Hazel & Gretel (The Clockwork Fairytales Book 2)

by A. B. Keuser

  She cackled and threw her hand toward the cage, “Get inside with the rest of my flock.”

  He did as he was bid and sat with his back to the kitchen, facing the three of them.

  Glancing down at him, the witch licked her lips and ran her clawed fingers through his hair. Blood dribbled down from the dark tresses and Gretel swallowed the desire to whimper.

  “You are going to be delicious.” With a violent shove, she knocked his head forward and then went back to her kitchen.

  Krell sat in the cell, his eyes glazed and drool dribbling from his mouth.

  "That's what she does to the boys." Edina whispered to her from the corner where she huddled. "She keeps them in a magic stupor so they can't try to break their way out or overpower her when the time comes.”

  Gretel shrank away from him, from the cell that held them, and from the witch who wanted to eat both Krell and Hazel.

  SIX

  In the wee hours of the morning, while Edina slept with fitful, shuddering nightmares, Hazel used the bone needle to pick the lock on Gretel’s muzzle. It unclasped with a click and she took it from Gretel’s face with gentle movements. Her skin was stained, and her lips chapped.

  Taking a deep breath, Gretel let out a quiet sigh. “I thought I was going to die with that thing attached to my face.”

  Dropping her head to Hazel’s shoulder again, she wrapped her arms around Hazel’s and scooted closer.

  “I wouldn’t let that happen.” Hazel worked with the muzzle, rearranging the tumbler mechanisms so they would close and hold, but could easily be unclasped.

  There were appearances to maintain if they were going to get out of this place alive. She needed the witch to lower her guard, to see them as powerless against her.

  It wasn’t something she could do in a day. Gretel shivered beside her, and Hazel pulled her closer, rubbing her arms against the chill that settled over them in the early hour. The oven had burned low, and the bars around them would never trap their body heat.

  Placing a finger under Gretel’s chin, she gently pulled her face upward. “We’re going to get out of here.” She brushed her lips over Gretel’s and dropped her forehead to hers. “I dragged you into this forest, I’ll find a way to get us out again.”

  Nodding against her head, Gretel touched her cheek, brushing over her skin with a feather light touch. Hazel caught her lips and pulled her in tighter, as Gretel worked her mouth open and their tongues entwined.

  The memory of their night together in the hide slipped into Hazel’s mind unbidden, and she pulled Gretel onto her lap. There was no chance of a repeat this morning, not on this dirty floor or with a sleeping child beside them, but she could hold Gretel and she could take comfort in the delicious pleasure of her mouth.

  Krell stared at them, emotionless and Hazel looked away from him, biting back the sick feeling that threatened at her throat.

  The familiar limping steps echoed above them and they both looked up. The moment had passed, and Gretel quickly slid off her and pulled the muzzle back on.

  Clattering down the stairs, the witch woke Edina and the three of them watched the witch hobble through the kitchen and back around to them.

  Carcenia pulled Gretel from the cell and sent her on another collection errand before sliding Hazel a heavily laden plate and Edina a bowl of bone broth. When the grate slammed shut, she moved it beside her and offered it to Edina.

  The girl shook her head, throwing her thin hair in a halo of stringy whips around her face. “If I eat from your plate while she’s here, she’ll put me in the box under the oven again. It’s not enough to cook me, but if I move, it burns.”

  She held out her arm and pulled up the sleeve to show the pale scars.

  Teeth clenched, Hazel glared out through the bars and wondered how easy it would be to kill the woman with one of the brittle bone needles she’d hidden in her hair.

  The witch bounced around her kitchen as though she’d somehow reversed her age by a decade or more.

  “She’s always like this… before,” Edina said, cringing and casting a wary glance at Krell.

  Hazel kicked him, her sole connecting with his in a heavy click. But he didn’t respond.

  “Come on Tisu, what happened to the man who challenged three others to box just so that he could say he was the strongest guy in town? Where is he now?”

  He didn’t move but to lazily blink his eyes. “I don’t know.”

  “Whatever’s left of him in there is too far down. She buries them deep.”

  “Why aren’t you like that?”

  Shrugging, Edina looked back to Krell. “She never works magic like this on the girls.”

  Flinching, Hazel looked at her and waited for her to turn before she asked, “There were others before you and your brothers?”

  “Just the one.” Edina said, her eyes suddenly darting to the floor. “Carcenia said the irzahara got her one day while she was foraging, but I don’t know what happened for sure. I’ve never seen any trace of her out in the woods.”

  Glancing back, she saw the witch turn sharply. “Quit talking or I’ll shove the little one in the box.”

  Edina flinched away, and Hazel clenched her jaw, staring over Tisu’s shoulder to where the witch stirred a new, noxious brew.

  Hazel didn’t eat all of her food. She didn’t care what the witch wanted. It was too much for any one person, and if she had to stay cooped up in a cramped cage with two to three other people, she was not going to play the woman’s food games. Especially if they were meant to fatten her up.

  Hazel watched the door, waiting for Gretel’s return. When she was gone, Hazel’s mind came up with all sorts of wild schemes for how the witch or woods could hurt her.

  As the time wore on, she wondered if she should tell her to run the next chance she got. She knew Gretel wouldn’t do it—which is why the request would never leave her lips—and even if she would, Hazel wasn’t sure that resigning her to a life with someone like her mother was better than being a slave to this witch.

  That wasn’t actually a question she had. Her mother wouldn’t kill her. She’d see it as a waste. Gretel was safe—at least from that—at home.

  The witch clambered over to the cell.

  With a cruel smile, she pointed at Hazel. "You have two choices. Let this happen, or fight it and see your lover pay the price."

  Hazel flinched and glanced toward the door through which Gretel had disappeared. Krell didn’t deserve what the witch planned for him, and she was ashamed to admit it, but she held Gretel’s life higher than his. She had no proof of his dealings, but it was difficult to miss the fact that too many people went into his gambling den and didn’t come back out again—no matter what excuses the village made for him.

  She had no doubt the witch could and would do unspeakable things to Gretel.

  When she made no response, the witch's mouth parted in a rotten grin and she said, "Good."

  Tossing two sets of clockwork shackles through the space between the cage bars, she turned to Krell. "Chain him to the wall and his feet with these."

  Krell dropped his head to the side, brows knitting. "But—"

  "Do not question me, just do it."

  Mouth clamped shut; Krell took the cuffs and placed one around her left arm. It closed with the hard whirr of gears, as did each of the other three cuffs as he closed one over the bar above her head, and the final two around her ankles. The confusion never left his face.

  Watching blindly from the bars, the witch's mouth spread in a crooked smile and she opened the cell door, commanding him to leave.

  Edina scooted across the floor as soon as the cell door shut and, trembling at her side, whispered in a voice low enough Hazel wasn’t meant to hear it. "She always eats the boys."

  Outside the cell, the witch positioned him in the kitchen.

  "Strip." The old woman's voice was gravel on glass as she spoke, but Krell did as he was told, his face contorted as though he was fighting her influence.
/>
  Edina buried her face in Hazel's shoulder and she held the girl close so she wouldn't have to see any of it.

  Scowling, the woman traced a claw-like finger over his stomach, tracing first the tiger tattoo that stretched from his right nipple down to his hip, and then dragging it through the crease of his abdominal muscles.

  Without her magic, Krell could have fought her off. With it, he was as much of a puppet as Gretel had first been.

  Throwing Krell’s clothes against the cell's bars, she slashed his chest. Four red lines stretched across his skin, the blood beneath seeped out like tar.

  Licking each fingertip, the witch let out a cruel laugh and pushed him backward. He stumbled, but did not fight her.

  "Lay down." She said, pointing a still blood crusted nail toward a metal plate, she walked to the far side of it and grasped a pair of rusting chains.

  When Krell did what he was told. The witch pulled on the chains, moving him higher, until he was even with the open oven. The coals glowed red beneath a sturdy metal grate charred with the remnants of some other meal, and Krell's face contorted in panic. Still he didn’t move.

  Hazel knew something of magic, and with his life in imminent danger, the fact that he had not flinched away from the flames spoke either to his weakness or her strength.

  The witch finally turned her back. Using her free hand, Hazel plucked one of the bone needles from her hair and worked on the lock of the cuff at her wrist as quickly as she could. It was a fumbling process and she gritted her teeth trying not to rush in her haste.

  The bone clicked and finally, the cuff around her wrist fell away. The locks at her feet were easier, with one hand, and she didn’t bother with the second once she had the first off.

  Stoking the fire, the witch hummed a jaunty tune and moved away from Krell letting him sweat, wide eyed by the fire that would soon cook and kill him.

  Lacing her arms through the spaces between the bars, she started to work on the main lock when the witch turned to Krell. “Any last words, proud boy?”

  His throat bobbled as he blinked up at her. “Please don’t.”

  Hazel worked the lock harder, pushing against the steel. Just a little longer.

  “I didn’t ask for last requests.”

  She pulled a second chain and the outer edge tilted upward, spilling him into the oven. Hazel stared at the open oven in shock until the screams started. Then, she scrambled backward, shoulders slamming against the wall.

  A hissing sound from her right drew her attention and she turned too sharply to find Edina working to get her attention.

  “Your cuffs.” Edina said, nodding at her feet with eyes as wide as saucers.

  Quickly locking herself back up, Hazel plugged her nose against the smell of burning flesh and closed her eyes, trying to remove the image of Krell Tisu burning.

  The only solace she found was in the knowledge that Gretel had not been there to witness it.

  *

  Gretel followed the witch’s instructions to the letter. Swatting at the fairy light that had joined her as soon as she set foot back in the forest, she traced her steps back to the cathedral glen. On her way, the veil called to her again. She paused on the path, holding her breath against the heady smell that lured her, tempting her to just take one more step and then another.

  It would be so easy.

  The ground was soft beneath Gretel’s feet, springy moss and dainty little flowers surrounded her. The meadow was… unsettling. Her fairy light companion seemed to agree. It bobbled in front of her, seemingly herding her away.

  With her muzzle tucked into the basket, Gretel took a deep breath and choked on the cloying sweetness in the air around her. This was one of the places Hazel had warned her about. If the usual veil was as lovely as this, she didn’t question that weary travelers might stop to take their rest here.

  Hurrying back down the path, she let out a shuddering sigh as the air temperature around her dropped back to where it had been. The meadow still loomed, bright and vibrant against the dark of the trees around her.

  “Nothing will ever lure me back in there,” she said, her voice echoing off the too close trees. They swayed in the breeze and creaked as if calling her a liar.

  The cathedral glen was just as magical as she remembered; its tall trees and lazy stream were too peaceful compared to the way her life had changed.

  Lingering, she plucked a posy of flowers and watched the gentle flow of the stream—so different from the rushing torrent of the hollow she’d visited on her previous gathering.

  It was smaller than the slow river that ran through the fields and forests south of her hometown, a place she’d gleefully skipped stones as a girl, where she’d caught fish and threw mud at anyone who tried to make her leave.

  The shrill cawing of ravens in the lowest boughs of the trees brought her out of her reverie. This was not that stream, and throwing mud at her problems wouldn’t solve anything now. She clutched the basket more tightly and hurried through the cathedral glen and on to the path the witch had directed her. She wondered if it was the same one Edina had taken the day they’d met her.

  The clearing was not far from the glen, but the path was rocky and even in the thicker soles of her boots, pebbles and sharp stones made navigating the path a chore.

  When they stepped inside, the fairy light danced happily around the tree’s boughs. Apples hung from the tree, each branch heavy laden with the fruit painted red with streaks of yellow.

  The glade, dark but for what little light filtered through the apple’s boughs and in a great ring around the tree, bushes full of blackberries framed the space like a wreath waiting to be plucked.

  In the dim light, the streams that made their way through the gloom were filled with dancing dust and broken strands of spider silk.

  Catching her breath, she turned back to the tree.

  “If you dawdle, it gives that witch more time to decide she wants to eat Hazel.” The thought sent a shiver up her spine even as she castigated herself for it.

  She pulled six of the most beautiful apples she could find from the tree’s lower branches. High enough nothing else had eaten them yet, but low enough she didn’t have to reach. As she placed each in the bottom of the basket, she wondered if the witch cared what they looked like. The woman wouldn’t know if they were wormy or mealy until she bit into it.

  Stowing the apples in the bottom of the basket and making sure they weren’t going to knock into each other too badly. She pulled the handkerchief she’d stashed from her pocket and set about collecting the required two handfuls of blackberries.

  By the time her handkerchief was full, her fingers were stained and she’d sampled more than a few of the dark purple morsels herself. She tied it closed with a piece of twine and settled it atop the apples. From here, she only had to take a long and meandering path to retrieve her required mushrooms and sage. It was an easier day out than her mother would have sent her on.

  With that disparaging thought, she left the glade and wandered along the path. It was a fairly simple process. She imagined that was good for a witch who’d had to do this on her own for… who knew how long. Blind as she was, she needed simplicity. Mean as she was, she needed to be eaten by… anything that could catch her.

  As if to echo her thoughts something to her left grumbled. She turned too quickly and nearly dropped the basket. The fairy light hung beside her, motionless. What she saw in the odd pocket within the trees made her blood run cold.

  The beast was enormous. As tall as a house, its geared hind legs clicked as the creature pivoted in front of the tree it was tearing to shreds. Winding around its legs, its tail split into three whip like ends. Each twitching at different times. She couldn’t see the front of it—wasn’t even sure she wanted to—but she had a feeling the creature’s face would be as hideous as the view its behind had to offer.

  A lark cried in the distance, the fairy light darted forward, plinking against the beast’s metal hindquarters and Gre
tel gasped as she turned toward the noise. The sound of her own voice echoed in her ears long after it had died, and she stood frozen, certain that she’d drawn the creature’s attention.

  With shuddering breaths, she turned back. She’d never understood the idea behind having one’s heart in one’s throat before now. It was certainly lodged up there. She wondered if anyone had ever choked on it.

  The beast stared at her. Vacuous black eyes, unblinking… unearthly. Twisted around on itself, it was somehow more menacing. Huge claws extended from its front feet like scythes and its arms, powered by magic and mechanics, swung back toward her. They were nowhere near her, but those claws left a gash in the metallic base of a nearby tree and Gretel took a step back.

  It turned away from her and for a moment she let herself be relieved. The moment she exhaled, it swung back around, its mouth a gaping maw of fiery heat, a screeching roar emanated from its furnace-like jaws.

  Frozen in place, she stared at it, and its name slipped from her mouth. “irzahara.” That was what Hazel said Edina called it.

  It shrank away from her, head twisting at an angle she’d always associated with confused cats. Metal nostrils sniffed the air beneath their clockwork armor plating, and it took yet another step toward her, hesitating as though it didn’t know whether to eat her or leave her be.

  She wasn’t about to give it the opportunity to choose the former.

  Gretel ignored every lesson she’d been taught about the predatory creatures of the forest and ran. Her feet pounded against the hard dirt of the path and she felt as though her lungs would burst.

  She ran and ran and when she spared a glance over her shoulder… she tripped.

  Tumbling face first into the soil ahead of her, she lost hold of her basket and wound up facing the direction she’d been fleeing. Lungs still burning, she shot to her feet and blinked at the empty path behind her. It had not pursued her.

  Listening, she waited for the tell-tale sign that that was wrong. It must be following after her. It wasn’t.

  Leaning over to catch her breath, she thanked the spirits that it hadn’t thought her worth the trouble, and looked after her basket. It lay on its side next to the path, the bundle of blackberries and one apple remained inside.