The Grimm Chronicles, Vol.1 (26 page)

What should I do? I thought. I couldn’t just wait around for the next monster to show up and try to kill me or my family. I needed a plan, something that would nip this dwarf business in the bud. But how was I supposed to get at them? They were hiding out in plain view! Their leader, Sam Grayle, had managed to completely hide any evidence that Edward—“Prince Charming”—had ever existed, for crying out loud!

And now I had to figure out a way to sneak into the skyscraper, kill these guys off without being seen, and somehow not get arrested in the process.

My phone buzzed. I pulled it from my pocket and viewed the text. It was from Tricia.

Tricia: Party 2-nite at beach. Come w/me!

I stared at it a moment, disappointed. I’d been hoping it was from Trish, but I’d been expecting something more … well,
friendly
. I wanted a “How are you?” or a “Let’s get dinner!” or even a “Weird guy wearing flannel LOLZ.” I didn’t want to be invited to a party. I wanted my friend to talk to me like a
friend
.

I texted back:

Me: How about movie instead? OK with rom-com.

There was no response for a few breaths. I stared at the screen of my phone, waiting. Hoping. Finally, she responded.

Tricia: Thnx but sum other time.

I sighed, putting away my phone. The modern world was so complicated! I bet in the past, heroes had a much easier time just going about their business and moving on to the next Corrupted. Now there was texting and there were social networks and cameras everywhere and the Internet and just about a million other things that made Corrupted killing more difficult.

“Hey.”

I spun around, whipping my hand like a hatchet and connecting with soft flesh. Seth fell back, clutching his ear.

“You karate-chopped my ear!” he whispered harshly. “Ow. Ow.”

“Why does everyone keep sneaking up on me?” I asked. “I mean, gawd! Since when did ‘excuse me’ go out of style?”

He looked around, confused. “Are people sneaking up on your regularly or something? More importantly,
why
exactly is your first instinct to karate-chop someone in the head?”

“Keep your voice down,” I said, putting a finger to my lips. Seth flinched, as if I was going to pop him again. I couldn’t help but giggle a bit.

“It’s not funny,” he said quietly. He frowned. “You know I have a soft skull.”

“I’m sorry. What are you doing here?”

He shrugged, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a candy bar with a purple wrapper. He peeled it open. “I’ve got stuff to do. Did you know there are naked women on the first floor?”

“Literally?” I raised an eyebrow. “I thought we told them to put their clothes back on while they used the computers.”

“Ha-ha.” He took a bite of the candy bar, filling his mouth with chocolate and some kind of gooey brown ooze that coated his teeth. He was wearing his black
Against Me!
Rock t-shirt and a pair of tattered cargo shorts. “I mean I saw naked ladies in the books.”

“Did you find those books in the Sexuality section?”

“Yeah …”

“Well, those books are mainly intended for mature adults. Not boys who cackle uncontrollably whenever they pass gas.”

His eyes widened. “That was an isolated incident!”

“What are you really here for?”

He took another bite of his candy bar. “Mmmm. Mmmm-mffmmm-grrmphmm.”

“Chew first.”

We waited. He chewed loudly, rolling his eyes. Finally, he swallowed. “Wow. OK. So, I was hoping you could help me find a few programming books. Not beginner’s stuff, either. I’m beyond that. I need something intermediate.”

“Sure, sure.” I led him back downstairs, giving Mary a wave as we passed. She returned it with a wink. Oh, as if I would be interested in Seth, I thought; we were practically siblings, for crying out loud.

I led him past the computer table and over to the west wing, where the library squeezed a variety of unpopular non-fiction subjects into three long bookcases.

“Those computers could use an upgrade,” Seth whispered, taking another bite of his candy bar. “They’ve got really old processors … I bet they freeze up pretty often even when people are just surfing the web.”

“They do, actually …” I ran my finger down the list of subjects listed on the end of the metal bookcase. I took him one bookcase to our left, then followed the catalog numbers. We passed a lot of computing books, but I had a feeling Seth was less interested in “The History of” and more interested in “How to.” It was just his way.

“Ooh, these look like winners,” he said, handing me the half-finished candy bar so he could bend down and grab two books. One was titled
How to Write Code
and the other was
The Language of Coding
.

“I didn’t know you like this stuff,” I said. “I mean, I knew a little, but …”

“I’ve had time so far this summer,” Seth mumbled, leafing through the books. “Trish loves her parties. I don’t. You know me … I don’t fit in with that crap. And my sarcasm isn’t appreciated by drunk morons.”

“Oh.” I felt so out of touch with the both of them. The last time we’d hung out, we chilled and watched a scary movie, and then they both had to go. Trish’s parents had decided to make her take a summer class to help her prepare for her senior year, and Seth was serving at a new restaurant and they’d been giving him weird morning shifts; his sole purpose was to make sure the breakfast buffet stayed full of greasy food.

And me? I was off in the woods, training to fight horrible monsters that no one else even believed existed.

“It is what it is,” he said, sighing.

“Why didn’t you just come over and hang out with me?”

He shrugged, scratching absently at his hair, which was in dire need of a trim. He’d begun letting his weird patchy sideburns grow a little bit this week, too. “You had that thing with Edward, and then you had your library thing going on. I’m not gonna burden you with all my goings-on. Plus, I’m tough.”

I put a hand on his shoulder. “You can always talk to me, pal.”

He smiled broadly, giving a quick nod.

I took a sniff of the half-finished candy bar. “Oh jeez, this smells awful.” I bit off a small piece. My tongue retreated in my mouth. “Seth!” I whispered harshly. “This is so awful I’m
literally
mad at you. I’m mad at you for letting me take a bite. It tastes like chocolate dipped in garbage.”

Seth grabbed the candy bar and took another bite. His mouth wrinkled. “Holy crap,” he said, spitting it back onto the wrapper. “This really
is
awful. Why did I think it was good?”

“Where did you even get it?” I asked. “I’ve never seen that brand before.
Carameltastic
. It sounds made-up.”

He stuffed the candy bar—including the bits he spit out, by the way—back into his pocket. Such a
guy
thing to do. “I saw an ad for it while I was playing
Castle Cats
. So I bought some at the grocery store.”

“
Castle Cats
? Not you, too!”

He nodded solemnly. “Afraid so, kid. Trish got me hooked. It’s so much fun. You’re this guy who runs through a castle full of cats and you have to swipe them out of the way with your finger.”

I waited for him to continue. After a moment, I finally asked, “And?”

“And … um, sometimes, the cats bounce off the walls and you have to swipe them again. If too many of them show up, they go into
revenge mode
, which means they’re harder to swipe so you have to really flick them away fast.”

“And?”

“And nothing.” He shrugged. “That’s the whole game. It sounds a lot less fun than it really is.” He hefted the computer books. “That’s why I’m borrowing these. I’ve been toying around with creating my own game. So I downloaded
Castle Cats
, and of course I’ve been playing it, like, constantly, and I also transferred it to my computer. I’m trying to break into it so I can have a look at the code—you know … its
guts
—but I can’t get in yet. I’ll figure it out, though.”

“What do you mean about the code?”

“Source code is a list of commands that make a game run,” Seth explained. He sounded very technical; I was proud of him. Usually, he didn’t pay attention in classes. “The commands are basically a language for the computer to read and then the computer executes the commands. It’s all pretty technical crap.”

“Tell me how it goes with
Castle Cats
,” I said. “I’m actually very interested in knowing about this.”

His eyes narrowed. “I can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic … so I’m just gonna head out now …”

“Wait. Before you go: quiz me on hedgehogs.”

“Huh?”

“Quiz me on hedgehogs,” I said. “Follow me.” I led him to the Animals section and grabbed the book I’d been reading earlier.

Seth took the book, examining it. “This is a children’s book.”

“It’s not a children’s book; it just has lots of pictures. It’s full of great information, too. Now quiz me.”

He flipped through the pages. “Ok … um … what is the diet of the hedgehog?”

I looked up at the ceiling, thinking. “Frogs, insects, mushrooms, berries, bird eggs, and melons.”

“Yes. And also: gross! You missed toads and snakes, too. Very gross, very gross.” He leafed through more pages. “OK … how many quills does a hedgehog have?”

“A hedgehog has
spines
, not quills,” I said. “Don’t worry, though … they’re pretty much the same thing, and I thought they were quills at first, too. They have … um … thousands of spines.”

Seth raised an eyebrow. “That’s too vague to get an ‘A’ from Professor Seth. Be more specific.”

“Ten thousand?”

He shook his head. “Around five thousand. You were waaaaay off. You get an F.” He closed the book, handing it back to me. “Any other obscure wild animal tests you want me to conduct before I leave? Maybe marsupials or dodo birds?”

“No. I need to study some more on hedgehogs first.”

“Right,” Seth said with a vigorous nod. “For the hedgehog quiz. OK, you’re totally creeping me out. Sudden interest in computer code and random animal quizzes, not to mention karate chops to the head… I’m a little scared to find out what’s next. So I’m gonna go for real now.”

He backed away from me. Slowly.

I wasn’t being sarcastic: I really, really wanted to know what was in that game. Something purple was on the floor. I picked it up and studied the white Comic Sans letters:
ELTAS
. It was part of the wrapper from Seth’s disgusting candy bar. It had escaped his pocket, I guess.
Carameltastic
. An awful candy bar, one that Seth had purchased after seeing an ad in the
Castle Cats
game.

Before I left in the afternoon, I checked out a book on advertising. Call it a hunch, but I had a feeling Grayle Incorporated had a lot more going on besides hero hunting …

Chapter 4

My dream that night was vivid. And it wasn’t good.

I was inside a building, following a young man as he made his way down a dimly lit hallway. With its low ceilings, stony gray walls and caged glass light fixtures every five feet, the place seemed almost like a tunnel. His black loafers treaded lightly on polished concrete floors. He was breathing quickly, running from door to door, trying to find one that wasn’t locked.

“Come on … open!” he called out. His voice echoed down the empty hallway. He pushed his thick glasses up the bridge of his nose. He looked frantic; his forehead was glistening with sweat.

A noise came from somewhere behind us. The man turned and looked, and so did I. There was nothing, but it was hard to see because the hallway seemed unnaturally dim; it was as if someone had turned off half of the overhead lights. The glass light fixtures along the wall flickered, then turned off.

“Come on,” he said, trying another door. This one opened, and he hurried inside, shutting the door behind him. I followed, slipping through the door as if it didn’t exist at all. We were in a dark office filled with lots and lots of crude technical drawings taped to the walls. Given the subterranean feel of the hallway, it was disorienting to see through the windows behind the desk that we were high above Lake Michigan. The moon was out, casting a white glow on the lake.

The man hurried to the other side of the desk, turning on the computer. The light from the monitor made it easier to see the drawings on the walls: they were crude diagrams of cell phones and other electronics. More yet were drawings of smartphone applications, each one quickly sketched out. I didn’t understand much of what was written, but I recognized the company logo at the top of every piece of paper.

Grayle Incorporated.

“Hurry … hurry!” the man said to the computer as it continued booting up. Suddenly, the monitor went black. The computer’s hum slowed, then stopped. “No!” the man cried out. He hurried back to the hallway, turning right and then stopping. A gasp escaped from between his lips. I followed and nearly gasped when I saw the dark not-so-imposing figure standing in front of the elevators at the end of the hall.

It was Flick. The meanest dwarf. He stood wearing a pair of blue jeans and a dark shirt—not exactly a “menacing Corrupted” outfit. What
was
menacing, though, was the giant rusty pickaxe he held in his hands.

“You seem surprised,” Flick said through gritted teeth. His fingers tightened around the handle of the axe. “As if you’re the first person to question our … motives.”

“I swear I won’t tell anybody,” the man said, taking a step back. His hands shook at his sides.

Flick cocked his head. “Tell them what, exactly?”

“About the hidden code,” the man said.

Flick’s grip loosened. He smiled, stepping forward. “That’s what all this is about? A little hidden code? Oh you sweet, sweet young man … if you’d just said something earlier instead of snooping around all night, we could have reached an agreement!”

“Re … Really?”

The smile faded. “No. Of course not, you damned idiot. Of
course
I have to kill you. I can’t have rumors of a secret code getting out.”

The man took another step back. “Please! I promise. I
promise
you I won’t tell anyone.”

“Then what were you doing in that office?” Flick asked. “Just checking your email before you slink out of the building? No, dear boy. You must die.”

The man turned, then stopped and screamed. I was slow to follow, but I wanted to scream too when I saw what was waiting for us just a few feet away.

Gilbert. The sickly dwarf Briar had told me about. He
shouldn’t
have been frightening. He was wearing blue-and-white striped pajamas, for crying out loud!

But his face …

Big, bubbly boils peppered his skin. His nose was blackened, and the area under his eyes was blue and swollen. Flakes of dry skin hung from his cheeks, as if he was a snake in the process of shedding. His hair was thin, crisp, falling out in clumps. His eyes were sunken and downright gross.

Gilbert opened his mouth. Strings of saliva spread between his rotten teeth. The man stepped back …

… Right into Flick’s swinging pickaxe.

I woke up, shouting “Pickaxe!” over and over and over. A
brown furry mass that had been sleeping under the window popped up.

“What is it?” Briar asked frantically, holding out his paws like a boxer. He hopped left and right, eyes wide. “What pickaxe? Where’s the pickaxe?!”

My eyes blinked a dozen times in rapid succession. I looked around. My alarm was buzzing. I turned it off and smacked my dry lips together. “Well, another day,” I muttered.

“What happened?” Briar asked. “Lordy, my heart’s a-thumpin! I need a glass of milk.”

“Wait!” I said, stopping him before he could reach the door. “My parents are home.”

“No, they went golfing an hour ago.”

“Oh. How do you know that?”

“Because your dear mother came in and tucked you in.”

I glanced down at the sheets. He was right: the sheets were tucked in under the mattress, as if a hotel maid had come into the room while I was asleep. The sheets were tucked in so tight that I could barely move my legs. That was definitely Mom’s doing.

“Turn around,” I ordered, walking over to the closet. I heard my computer start up. “Are you still playing around on Facebook?”

“I have many things going on,” was the rabbit’s reply.

“Well, open my music player and turn on some Janis Joplin. I need to get pumped for the day.”

The rabbit complied. The sound of crunching guitars filled the room. My brain quickly booted up again.

I grabbed my go-to sneakers, a pair of cropped white skinny jeans, and a ruffled loose-fitting tank top with cinnamon-colored stripes around the neck. I stared longingly at my new blue maxi dress that I’d bought in Chicago. I had to find a reason to wear it soon or I was going to go bonkers and just end up wearing it to the library.

“Do we have a plan yet?” I asked, turning around. I saw the computer screen over Briar’s shoulder: he was on Facebook. Again. I sighed. “Well, at least you’re not addicted to
Castle Cats
, I guess.”

His fuzzy ears perked up. “Say what?”

“We need a plan,” I said again, grabbing my sheets and tossing them loosely over the mattress. There. Bed made. I was becoming such an accomplished 18-year-old.

“Yes, I was thinking about that …”

“And?”

“… And I’m still thinking. What happened in your dream?”

I shrugged. “Oh you know, just a poor fool running for his life while a crazy Corrupted dwarf chases him down with a pickaxe. The usual.” I grabbed the magic pen from the desk, flipping it around in my hand. “There was something else, too. The guy said something about
the code
. What does that mean?”

“Well, they make software, don’t they?”

“Yeah …”

“Software, and games, are composed entirely of code,” Briar said. “It’s a string of commands that tell the game what to say or do.”

“
Castle Cats
,” I murmured. “Seth said there was something strange about that game.”

“For the record, I find it incredibly humorous that the giant talking rabbit is teaching you about how a computer program works. Don’t they teach you this in your school? It seems important.”

“They were too busy this past year teaching me about biology and literature,” I said. “There’s a lot to learn in high school, you know. We don’t all have an infinite amount of time to surf the web, unlike certain rabbits.”

Briar clicked the mouse, then deftly pecked away at the keyboard. A new web page loaded. He turned the laptop so I could see it easier.

“The Fifth Annual Milwaukee Public Museum Fundraiser Gala,” I read aloud. “Blech, that’s a mouthful. Wait, why do I recognize that place?”

“I suspect because you’ve seen it—or part of it—in a dream.”

I looked closer. The room was huge, with hundreds of people dressed in black suits and dark dresses milling about beside tall windows overlooking a courtyard with a large fountain sitting directly in the center. The fountain was shaped like a fish jumping out of the water. The fish spat a steady stream of water out of its mouth. A massive crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling. The floor was made of a glossy white tile with gold borders.

“Give up?” Briar asked.

“OK. Tell me.”

He pointed with his paw to the floor tiles. Near the center was a strange logo outlined with dark brown tiles. “This is the logo of the old company that used to own the Grayle Incorporated building.”

My fingers tightened around the pen. “So the Grayle brothers bought the building and now they’re hosting the gala. When?”

“This coming weekend,” Briar said. His paw tapped on the desk. “I fear we won’t have enough time to properly strategize …”

“Dude, we totally have time.”

“… and of course you’ll need a dress …”

“I have a dress.”

“… and I of course will need to find a way to slip in so I may provide support ... and of course the Grayles may not even be there.”

“Why wouldn’t the Grayles be there?” I asked. “I mean, they own the building, for crying out loud.”

“Yes, but helping out the community hardly seems like the type of thing they would be interested in.”

I shook my head in annoyance. “Still seems like a good risk to take.”

Briar tapped his paws together. “Yes … I suppose. I just don’t know if we’re
ready
to deal with them. The Grayles … they …”

“We’re going,” I stated, looking into his large brown eyes. He looked nervous. “This needs to be done.”

Briar’s whiskers twitched. “Maybe if we just left them alone …”

I shook my head. “They know who I am now. We need to end this. I command you to help me.”

“So you want to go in without a plan?”

“Yes.”

He sighed. “That seems so very …
usual
.”

“Just see what more you can do about getting us into this gala,” I said. A sharp cramp hit my stomach, causing me to wince. “Man, I could use a day off.”

Briar glanced at me, concerned. “Are you still taking your antibiotics? You can’t miss a dose, you know.”

“I know, mother. And it’s not that. I’ll be back after the library closes.”

I grabbed my purse and took it into the bathroom, adding a quick coat of mascara and a dab of peachy-pink lip gloss before heading out, locking the door behind me. I hoped Mary was at the library again. All I wanted was a quiet morning where I could really think this whole situation over. We had an opportunity to get inside Grayle Incorporated and we couldn’t squander it.

I reached Mooreland Road and turned left, still racking my brain over some credible way to get inside, trying to walk in a way that wouldn’t make the cramps any worse than they already were. Surely there would be security to prevent just anyone from crashing the party, so we’d have to be extra careful …

I saw the person coming out of the corner of my eye and jumped back, my hand instinctively reaching for the pen in my pocket. The dark-haired woman looked up from her smartphone and smiled.

“Sorry! I wasn’t paying attention.” It was the same woman who I’d bumped into just yesterday.

Her phone made a strange “meow” sound. “Whoops!” she said, swiping her thumb across the screen, making sure not to let her long red fingernail scratch it. The same woman from yesterday, playing the same stupid game.

I watched her walk over to the parked blue car at the end of the street. I looked left: she’d come out of the same little salon, too. She must work there, I thought.

She started her car, then reached for something inside her sparkling silver purse. I walked closer, trying to be as inconspicuous as I could. But I didn’t need to get any closer to see what it was: a candy bar with a purple wrapper.

The same disgusting candy bar Seth had been eating yesterday.

“OK, something is
seriously
going on here,” I muttered, hoofing it to the library.

My luck didn’t hold out. Fran was the librarian on duty, and the moment she saw me she narrowed her eyes disapprovingly.

“No sleeves?” she asked. “That seems a bit scandalous, don’t you think?”

“Not really,” I said. “I think it’s cute.”

She just rolled her eyes, and I was thankful that she didn’t make a bigger deal out of it. I wasn’t in the mood. I wanted to feel bad for her losing her house, but you know what? Maybe she deserved it. Maybe she’d stopped paying her bills or something. It was possible. And I had more important things to deal with right now—like, for instance, murderous Corrupted dwarfs who just so happened to own one of the most powerful corporations in the city.

And stomach cramps. Really, really bad cramps.