A Grimm Legacy (Grimm Tales) (10 page)

Mr. Jackson blinked at her slowly, unable to help. The disturbed crone's insane laughter wandered from the woods. She was getting closer.

"Mr. Jackson!" Andi felt like screaming.

She backed up, taking a deep breath. "Obviously you can't talk. One blink for yes, two for no?"

His eyes blinked once.

“Will you help me?” Andi whispered.

One blink.

"Is there a way to stop her?" Andi stared intently at his face for her answer.

One blink.

"How?" Andi wanted to scream.

Mr. Jackson’s green eyes held hers and slowly slid to her hip. She looked down at her side and then back into his eyes. He repeated the move. The only thing on her hip was...

"My bag? There’s something in there that will help?" Andi asked.

One blink.

She opened it, hoping the contents magically changed since she put them in there. Shoes and a book. How could these possibly help?

"There’s nothing in here but my grandmother's shoes and a book of fairy tales!" She shook the bag at him as if he were responsible for its disappointing contents.

One blink.

"The shoes?" Andi asked.

Two blinks.

"The book?" She tried.

One blink.

Andi was out of time.

Eulie droned on at the edge of the trees, "You can keep your friend company. As a canary perhaps?"

Andi flicked up the hood of her cloak and stood very still as the hag emerged from the trees. In the light of day, she was a nightmare. Her skin was an unhealthy gray and so folded with wrinkles they seemed to sag under their own weight. Deep blue veins clutched at the back of her hands, her knuckles swollen and protruding like cancerous growths. Her eyes continued to glow with a peculiar brightness as she swept her predatory eyes across Andi.

She shuffled on in large, filthy slippers, the black bird that was Quinn still clutched in her hand. The lunatic came within a foot of Andi and she forced herself to relax and breathe slowly.

The unbalanced crone passed her: five yards, then ten. She continued across the road and into the trees opposite her, humming tunelessly to herself. Andi edged the other way, up the road in the direction of lights, where she imagined a city. She ran until she was sure she was no longer being followed, ducked back into the trees and scurried into the brush. Taking off the hood so she could see, she dug the book o
ut of her bag and stared at it.

What was she supposed to do with this? Did it have magical properties? Characters that would come to life and do her bidding? She flipped to the table of contents and skimmed the page.

Wait.

Something wiggled loose in her brain and demanded notice. She went back over the story titles, slower this time. Like most people, her grasp of Grimm's Fairy Tales was indistinct. She knew the more popular stories, like Cinderella and Sleeping Beauty, but couldn't recall how the original tales ended, only that they were more gruesome than the Disney versions.

She paused near the top of the page. Jorinda and Jorindel. The story title flicked a piece of a memory, something shoved to the back of her brain she couldn't reach. She flipped to the right page.

Confusion surfaced as she read, then doubt. As she finished the story—it was short, it hadn't taken her long—the logical part of her brain was at war with the facts of exactly what she was immersed in. She gently pounded her head against her drawn up knees and squeezed her eyes shut, w
anting to be anywhere but here.

It was like trying to shove a key into a lock she knew belonged, but couldn't get to fit. Then someone spun the key around and, as it slid into the keyhole, it was hard to believe she hadn't se
en the right way to begin with.

She indulged in her self-pity a minute more, thinking of the fearful astonishment on her mother’s face seconds before Andi’s kitchen faded and she tumbled into a strange forest.

She was tired not having answers to why she was here and why people were planning to use her as a puppet. If Mr. Jackson was to be believed, getting home relied on making contact with her distant family. She hated feeling responsible for anyone.

At least now she knew what to do. She pulled up her hood, secured her bag at her hip, and walked into the woods.

"We were just discussing how many times I've been a bird."

Andi found the way without too much trouble. The path was little more than a clearing of undergrowth vaguely in line with the evergreen trees on either side. There was supposed to be a farm of some sort ahead, and if the book was right, someone
who knew how to handle the hag.

No, the fairy, she corrected herself.

After running as long as her body would allow, Andi slowed to a walk, regretting her choice of heeled boots last night.

The journey would have been pleasant in less stressful circumstances. The day was warm and bright as it ever got in the forest with the light slanting down through the trunks. The farther she got from the castle, the more wildlife she could hear, and occasionally even see. The birds were back, although they were not saying anything in particular to her, and she would catch a squirrel leaping overhead from time to time.

Carefully wrapped up in her bag, the book thumped in false innocence against her leg as she loped along. The story of Jorinda and Jorindel told of a young couple that stumbled on a fairy's castle. The fairy, which could transform into animals by day, had a bad habit of turning maidens into birds and immobilizing young men.

It was too much to be coincidence, if coincidences existed here. Andi did—and didn’t—want this all to be true. But she needed it to be. She was pinning her hopes on a shepherd and a purple flower.

Andi slowed, balling up her fist and pressing at a stitch in her side, trying to ignore her raw throat. The trees fanned apart as she struggled up a small rise. An indignant bleat made her smile despite her sweaty scalp.

A rough rail fence portioned off a piece of meadow, carpets of green and yellow dandelions sprinkled throughout and sheep dotting the landscape. Beyond the pasture, a small stone house squatted, releasing thin streams of smoke from the chimney. Not seeing a gate, Andi stepped on the lowest rung and grabbed the top rail to swing herself over. A firecracker-like charge shot through her hand and rocketed down to her toes. She spilled on to her
back, hands and heart tingling.

This was not turning into a good day. Again.

Brushing grass off her cloak, she guardedly approached the fence again. Despite its rustic appearance, a thin metal wire ran along the bottom with enough electricity to act as a strong deterrent. She avoided the bottom rung this time as she gathered her skirt and leapt on the middle rail, cursing her heeled boot for the second time today as she struggled to find purchase on the slick logs.

Dropping down on the other side, she found a smelly, fluffy, welcoming committee. The sheep saw her coming and, assuming she had food, crowded the fence. They butted their mournful black faces against her hips and complained of their empty bellies as she tried to wade through them.

Packed together, there were a lot more sheep than she initially thought and the sea of demanding cotton was endless as she tried to shove them aside with her knees. She considered retreating and going around when an engine turning over caught her attention. A four-wheeler came around the side of the house and headed in her direction. She caught more distinguishing features of the rider as he approached: young, male, and a shock of blond hair. He slowed as he approached her, parting the sheep like Moses at the Red Sea.

Shouting to be heard over the objecting sheep, Andi asked, "Are you Jorindel?"

The man shook his head cupping his ear. He extended a hand to Andi and pulled her from the hungry mob. Andi settled behind him on the wide seat, looking at her clothes in dismay. Green sheep slobber slimed her cloak, dress, hands, and boots. Or was it sheep snot?  She looked for somewhere to wipe her hands and ended up balling them at her sides.

They pulled into the driveway. The young man cut the engine and faced her. "Now, who might you be? And what
were you doing in my pasture?"

Andi climbed down from the four-wheeler, eyeing him. He would have been handsome with his light hair and sky blue eyes, but an unfortunate goggly look about his face and a weak rounded chin ruined the effect. Andi repeated her earlier question, "Are you Jorindel?"

His transparent eyebrows disappeared under his unruly curly hair as he regarded her with some surprise. "I am.”

"I’m Andi. I need your help." The words tumbled out like a rush of water. She had already left the others too long.

"My help?” Jorindel climbed down from the four-wheeler. “Unless you want some sheep looked after, I don't know if I'll do you any good."

"The fairy has my..." What were the others to her? Companions? Fellow displaced humans? Friends? “The group I was traveling with," she finished lamely.

"That old bag of bones?" He shook his head. "Eulie’s a constant troublemaker.” He turned the knob of the door. "You'd better come in, the missus will want to meet you."

Clambering after him, Andi called, flustered, "I have to get back, the boys are frozen. She turned Quinn into a bird..."
                           

Jorindel waved a dismissive hand. "They'll keep, she's not really harmful—the repulsive creature—just a nuisance."

Andi thought back to the bone deep fear from earlier and disagreed with the statement, but grudgingly trailed him into the house.

The tiny stone house was neat and far more old-fashioned than Mr. Jackson's mansion, but Quinn spotted an espresso maker on the counter and an enormous stainless steel refrigerator took up nearly half of the kitchen. A young red headed woman stood barefoot at the stove, flipping pancakes.

Without turning she called, "Did you find what was bothering the sheep?" She slid the last hot cake on a plate and turned, spatula still at the ready. "I see you did."

Jorindel might not have been a head turner, but his wife was stunning. Long sunset-colored hair framed delicate porcelain skin and features. A lithe figure, tall and graceful, she approached Andi and eyed her disheveled appearance.

"That ancient hag grabbed her friends," he said, bouncing his head in the general direction of the castle.

"You're Jorinda, right?" Andi asked.

Jorindel's wife turned to him with a questioning look.

"Don't look at me," he shrugged. "She knew my name too."

"How would you be knowing that?" Jorinda crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at Andi.

Andi mentally kicked herself for her mistake. She was hesitant to mention the book, but what could she tell them?

"The birds, in the forest." She gestured vaguely out the kitchen window. "They said you’d be able to help." She darted her gaze between the two, waiting for their reaction. She hoped this was a plausible explanation in this strange place.

Jorinda sighed and made and exasperated gesture with her hands. "Busybodies." Using her spatula to give orders, she pointed. "It's good they sent you here. Wash. Sit." She tilted her chin to a well-scrubbed table under the kitchen window and Andi moved to obey. "Del, do we still
have a flower from last time?"

Her husband no
dded, "In the cellar, I think."

"Could you fetch it? Thanks." Without waiting for his reply she dropped the plate of pancakes and a jug of syrup on the table. "You might as well eat while you're here. What were you doing in the woods?"

The steam drifting up from the flapjacks made Andi's stomach tighten in hunger. How long had it been since she was fed last night? It seemed like days instead of hours. "We were in an accident. Our car flipped at the edge of the woods, just a few yards from her castle." Andi took a tiny bite. Blueberry. Not what she expected.

Jorinda snorted, a strangely delicate sound. "That wretched fairy is a major irritant."

"What did you mean," Andi tried to word her question carefully, "when you said a ‘flower from last time?’"

"Oh, we try to keep them as long as they last. It's less footwork for Del when I get taken. They keep better in the cellar where it's cooler." She set a glass of milk next to Andi's plate and took the chair across from her.

"And this flower..." Andi played ignorant trying to make up for her earlier mistake. "It'll help my friends?"

"I forget sometimes it's not common knowledge." Jorinda settled back in her chair, her eyes unfocused on the distant sheep. "This flower is enchanted. It allows you to approach the castle without freezing and disenchant the women who have been turned into birds." She grinned at Andi, "Of course I never get to do that part. I’m always the bird."

Andi’s heart sunk. If she needed any more confirmation, Jorinda's words were like a slap in the face. It was the fairy tale, verbatim. Wait a second, always the bird?

"How many times have you been changed?" Andi asked.

Jorinda let out a deep chuckle that built to the point where she wiped the tears from her eyes. Andi stared at her, bemused as Jorindel clomped back into the room.