The Grimm Chronicles, Vol. 2 (21 page)

“Yeah.” I felt an intense sorrow for Chase. And I felt a little guilty, too. I liked hanging out with him. We would never have hung out like this if the accident hadn’t happened. That was just the way it was at our school: the cliques stuck together. You had to have a really good reason for moving from clique to clique. You needed an even better reason to get into the “cool” clique.

Like dating Edward, for instance. And now that
that
was over—thankfully!—I was outside of the cliques once again. In fact, I was willing to bet that I was dangerously close to “outcast” status at this point, especially after giving that annoying Ted guy the boot.

“He’s a pretty funny dude,” Seth added, setting the last dish on the metal drying rack beside the sink. “Maybe he’ll actually talk to me in class sometime.”

“Maybe. It seems like he could use some new friends.”

“Hey guys,” Chase called from the living room. “Mind giving me a hand?”

We went to the staircase, where Chase was sitting patiently on the bottom step. We lifted him by the armpits and set him back in the chair. He mumbled a thank-you, setting his backpack on his lap and following us into the living room.

“My parents are on their way,” he said.

“OK. Are you still going to give me more fencing tips?”

Chase nodded. “Let’s plan on Sunday outside the library. Three o’clock.”

“OK. Sorry we didn’t get more done for your paper.” I stomped my foot. “It just irks me. I
know
we could figure out a solution if we put our heads together. I mean, not literally, like putting our faces together. I mean our brains.”

“What problem?” Seth asked.

“Overfishing. Chase has to write a report on it.”

Seth shrugged. “Just don’t fish so freaking much.”

I looked a Chase. He seemed intent on quietly studying the space between his shoes. I turned back to Seth. “That’s a pretty simple answer.”

“It’s a pretty simple solution,” Seth said. He rolled his eyes. “Seriously? Didn’t you guys fish as kids?”

“Not as much as you,” I said. I turned back to Chase. “Seth’s dad used to own a fishing boat.”

“Back when he wasn’t working weekends,” Seth explained. “Long story. Anywho, there were three lakes we fished at. Two of them had really strict rules on what size fish you could catch and how many fish you could catch. And they had rangers patrolling, too. The third lake had looser restrictions. Now the third lake doesn’t have any fish and the other two lakes do. There’s your solution.”

Chase took a breath, then nodded a half-interested nod. “Maybe. I guess. Seems like it would be tough to enforce.”

Seth shook his head. “Dude, it’s really not. When it comes to solving the world’s problems, adults make everything
waaaay
more complicated than it needs to be.”

Chase smiled, tapping his fingers impatiently on the armrest of his chair. “Sage words from a sage hobbit.”

I studied him a moment, trying to figure out what was different about him. It was as if he was on edge now, or … embarrassed? Upset? Had it been because he’d had to climb up the stairs? I could only imagine how hard it was to make such a drastic change, but the last thing I wanted to do was drip empathy. Chase didn’t seem to want too much help. He was figuring this out on his own. Add on to that the fact that he’d been dumped by his girlfriend, and the last thing he needed was me prying.

Boy was I wrong.

And maybe if I’d asked, things might have turned out drastically different.

Chapter 3

Briar returned via the window at almost exactly nine o’clock. I’d been practicing what I would say to him for nearly an hour, but I still didn’t feel prepared. I felt I owed him an explanation. He was my friend, after all.

“I found something,” he said, climbing through the window. “The Order of the Dragon. They certainly exist. In fact, I do believe I nearly found myself face to face with them some time ago … anyway, my research suggests that this order, whatever it is, has some connection to the Corrupted.”

“I’m quitting.”

His eyes widened. Both ears went straight up. “Pardon?”

“I’m … quitting.” I started pacing the room. “Gaaaah! It wasn’t supposed to come out like that. Sorry!”

Briar said nothing, watching me curiously as I returned to my bed.

“OK. It’s like this: I found a way to get my old life back. I found a fish.”

His whiskers twitched. “The golden fish … how?” He waved away with the question before I could answer. “It doesn’t matter. Alice, you must destroy it. You
must
!”

I glanced at the bedroom door, then put a finger to his mouth. “Shhh. My parents, remember?”

A whimper escaped his mouth. One ear flopped over. “Alice,
please
destroy it. You don’t know what you’re doing.”

“I know
exactly
what I’m doing,” I snapped. I immediately regretted being so harsh, but I suddenly had so much anger in me. All of the frustration and stress was bubbling to the surface. Chase and Seth got to vent this afternoon while they ate their ice cream. Me? I couldn’t, not without sounding totally crazy in front of Chase. And so now here it was. “I never asked for this, Briar.”

“Neither did I.”

“Yeah, well you’re not real. I am. Get it? I’m
real
, Briar. And I want to go back to my old life. I want to have pleasant dreams again. I don’t want to risk my life fighting creatures that shouldn’t exist in the first place.”

“I’m real,” Briar said quietly. His other ear lowered. “I’m just as real as you. And so are the Corrupted …”

I was losing my will. Get it together, I thought. Don’t back down now. Don’t re-think this. “Your job is to
assist
me, Briar. So now I’m giving you an order: don’t talk me out of this. Don’t get in my way.”

He was silent a moment, his mouth quivering as if he was trying to get it open, trying to tell me
something
. Then he stood absolutely still, just staring me right in the eye with a mix of sadness and … something else. I know now it was terror. Finally, his paws grabbed the bottom of his vest, pulling it down where it had bunched up. “Very well. I must carry out my duty because I was written that way. But know this: I understand what you’re feeling, Alice.”

And with that, he disappeared. The window opened, then closed. I walked over to it, looking outside and expecting to see a sad rabbit walking solemnly down the street, stopping under the streetlight and giving me one last look. Maybe we would both wave to each other. I wanted to wave to him. I wanted to still have him as a friend.

But he was gone. A few dry brown leaves swirled on the sidewalk, maybe from Briar’s invisible feet or maybe from a gentle breeze. It didn’t matter. He was gone.

I went to the closet, sighing. “Well, tonight’s the night,” I muttered. “The bus schedule runs until two in the morning, my parents are already zonked out, and I’ve got a date with destiny.”

I pulled aside the blouses sitting in the pile on the floor, then gasped.

The tureen’s lid sat on its side. The bowl was empty.

That night, in my dream, I was on a boat. A
ship
. I could feel myself floating and cursed silently. Still the hero. Of course. The fish was gone. How had he escaped from my closet? He’d claimed he needed my help. He’d promised to make my wish come true.

Now I was standing on a ship. An old ship with two tall wooden masts and massive white sails tied in place by thick cords of rope. The rope ran everywhere, like tightly spun strands of spider web. The sails caught the brine-tinged wind, bulging out like a pregnant woman’s belly, and above them the nearly full moon cast a dull blue glow over the old rotted floorboards of the deck. Men were moving from sail to sail, tying down the ropes. The men had a shadowy look to them, each one wearing black rubber pants with suspenders stretched over their broad shoulders. They all had stringy long hair, or longish hair, as if they’d been at sea for months.

A wave splashed onto the wooden deck and as the ship lolled to one side, the water slipped off back into the dark sea. It spanned in every direction, no land anywhere to be seen.

“Missy.”

I turned and found myself face-to-face with a man with pale features and long, stringy hair. His skin looked old and dead, his long nose twitching as another wave hit the ship. I felt my legs wobble as the deck under my feet shifted. The man smiled. He was missing teeth and what few he had left were rotted. His entire face seemed cast in a shadow, as if someone was blocking out the moon’s soft glow.

“You’re the greenhorn.”

“What?” I asked. I couldn’t hear my voice. Was this a hero’s dream, or just a really bad nightmare? Now I wasn’t sure. No one other than the little boy named Alex had ever seen me before …

Except the princess who loved music.

Crap.

“The greenhorn scrubs the deck and stays out of the way.” He grabbed my hand. I was surprised to see it—that meant this was just a nightmare. This guy wasn’t glowing, either. If anything, he was the
opposite
of glowing, as if the shadows stuck to him like dirt.

This was a dream. I’d been thinking about that stupid fish right before I went to sleep and now I was dreaming about a boat.

“What if I don’t?” I wanted to ask. But instead, I simply took the brush and kneeled on the deck, scrubbing away at the slowly rotting wooden boards. I looked up, watching the strange man cross the deck, stepping over a wide hatch. I knew enough about ships thanks to the annual Pirate Festival that came through town. The hatch led below deck. Behind me was the quarter deck, with a wooden door that no doubt led to the captain’s cabin. Above the quarter deck was the helm, basically a giant wooden steering wheel. It was manned by another shadowy figure, staring ahead with a dull, bored expression. Beyond the two main sails were three more triangular sails attached to the bow spirit, which was a long pointy spear-shaped thingy at the front of the ship.

Another dark wave crashed into the ship, splashing across my face and soaking my socks. I reached out, grabbing the wooden railing to keep myself steady. Bulwark, that was what the railing was called. On the other end of the deck between the two masts were large metal winches and pulleys whose purpose I couldn’t fathom. There were nets, too, sitting in massive piles; a dozen crewmen stood over them, examining every inch with a careful eye.

Another wave. I tried to avoid the water as it splashed onto the deck, saving myself the squishy feeling that came from soaked socks.

“Get these nets into the water, boys!” barked the sailor who’d confronted me. He walked along the deck with ease even as the ship swayed again and again, crashing against the waves. Above us, the sails flapped madly. “Blood and thunder! Split your lungs the moment you see that dreaded fish!”

Fish
. He couldn’t be talking about …

No. That was impossible.

I woke up to the sound of my alarm. I turned it off, my eyes automatically going to the floor under the window. I had to tell Briar. Something about all of this didn’t make any sense. They’d seen me. They’d
seen
me! And the strange sailor had mentioned a fish, too.

But Briar was gone. I felt my heart skip a beat. Where was he? I was still the hero, right? The fish … where had he gone?

I got out of bed, hurrying to the closet. I checked the bowl again, then checked the closet, picking up my dirty clothes and tossing them one-by-one in the hamper. But the fish was gone, just as he’d been last night when I frantically searched my room from top to bottom.

I walked back toward my laptop, wondering if I could contact Briar through his ridiculous email address, then thought the better of it. Truth be told, I was a little nervous contacting him at all. I’d been so harsh last night. What if he didn’t want to help me anymore? But he
had
to. That was how he’d been written.

But what if he didn’t want to be my friend
at all
?

I walked back my closet and stopped, aware of the strange sloshing sound being made with each step.

I looked down.

My socks were soaking wet.

Chapter 4

The weirdness only got more intense once I got to school. One of the sophomores in homeroom swore that Chase was walking again.

“That’s impossible,” said Amanda Winston, one of the popular juniors. “My dad works at the hospital that took care of him. He said Chase was messed up really bad. He can’t just walk all of a sudden.”

“I hear he was totally pranking us,” said a senior named Gustav. He laughed briskly. “He totally got me! I bought into it hook, line and sinker.”

Everyone was curious, even the teachers. During first period, a few people in my Genetics class said they’d seen him walking. I still didn’t believe them. No one did. It really
did
seem like some kind of cruel prank. Ms. Rome hushed them up, desperate to keep us focused on Y chromosomes.

In U.S. History, even more students confirmed the bizarre news. Paige Smith, who had first period Algebra with him, said he was “totally, like, totally seriously” walking around. I think that meant she was pretty confident in her assertion.

Mr. Feinman wasn’t convinced, wandering around the room with his arms crossed as we worked in groups. Our room hardly looked like a room at all anymore because of all the posters we’d created on various topics. We were putting on a play this week in small groups, acting out the War of 1812. It was insane, awesome, and even the kids in the back who slept were getting into it.

But before we could act out our plays, we needed to rehearse. And we couldn’t get any rehearsing done when everyone couldn’t stop speculating about Chase.

During fencing practice, we all waited with bated breath. Even Mr. Whitmann had heard the rumors and seemed on edge.

“It has to be some kind of new surgery,” said Jasmine.

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Aaron stated. “He wasn’t walking yesterday.”

“It’s probably some kind of brace,” said Max, setting two fencing foils on the rubber mat. “My brother got braces for his knees and now he can play soccer again. Totally couldn’t do it without the braces, though.”

It all seemed unlikely.

As if on cue, Chase walked in. My mouth nearly dropped to the floor. Everyone stared for a moment. Then the boys started cheering. The girls clapped pleasantly. I couldn’t believe it. He was wearing old patchy jeans and his Washington High baseball jersey—vintage Chase, the kind of outfit only Chase could pull off. He was smiling, practically beaming, as he strode into the weight room.

“What?” he asked with a broad smile. “You didn’t really think I’d never walk again, did you?”

“I was pretty convinced,” mumbled Mr. Whitmann. He tapped his clipboard. “Well! Are you joining the fencing team or what, Chase?”

Chase shook his head, still smiling. “Sorry, Mr. Whitmann. I’ve got a baseball team to lead to the playoffs.”

More cheering from the boys. I was standing half on the mat, watching the way Chase shifted his weight from one leg to the other. He was hesitant, testing, as if he didn’t fully believe it either.

“Well, I’d still love to have you on as assistant coach,” Mr. Whitmann announced, and the boys cheered their approval. “Lord knows you’ve been a great help so far.”

Chase nodded. “I’ll think about it, sir. Right now, I need to take some swings in the batting cages.”

And with that, he was gone. Needless to say, I didn’t win any of my matches.

In the lunchroom, I sat with Rachel and Clyde, neither of whom seemed particularly concerned about whether Chase was walking or not. They’d brought their robot game again, and this time they let me have one of the stronger and more complicated robots. I was becoming a bit of a professional when it came to robot attacks.

“Have you given any thought to joining the fencing team?” I asked Rachel.

Clyde chuckled. “Oh, she totally has, man.”

“Ignore him.” Rachel rolled her eyes. “I said I
might
. That’s all.”

“I’m on Alice’s side,” Clyde announced, raising his eyebrows above the top of his black sunglasses. “Anything is better than gym. They’ve got us playing badminton, man! My grandma’s the only person in my family who knows the rules to that game, and you
know
grandparents are pretty lame.”

“Hey, that was a good rhyme,” Rachel said.

Clyde looked at me. I nodded. He crossed his arms and smiled in satisfaction.

Everyone in the lunchroom began cheering. I turned in my chair, watching Chase walk in. He grabbed himself a burger and milk, tossing a five-dollar bill to the cashier and walking away without change. He plopped himself in a seat beside his baseball buddies.

I watched him, anxious for some kind of affirmation. I got it, finally, after a handful of tense breaths.

Our eyes met. He gave me a curt nod, then turned away.

Total bummer, as Clyde might say.

I hung out in the library a little longer than usual that afternoon, sure Briar would show up. But the library was empty all afternoon, not even the click-clicking of the computer keyboards to break the silence. Fran had a cold, and each of her sneezes sent a jolt through my body. I was on edge. I needed Briar’s help to straighten all of this out.

As I walked home, realizing I hadn’t exercised in days, I felt more than a little lost.

The dream that night didn’t help things. I was back on the very same ship, only instead of crashing waves and shadowy sailors moving frantically from sail to sail, the deck was empty save for the man with the stringy long hair who’d spoken to me the previous night. The sails were tied tightly to the masts. I looked over the bulwark: the water below was calm.

I could feel the wooden deck shift beneath my feet. My stomach lurched as the ship listed softly from side to side. I could control myself so much easier than I ever had when I was wandering through the orphanage of doom. I felt like I was really there, not just in “ghost form.”

“Ain’t no sailing tonight, lass,” said the man. He reached down, struck a match to his boot, then lit a fat white candle sitting on the bulwark railing. “Tonight, the boys sleep while the captain makes his plans.”

“Plans for what?” I asked. I could hear my voice. What was happening?

“He wants the fish,” the man said.

“What fish?”

“The one that got away.” In the candlelight, I could see the man’s face more clearly. He looked about as old as my dad, and his skin had begun to sag along his jaw line. His lips seemed incapable of closing around his rotted teeth and so his mouth hung open even when he wasn’t talking. Each breath went in with a wheeze and came out with a groan.

But still the shadows clung to his skin, fighting desperately with the candle’s light so that the man’s features seemed
alive
, always changing.

“Who are you?” I asked.

The man snorted. “Nobody’s asked me that for a long, long time. Call me Ishmael.”

“Like the narrator of Moby-Dick?” I asked.

The man named Ishmael nodded. “The captain’s favorite book, when he’s not reading fairy tales. I had another name long ago, but I can no longer remember it. Now I’m just a sailor aboard the
Leviathan
.”

“
Leviathan
?”

The man smiled. “Every good ship’s got a name, girl. And there’s no better ship than the
Leviathan
.”

There came a crash from the rear section of the ship—the
aft
, as it was called. Through the single circular window beside the wooden door of the cabin, I could see someone had a lamp of some sort lit. A shadow passed over the light; the sailor beside me grunted.

“Captain’s not in a good mood. He wants his fish.”

“Why?” I asked.

He shook his head. “Don’t know. He don’t say. It’s not for us to know. We’re just his crew. But we’re all hoping he finds it.” He looked up, watching a cloud pass over the moon. The light in the cabin window went out. The entire ship seemed to go dark, save for the dancing candle flame. Ishmael sighed. “Perhaps if the captain finds his prey … he will release us from this hell.”

A cold wind blew over the ship, snuffing out the flame. I felt the skin on my neck grow cold. I was thankful I’d put on my heavy wool pajamas for bed.

“Tell me about the captain,” I said, remembering Briar’s voice in my head:
details!

But the sailor simply shook his head. He turned to me and the clouds above parted. His eyes reflected the moonlight. Each of his breaths came out in raspy coughs, as if the shadows clinging to him were choking the very life from his body.

“Please,” I urged. “Tell me about the captain. Tell me a story about him.”

“A story?” The man choked out a laugh. He walked toward the foremast. I followed him, taking a cord of thick rope when he held it out. We were under the massive sails of the foremast, which were still. Water gently splashing against the hull was the only sound to break the silence. Without anyone else walking safely across the rotted wooden planks making up the deck, I felt as if I might crash through the floor with any step.

“Tie a knot,” he said.

“Oh. Um, OK.” I held the end of rope, bending it with my fingers. “Like, if I were tying my shoe or something?”

The man sighed. “Tie a zeppelin bend.”

“I don’t know how.”

He raised one eyebrow. The shadows on his face reacted, as if surprised by the muscle movement. “Like this,” he said, grabbing the end of another rope and setting both on the wooden dock. It was hard to see with just the moonlight overhead, but as he formed a bend in each rope and then slipped them around each other, it was clear he was tying the two together.

“A zeppelin bend,” he said, standing up. “If you’re going to be part of our crew, you’ll need to learn how to tie knots.”

“I’m not part of your crew,” I said.

“Then why are you here?” When I didn’t respond, he grabbed another cord of rope that was hanging from the mast and began tying an even more complex knot with practiced ease. “Lass, the captain don’t take stragglers. And he don’t give back. When the curse takes you over, you leave the old world behind. All that’s left in your soul is the captain’s obsession.”

“Who
is
he?” I asked, kneeling down beside him as he began working his fingers through one of the massive black nets that were spread out beyond the foremast.

“Don’t got no name,” the man said. His fingers worked meticulously around each square of the net, checking for damage. “That’s what he prefers. Silence. Obscurity. He told us once …” He took a deep, raspy breath, shaking his head. “He told us once that the
Leviathan
had been boarded by pirates off the coast of South America. It was night, when the
Leviathan
travels fastest. But the crew had killed a sperm whale just a day prior and its hold was full. Full of guts. Full of blubber. Full of meat. Full of spermaceti. It was a pirate’s dream.

“They boarded easily enough. The captain let them, knowing with the hold full the
Leviathan
wouldn’t be able to escape. It was a bloody fight. Two dozen pirates, dead. Not a single crew member from the
Leviathan
worse for wear.”

“How?” I asked, feeling a chill run down my spine.

The man wiped sweat from his forehead. The shadows seemed to slip away, too, then just as quickly resumed their embrace. “The curse’s shadows protect us. Two dozen pirates wielding flintlocks—”

“Flintlocks?”

“Pistols that used black powder. All of the pirates had a least one. And a cutlass, their favorite close-combat weapon. The captain claims he took a dozen bullets. That was when the pirates realized they’d boarded the wrong ship. They tried to escape but the captain and his sailors followed them onto their ship, cutting down all who remained. No one was spared, not even the deckhands. In the hold were valuables of all kinds: clothes, money, silver, trinkets … the captain took none of it. He sank the pirates’ ship and took the
Leviathan
east. He could hear the fish’s song somewhere far, far away.”

The fish’s song. That was something. A detail that seemed important.

“You have to tell me more,” I urged. “And then you need to get off this ship and as far away from this weirdo as possible. I’m not stupid. I can see how different you are from the others. The shadows … they haven’t …”

Ishmael shook his head sadly. His fingers clutched the netting. “I’m sorry, lass. The curse has already consumed me.” He looked at me with sad, gray eyes. Slowly, the shadows consumed them too.

I woke up with a start. My alarm seemed louder than usual and I smacked it hard to shut it off. My head hurt. The early morning sun coming in through the windows seemed to burn my eyes. As if …

As if they’d been used to the darkness.

“Not a dream,” I whispered, surprised to hear my own voice. I looked around. Still no Briar. Where was he? I was still the hero, right? I hadn’t made my wish. The fish had escaped, or Briar had taken him …