Snow White Sorrow (36 page)

“Why cover her eyes?” Lucy asked.

“The eyes are windows to the soul,” Loki shouted, spitting snow. “In this case, they are windows to the Dreamworld. Covering them prevents evil from crossing over from the Dreamworld to our world.”

“So what’s the Incubator?” Fable said, looking at Axel, praying he had found the right word.

“I hope you didn’t mess it up, Axel,” Loki said. “Or I will enter the dream, oblivious of where it will take me.”

“Don’t worry, Loki, I got it,” Axel said proudly. “I got it; a word and a number. It will help you enter Snow White’s dream, and you’ll enter it right where she wants to show you what happened to her.”

“So what is it?” Fable yelled impatiently.

“The word is ‘Jawigi’,” Axel yelled as lightning screeched in the sky. “It’s the word that is written on the library’s floor.”

“Does it have a meaning?” Loki asked.

“It’s the key to the Dreamworld,” Axel said. “It turns out the Brothers Grimm created this Dreamworld, Jawigi, for some reason.”

“What?” Fable said. “I don’t understand. What does Jawigi have to do with the Brothers Grimm’s names?”

“The ‘j’ and ‘a’ are from Jacob’s first name, Axel explained. “The ‘w’ and ‘i’ are from Wilhelm, his brother. The ‘g’ and ‘i’ are from their family name Grimm. It’s a code, something like an anagram.”

“So who are the Brothers Grimm again?” Lucy asked. Everyone stared incredulously at her.

“They wrote the Snow White fairy tale,” Axel said.

“And what’s the number?” Loki asked, the wind ruffling his hair.

“What do you think?” Axel said. “1812, the year the tale was written, about two hundred years ago.”

Loki connected the Ariadne Fleece to a mirror, watching its surface rippling. This time the rippling was accompanied with a purple shimmering light. Loki wrapped the other side of the fleece around his wrist. Undeterred, he could still hear the castle’s anger behind him. Then he lay next to Snow White, and whispered the word
Jawigi
in her ear, repeating it three times. He watched her head move slightly as if nodding while staked and asleep.

“Wow, this is like magic,” Lucy said.

“This
is
magic!” Fable said. She stood tangent to the circle, preparing to throw a good amount of Magic Dust into Loki’s face. “Take care of yourself, Loki. You’re a great Dreamhunter. From this moment on, there is no turning back.”

“Don’t forget to say the prayer,” Axel reminded him as Fable blew Magic Dust from the palm of her hand into his eyes.

“Yeah,” Loki said. “I will recite it silently,” he gripped his Alicorn, and quietly hoped it would be useful this time if he needed it.

“Hey,” Axel and Fable shouted in one breath, staring at Loki as he was becoming more and more drowsy. “Come back,” Axel said. “This world you hate so much isn’t that bad, you know,” added Fable.

Loki took a deep, cold breath, and said the prayer:

Now I lay me down to sleep.

If I die before I wake.

Forbid all evil

My soul to take

He couldn’t bring himself to say, ‘forbid Snow White my soul to take’ this time. He knew there was something evil waiting for him in the Dreamworld, but he wasn’t sure it was her.

Loki sank into Snow White’s Dreamory; into her memory of how she became a vampire, and what had really happened to her. Little did he know that it would change his, and the lives of the people in Sorrow, forever. The Boy Who Was Only Shadow was about to open the Dreamworld and expose the secrets of fairy tales.

21

Loki opened his eyes in Snow White’s dream. He knew that his body in the waking world looked as if he were in a coma right now, and that if anything went wrong in the Dreamworld, he might never wake up again.

Loki lay on his back. Although there was no headache like in the last dream, he blinked a few times to clear his blurry vision. He also preferred not to stand up until he figured out the place and made sure it was safe. Wherever he was, the place was full of hot steam, and it seemed to be the reason for his unclear vision.

The smell of some aromatic soap filled the air. At first, he thought he smelled ripe apples, then he also smelled flowers, followed by dozens of other alluring smells, including chocolate, milk, and…

…it was hard to recognize that last smell, although it stood out the most, but it seemed oddly out of place.

One thing was obvious; he was in a bathhouse, lying on his back in a bathtub.

When the steam thinned, Loki was able to see the drawings on the ceiling. They were like nothing he’d expected, depicting horrifying scenes of a bathhouse—probably the same one he was in. Painted in an ancient European fashion, they illustrated young beautiful girls being dragged by servants to a huge bathtub where a beautiful woman laid bathing. She had inescapably attractive features, posing like a Queen, even in the bathtub. Everyone around her bowed their heads out of respect—or intimidation. She wore a thin, golden crown, braided into the golden locks of her wavy hair. She was bathing in what looked like a mixture of milk and dark chocolate syrup. Loki wondered why a queen would enter a bathtub with her crown on. Was she insecure about losing it?

But that wasn’t the horrific part. It was the drawings of the young girls lying slaughtered like lambs all around the woman with the crown. Each one had been bitten on her neck. Their blood filled the curvy grooves in the bathhouse’s floor, feeding the bathtub where the Queen bathed.

Loki rocked back on his feet, gripping his Alicorn, inspecting his surroundings. Most of the steam had cleared, and it was obvious he was in the same bathhouse depicted in the painting, now vacant with no traces of blood. Still, Loki could smell it in the air. Now he understood that it was the last smell he’d thought was out of place.

This close, the curvy grooves in the floor looked like an Octopus’s arms stretching from the sides of the curvy, and peculiarly big, bathtub. Loki jumped out of it and inspected the place further.

The bathhouse was built of crème-colored fancy bricks. The walls were carved with absolutely amazing scenes of battles like the ones he’d seen on the castle’s walls. Blue and gold were the most dominant colors, and almost everything around him incorporated curves in one way or another. It was as if the place had been sculpted carefully by the hands of the likes of Michael Angelo.

A seven year old version of Snow White appeared out of the hazy steam in front of him. She was holding onto her white dress with her small hands, swaying her body slightly back and forth. Her hair was long and black, flowing down her shoulders, and pulled back in a red ribbon. Her eyes were as blue as the clear summer sky, her lips were cherry red, and her skin was blindingly pale.

“So this isn’t really a dream?” Loki said. “Is this a memory of you being young again?”

“Bit of both,” Snow White replied.

“Please don’t tell me the Baby Tears didn’t work.” he said, gripping his Alicorn harder.

“Don’t bother using your Alicorn,” she said. “It’s useless as long as you can’t
see
, Loki.”

“See what?”

“Believe and then you will
see
,” she said.

“I’m pretty dumb with riddles,” Loki said. “Can you clarify? You aren’t still controlled by the Schloss, or?”

There was a sudden rumbling outside the bathhouse, sounds of women’s laughter and approaching footsteps. Snow White looked worriedly at the bathhouse’s closed door.

“Come with me,” she urged him, stretching out her small arm, and pulling his hand. “I can’t risk her seeing you although it’s unlikely.”

“Who’s
she
?” Loki said as Snow White dragged him, her bare feet smacking against the marble floor. She ushered him through a small-sized trap door then let go of his hand. Whoever was coming to the bathhouse scared the heck out of her. Loki crouched and followed her through the door.

He recognized the castle once more. It was no surprise they were in the Schloss again, now thronging with servants and residents. It looked like a gloriously different castle with no hints of being haunted or evil. The sunlight burst through every pearly window and lit the majestic entity.

Snow White pulled Loki’s hand again. “Come on,” she whispered. “I can’t keep saving your life, even in my dreams.”

Loki gave in and followed her as if he was a seven year old being escorted by his mother.

“Why are there so many people in the castle?” he asked, glimpsing part of the landscape outside. It was unbelievably enchanting, still covered in snow with the exception of the sun living side by side with the snowflakes falling down from the clear blue sky. The castle was on top of a hill, overlooking a vast garden, protected by swan-shaped gates preceded by calashes and carriages.

“It’s the King of Sorrow’s castle,” Snow White said. “It’s usually crowded with visitors in the day. Just wait until nighttime, and you’ll see the other side of it.”

“I don’t have time for nighttime,” Loki said, following her into a dark room.

“I know,” she lit a gas lamp, and closed a door behind her. They were in a built-in closet. “That’s why you have to get used to the time shifting. It will happen fast and frequently.”

“What time shifting?”

“You’ll see,” she was about to walk out when she turned back and pulled him down to her by his shirt. Loki bent over and she stamped a kiss on his cheek. “Open your heart, Loki, and cross the oceans in your mind,” she whispered, turned off the lamp, and strode out the door, repeating the words again. “Only when you open your heart, will you understand everything.”

Loki was stranded in the dark of the closet, feeling like a fool. A little later, he opened the door again to call for her, but suddenly it was dark and silent in the hallways. It was evening.

“So that’s what she meant by time shifting,” he told himself. He thought the time shifting closet was cool, and he wished the bathroom’s door in his school would’ve served the same purpose. He’d go in, close it, open it, and school was over. Or better, the school would be gone. “That would’ve been the coolest built-in time machine ever. Someone should invent such a door,” Loki whispered to emptiness.

This time he wasn’t worried about talking to himself. Listening to his voice in a dream felt like good company, and helped him ease his fears.

After he’d stepped out of the closet, he thought that maybe he should have picked up some clothes from the closet. It wouldn’t be classy to meet the King and Queen of Sorrow in jeans and a tee shirt. Babushka wouldn’t have approved of it.

‘No manners whatsoever. Didn’t you learn any etiquette, Loki?
’ he imagined her saying.

Loki hid behind a suit of armor then knocked on its head to make sure it wasn’t occupied by an ancient huntsman. He peeked into a majestic dining room from under its metal arms, and saw Snow White having dinner alone on a ridiculously long liver-shaped table.

There were two servants standing respectfully near the window, waiting for the princess to snap her finger so they could bestow her with whatever she wished. One of them was Tabula, the giant woman from the first dream. She was a tanned woman in a black and white dress with notable white-silver hair. The other servant was a gray-haired old butler. Loki had never seen the man before.

The dining table was filled with food that Axel could’ve stuffed himself with for life. An enormous roasted turkey, so many colorful and different kinds of rice, salad, soup, and all kinds of meat shimmered on the candle lit table. Loki felt hungry—hunger in a dream was a bit nightmarish.

In the candle light, Snow White looked sad; eating alone felt lonelier than being hungry alone.

“Such cruel people,” whispered Tabula to the butler. “Why don’t they ever eat with their child?”

“Shut your mouth, woman.” the butler hissed, keeping his pretentious pose and chin up. “We’re not allowed to talk about this.”

“Such a strange king and a queen to abandon their child at meal times,” Tabula mumbled.

Snow White didn’t hear them, playing with her fork and nudging an impenetrable olive on her plate.

“Not yummy enough, eh,” Loki commented. “Not like Prince Charming.”

“My dear princess!” a broad voice called happily for Snow White from outside the room.

Heavy boots thumped on the floor before the man with the voice entered the room. He was wearing an expensive warrior outfit, had shoulder-length black hair, a notable double chin, and a strong jaw. It was Snow White’s father, a very masculine king. The man’s presence was unavoidable, shining with heroism.

“Where were you in the Brother Grimm’s fairy tales,” Loki mumbled. “No stepmother could have hurt the child in your presence.”

Snow White jumped out of her chair and ran to her father, covering him with hugs and kisses. The resemblance between father and child was uncanny. She’d inherited that strong, silky, black hair from him. Even his lips were unusually red, filled with life. All but her pale skin; the king was tanned, almost burned by the sun, which made Loki wonder where he had been.

Snow White’s father lifted her up with his strong hands. She wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders and leaned against the armor he was wearing on his chest.

“I missed you, father,” Snow White said, brushing her cheek against his scruffy beard. Loki felt a tear arguing its way out of his eyes. He didn’t know if it was because he was missing his father whom he had never met, but he knew that he’d like to remember a moment like that with him.

“I only came back for you my little cherry snowflake,” the king squeezed his daughter harder.

Snow White giggled. “Are you going to eat with me?” she asked.

The king’s face knotted as he helped her down. “You know the castle’s etiquettes,” he said, kneeling down for her. The butler and Tabula seemed taken by the scene of such a powerful man on his knees. “The king and the queen have to eat together without their lovely daughter in order to discuss important matters regarding the kingdom.”

“You said I would be able to eat with you when I turn sixteen. I want to be sixteen now. Do something about it,” she demanded.