The Grimm Chronicles, Vol. 1

by Isabella Fontaine

  I started following her on the sidewalk, clutching the pen in my pocket. All of the sounds of the city seemed to melt away as I moved closer and closer. This could end right now. There was no need to wait until later. No need to break down her door or get the drop on her in her hallway or go running through the sewers. All it would take is a quick prick of the fountain pen right now.

  “Jamie!”

  I stopped. The sounds of the city came flooding back. Cinderella turned at the end of the block, oblivious. From across the street, a young woman was waving her hand at someone standing outside of a little café on the other end of the block.

  “What are you doing?” I asked myself, watching Cinderella walk through the front door of her apartment. “You almost just stabbed someone in broad daylight.”

  I went back to the bus stop, trying to think up with a better plan. The bus took me all the way back downtown, amidst the skyscrapers and the sea of traffic. Back in the hotel, my parents were sitting up in their bed, watching television. More specifically, Dad was watching television and Mom was doing her nails.

  “What did you get?” Mom asked. She eyed my outfit. “Oh, that’s definitely cute. Where did you buy it?”

  “Gap,” I said proudly. “And on sale to boot.”

  “It looks good,” she said. “A little scandalous, but good.”

  “Any shirt that shows skin is scandalous in your opinion,” I pointed out.

  “I’m old-fashioned,” Mom said, shrugging. “Less is more.”

  I went into the bathroom and took off the bandage around my arm. It had been soaked through during the shark battle but the tape had kept it in place. The cuts were still there. They’d closed a little, but they were still red; the moment I saw them in the mirror, they started to itch fiercely. I resisted the urge, tossing the bandage in the little garbage next to the toilet.

  “There’s pizza if you want it,” Dad said, nodding to the little table next to the window overlooking the city. I had to admit, we had a pretty nice view: the building right next to the hotel was a small old structure with a rusted roof, so you could see a pretty fair amount of the neighborhood. A new condo was going up across the street, and the sign up near the sidewalk announced you could have a wonderful two-bedroom unit for “only” 1.2 million dollars.

  “Ew!” I said upon opening the pizza box. “Pepperoni? What’s the deal with that?”

  “The deal is we didn’t know whether you’d eat something while you were out on your own or not,” Mom said, filing her pointer nail. The sight of it made me think about the nasty little assassin twins. How would I have stopped them without the pool nearby? They’d caught me off-guard and, crazy as it sounds, only Goodenough family trivia had been enough to prove they were doppelgangers.

  Imagine that: knowing my mother’s distaste for whales had probably saved my life. It was a hard lesson to swallow.

  “I’ll pick off the pepperonis,” I said.

  They both gave me a curious look.

  Chapter 10

  And when it was evening Aschenputtel wanted to go home, and the prince was about to go with her, when she ran past him so quickly that he could not follow her. But he had laid a plan, and had caused all the steps to be spread with pitch, so that as she rushed down them the left shoe of the maiden remained sticking in it. The prince picked it up, and saw that it was of gold, and very small and slender.

  [x]

  We drove down to Wrigleyville at eleven o’clock the next morning, one hour before the game. Dad wanted to explore Wrigley Field. Mom wanted to stop by the nearby falafel café for a quick falafel. I, meanwhile, wanted to take care of Cinderella once and for all.

  But that didn’t mean I couldn’t grab a falafel with Mom first. We sat inside the restaurant at the counter overlooking the street, watching the hundreds of baseball fans clad in Cubs caps and Cubs jerseys walk by.

  “There’s a cute one,” Mom said. “There’s another one. Oh, look! Across the street! He looks a little nerdy, but sometimes the nerds are all right. Look at your father.”

  “OK, got it,” I said, taking a sip of my soda. “Look for nerds for next boyfriend.”

  My mom was eating the falafel with her fork, cutting away slices and making a general mess on her plate. “Are you thinking of dating again?”

  “Oh, at some point. I just have a lot going on.” There was the library, the training, the killing of Corrupted monsters …

  “I don’t think Edward was right for you,” Mom stated. She used her napkin to wipe sauce away from the corner of her lip. “He was too quiet and moody.”

  “He wasn’t moody,” I said. “Just … mysterious.” Too mysterious.

  “Mysterious guys are always mysterious for a reason,” Mom said. “And it’s never a good reason. Trust your mother on this.”

  “OK.” I smiled wryly. “Any other pieces of wisdom you’d like to impart?”

  She nodded and scooped another forkful of falafel into her mouth. I waited for her to finish chewing—a good habit of hers that I was trying to mimic. “Don’t look for Mr. Right. He doesn’t exist. You know why?”

  “Because relationships take work,” I said, repeating her favorite catchphrase.

  “They sure do. And sometimes an argument is a good way to get out some things, too. Look at me and your father. We argue every single day.”

  “Yeah, but you guys do it melodramatically,” I said. “You’re not really, really fighting. You’re just doing it because you both enjoy it.”

  “That’s true,” she said. “But imagine if I’d dumped him the first time he did or said something stupid.” She sighed. “Of course, there are limits. The last thing I want you to do is end up in an abusive relationship. Oh, it’s all so complicated.”

  “Mom, I’m pretty sure I could hold my own,” I said, holding out one arm and flexing my bicep. “These guns only shoot bull’s-eyes.”

  “That’s nothing.” She rolled up the sleeve of her marketing firm’s XL t-shirt and made a muscle. “Check out this gun.”

  I grabbed her muscle and squished it down with my hand. “Deflated!”

  “OK, OK,” she said. “So I have more work to do.” She grabbed my empty plate, tossing it on her tray. “Are you sure you don’t want to go to the Cubs game with us? Your father’s guaranteed to yell at the players.”

  “Positive,” I said. “I’ve got too much I want to do in the neighborhood.”

  “Just be careful.”

  We threw away our garbage and walked to the door. I held it open for her. “I’m eighteen now,” I said with a smile. “I don’t have to listen to you anymore.”

  “Oh, wonderful,” Mom muttered, giving me a hug. “Meet us right here outside the falafel place when the game is over.”

  “How will I know when it’s over?” I asked.

  “You’ll see a lot of disappointed Cubs fans walking around,” Mom said with a snicker.

  I laughed, watching her head down the street toward the massive stadium sticking up over the small buildings on the next block. Across the street, people were flooding into a little sports bar to catch the start of the game. I walked north, taking an abandoned side street lined with thin two-story duplexes on one side and tall colorful condo buildings on the other. The sun was warm and felt hot on my back. I was still wearing the same outfit I’d purchased yesterday, hoping against hope that no man-eating rats would nibble on the fabric.

  “I probably should have worn my wrinkled clothes,” I said to myself. But you know what? I still wanted to look nice.

  And there was no turning back now. I walked until I reached the empty lot next to Cinderella’s apartment building. To be honest, I wasn’t exactly sure what to do. Should I barge in through the front door? Could I pick the lock? If someone else saw me holding a sword, would they call the police? Worse—would they take a picture? Gawd, maybe I should have worn a mask!

  “Pardon me.”

  “Gaaaaaah!” I shouted, spinning and whipping my fist out in a half-c
ircle. The shadowy figure ducked back, his fedora nearly falling off in the process. When I recognized him, I nearly puked. “Briar!”

  “Indeed!” he said.

  I hugged him. “I’m so glad you’re alive!”

  “I feel the same way!”

  “How did you get here?”

  “I snuck onboard a train!”

  “Why do you smell?”

  “I was in a sewer!”

  “Why are you wearing a hat and overcoat?!”

  “I’m a spy!”

  I examined him closer. His ears were pulled down underneath the hat. He was wearing a brown trench coat that reached his fuzzy little feet. “Wait a minute,” I said. “Are you visible to everyone right now?”

  “No. Of course not. I would look foolish, wearing a trench coat on such a beautiful day.”

  “But …” My mind reeled. “OK. Never mind. Let’s deal with all of that later. How do we do this?”

  The rabbit tapped his foot, staring at the apartment building. “It certainly looks more formidable than the pictures online would suggest. Are you sure the Corrupted in question is living there?”

  “No doubt. I did a little reconnaissance.”

  His whiskers twitched. “Well I’ll be darned. OK, so what do you think we should do?”

  “First,” I said, looking around, “I’m going to stop talking like this out in the open. Because someone is going to see me and think I’m insane.”

  “What next?” Briar asked. He started walking toward the apartment building and I followed him.

  “Well, then I would probably make my way to the back of the building, where it’ll be harder for anyone so see what I’m doing. Then I would probably try to break in through a window. I used to do it as a kid all the time when I forgot my house key and my parents were working all afternoon. It was the only way to get into our house.”

  “Interesting, interesting.” At the front door, Briar nodded to me and I opened it.

  “Rabbits first,” I said.

  “Thank you, kind lady.”

  I followed him into the little foyer. It smelled like pizza. There was a little brass intercom system on one wall and a row of steel mailboxes on the other. He reached out with his paw and buzzed unit 108.

  “Holy crud!” I exclaimed. “Are you crazy? What if someone answers?”

  “Yeah,” came a voice though the little speaker. My heart beat in my ears. I stepped back, ready to run as if we were playing a game of Ding Dong Ditch.

  “It’s Mike in two-oh-six,” Briar said in a polite voice. “I forgot my keys. Can you buzz me in?”

  There was a pause, then the door made a buzzing noise. I grabbed it and swung it open. “I can’t believe that worked!”

  “I’m a trickster by nature,” Briar said, sounding a little insulted. “Talking my way into a locked place is almost as easy as talking my way out. Now, what was this woman’s name again?”

  “Cindy,” I said.

  He tapped his foot, thinking. “Well, we can be sure she’s not in one-oh-eight. I suggest we just start knocking and see what comes up.”

  I looked left. “So … we just do it.”

  “Yes.”

  “I was hoping you’d have something a little more crafty.”

  “Sometimes,” Briar said, “the best plan is no plan. Are you ready?”

  “No.” I pulled the fountain pen from my pocket and walked over to the white stucco wall that divided 101 and 103. The hallway was dim and its carpeting was an old, dark green with little faded white floral patterns. At the end of the hall was the staircase and a single lamp fixture.

  “This place certainly has a rustic feel,” Briar said, reading my mind.

  I finished drawing the saber and grabbed the handle, pulling it from the wall and leaving a saber-shaped hole in the stucco. The sword felt good. It felt sturdier than the one I’d used while fighting the Frog Prince from oh-so-many days ago. Hopefully, it wouldn’t break.

  “So should I just knock, or what?” I asked in a low voice.

  Briar shrugged. “It’s as good an idea as any.”

  “What if she screams?” I asked. “I have a sword and I’m trespassing.”

  “Then you stab her really quick-like,” Briar answered. “And then we run like the dickens.”

  He didn’t appear to be joking.

  I stepped up to unit 101 and knocked gently. Please oh please make this easy, I thought. Briar stepped aside, hiding out of view of the peephole.

  The door opened. My heart raced. When I saw the face staring back at me, I quickly hid the saber behind my back.

  “Uh … hi,” I said to the man. The man from my dreams. Not the man of my dreams, mind you. This was the guy who’d been drinking a beer at the café. Cinderella’s next potential victim.

  “Hi,” he said with a smile. He had a nice smile. He was nice-looking for an older guy, and stood about a head taller than me. He looked me in the eyes as he waited for me to explain myself.

  “Um … is Cindy home?”

  “Yes, of course,” he said, only instead of calling Cindy, he motioned me inside! “Please, come in.”

  “After you,” I told him, a little too forcefully. He gave me a curious look but obliged, leading the way right into the living room. The living room from my dreams. To my right was the kitchen, empty. The sink was full of used dishes. The old yellow tiled countertop had boxes of granola bars and cereal strewn about. Cinderella wasn’t big on sanitation in her own home. Except, I noticed, whatever bloodstains might have been left on the carpeting. I guess all those cleaning products came in pretty handy.

  Cinderella was sitting on the couch, staring at the closed closet door. She was wearing her red bandana … had she worked this morning? Did she get days off? Why was I feeling sorry for her?

  “I knew you would come some day,” she said quietly.

  “Um …” the guy nodded to the open door. “Should we close that? Don’t want to let any flies in, as the saying goes.”

  I turned, in the process revealing the sword hidden behind my back. The man stepped back, holding up his hands.

  “Woah,” he said. “Easy now.”

  Briar slipped inside. I shut the door, then held the saber in front of me. “You need to leave,” I said to the man.

  He glanced at Cindy. “Do you know this girl?”

  Cindy shook her head. Still staring at the closet door. I was starting to get nervous about it. If those rats were somehow connected to Cindy, then who knew how much time I had before they showed up to spoil the party?

  “Look,” he said. “I don’t know who you are. But whatever you need, I’m willing to help. Do you need money? I don’t have much on me, but I can get you some.”

  “Um …” I glanced at Briar, who shrugged.

  The man’s eyes followed mine. Not seeing anything, he reached for his back pocket. “Don’t throw away your life like this. Robbing someone is a serious crime. I’ll go to the ATM with you right now and give you money.”

  Now Cinderella was paying attention. She took a deep breath, her eyelids fluttering. “That’s so romantic, Henry. If we had more time …”

  “Give me your phone,” I said to him. He reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone and tossing it at me.

  “Don’t catch it!” Briar said. I let the phone land on the carpeting. The clean-non-bloodstained carpeting. I wondered if she ever mentioned to her clients that she knew how to get blood out of anything … maybe that was a good selling point for a maid.

  The man seemed surprised I didn’t reach out for the phone. I realized then that he’d hoped I would become distracted by the phone flying through the air. Typical guy, I thought, assuming I couldn’t catch it. Assuming he could rush me when I lost my concentration and fumbled with the phone.

  OK, so that’s probably what would have happened.

  “You have to leave,” I told Henry. “Now.”

  The man smiled warmly. “Please, just let me give you some money. I want to he
lp you.”

  “Henry,” Cinderella said. “Do as she says.”

  “No!” he said. “I won’t leave you.”

  I shook my sword at him. “See this, buster? This is sharp and pointy. You really should be doing what I say.”

  He stared at me. The curtains were drawn over the windows, but the overhead light was bright. Whatever little decorative fixture had been affixed to the ceiling was long gone, leaving only a bare bulb remaining. He could probably see the beads of sweat gathering at my forehead. “You’re not going to do anything.”

  I exhaled a nervous breath.

  “Lordy, he’s onto us!” Briar exclaimed.

  Below my feet, I could feel something. A dull vibration.

  “Henry,” Cinderella said. “You … you must …”

  “Save him!” I shouted at her. I knew exactly what was coming. “Save him! Call them off!”

  Cinderella turned, looking at me through bloodshot eyes. “They don’t listen to me. They’re simply drawn to me.”

  “What?” the man named Henry asked. “I don’t understand. Who’s drawn to you?”

  The closet door began to rattle. We all turned and looked at it.

  “They protect me,” Cinderella whispered.

  Briar stepped closer to me. “I have a bad feeling about this …”

  “I can’t control them,” Cinderella said. The closet door began rattling more. We could hear them, right on the other side, squeaking and crying out.

  Henry held out a hand to Cinderella. “Cindy, whatever this is …”

  “Run!” I told Henry, waving my sword at the door. “Hurry! Get out!”

  The big dummy still dallied, glancing again at Cinderella. “But …”

  Suddenly the door burst open. Dozens and dozens of rats scurried out, toppling over one another in a mad race to Henry.

  “Get out of here, you fool!” I shouted, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and throwing him toward the open doorway. I slammed the door shut and locked it, against all of my instincts. The rats had begun swarming across the floor like a living brown carpet, each one squeaking furiously. One of them bit my foot and I cried out, kicking it halfway across the room.