Blood, Milk & Chocolate - Part 1 (The Grimm Diaries Book 3) (24 page)

47

The Queen's
Diary

The fourth
and fifth days were the worst. Other than the fact that we were almost
starving, Angel and I lived on opposite sides of the raft.

All he
could think about, all he wanted and
desired,
was
feeding on my blood.

Angel
recited some protecting hymns he had learned from Amalie Hassenpflug, a set of
prayers to tone down the beast inside him. They didn't last long, although they
helped me relax for a few hours during the day. Then he tried his luck swimming
away while the sirens pretended to sleep, only to realize it was an ambush. They
awakened and sang while he was in the water. One time, his body stiffened so
hard I thought he was going to sink and die. I reached out to help him back on
the raft. Once he embarked it, I pulled away to the farthest edge.

This was
how we lived inside the whale. We were lovers. We were enemies. We were
enchanted. We were unenchanted. We shared a love, but it was forbidden. We
shared a raft, but like estranged lovers on separate beds.
We
were surrounded by mermaids
.
No, really by vicious
sirens.
We listened to music, but the kind that wasn't good for the
soul. We were young, but felt so old. Basically, we lived a fairy tale, so dark
and unfair.

"Come
with us, Carmilla," Sirenia said. "We won't hurt you. We will make
you queen."

"You
could rule the world," another siren offered from behind.

"You
could hold the moon in one hand, the sun in the other," a third tempted
me. "You could be life."

"You
could be Death," a fourth wailed.

"You
can live forever," a fifth said.

"You
could have anything you want," a sixth said.

"You
can feel
joy
!" the seventh uttered.

I didn't
say anything. I curled in a fetal position by the edge of the raft, caught
between my fear of water and Angel's sorrow. I could see him from the corner of
my eye, punching
himself
. He had pulled a large fish's
spine from the sea, and hit himself with its sharpened sides constantly. It was
insane. I think he did it to put the beast inside him to sleep, to stop himself
from biting the prophecy girl and ending all hope for good defeating evil in this
world.

I closed
my eyes, shivering to a cold breeze.

"Why
are you doing this?" Sirenia began. "There is no good and evil in
this world. There is no such thing. It's only sides you take, decisions you
make. And you apparently don't need to be on
this
side." The damn
siren snickered, pointing at the raft. She began playing the tune again.

"Stop
it!" Angel screamed from the other side.

"What
is this music?" I asked, hoping I could pull any helpful information from
the siren. "Why can't I remember it?"

"So
you never have immunity to it," Sirenia said, finally answering one of the
mysteries. "If you can remember its tune, you will be able to re-sing it,
maybe change it a little so it doesn't have the same effect on you. If you
listen to it too long, you'll grow bored with it. How can it affect you and
Angel then?"

"Also,"
another siren offered, "so you can never play it on us and hurt us!"

"Shhh!"
Sirenia turned back and slashed the siren across her beautiful face. She seemed
to have spilled a secret Sirenia didn't want me to know. If only I knew how to
play this tune, I could get rid of the sirens. But why weren't they hurt by it
when singing it? I assumed the tune never hurt the singer, only the listener.

Sirenia
turned back to me, faking that motherly face, as if she cared for me. "If
you let Angel bite you, all of this will end. Both of you will be vampires and
this tune will never hurt you, because vampires can memorize it."

"I'm
not going to let him bite me!" I screamed. A feeble scream, actually.
A hollow whistle, weakened by hunger, stress, and hopelessness.

Angel
ached.

"Don't
provoke him." Sirenia giggled. "Anyway"—she waved her
hands at her sides with her palms upward—"that's why the nameless
witch is a better solution. She will give you all you want."

"If
you so want me to go meet your witch, why don't you just come and get me?"
I roared this time, with all the breath left in my lungs.

"They
can't," Angel said, standing up, barely steady. He was trying to avoid my
gaze. My sight must have provoked his thirst. He looked like an older Angel,
millions of years older. His hair was actually graying. "They lose their
powers out of the sea. Getting them upon this raft kills them." He had his
fists clenched. "If only I had the strength to pull them up."

Although
Angel was in his darkest hour, the sirens paddled back a little. I wished I
could pull them nearer.
But how?

"Well,
he is right." Sirenia acted indifferent, checking her fingernails. "That's
why we have you trapped on the raft. You can't pull us up, but neither can you
survive on the raft before hurting each other."

***

On the
sixth day, I lay on my back. I couldn't feel my hands, and my mouth was dry. I
had drunk from the whale's salty water, but it didn't help. If Angel attacked
me, there was nothing I could do. I couldn't even see clearly.

Where was
he? Was he that curled-up bump at the side of the raft?

"I
believe in you, Angel," I said slowly, each syllable feeling like a load
on my shoulder.

He didn't
reply, but I could hear his faint whimpering. Punishing himself must have tired
him, which was good. He shouldn't have the strength to even cross over to bite
me.

"Tell
me more about the song," I panted, testing if the sirens were still there,
as everything seemed blurry before my eyes.

"It
was created long ago," Sirenia said, as if telling me a bedtime story. "Once
upon a time, a Man with a Flute was deceived by men who claimed they knew the
word of God."

"The
Piper," I said.

"So
you know the story of how all of this began," she said. "The Piper
made this music to serve all his needs. We only know a little of it, and few
people can play it on the Singing Bones, for there are even fewer Singing Bones
scattered across the world."

"Like
the one with Captain Ahab?"

"Yes,
like that one," Sirenia said. "Don't ask me how he found it. Ahab is
a fool. He wants to find the Tower of Tales."

"No,"
I protested. "He said he wants to find a whale. He said he had no interest
in the Tower of Tales."

Sirenia
laughed, mocking my naivety. "Everyone wants to find the Tower of Tales
because everyone wants to find the Promised Land, where man can live forever
and in peace without being hunted by his past. Isn't that why you want to meet
Lady Shallot?"

"I'm
sure Captain Ahab told me he was looking for a whale."

"What
do you care, Majesty?" Sirenia said. "Soon you will need to make a
decision. Soon, My Queen."

"Stop
calling me your queen."

"But
you are," Sirenia said. "We can't change Fate."

Her
mentioning Fate surged an idea into my mind. Could it be that this was my only
solution?

"Six
days, Majesty," Siren whispered, nearing my ear. "You have made it on
this raft for six days." With all her evil, her voice was musical. "The
longest I saw was seven. No one ever made it after seven days."

"Why?
What happens after seven days?"

Sirenia
didn't answer me. She sighed. I tilted my head to look at her. She was holding
something in her hands. What was that? Bones? Human bones? "That's what
happened to them, Majesty." She smiled, nudging the bones. "The
whale, whose name is Moby Dick, releases a flood of water into his insides to
clean out waste every seven days. No one can survive this flood—unless
you're a mermaid, of course." She giggled. "And no matter how these
bones can sing after you die, you won't be here to enjoy the music."

48

Fable's
Dreamworld

Fable was
still staring at the dark man hovering over Shew's body. He was wearing a black
cloak. He seemed to have no eyes. No soul.

Fable
shivered on all fours. She had failed her friends, Loki and Shew—and
Cerené, actually. But she sensed something dreadful was about to happen. Was
this the feeling she'd had since she had awoken in the Waking World today?

"You
dumb little miserable girl!" a woman growled from behind her.

Fable
winced, caught between two evils. She preferred it nearer the woman, though.
The man in the dark cloak was beyond terrifying.

"What
have you done?" the creature behind her continued. It surely had the voice
of a woman, but looked like some… What was Fable looking at? A deformed, short,
but broad, figure of what looked like a woman. She had an ugly face and crooked
nose, long and bending, with two oversized and hairy holes. And she had chicken
feet showing from underneath her cloak.

Fable
gasped and took an involuntary step back again. Where was she supposed to go?

Running
away crossed her mind, but she wouldn't give up at the last minute. She could
breathe, couldn't she? Then she had to fight until the end. She wondered if she
knew of a magic spell to fight this creature. But none came to mind. Would the
spider web sew this woman's mouth shut? What good was a heart-splitting spell
now?

"What
in the Piper's name have you done?" The creature/woman trotted toward Shew's
unconscious body. Fable avoided her as she
passed,
noticing the man in black had disappeared.

"What
have you done?" the woman repeated, holding Shew in her arms, wailing like
a mother who had lost her child. How could such a beast care for Shew? Why was she
asking Fable this question? It wasn't rhetorical. She really demanded an
answer.

"I—"
Fable hesitated. "I used a spell."

"A
spell?" The woman's ugly face grew uglier, almost goblin-like. "What
spell?"

Fable
cleared her throat. Who was this woman? Did she really care for Shew? "A
spell." Fable shook her shoulders. How could she explain that she didn't
know where she'd learned this spell? "One that split Shew's heart among
us."

"Us?"

"Um—uh—the
Lost Seven." Was she supposed to say this? "Alice!" She raised
her head at the curving tress above. "Charmwill!" she yelled. "Someone
help me!"

"You
did what, you filthy little witch?" The woman was showing her dark side
finally. She seemed to care for Shew, but she wasn't one of the goodhearted.
Boy, she smelled so bad, of rotten chicken and… blood.

"Do
you even know what language this spell is?" The woman talked as if she
knew Fable from long ago. Then she dropped Shew to the floor and pounded her
two hands over her head, like a mourning woman at a grave. "My sweet Queen
of Sorrow, forgive me for the stupidity of this little girl," she called
out.

Queen
of Sorrow?

Fable
stood, perplexed. Why was this woman so concerned? Why did she care about the
spell?

"Look
at how pale the Princess is," the ugly woman continued.

Fable
noticed Shew was even paler than usual. As a half-vampire she must have always
been pale, like she was in the Waking World. But now her paleness was bluish
and her skin seemed to be aging unreasonably. Had Fable messed with the spell?
Was this what the woman was telling her?

"How
long has it been since you spelled the incantation?" the woman asked.

Fable
refused to answer. This woman looked like she wanted to hurt Shew.

"Your
friend is going to die if you don't tell me," the woman growled.

"About
ten minutes ago." Fable gave in, as she had begun to worry. With all their
differences, they both seemed to care for Shew's safety now.

"Then
there is still hope," the woman said.

"Hope
for what?" Fable said
,
glimpsing that Cerené was
still unconscious.

"You
messed up the spell. It's one of the hardest to remember and tell. It's written
in an ancient Anguish Language, so nothing of what you said was exactly what
you think it was. Words will sound like other words, and you wouldn't know, you
filthy witch."

"But
I can feel the weight of her heart in my chest." Fable touched her own
chest. It was true. She'd almost had no power over the spell in the cave, but
she really did feel that her heart was heavier. She didn't know how to explain
it, but it was true. It reminded her of Shew insisting that she felt Loki's
love in her heart when they were in the Waking World. It seemed laughable, and
didn't make sense, but now Fable understood.

"That
may be true, although I'm not sure," the woman said. She pulled out a
huge, glinting knife, and pointed it at Fable. "But you never asked
yourself how Princess Snow White would live after the transformation? If she
gave each of you part of her heart, what heart would she live with until she
gets her parts back?"

Fable's
jaw dropped at her own naivety. It made sense from a logical point of view. But
what was supposed to be logical about a dream?

"Are
you saying she has no heart inside her now?" Fable almost slapped herself
for asking. Of course she didn't. "But—" She was speechless,
her eyes watery.
Did I kill the Princess of Sorrow? Instead of saving her
and Loki, I killed her?

"You
shouldn't have learned this spell, ever!"

"I
don't remember how I know it." Fable's tears forced her to hiccup
continuously. She was a failure. There was no doubt about it. She didn't
deserve to be a Lost Seven.

"Don't
lie to me," the woman shouted. She was
slow-moving
,
but theatrical and overly dramatic. Her shouting scared the birds in the forest
away. "You know me. I don't like it when you lie to me!"

"What?"
Fable snapped, unable to take it anymore. "I don't know you. Who are you?"

"We
don't have time to play games, Fable." She began pulling Shew to a certain
spot in the forest. "We need to find the Princess of Sorrow a heart right
now, or she will die."

We do?
Fable
thought. So there was still a chance she could fix this? But wait… "Who
are you?" She stamped her feet and growled at the ugly woman.

"Are
you saying you don't remember me?" The woman looked like she grimaced, but
her features made it hard to tell. "What happened to you? I'm Baba Yaga."