The Sisters Grimm: Book Eight: The Inside Story (2 page)

“I wonder when Dorothy will show up,” Daphne continued, still grinning.

“Try to focus,” Sabrina insisted. “The reason we’re in this story is to find Mirror and save our baby brother from whatever wicked plan Mirror has cooking in his stupid bald head. We don’t have time for some idiot from Kansas.”

Daphne frowned. “OK, so what’s the plan?”

Sabrina sat down on one of the creaky beds and stared at the empty wall. “I don’t know.”

“I’m sorry,” Daphne said, “but did the great Sabrina Grimm just say she didn’t know what to do?”

Sabrina understood her sister was teasing, but she couldn’t bring herself to smile. The few options they had felt murky and confusing. Should they chase Mirror in hopes of rescuing the baby, or stay put and hope the rest of their family would show up to help? She and Daphne knew next to nothing about the Book of Everafter. How did it work? What were the rules of the Book? Could they be injured—or worse, killed? The Grimm sisters had a hard enough time staying alive in the real world. Could they survive in a magic book? And then there were the others to consider: Pinocchio, who had betrayed them, and Puck. Both had stepped into the Book alongside them, but where were they now? Dead? Injured? Lost? Should she and her sister wait for them to show up, or start searching for them, too? There were too many questions and too much still unknown to answer them. What if Sabrina made the wrong choice?

Two years ago, Sabrina and Daphne had a simple, happy life on the Upper East Side of Manhattan, in New York City, when their parents disappeared. Overnight, Sabrina was enrolled in a crash course on taking care of her little sister, being tough, and thinking on her feet in order to survive the foster care system. The sisters were bounced from one cruel and crazy family to the next, finally landing in the home of an eccentric old woman who turned out to be the grandmother they never knew they had.

Granny Relda, as they called her, lived in a tiny town on the Hudson River called Ferryport Landing. There was no point looking it up on a map, as it wasn’t on most—and for good reason. Most of the town’s inhabitants were the real-life people so many fairy tales were based upon. Witches ran the local diner. Ogres delivered the mail. The Queen of Hearts was the town’s mayor. With a population so strange and magical, it was best if everyone kept a low profile.

Granny Relda filled the girls in on their equally fascinating family history. She was a detective, a fairy-tale detective to be exact, just like all the Grimms before her. Their ancestors, the Brothers Grimm, had been detectives too, investigating the strange and magical cases they encountered. If the world thought their book was a collection of bedtime stories, it was probably for the best, because the truth would keep everyone up at night.

The girls had lived with Granny Relda for almost a year, and in that time she trained them to take over the family business. It was dangerous work. The girls learned that sometimes the good guys were villains and sometimes the bad guys were their greatest allies. Sabrina never really let her guard down and continued to call the shots for her sister and herself. Inevitably, she butted heads with her grandmother and nearly everyone else they met. When her mother and father were returned to her, she saw it as an opportunity to go back to being a normal kid. She should have known better. As Grimms, they could never be sure what danger might appear around the next corner.

“Well, we can’t sit here all day, I guess. We should go outside and see if Mirror and Sammy are in this story,” Daphne said.

“Sammy?” Sabrina asked.

“We can’t call the baby ‘what’s-his-name,’” Daphne said. “You don’t like the name Sammy?”

Sabrina shrugged. “Whatever. The real problem is that this could be dangerous, Daphne. Some of the stories in this book aren’t exactly kid friendly. A lot of them are pretty . . . well, twisted. What if we step through one of these doors and walk into Bluebeard’s house or onto the plank on Long John Silver’s boat?”

“We’ll kick butt and take names like we always do,” the little girl said, stepping into the karate stance she had learned in a self-defense class.

Sabrina wished she could muster the same confidence. “I’m just saying we need to be careful. One look around and you can see that something is off. The colors are weird. Everything is too bright and cheery, and there are too many things with the same color. There are flowers in the square the same color blue as the houses. The Munchkins outside look strange too. Like the details aren’t all there.”

“So the colors are off. I don’t think we have anything to fear from the color blue,” Daphne said.

“What I’m saying is this book has its own rules. Like the dress you’re wearing: You didn’t have that on when we stepped into the Book.”

Daphne looked down at the yellow dress she wore, and then back to her sister. “So the Book changed my clothes. Big deal.”

“If it can do that, what else can it do?”

“It didn’t change you at all.”

Sabrina was still wearing her jeans, sneakers, and sweater. She had no explanation.

Daphne continued. “Unfortunately, big sister, the only way to learn the rules is to get started.” She pointed out the window to a sea of Munchkins that had circled the house.

Sabrina groaned. “Fine! But stay close. And just so you know, I have no problem serving up a plate of knuckle sandwiches to these weirdoes if they get in the way—whether they’re real or not!”

Daphne opened the door and a crowd of Munchkins gaped in wonder, letting out a collective “
Oooohhhhhhhh!
” The lumpy old woman in white hobbled forward. She cleared her throat and bowed as low as her old bones would allow. “You are welcome, most noble Sorceress, to the land of the Munchkins. We are so grateful to you for having killed the Wicked Witch of the East, and for setting our people free from bondage.”

“No problem,” Sabrina said, rolling her eyes at Daphne. “So, we’re looking for a man carrying a small boy. Has anyone seen them?”

The Munchkins seemed startled by her response, as if they were waiting for a different reply.

“Wait a minute! We killed who?” Daphne shouted as she pushed through the crowd. Sabrina followed, and the girls rounded the side of the little farmhouse. Sticking out from beneath the house was a pair of legs wearing bright silver shoes.

“Call 911!” Daphne cried as she knelt beside the feet.

“There is nothing to be done,” the squat woman in white said in an irritating singsong voice. “She was the Wicked Witch of the East. She held all the Munchkins in bondage for many years, making them slave for her night and day. Now they are all set free and are grateful for the favor.”

Daphne ignored her and shouted at the feet. “Don’t worry, lady! We’ll get you out of there.”

One of the tiny men stepped forward. “That’s not the line.”

Sabrina and Daphne eyed one another, confused. “Huh?”

The woman in white looked around her and then leaned in close and whispered in a voice no louder than a mouse. “That’s not what you say. You’re supposed to ask me if I’m a Munchkin. That’s what happens next.”

Sabrina scowled and clenched her fists. “What is she talking about? Every person from this nutty place is—”

Daphne turned to the little woman. “OK, we’ll say what you want us to say. Are you a Munchkin?”

The woman sighed in great relief and smoothed some wrinkles out of her dress. “No, but I am their friend. When they saw the Wicked Witch of the East was dead, the Munchkins sent a swift messenger to me, and I came at once. I am the Witch of the North.”

“I thought Glinda was the Witch of the North,” Sabrina said.

Daphne shook her head. “That’s the movie. Glinda’s the Witch of the South. Haven’t you read this story?”

“I skimmed it.”

Another of the little men chimed in. “No, you’re supposed to say ‘Oh gracious! Are you a real witch?’”

Sabrina fumed and stomped her foot. “Just let me punch one of them out. It will be a lesson for the others.”

“Silence your animal, Dorothy!” another Munchkin demanded. “This is not what happened.”

“Dorothy?” Sabrina said.

“My name’s not—wait! They think I’m Dorothy,” Daphne said as a happy smile spread across her face. “The Book must have turned us into characters.”

“Then who am I?” Sabrina said as she studied her clothing.

Daphne snickered. “Probably Toto.”

Sabrina started to smile, but it quickly turned to a frown. She reached under her shirt and found a small leather collar fastened around her neck. A silver tag engraved with the name “Toto” was attached. She pulled it off and angrily threw it to the ground. “Of course!
I
have to be the dog.”

Daphne laughed so hard she snorted.

“Yes, it’s hilarious,” Sabrina steamed. “Don’t be surprised if I bite your leg.”

Daphne got herself under control. “Well, this is interesting. If the Book is turning us into the characters, maybe that’s everyone’s problem. We’re supposed to follow the story. Am I right?”

The crowd eyed them quietly as if afraid to answer. Finally, one of the little old men nodded subtly and whispered, “Please, we beg you. Just say the line.”

Sabrina threw up her hands in frustration and turned to her sister. “I feel like I’m trapped in a second-grade play. They’re going to have to spoon-feed us every line of dialogue unless you’ve got this story memorized from beginning to end.”

Daphne ignored her and recited the line the Munchkin had given to her. “‘Oh gracious! Are you a real witch?’”

“Yes indeed,” the woman in white said. “But I am a good witch, and the people love me. I am not as powerful as the Wicked Witch was who ruled here, or I should have set the people free myself.”

Sabrina groaned. “Enough! We’re not here to be part of your story. We’re looking for a man who is traveling with a toddler—a little boy. Have you seen them or not?”

The Munchkins leaped back in fright.

“He’s short and balding and wearing a black suit,” Daphne added.

A rosy-cheeked man in the back of the crowd made his way to the front. “I have seen him.”

The rest of the Munchkins broke into excited complaints, begging their friend to be quiet and not change the story. He spat on the ground and refused. “It’s best to just get them out of here as soon as possible,” he said. “They’re just like the last fellow. He wouldn’t follow the story either.”

“Mirror was here? Are you sure?”

“Didn’t ask his name, young lady, but there was a man this way not long ago,” the Munchkin said. “He took off down the Yellow Brick Road in search of the magic door.”

“Magic door?”

“It pops up at the end of the story. Never seen it myself, but I’ve heard rumors it can take you out of this story and into the next.”

Sabrina turned to her sister. “Then we have to stop him. If he gets to the door, who knows where he’ll end up next.”

“How do we find this door?” Daphne said.

The nervous crowd looked at one another. After several moments of talking amongst themselves, the woman in white stepped close.

“You have to clean those ears of yours. The man said it pops up at the end of the story. The best way to find it is to just do everything that happened the first time, like it was when the real Dorothy did it. Go down the Yellow Brick Road, find your companions, enter the Emerald City, and meet the great and terrible Wizard of Oz. He’ll send you to kill the Wicked Witch of the West. Once that’s done, the door should appear.”

“That will take forever,” Sabrina complained.

“Isn’t there another way?” Daphne asked the Witch.

The old woman shook her head violently. “I’ve said too much already. I’ll anger the Editor.”

“The Editor?” Daphne asked.

Everyone shushed her at once. “Don’t say his name! You’ll call attention to us!”

Sabrina rolled her eyes. “C’mon. We’re wasting time with these nutcases. Let’s go.”

Daphne nodded. “Well, nice to meet you all. Sorry to kill that witch and just run off, but we’re really in a hurry.”

With that, the girls turned and headed toward the square and the winding Yellow Brick Road beyond. But it wasn’t long before they were stopped in their tracks by angry shouts.

When they spun around, the girls found a stout Munchkin with a red face and a long beard, which he repeatedly tripped over as he rushed in their direction. When he finally reached them, he bent over to catch his breath and handed Daphne the silver slippers that were previously on the Witch’s feet.

“You forgot these,” he gasped. “They’re a big part of this story, you know.”

“Thanks,” Daphne said sheepishly.

“Oh, and do yourself a favor—stay inside the margins,” he said.

“The margins?”

“Yes, you know, stay in the story. Don’t wander around in parts that weren’t written down.”

“Why?” Sabrina said.

“Because . . . it’s dangerous!” the little man shouted. “Do you need an explanation for everything? Stay inside the story and you’ll be safe.”

Before Daphne could thank him for his advice, he turned and stomped back to the village, muttering insults.

“He’s so pleasant,” Sabrina said.

“C’mon, Toto,” Daphne said with a wink. “We’ve got a bad guy to catch and a little brother to rescue. Be a good dog and I’ll scratch your belly later.”

“Keep it up and I swear I’ll dig a hole and bury you in it,” Sabrina grumbled.

Daphne grinned. “Bad dog. I might have to swat you with a rolled-up newspaper.”