“There you are,” I said. “Could have used your help lifting my trashed friend up the stairs.”
Briar straightened. “Your bedroom smelled like alcohol. It was making my stomach turn. I’d recommend airing it out before your parents get home.”
“Good idea,” I said, walking over to the window. It was stuck. I tried unlocking it but it was already unlocked. I tried again, hiccupped once, then began crying.
“I can’t even get the window open,” I sobbed. “How am I going to kill some creepy human-juice-sucking murderer?” A gentle paw rested on my shoulder. I laughed. “And now a rabbit is comforting me.”
“You had a dream.”
I nodded, wiping at my eyes with one finger.
“I don’t pretend to have the answers, child.” Briar sighed. “I can’t even help you open the window. No thumbs. But I can tell you this: the last hero, Juliette, she once felt exactly how you felt. And you’d better believe she had a plan.”
“So what should I do?” I asked. “Tonight? I’m supposed to meet with Edward, and I know he’s one of them.”
“Don’t know,” Briar said. “But when the time is right, you will know.”
“Come with me.”
He clicked his tongue. “Can’t. You have to do this on your own.”
“But what do I do?” I asked, turning to him.
The rabbit, for once, was silent.
I sat in my room the entire day, running through every single outfit combination in my wardrobe. Jeans? Too casual. Skirt? Too skimpy. Dress? Too obstructive. What does someone wear to their potential impending doom? What might I like to be found dead in? It wasn’t a question my closet was prepared to answer. And here I thought I’d arranged my clothes in such a logical sort of way.
I settled on a red button-down blouse that had deep pockets, perfect for hiding the pen and my cell phone. I dressed in black leggings, something casual enough to sleep in just in case I did happen to wake up from this absolutely insane dream and Edward was for real. Like, for real real. Not something out of a story book.
And through it all, Briar stayed with me. Turning around when I dressed. Holding different outfits while I scrutinized. Telling me tales of heroes long gone and the Corrupted they’d done battle with. I was glad to know someone had already done away with one of the evil mothers. One of them, at least. And the big, bad wolf was gone too. Well, one of them. It turned out the Grimms had no shortage of wolves in their stories.
“But the one you should really worry about is little Red-Cap,” Briar told me in the late afternoon. “Otherwise known as Little Red Riding Hood.”
“Why?” I asked. “At the end of the story, it says she never harmed anyone again.”
He looked at me curiously.
“I read the book,” I told him. “You told me to read the Brothers Grimm book, so I read it.”
“Well I’ll be,” said the rabbit. “There may be hope for you yet.”
“OK,” I said, bouncing around on my feet. “He’s going to pick me up any minute. Gawd, what do I say to my parents?”
Briar licked his paw, rubbing the white fur around his mouth as he stared at his reflection in my closet mirror. “Goodbye would suffice.”
“Goodbye? I may never see them again!”
“Oh dear me,” the rabbit exclaimed. “Tell you what: why don’t you just trust old Br’er Rabbit this one time?”
I grabbed his vest, melodramatically melting to the ground. “But how can you be sure?”
“Because,” he said in all seriousness, “Juliette believed in you. She never even met you. You weren’t even born yet. And still she knew you were going to be something special.”
I took a deep breath. “I’ll … see you when I see you, then.”
The rabbit nodded. “That you will. Hero.”
I walked to the door, checking my pocket for the pen. The moment my fingers wrapped around it, I felt an intense heat flash through my arm. I could do this. Whatever this was.
In the living room, my parents were sitting on the couch watching a movie with a green plastic bowl of popcorn between them. They both glanced at me.
“I just want you to know I love you both,” I told them, feeling myself choke up.
“Have fun at Tricia’s,” Dad said.
Right. Tricia’s. I stepped out of the house, following the sidewalk south toward the entrance to the suburb.
“My last night on earth,” I said to the dark sky, “and I had to lie to my parents about where I was going. Some daughter.”
There was no time left to ruminate. I could see Edward’s car parked along the street up ahead. The taillights seemed to bask the entire neighborhood in a blood-red glow. Another world. Some place darker, with no hope. Except: the trail. The golden trail indicating where he’d come from. A trail that led back to his parents’ mansion.
His parents!
“Are your parents home?” I asked him, stepping into the car.
He smiled. “Hello to you, too.”
We locked lips. A quick, final peck goodbye to my first real relationship. OK, so I’m being a little dramatic here. Still, I had this feeling. Edward was more than he seemed. Maybe he wasn’t the murderer in my dreams, but he was still one of the Corrupted. “Seriously, though. Are your parents home?”
“No,” he said, putting the car into drive. “They’re at a banking conference in New York.”
“Oh. OK.”
“How are you feeling?”
“I feel … great. Awesome. Top of the world.”
He smiled. “You’re lying.”
“Only a little.” I rolled down the window for some fresh air. The warm breeze fluttered my hair. I wished I’d tied my hair up.
“Do you volunteer at the library tomorrow?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said. “Not early, though.”
“Do you like it so far? I feel like we haven’t talked about it at all.”
“Yes, I like it. I love books; you know that.”
He shrugged. “Just thought you might get sick of them is all.”
“No,” I said. “Never.”
“That’s good. That’s a good quality to have. Books are gateways to other worlds.”
My heart sank. “You’re telling me.”
He put his hand on my leg, giving it a soft squeeze. I could feel the strength in his hands. “Listen. I know what you’re feeling. Please, just leave everything up to me. Don’t think about anything. Tonight, I want to treat you like the princess you are.”
“OK.” I closed my eyes, trying to will his hand off my leg. But it stayed there right up to the moment the car stopped and the engine shut off. The ride felt like five seconds. Five seconds! I barely had time to gather my thoughts.
“Come, my princess.”
I got out of the car and took his hand, walking with him into his giant mansion, through the living room and the statue room and the art room and up the stairs and then there we were, inside his bedroom, standing in front of his giant bed. The lights were off but I could see rose petals, hundreds of them, spread across the bed. He leaned down and kissed me passionately on the lips.
“Edward,” I said.
“I will love you forever,” he whispered.
Forever. The word meant something entirely different to each of us.
“You are the love of my life. My soul mate.”
He’d come into my life out of nowhere. And instead of going after one of the prettier, more popular girls, he’d zoomed in on me. It had been a dream come true. It had been the perfect beginning and he was the perfect guy.
“You’ll remember this the rest of your life.” He kissed my neck again.
What had the girl in my dream said as they’d walked into the parking structure? “I can’t believe you danced with me.” Yes! As if she’d been surprised he’d picked her that night. Wait … no! No no no no! It couldn’t be Edward. The murderer hadn’t sounded like Edward. He hadn’t!
The note! Juliette’s note had warned
me!
“Edward,” I said. He stopped, cupping my face in his hands, looking into my eyes. “I’m not having sex with you. I never will.”
“Why not!” The words knocked me back, putting a foot of space between us. I couldn’t speak. All of my courage had slipped away. His face had grown as dark as the night sky and the hint of golden glow underneath his skin dimmed. “Why! Not!” he screamed, breathing heavily.
“I … I …”
A growl escaped his lips and he walked to the far end of his room. He punched the wall with his fist and I heard a sickening crack—the drywall and his knuckles broke at the same time. He pulled back and stared at his hand, laughing. “Well, my hand is broken.”
I stepped closer. With the soft moonlight coming in through the window, I could see his two gnarled knuckles. My hand instinctively reached for the pen. I could stab him right now … if I could just get the cap off without him noticing.
“Listen to me,” Edward said. His voice had lowered and octave and roughened around the edges. He tightened his broken hand into a fist. “We’re going to have sex, do you understand? I’ve waited a long time for this. Ever since I saw you sleeping on that bench the first time we met.”
Just like Snow White, I thought. My hands trembled.
Edward grabbed my jaw and lifted my head. “Hey. Focus. Do you understand? But you need to calm down. You need to not fight it. Otherwise, you release too much adrenaline. And I don’t like the taste of adrenaline. It’s bitter. Do you hear me? No, of course you don’t.”
“You want to kill me,” I said.
He laughed. “No, first I want us to have sex. Then, while we’re having sex, I want to drink all of the delicious innards inside your body. Just. Like. A. Spider.”
I ran to the door. Behind me, he laughed but didn’t immediately follow, and as I stumbled through the dark hallway to the staircase, I told myself I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t do this!
“Come back, my love!” he called out in a mocking voice. I ran through every room, not stopping until I reached the front door. It was locked.
“My love!” he called out from the other side of the house, laughing again.
“Come on,” I whispered, fumbling with the lock. It was no use. There was no handle-thingy to turn and disengage the lock. It was captive-proof.
But I could draw one! I pulled out my pen and uncapped it, then pressed it to the solid metal mechanism. I tried to imagine it working. It was simple … wasn’t it? I’d seen them a thousand times before. You turn left, the little metal lock thingy pulls away. You turn right, it sticks into the door frame. Easy!
Finished, I turned the lock. There was a click. My heart beat faster and I grabbed for the doorknob again. Nothing happened.
“Come on!” I screamed.
“Darling,” he called out. He was on the first floor now, his bright voice echoing through the large rooms. “Darling, come back to bed!”
I ran around the other side of the house, into the kitchen. I tried the back door. Locked. No way to unlock it. Gawd, if only I knew how a simple door lock really worked, I could draw my way out of this …
The basement! I thought. There was a basement door leading outside. Whatever “captive-proof” electronic lock mechanism Edward had installed couldn’t possibly be connected to that beat-up old door. I ran past the refrigerator to the door, opened it, and slipped inside.
Darkness. Pitch-blackness and all the terrible feelings that come with it. I fumbled for a light switch, found one on the wall, and two little light bulbs switched on at the bottom of the stairs. A smell caught me, but I had no idea what it was. It smelled rank, like spoiled meat. It made my eyes water.
“Darling!” came Edward’s voice from the kitchen. “Please! I’ve waited so, so long for this!”
I ran down the stairs, spun my heels in the dirt floor, and then stopped. The door was there on the other end of the large room, but it was blocked.
By bones. Thousands and thousands of bones, piled high and strewn everywhere.
I screamed.
Chapter 8
They were everywhere. Skulls, femurs, hip bones, rib cages. Some were ivory white; others had chunks of rotting meat still clinging to them. They filled the entire basement, piled up against the basement door, and even filled a large hole that had been dug in one corner next to a dusty red rototiller and an old yellow matching washer and drier set. It was one mass grave that just so happened to also be the place where Edward did his laundry.
And there she was: the girl from my dream. She was lying against one of the concrete walls, right under two old shelves lined with empty glass jars and dirt-encrusted gardening tools. She looked just as she had in my dream, her skin clinging to her bones, nothing left inside.
The basement door opened. I stepped back, closer to the giant hole, and as my eyes adjusted to the shadows an entirely new horror hit me.
“Ah,” Edward said when he reached the last step. “Of course. The rack. I save that for special occasions. It’s old, by the way. I brought it over from Europe more than … what … seventy years ago? Wow, time really flies.”
“Who?” I asked, unable to look away. The skeleton was still intact, mostly, its arms spread out and tied at the top of the T-shaped wooden monstrosity. The head hung in shame, some of its long strands of hair still sticking out of the rotten skull.
“A young woman,” he said darkly. “Like all of the others. Only this one … she was a thorn in my side. She tried to kill me. But she failed. And I brought her here and I made her suffer. This was a long time ago, though.”
“Seventy years …”
Edward’s hand rested on my shoulder. I flinched and he laughed. “I’ve been around a long time. But I swear, I’m not a vampire. That is what all the kids talk about these days, no?”
“You’re one of the Corrupted. Prince Charming.” I felt his hand squeeze my shoulder tighter.
“That,” he whispered, “is something you shouldn’t know.” I felt his hot breath on my neck. I felt frozen. Every inch of my body screamed at me to run, but I couldn’t. “I wasn’t always like this. It’s just a taste I acquired.”
“Her name was Juliette,” I said, staring at the tortured skeleton. “She was a hero.”
The hand gripped my shoulder tighter. “And here I thought you were just another virgin. No matter—hero juices are the tastiest of all.”
Something kicked in. Call it instinct or call it the hero’s reflexes or whatever, but the moment he finished that last sentence, my hand clenched into a fist and I brought it across my body, connecting right with his stomach. He doubled over with a grunt and I bolted for the staircase.
“You can’t run!” he called out, laughing and coughing.
I reached the top and opened the door, making my way to the other side of the mansion, up the stairs, past his bedroom. What else was here? There had to be something. Something. I checked each of the other doors. There was a bathroom, plain and simple. There were other rooms, but all of them were empty. I ran to one of the windows, expecting it to open. It was locked. It was more than locked—the glass looked thick and unbreakable.
Of course. After decades of doing this and accumulating all those skeletons in the basemen, he’d perfected what he was doing.
I had to fight.
I bent down and used the pen to draw a foil on the hardwood floor. Blade. Handle. Bellguard. When I finished, I pulled it out of the floor.
“So predictable.”
I spun around, wielding the foil. There was a crash of metal on metal. The room was dark but I could clearly see my blade pressed against Edward’s blade.
“Did you not think I would have a spare sword lying around this dusty old mansion?” he asked, smiling. His face looked older, as if layers and layers of makeup had been wiped away. Now, his skin looked dark and gray, his eyes sunken, sucking in the moonlight streaming in through the windows.
“You’re about to find I’m full of surprises,” I said, swinging a
t him. Our blades clanged together. I sidestepped just like I’d seen him do and we danced around the empty room. The sound of steel-on-steel echoed.
“You don’t even know your powers,” Edward said, parrying my blows. “You drew a foil?” He parried my blow and stepped forward, sending a shower of sparks as our blades grinded together. He held his blade against me. His face was only inches from mine and I could see how dead and decayed his skin had become. “Look at me,” he whispered. “I need to feed.”
I pushed him back, stabbing again and again. He parried, laughing.
“Maybe this isn’t working out,” Edward said. “Maybe Tricia would be more willing.”
I swung harder and stabbed faster, faster than I ever had before. Edward parried what he could and ducked out of the way when I got too close. I could feel my breaths quickening and began to slow. The moment he saw his opening, he lunged forward, pressing blade tightly against mine and closing the distance between us yet again.
I tried to pull away but he held our blades together. “Look at my sword,” he said. “It’s a saber. Not a foil. The blade is stronger. If you knew how to draw a saber, you could pose a challenge. You’re a good swordswoman. But you can’t win.”
“You’re right!” I said, stepping down on his foot with my heel. He cried out and fell back, pulling my foil with him as he went. Disarmed, I turned and bolted for the door.
“Alice!” he called out, laughing. “You forgot your weapon!”
I ran downstairs into the statue room. It was darker down here, save for a single lamp from the art room shining through the doorway. Think, Alice … think! You’re the hero! You’re not getting out of this if you don’t think! He killed Juliette because she didn’t have the pen. She left it for me. She sacrificed herself to make sure I was prepared.
And Edward had tortured her before he killed her. Maybe she wanted me to see that. Maybe she wanted me to see what Prince Charming was really capable of.
“Over a hundred years of this!” Edward’s voice called out from the library. “And you know what? I have no idea who gave me the nickname ‘Prince Charming.’ I was just the son of a king and nothing more! I didn’t pretend to be charming in the slightest! It wasn’t until word about Snow White spread around the world that people began embellishing the original blasted story.”
The Grimm Chronicles, Vol. 1 Page 10
