to have anything to do with any of this. I’m a thief. I like it. I will always steal to feed the helpless, and I will always live in trees. That’s all.”

  The children were taken aback by Jack’s mild temper. Like Fable, they’d always sensed he’d been hurt and doing his best to hide it.

  One of them dared ask him, “You never tell us about your parents, Jack. Do you want to talk about it?”

  Jack swallowed. Part of him resisted the offer. Another part appreciated someone was willing to listen.

  “You can tell us,” the girl said.

  “I lived far away in a land of perpetual snow,” Jack said, looking at his feet. “My mother was a good woman, but had always been weak and ill. She married a horrible man who was strong and intimidating. But he put food on the table and a roof over her head,”

  “Oh.”

  “That man is my father. My mother first gave birth to Jill, my sister, I was born later,” Jack said. “But my father always traveled, sometimes for months. And then, when he came back he’d…”

  The children could sense Jack’s pain, so they didn’t insist on hearing the rest. If Jack had stopped at that, they’d have accepted it.

  “Long story short, he hurt us, hurt my mother,” Jack continued. “And somehow, on some dark night in the snow, I managed to escape with Jill. But up the hill, she tripped and fell back toward the house.”

  “Did your father get her?”

  “I ran down after her, but Jill was tiny and she tumbled downhill quick. It was hard. I tried to pick her up and run in the snow. But there was my father, sneering at us and promising us punishment for life.”

  “What happened then?”

  “Like a coward, I ran for my life, promising Jill I’d come back for her one day.” Jack still wouldn’t face the children. They could hear him sob.

  “Don’t worry, Jack,” they said. “You were afraid. At least now you can still go back and save her.”

  “That’s the problem.”

  “What is?”

  “I can’t.”

  “Why?”

  “In my escape, I was so hungry I was about to die,” Jack explained. “I fainted in the snow, and heard voices in my head. I still don’t know if I imagined it or if the voice was of someone nearby. I heard the voice telling me it brought me a handful of beans.”

  “Beans?”

  “Beans I should plant in the snow.”

  “That’s strange.”

  “But it was hopeless, so I did,” Jack said. “I planted the beans, and enormous and magnificent tree rose from the barren snow.”

  “One like this we’re in?”

  “Much, much bigger. It spiraled up, reaching for the sky. I hung onto a branch and rose with it. And as it rose beyond the clouds, I saw an unbelievable thing.”

  “What did you see Jack? What did you see?”

  “You will not believe me.”

  “Try us.”

  “I saw splinters of mirrors hanging in the sky.”

  “How so?”

  “Don’t ask me. I think the sky was pouring mirrors and only the clouds protected the lands from the them.”

  “We might not believe that,” one of the children chuckled.r />
  “I told you. I had never seen anything like it.”

  “What happened next?”

  “I slept from tiredness upon the tree, and when I woke up, I found myself here in the Kingdom of Sorrow.”

  “Wow,” one child said.

  Another commented, “That’s why you’re obsessed with trees.”

  A third child said, “You wish you’d see those mirrors again.”

  “Not quite that.” Jack raised his head and faced them with teary eyes.

  “What is it then?”

  “Whatever I did, searching the trees, I lost my way back. I don’t know how to find Jill ever again. I shouldn’t have climbed that tree. I was so selfish.”

  That night the children tried to cheer Jack up. They played hide and seek with the pumpkins and even performed a silly circus show for him.

  But none of it washed Jack’s pain away.

  Then, when they slept, one child was still awake. The first one he’d ever saved. The one with the missing tooth.

  “Jack,” she said, catching him staring at the moon while dangling his legs from the tree.

  “You should be sleeping now,” he said.

  “Yeth,” she replied. “But I thought I’d tell you thomething that might help you get Jill back.”

  “Really?” Jack turned to face her.

  “I don’t know if it’ll work, but my mother, before she lost me, used to tell me about it.”

  “Oh.” Jack took off his green hat. It was time to listen. “What is it?”

  “You know thothe thtarth up there in the thky?” She pointed at them. Many of them glittering in the dark night.

  “What about them?”

  “You think they’re really thtarth?”

  Jack squinted. “What else can they be? I heard they are other kingdoms, like ours.”

  “According to my mother, that’th the myth,” the girl said. “Those thtarth aren’t guiding lotht travelerth in the night like otherth claim.”

  “Maybe they’re a source of light. Like the moon, helping us to find our way in the darkness.”

  “No. No.” She neared him. “Let me tell you about thith thong my mother uthed to thing to me.”

  “What does the song have to do with this?”

  “Jutht lithen tho me.”