Hazel & Gretel (The Clockwork Fairytales Book 2)

by A. B. Keuser

  “She stole it.” Edina’s words were bitter and she glared out into the kitchen. “Two hundred years ago, she made a deal with a fairy. Heightened powers in exchange for a mortal connection to this world.”

  Hazel remembered enough about her brother’s situation to know what that meant, but she asked anyway. “She wanted a child?”

  Nodding, Edina said, “I guess the fairy didn’t realize that the power she gave the witch was enough to match her own when combined with the witch’s own spells. Carcenia changed the deal. She trapped the fairy and used her magic to elongate her life and thereby keeps the fairy trapped in that same enchantment that the fairy used to make her woods…. The only thing that keeps the witch from truly being free to use the full extent of the fairy’s power is that she knows it would destroy her. The only thing that keeps her locked away in these woods is the irzahara. The fairy’s beast is the only thing she doesn’t know if she can beat. Creatures of the same spell, they sometimes cancel each other out.”

  Hazel looked from the girl to the stairs above their head. “You know a lot about her.”

  Shrugging, Edina kept her eyes on the floor. “I’ve been here a long time, and she curses too much. The rest was pretty easily put together. Scraps of information dropped from time to time… I just had to put them in order and find the actual narrative.”

  Hazel grimaced at the defeat in Edina’s voice, but didn’t question how long the witch had kept her. Defeat and sadness made her sound older than she looked.

  Glancing at the pile of broken bones beside her, Hazel searched the nearby space, looking for other options. She was better at carving wood than bones, her failures made that ridiculously apparent.

  She leaned out, stretching her arm through the bars so she could grab anything and everything within reach. Her collection was small, and its pieces were not entirely useful, but she was determined to do something, and she was certain she’d be able to get more, she just had to get Carcenia to drop and kick things.

  Seemingly bidden by the thought of her name, the witch returned, clunking down the stairway in a staggered beat. Hazel moved her things out of site, throwing her coat over top of them. Edina pulled her arms into her shift and huddled beneath it as though fabric could stop any of the witch’s spells. When the old woman went back to work, Hazel retrieved her makeshift knife and dug through her pile of things. When she’d packed for their escape, she hadn’t expected to be locked away by a cannibalistic witch, or that her supplies would be stowed well out of reach.

  As she worked on the next piece of her small bone puzzle, she told Edna about monkeys and the part of Lonterra they came from. Told her how they swung from trees—and anything else that did the trick—and how they loved fresh fruit and how the one time she’d been to Aurona her brother had teased one with a banana and wound up with the soft yellow mush in his face.

  She laughed too loudly at that and the witch abandoned her boiling pots to yell curses at them both. They were breaking her concentration. She kicked a broken mortar at them before walking away and Hazel collected it, adding it to the pile, though she had no idea what she planned to use it for.

  The witch went back to ignoring them after that—a blessing, if Hazel had ever had one. She worked diligently until Gretel came back, her hands dirty, mouth still muzzled and looked as though she would drop from exhaustion. The witch shoved her through the bars and with a snap of her fingers, the muzzle was gone.

  Hazel caught her before she could hit the ground and as the candlelight flickered outside the cage, they listened to the witch work, waiting for her to disappear into the back so that they might finally get some rest of their own.

  Gretel lay down by her side, and fell asleep half curled in her lap, and Hazel moved her to the floor when it was clear that she was not going to wake up. Using her coat to pillow Gretel’s head, she watched the witch diligently and waited as the windows grew darker and finally, the witch stumbled back up the stairs.

  Glancing at Edina, she saw the girl too was asleep, curled in her corner, the bone monkey clutched in her hand. She slipped the mortar and crude knife from where she’d hidden them behind her back. In what little light remained, glowing red from the open fire of the oven, she set to work.

  She chiseled away at the bones, making sharp, needle points, and used the knife to carve divots where she needed a clean break before using the mortar as her hammer.

  The smallest pieces of bone weren’t much use to her as they were, but with the water and rendered rabbit fat she’d saved from her meal that day, she managed to grind the fragments up and create a paste that she hoped—when set—would make an effective glue.

  The slender bone pieces she’d carved down to needle fine points, tucked into her hair like the pins her mother had tried to make her wear. Her hope was that they would give her a way to pick the front lock, or maybe just provide her with an opportunity to stab the witch through the jugular when Carcenia decided it was time to eat her.

  By the time her eyes were too weary to keep working, she had a tidy sum of needles stowed in her bun, a newly sharpened knife… and a cup of bone soup that wouldn’t do her any good.

  She tossed it on the floor outside their cage, and reminded herself that failure was simply another step toward success.

  Settling in for the night, she ran a hand over Gretel’s hair.

  “This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.”

  Stirring beneath her hand, Gretel smiled but didn’t open her eyes.

  “No, it wasn’t. When you fall in love with a princess it’s supposed to be happily ever after, not ‘here, play slave to a witch.’ But that’s okay.” She patted Hazel’s knee. “I still love you.”

  “You’d better. You’re the one who got us into this mess.”

  Gretel laughed and snuggled against her. “Get some sleep, I may be the one doing all the running around, but just seeing you locked in here is exhausting. I need both of our hours.”

  Settling on the ground, Hazel stared up at the gnarled and split wood above their head. Beyond the bars the bottom of the stairs seemed to breathe in the dim light of the low candles left burning in the kitchen.

  Their first night had seemed so full of promise, a new era where they’d cast off the shackles. Was it any solace that their imprisonment was together, if more literal than ever?

  Closing her heavy eyes, Hazel drifted off into a dreamless slumber.

  *

  The next morning, the witch dragged Gretel from the cell and fitted her with the clockwork face piece once more, this time she did it as the other two slept. Her muzzle kept her from calling to Hazel for help, and the witch shoved the basket into her hand and pointed to a drawing of a gnarled blue pinecone and then held up a feathery leaf, green but veined with red.

  “It’s an easy day for you, dearie. These are both in the same part of my forest. Leave the house and turn left. Count the paths that lead into the woods. The third one is the one you want today. Walk until you see a tree that’s branches are heavy with mallow fluff and then turn to the path that forks right. It will lead you down a hill and these will be at the bottom. Avoid the stream. Its current is strong and I’d hate to lose such a helpful slave.” She licked her broken lips, and Gretel pulled as far away from her as she could.

  Again, the witch led her to the door and unceremoniously shoved her out into the harsh sunlight of the day. Her eyes took a few moments to adjust and when they did, she swallowed the lump in her throat accompanied by a coil of fear in her stomach.

  The sooner she got this over with, the better.

  Hurrying across the meadow, she plunged into the forest path and walked with purposeful steps until she came across the strangest tree she’d ever seen.

  The boughs sagged under the sticky fluff that formed in cloud-like clumps at their end, and Gretel ducked beneath it, blowing a breath out of her nose when the cloying sweetness tried to slither its way into her senses.

  The path diverged into five, splayed out li
ke a hand, four closer together, one set apart. She took the one that would have been the thumb if the path was a glove. As the witch had said, she soon found herself walking down a slope that turned back on itself as it worked its way down into a dark canyon lit by glowing orbs of fairy light.

  The deeper she went into the canyon, the darker things got. Not just the lack of light, the bright grass from above was now a deep green and the dirt was nearly black beneath her boots. But with that darkness, the forest warmed and she paused at one turn to take off her coat. Hanging it over her arm and taking up the basket, she breathed in the heady perfume of the dense woods around her. The tree bases were wide and when she leaned against one to pull a rock from her shoe, she was surprised to find that it was not metal and that the wood was soft, almost spongy. It left her hand covered in dark red fibers that she wiped on her skirt before she continued on listening to the sound of rushing water grow closer.

  Again, she had to remind herself that the forest’s beauty was a distraction. Swallowing, she pursed her lips and moved on. The faster she worked, the faster she could get back to Hazel, and the sooner they could plan their escape.

  Descending further, she found herself at a small embankment that stretched into darkness in either direction. The stream the witch spoke of cut through the dark earth, its water startlingly blue in contrast to the darkness around her, and Gretel took a moment to take it all in and to glance at the dimly lit grass on the other side. From where she stood it looked like a mirror image of the side she was currently on. The only thing missing was her.

  Trees were few and far between here, but she found the first of her required items by stumbling over it.

  When she picked it up, the pinecone was hard in her hand, its knobby projections coarse like stone. She did not relish the idea of trudging back up the hill with five of them as Carcenia had requested, but she found four more and tucked them in together. The bushes of green vine were harder to find. Long shadows removed red from everything around her.

  She searched through the dense growth at the base of the looming trees, checked the dark patches near the stream. It wasn’t there.

  Without time to waste, she looked around her. She had checked all of the bushes, but none of them held the leaves she was looking for.

  The forest was too dark, and there were only two sources of light. She wasn’t about to risk attempting to gather water she couldn’t be certain actually glowed, but the other option held a risk of burning her fingers.

  It was a chance she had to take. She caught hold of a fairy light.

  It tingled in her palm and warmed her fingertips, but otherwise did not hurt her.

  Again, she checked each of the bushes. Nothing. Frustrated, she started back toward the path. If it wasn’t here, she couldn’t waste her time looking for it.

  Letting go of the light, she wiped the last of the tingling feeling from her hand and sighed in relief as the heat faded.

  The light zoomed around her head and she batted it away. But it circled, staying ever out of her reach. As if it had been waiting for her full attention, it bounced away from her like a child’s ball, stopping over a patch of what she had thought was ivy. It swirled as if in a slow whirlpool over the green leaves… veined in red.

  “How did you—?” she stopped the question and shook her head. Fairy light wouldn’t be able to answer her questions.

  She didn’t hesitate to stoop down and gather up the bunches Carcenia had demanded. The vines were covered in tiny thorns that stung at her hands and she bit back the curse in her mouth as she finished gathering the third bundle and stuck them in amongst the hard pinecones.

  Her hands were red and looked as though they might swell, and despite the witch’s warning, she moved to the stream to dip her palms into the water. The fairy light she’d used bobbled after her like a child’s balloon, though there was no string to connect them.

  The stream was a fast moving current and as she watched it flow past, she started to believe the witch’s warning.

  Zigging back and forth, the fairy light caught her attention and then bounced from her over to a shallow pool that was back fed by the stream. Her hands felt like they were on fire, so she didn’t question the good fortune. Kneeling beside the pool, she sank her hands in and let out a sigh of relief as the pain dissipated.

  Hands cool, she scrubbed off the lingering residue, it was almost waxy as she rubbed it away.

  Twinkling over her shoulder in the reflection, the light dipped down like a child bouncing for joy. She pulled her hands from the pool and gently brushed over the skin to be sure there were no lingering stingers.

  Glancing at the fairy light, she said “Thank you.” It bounced as if nodding back and then wiggled impatiently.

  She decided that personifying fairy magic was a quick way to find herself in deep trouble.

  The light followed her as she climbed back out of the ravine and after the fourth switchback, she stopped looking for it. The air was hard to breathe as she exerted herself and the way up seemed so much longer than the way down.

  Sweating, with achy legs, Gretel paused at the top of the hill and sat down beside one of the towering, spongy red trees. She didn’t want to go back.

  She wanted to start to walk and have Hazel find her—with Edina in tow—and together they would find their way out of the forest and back to Hazel’s homeland.

  It was a futile thought. She couldn’t get the muzzle off her head after trying throughout her chore the previous day, and how would Hazel get past a spelled lock and out the door before Carcenia had a chance to bespell Edina?

  Pressing back to her feet, she swatted at the fairy light when it buzzed around her head. “Stop that,” she said, the muzzle muffling her voice, making it sounded like garbled mush.

  The light immediately drew back, as though inhaling a sharp breath. She stared at it, as it hovered an arm’s length away. Shaking her head, she stood. It wasn’t worth the energy of fighting it.

  For the remainder of her rest, she thought that might be the end of her tag-along. But when she stood, it followed her again. Walking down the path, it followed her like a lost puppy.

  Her name was a whisper on the wind, and she shivered as the low, haunting voice echoed once before disappearing into the silence of the forest around her. Shaking away a wild theory, she ignored the sound even as it seemed to chase her through the wood.

  Her fairy light companion bobbled behind as she rejoined the main path and dipped with her as she ducked beneath the mallow tree.

  But there, she stopped. Her name reverberated around her and she looked everywhere, but there was nothing to explain it.

  The fairy light bumped into her shoulder as if pushing her to hurry on. Her stomach roiled with dread she couldn’t explain, but couldn’t ignore either. As she took a step to heed the little light’s warning, Krell Tisu burst from the trees and grabbed hold of her arm.

  “There you are, I’ve been wandering for days!”

  Tisu’s appearance would support his claim. He still wore the orange shirt he’d had on when he chased them. His eyes were dark with smudged kohl, and there were dozens of cuts on his arms, his face.

  She pulled away, but his grip didn’t loosen, and she couldn’t tell him to let her go. She wanted to scream it. Instead, she kicked him in the shin. He cursed and turned briefly away from her.

  “What was that for? I’m here to save you!” He rubbed his shin with his free hand but his grasp didn’t waver. “I’d think you could show a little gratitude.”

  He looked around as if he had seen her and rushed forward without any notice for the part of the forest she was in. After a moment’s glance, he looked behind her and asked, “Now, where is Hazel so I can take you silly chits home? And what in Lonterra is on your face?”

  She glared at him. He had to know there was no way she could answer with the muzzle still clamped around her mouth.

  He jerked his head around as if a fly was too close to his ear. The fairy li
ght swirled around his head, getting too close to his eyes and forcing him to stumble backward into the mallow. It clung to him and he swatted at the sticky stuff.

  Loosening his grasp, she wrenched her arm away and fled.

  An hour ago, running to the witch’s cottage for help would have seemed ridiculous. Now, if Krell was her other option, she’d count the witch and her cottage as the better opportunity.

  She ran as hard as her legs could bear, heedless of the pain that shot through her already aching muscles.

  The field opened before her and she slid on grass suddenly beneath her feet, but she managed to stay upright—managed not to lose Carcenia’s basket. She didn’t dare glance behind her.

  Shoving past the gate, she raced into the house and through to the hot confines of the kitchen.

  The door slammed behind her and the witch turned on her with a fury unexpected for a woman whose body was so frail.

  “Don’t break my door, girl,” she said, her voice an ugly screech. “What are you panting about?”

  Gretel couldn’t have responded even if she wanted to, and then the door behind her rattled with the pounding of fists.

  She closed her eyes and swallowed a curse they wouldn’t have heard anyway. Krell shouted through the doors.

  A gleeful smile erupted across Carcenia’s face and she snapped her fingers, shooing Gretel back to the cage. She went, bidden by magic that would not let her do otherwise.

  Crossing her arms in front of her, the witch glared at the door a moment before cocking her head to the side and throwing her hand away dismissively. The door flung open and Krell stumbled inside. The stumble stopped short and he suddenly stood upright, rigid.

  “Who are you?” She asked, a smile splitting her cracked lips as she rubbed her dark fingers together.

  “I am Krell Tisu,” he said, his voice metered and mechanical.

  “You are a proud man, aren’t you?” She asked, tapping a claw on his nose. “Proud men are easily felled, like a slender tree by a sure axe.”