Once Upon a Time: The Villains (10 page)

Oh, those early years. I learned so much. I barely noticed that the house had fallen into disrepair. I hardly noticed when people began to whisper about me, to spit on the ground in hopes of warding off the evil eye whenever they had to pass nearby.

Years slipped by. I had found my passion in the dark room beneath the pantry. It consumed me, so it was with shock I happened upon my reflection. I didn’t recognize myself.

I screamed and held up my hands to block out the face. “Who are you?” I cried.

The echo spoke and the answer grew within my head.

The old woman staring from the mirror was me.

I lowered my hands, cringing at the sight of sallow skin and deep wrinkles. “I’m old.” A tear ran down my withered cheek. I had grown so much older than the fresh-faced girl I remembered. I saw my mother staring back at me. “No, no.”

When had this happened? How?

I grew resentful and afraid. I had not kept my beauty as long as Evie had kept hers. I could not bear to look at that face. I smashed the mirror and ground up the shards. I had spent my youth on knowledge and now I was far and well past the age of marriage. I was a spinster. Just like Evie.

Unlike Evie, no one came to my door. Even after I perfected the potions to cure the villagers’ ills, they stayed away. I had become like a spider, something too disgusting to look at — better squashed than to live. Never mind that I had what they all wanted. They would rather suffer through their pains than come to me.

I cursed them. “Be forever the sick and lowly that you are,” I shouted. I would show them how wonderful I was. All I needed to find was a potion to restore my youth, then they would come to me. I redoubled my efforts, searching and hoping I would find that special secret in one of Evie’s books. “Just one little spell. Just one little thing to show them all. Something to keep me young, to reverse the ravages of time.” It didn’t bother me that Evie had never found such a spell. She obviously hadn’t looked deep enough. She never did have the patience to find new recipes.

I stayed hermitted in the cellar, only going out to restock supplies when absolutely necessary. Where Evie had been a soft shoulder to cry on, I had become a thorny warning. I had no special word for those I had once known, and I dissuaded anyone from conversation with an impatient glare. I hated them all for rejecting me, and I could no longer hide my contempt. I was on a mission of knowledge. The more I gained, the more I desired and the more confident I grew. Surely my goal was near at hand. I did my business and returned to my cellar.

Years passed. I grew evermore solitary, though I didn’t notice. I found the spell Evie had used to bring me sleep, the sweet mead she’d given me every night. “So that is when she brewed her potions. While I was deep in sleep.” Clever, wicked Evie.

Oh yes. I learned much. My books became my friends. The spells my special loves. And then, my wandering fingers picked up a book, and a piece of crumpled, yellow paper fluttered out.

“What is this you’ve given me?” I retrieved it from the floor and carefully flattened it. As I read, I grew more excited. The ingredients clearly marked what the spell was designed to achieve. I had done it. I had found what Evie hadn’t. Eternal youth.

“I will live forever.” It was every person’s dream.

I studied the spell. Like many, this one was written in the old tongue. Some words I didn’t recognize, but it would only take a little more digging to unearth their meaning. The words were faint. The paper’s edges burnt. It looked as if someone tried to destroy it, but it had survived despite the attack. In the margins, I recognized Evie’s handwriting:

The sacrifice is too great.

I laughed. “No sacrifice is too great if the outcome is desirable.”

Further down the she had scrawled,

Not permanent.

Lasts only a few years.

If you hesitate, the consequences are severe.

Not worth the risk.

It will surely damn your soul.

“At least I’ll be warm,” I quipped, and paused at the familiarity of the words. But curiosity piqued within me.

I had to know this spell. I had to use it, for I feared growing old more than anything.

Although I had studied the language of the ancients, this spell had words I’d never seen. I delved into books that had grown brittle with disuse and age. What I thought would take only days took months. Reading in the dark had dimmed my eyesight, but finally, I was on the verge of learning the spell. Only one word evaded my grasp. Only one ingredient escaped my comprehension.

Pushed deep within the shelves sat a book that smelled of earth and mold. Dark stains covered the outside. I would have never touched it if I hadn’t become so desperate. My fingers eagerly slipped between the rotting pages. When I actually saw the word and its meaning, I wasn’t sure I had read it correctly. Curse my failing sight! I strained harder, brought the candle’s flame perilously close before the letters slowly came into focus.

“Plump infant flesh?”

I instantly sought out the spell, even though I knew it by heart. I had to be sure. I read it and murmured disbelievingly to the dank air around me, “The meat of a child will recapture youth.”

A memory so vivid flashed within my mind. Evie. Korb. A desired spell.

Evie had traded this spell to Korb for me. He hadn’t wanted eternal youth for himself. He had wanted his rat-catching children to stay small. Didn’t Evie say he’d been hanged for killing a child? Evie had given him the spell, thinking he would not find the answers, but he had. What a shock that must have been to Evie.

“He did not plan well, but I will.”

My limbs had grown so weak and stiff, I could not hope to steal a child. But I had something every child loved. “Oh, yes. I have a way of tempting the little ones.”

I collected the ingredients of the spell and put them aside, and then I started the beginnings of my lure.

Chocolate, nutmeg, sugar and cream. Tangy, sour, sweet and salty. I baked and baked and created confection after confection. But the smells of my treats brought no one near. The mothers held onto their little darlings’ hands and the children who happened to be alone shuddered whenever they passed. Though I would tempt them, “Come. I’ll feed you treats. I promise your mummy won’t miss you.”

They ran away crying, scared by the hungry look in my eyes.

Clearly I could not lure the little darlings away so easily.

“I must be cleverer still.”

I turned a critical eye on my house. What I could make out startled me. It had fallen into such a state of ruin, it scared even me. Raw wood peeked from behind dingy whitewash. Ivy clung to the walls and slid within the upper windows. The lace curtains hung in tatters and billowed eerily in the wind. No wonder no one came near. I had to create something so tantalizing, a child couldn’t resist. I would build a sweet tasting house deep in the forest where only naughty children would go; runaways, disobedient ones, those looking for adventure or avoiding work.

Yes. A naughty child would be prime for the taking. Everyone misses an angel; no one misses an imp. Again, I baked and baked and created my confections in the shape of a house. I placed an enchantment on the little structure so that no element of nature and no forest creature would destroy what I had built. Gleefully, I moved in.

All I had to do now was wait.

Who would have thought there were so many obedient children in my corner of the world? Not one child wandered near my door. Disappointed, I pouted for days, sulking and crying and wondering if all the parents actually loved their children. “Impossible! They use them only for labor.” Just as my parents had used me. Just as Evie had.

I would have to think of a way to lure them here. If I set a famine on the land, would not the parents be less vigilant? It was perfect. A famine. I worked all day and night, and when I was through, I had created a spell from my worst nightmares. A plague of rodents. Mice would eat everything and what the mice didn’t eat, the locust would, and then, when there was nothing left to eat, the children would wander from their homes and… “They will come to me!”

A cackle of pure delight sounded from my throat.

I went to bed dreaming of fat, succulent little children.

It was only in the morning I realized famines take time. So very long. Years in fact. And then, when I’d almost lost hope within the security of my enchanted part of the forest, the residents of the village began to feel the tightening grip of the famine. Soon they grew desperate.

One morning, I awoke and went outside as was my custom. While I puttered about, I thought I glimpsed mold on my house. “Impossible!” I muttered. I had specifically enchanted the house so that no element of nature could ruin what I had created. I drew closer, and to my horror, I saw someone had nibbled a hole in my wall. I looked up and squinted hard. Had a gumdrop gone missing from the eaves? I took a quick tour, and when I came to the front door, I saw the lemon drop handle had been peeled off! I looked down. Two sets of small footprints circled my house. Children had stolen bits of my house and left crumbs in my garden.

“Oh, those horrid little thieves!” I cried. Under the dark of night they had stolen my sweets without me even knowing. I had missed my chance on the first sign of nibbling. How did I not hear?

As I cleaned up the mess, and repaired my house, I muttered, “I shall enjoy boiling you in a pot. Oh, yes. Bubble, bubble, boil and bleat. I’ll make the little thieves my special treat.”

That evening I stayed awake, but no one came back. I passed the next few nights reading and creating other delectable sweets. I had a burst of creativity I can only account for by my wish to see justice done. No one would cheat me out of my chance to be the envy of the land. No one eats and runs in my neck of the woods. If I wasn’t careful, they’d eat me out of house and home.

Again, I fell asleep and again, in the morning, I arose and saw a mass of destruction, another missed opportunity staring me in the face. Everywhere holes, bite marks and even a licorice chew a child had eaten and spit out in disgust.

“That is rude,” I cried in a terrible fit. “I did not slave days on end for my sweets to be rejected.” The heat of real anger rumbled against these careless and ungrateful children.

I wouldn’t stand for it. I vowed not to sleep until I captured the responsible party. That night, as I waited by my door, I heard a SNAP! and the sound of nibbling.

In a sweet old lady’s voice I called, “Tip, tap. Tip, tap. Who is rapping at my door?”

“Nothing but the wind,” a pair of children called.

The wind? Did they think me senile? I opened the door and peeked outside. “Oh my, but it is a pair of lovely children. Come in, come in. No harm will befall you here,” I urged kindly, though I would have rather grabbed them and thrown them in the pot.

The children, a boy and a girl, eyed me suspiciously, but I acted just as I had seen Evie act with those who came to her in times of trouble. The children responded and soon I had them sitting at my table, wolfing down a carrot cake with vanilla frosting.

“What brings you two to my house?”

The little girl put down her fork and sniffled. “Our step mother. She said we have no more food and Hansel and I must leave and find our own way in the world.” With that pronouncement, she burst into tears.

The boy covered her hand. “Don’t cry Grethel. Look how we’ve gotten along so far. And this nice old woman has been ever so kind.”

Grethel sniffed and turned huge brown eyes on me. Oh, they were precious eyes. So sweet and endearing. What woman could throw this child away? I bit my lip. “Dear, oh dear.” I hadn’t expected to feel pity.

No, no.
I told myself.
Think of all you’ve worked toward. I shan’t feel pity, I shan’t.
I modeled my face after grandmotherly concern. I placed the sweet mead drink in front of each and encouraged them to drink up. When the sleeping draught was gone, I smiled. “Now, eat your fill and then to bed. Tomorrow is a new day. You’ll see. Everything will be different then.”

Oh yes. Very different.

The innocent little dears toddled off to the beds I made and fell fast asleep. I did not follow. I stayed awake and fashioned a place to keep my guests. I had never thought to have two drop in my lap. It was a good omen. A giggle escaped. I had a spare in case the spell turned bad. “Oh fortune indeed has smiled on me.”

Near the break of dawn, I woke up Hansel and forced him into the cage. Blurry-eyed he obeyed, but when I closed and locked the door, he began to howl his distress. Grethel awoke. She dashed to the cage and rattled the bars, trying to free her brother. I caught her arm. “It is no use. Your brother is doomed.”

“Run, Grethel! Run!” Hansel yelled. “Save yourself!”

Grethel stood firm. “No. I won’t leave you.”

Stupid child. Didn’t she know if she didn’t look out for herself, no one would? “How very loyal. If you behave and do as I ask, I just might spare you.”

I don’t think she believed me. Her screams only intensified. They disturbed me only slightly. This was a shock, after all. But the choice was clear to me. She would accept my conditions. It was the only way she would live. And what child did not want to live?

As her sobs grew, she did something I didn’t expect. She kicked me and screamed, “Let us go, you ugly old witch!”

Ugly? Old? Witch? Any visions of keeping the girl dissolved instantly. She was hateful. Cruel. She deserved to die. Just like those other children I had known so long ago.

I pulled her close so I could see her face more clearly. “You will serve me and when your brother is cooked and eaten all up, you will share his fate. No one will stand in my way of getting what I deserve.”

Grethel’s cries echoed within the walls, but soon I banished her outside with an enchantment to keep her close by. With that done, I began my plan. First, I had to fatten up the painfully thin Hansel. The poor lad hadn’t seen a decent day’s meal in a long time. Chicken and beef and thick stews and porridge. I fed him and fed him. And day after day, as I worked Grethel ever thinner, his plate came out clean. “Such a healthy eater,” I praised.