The Grimm Chronicles, Vol.1 (34 page)

Chapter 10

I followed the glowing golden trail to the elevators, and my worst fears were confirmed. The elevator where the trail—Flick’s trail—stopped was sitting on the top floor. I pushed the “up” button.

There was no other way now. I only hoped Seth and Briar were all right. I would never forgive myself if I let Seth die here.

Or Briar.

The far elevator doors opened. I hurried inside and pushed the button for the top floor. The elevator zoomed upward, pushing my weight into my feet. I touched the wound on my shoulder. It stung something fierce, but at least it had stopped bleeding. The worst part was the shoulder of my dress was torn right in two and hanging in tatters.

“This night could have gone better,” I said to my reflection in the glossy metal elevator doors. The reflection looked more than a little worn down. And unfamiliar. My hair was all frizzy, puffed out on top and matted to my sweaty forehead as well. It looked like a style from the 80’s.

The doors opened. There was a glowing trail on the floor. I followed it, taking in the entire hallway in the process. Briar had been right: everything looked incredibly expensive. The carpeting was plush and dark. Gold trim lined each of the three office doors. Each door was made of a dark wood with even darker knots.

Extravagant wealth, accumulated over decades and decades. But it wasn’t enough, was it? No matter how much they had, they wanted more. That was why they’d put those hidden advertisements in their game: they wanted more money, as much of it as they possibly could.

Just to
have
it.

I walked up to the middle door, where the glowing golden trail stopped. My hand touched the handle. From inside came a crash. I turned the handle and burst into the room.

Sam Grayle and his sickly brother were standing beside the desk on the far end of the room. Seth and Briar stood with their backs pressed against the large bookcase. In front of them was Flick, his pickaxe held out in front of him, his face red. A handful of books were lying at Flick’s feet. I didn’t fully understand why until Briar grabbed another book from the bookshelf and hurled it at the dwarf, hitting him in the face and turning his face even redder.

They all turned to look at me.

“Finally!” said Sam. “Now, Flick, you may kill her friend.”

“Which one?” Flick growled.

“Either one,” Sam said. “Just kill them already and be done with it.”

“Sorry, chap,” Briar said to Seth. “I really thought throwing books at these fellows was wearing them down.”

Seth shook his head. “It was my fault, giant rabbit creature. I should have taken the stairs. It was such a stupid horror-movie move.”

Flick raised his axe. I lunged forward, sliding feet-first on the hard carpeting. I felt the rough fibers burn the skin of my bare leg and winced, lifting the saber as Flick brought his pickaxe down. Our blades clanged together. I twisted my body and stabbed at the dwarf with the fountain pen. Its tip pierced the dwarf’s shoulder.

“Oof,” Flick said, falling back. He dropped the pickaxe, staring at the burning blackness that began to slowly to spread across his body. “Never seen a hero slide before …”

I lowered my sword. Flick lurched forward, and his eyes landed on my chest. Before I could stop him, he reached out, quickly snatching the vial necklace, snapping it from my neck.

I lifted my sword, cutting his arm. He paid no attention as the blackness spread.

“I’ve seen this,” Flick said, holding out the vial. The burning had turned his arms black, spreading like little tree roots across his chest. “I know what this is.”

“Careful, brother …” said Sam.

Flick ignored him. “This potion can save me!” He uncapped it, took a sip, and then stepped back.

The burning blackness stopped, then began a full retreat. Flick laughed. “You see? You see?” He held out the vial. “You can’t stop me, puny girl! You can’t stop me!”

“Oh man,” Seth said. “That was weird on so many levels.”

The lights overhead flickered. Flick’s laughing stopped. An ice-cold breeze seemed to slip into the room. I felt a chill run down my spine. For the first time, Sam Grayle looked concerned.

“Look away, boy!” Briar ordered, grabbing Seth and turning him toward the bookshelf.

The lights continued flickering. Both Sam and the sickly Gilbert had taken a few steps away from Flick. Flick looked around.

“What is it? What’s happening?”

My mind reeled. What was happening? I tried to think back to that night at the beach, when I’d snuck into the drainage sewer and found myself face-to-face with a strange Corrupted man with horns. He’d had a message for me. A warning. What had he said when he’d given me the vial? It seemed like so long ago already. He’d given me a warning, both about using the vial and avoiding a certain Corrupted named …

Death.

“What’s happening?” Flick demanded. The cold breeze blew papers off Sam’s desk. Goosebumps popped up on my arms. I stepped back, more concerned with protecting Seth and Briar than dealing with Flick.

There was no reason to deal with Flick now.

A shadow slipped in through the office door, moving along the far wall before popping out like a drawing springing to life from a page of paper.

“Look!” Gilbert cried out. “What is that?”

The shadow grew, then slowly changed its form. First came the tattered brown cloak, then the hood pulled tightly over a terrifying rotted skull whose eye sockets stared down at the hapless Flick. Two bony hands slipped out from the sleeves of the cloak. A long scythe materialized, clutched by bony fingers.

An icy fear ran through my body. Here he was. Death. The most horrible of the Grimm brothers’ creations.

Flick backed away, screaming. He tried to run, but it was too late; Death held the blade of his scythe against Flick’s body and very slowly pulled him screaming into the pitch blackness underneath his cloak.

And just like that, they were both gone. The lights stopped flickering. A horrible cough escaped Gilbert’s mouth.

“That,” Sam muttered, “is why I so very much hate my creators.”

“What just happened?” Seth asked, peering over Briar’s shoulder. “Where did the angry guy go?”

“He’s gone,” I said in a low voice, staring at the place where Death had been just moments ago. He’d towered over even me, his heavy hood weighing down his bare skull. Flick had drunk a drop of liquid from the vial, and Death had come and taken him … somewhere.

Briar tapped Seth on the shoulder. “You may let go of me now, I believe. The hero will take care of things.”

“Oh. Right.” Seth let go of Briar. He looked at me. “Wait.
Hero
?”

“Yes, she’s the hero,” Sam said with a sigh. “She’s the one chosen to rid the world of the Corrupted, yadda yadda yadda, Brothers Grimm this and Brothers Grimm that. It’s all very droll.” He stepped forward, facing me. “I’ll have you know that it was never my intention for things to get so out of hand, Alice. Flick … he was a loving brother, but he had a mind of his own.”

“And anger issues,” added the sickly dwarf named Gilbert. He coughed a fierce fit, sending blobs of phlegm all over the expensive carpeting.

“And anger issues,” Sam said. “And I apologize for my brother Gilbert as well. For you see, he is quite a sickly creature. Always has been.” Sam laughed, loosening his glossy silk tie. “The diseases he’s spread over the years … my oh my. Why, I do believe he was the first to introduce the Black Death to most of the western hemisphere. Once, when he had a particularly bad case of pox …”

I stepped forward and stabbed Gilbert in the stomach. He lurched, coughed, and burned away.

“Woah. Woah!” Sam said, stepping back. “All right. Maybe he deserved that.”

“You deserve it, too,” I said, holding out my saber. “You’re just like them.”

“… Although not quite so murderous, I think.” Sam smiled. “The Corruption affects us all in different ways. You’ve seen that. For poor Hans the Hedgehog, his transformation from hedgehog to prince lasted only a few short years before he mutated again. For Flick and Gilbert, their most dominant emotions began to take over. Flick’s anger drove him to become a murderous monster. Gilbert’s fear of sickness turned him into a walking disease bag.”

“And what about you?” I asked.

Sam shrugged. “I was always the first into the mines in the story of Snow White, and after our story played out, I stayed in those mines. I loved mining for gold. It was a passion. It was the first thing I remember. The very first thing.” He ran a finger along his desk, taking a deep breath. “No doubt for you, the first thing you remember was something from your childhood. I never had a childhood. I was never born. I simply existed one day because those blasted Brothers Grimm decided to dabble in very dark magic.”

“A sob story no doubt meant to lower your defenses,” Briar said to me. “He is a monster like the others.”

“Greed gets the best of me, sometimes,” Sam admitted. He puffed out his chest. “But I’m not quite so evil yet. I’m a crude, calculating businessman to be sure … but a murderer? I think not. Not yet, at least.”

“You told your brother to kill my friends,” I said.

Sam plucked something from the sleeve of his suit coat. “A cold calculation. I knew you would save them. I knew you would kill my brother.”

“Why?” I asked.

“Because I’m better off without him,” Sam said simply. “Although I will so dearly miss Gilbert. He was a sweet little disease bag. He couldn’t control his sickness, the poor fool.”

“He
has
to die,” Briar said. “All of the Corrupted
must
die. They are
all
evil, Alice.”

Sam’s head snapped to Briar. His eyes narrowed.

“Maybe we shouldn’t kill anyone,” Seth offered. “I mean, like, maybe we should just go home and get some sleep and see how things look in the morning.”

Sam ignored him, turning back to me. His eyes moved to the tip of my saber for just a moment. “Alice, you must understand that you have no choice in this matter. Has your idiotic rabbit helper told you about dear, sweet Grace?”

“Only that she was a good hero,” I said.

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Is that all?”

“Oh dear,” Briar said, tapping his paws together.

“Grace had a family once,” Sam said. “Oh yes, she did. She was a tenacious hero, always bravely throwing herself into the heat of battle as if she had nothing to lose. She found soon enough that she had
everything
to lose, Alice.”

“She had a family,” I whispered. My thoughts went to my parents. I felt a cold chill run down my spine.

“She threatened my life,” Sam said. “She went after my brothers, killing one of them. So I killed her aunt and uncle. I told her if she ever came after me, I would kill her baby.”

“Her child …” the words slipped out of my mouth.

Sam’s eyes seemed to glow. “Grace learned fear. Fear for her baby.”

“Then you
are
a murderer,” I said.

Sam shook his head. “I was merely acting in self-defense. Surely
that
is not murder, right?”

I turned to Briar. His ears were down, pulled back. “I’m so sorry, Alice. I … you were already so upset about everything else. I was afraid you would be angry with me.”

I put a hand on his shoulder. “You should have told me, friend.”

He lowered his head. “I’m so sorry. Friend.”

“This is incredible,” Seth said. “I mean, absolutely incredible. I have to be dreaming this.”

“I fear not, dear boy.” Sam took a deep breath, glancing at the tip of my saber again. “But luckily, this story has a happy ending. I continue running my business, maintaining a low profile, and Alice continues on her merry way, slaying much more dangerous Corrupted until the day she finally makes a mistake and dies.”

“Dies?” Seth asked. “That … that …”

“I can’t let you live,” I said. My mouth was dry. I couldn’t stop thinking about my parents. My grandparents. My stupid cousins who lived in Minnesota and were obsessed with pop music.

“Then your family will die,” Sam said simply. “The moment I disappear, the order is sent out. I’m sorry, but like I told you before: I’m a cold, calculating businessman. I didn’t get this far with just my looks.”

The saber shook in my hand. I didn’t know what to do. Up until this point, it had always been kill-kill-kill. And now here was a Corrupted who’d managed to get the upper hand. And now I couldn’t bring myself to kill him.

“I’ll sweeten the pot,” Sam said. “I can see you’re a shrewd businesswoman and I respect that. I am, perhaps, not giving enough ground. What, exactly, do you want?”

“I want you to save Fran’s house,” I blurted out.

He cocked his head.

“I mean … you can’t foreclose on any houses anymore. None.”

“But that’s what my bank does when someone can’t pay their bills,” Sam insisted.

“No. Not anymore. You’re going to help them out and figure out a way for them to stay in their homes.”