The Sisters Grimm: Book Eight: The Inside Story (16 page)

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Authors: Michael Buckley,Peter Ferguson

Tags: #Characters in Literature, #Detective and Mystery Stories, #Magic, #Brothers and Sisters, #Children's Lit, #Books & Libraries, #Juvenile Fiction, #Legends; Myths; Fables, #Mysteries & Detective Stories, #Fiction, #Books and Reading, #Humorous Stories, #Family, #Fantasy & Magic, #Children's Stories, #Sisters, #Siblings, #General, #Characters and Characteristics in Literature, #Mystery and Detective Stories

BOOK: The Sisters Grimm: Book Eight: The Inside Story
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Just then, there was a horrible scream from behind Sabrina. She turned to find a mob of people rushing in her direction.

“They’re coming!” someone cried. “Run for your lives!”

The crowd stampeded through the courtyard while a few desperate knights struggled to raise the drawbridge. King Arthur passed by Sabrina in the crowd, his magical sword Excalibur raised and ready.

“What’s going on?” Sabrina said, keeping one eye on Mirror.

“The Editor hath sent his filthy creatures upon us,” he said.

“Revisers!” Mirror said. For the first time in her life, Sabrina could see fear in the little man’s face.

There was a terrible crunch, and when Sabrina turned around she saw that the drawbridge had come crashing down. A wave of pink revisers scurried on tiny limbs into the courtyard. Arthur and his knights raced to fight them back, slashing desperately with their swords. Mirror disappeared in the bustle.

“If any of you want out of this story, follow us,” Sabrina shouted. With her brother in her arms, along with Daphne and Duck and their companions from Wonderland, she followed the yarn as it weaved a haphazard path through the courtyard, circling columns and doubling back around fountains, until it led them into the castle itself and up to a long flight of stairs.

“Please pick up the pace!” the dodo squawked. “The revisers are nipping at our heels.”

Sabrina glanced back and found that the dodo was correct. Her party had gained at least thirty knights, courtiers, and princesses, all of whom were chased by the ravenous monsters. Sabrina watched them—they bounced around like jackals, chomping on everything in their way. What they consumed vanished, only to be replaced with a white nothingness. To call it a hole wouldn’t be accurate—what the monsters were doing was eliminating reality, in essence rubbing it out of existence like an eraser. Watching it was the scariest thing Sabrina had ever seen. No wonder the dodo was panicked.

They soon reached the top of the stairs and raced down a long passageway. At the end they found the ball sputtering and rolling against a huge wooden door. Daphne tried the knob, but it was locked.

“Hey, Arthur, you have a key to this door?” she shouted back to the king.

“I’m afraid not,” the king said. “These are Sir Gawain’s quarters. He has decided to stay in the story.”

“I can get us through the door, but you must take me with you,” a voice said from the back of the crowd. A small figure pushed its way to the front. It was Pinocchio.

“You!” Sabrina cried.

“I really can get that door open. Do we have a deal?”

Daphne nodded. “Do it.”

Pinocchio reached into his pocket and took out a pin. He slid it into the lock and twisted and turned until it clicked. “A little trick I learned while living on the streets of Italy,” he said.

He pushed the door open. In the room beyond was a second door, this one standing upright in the middle of the room. Unfortunately, Mirror was standing in front of it.

“I knew we couldn’t trust you,” Sabrina said to the boy.

“I swear I had no clue he was here,” Pinocchio said.

“Just wait. His nose will grow,” Daphne said. “It happens when he tells a lie.”

“Give me the boy, Sabrina,” Mirror demanded, cutting off the bickering.

Sabrina shook her head and struggled with her squirming brother. “He’s not yours. He belongs with us.”

Mirror’s face turned purple with anger. The veins in his neck popped out and his eyes grew dark. “Those creatures will be here at any moment. Once they arrive, they will devour this room and everyone in it, including the boy.”

“Then get out of the way and we’ll leave.”

“They’re coming!” the dodo shouted. “You can stand and argue all you want. Just open the door and let us through.”

“I agree,” Sir Lancelot shouted. “Your dispute does not involve us. Step aside and let us pass.”

“Then we have a dilemma,” Mirror said. “I want the child. You want to pass. I’ll let everyone through this door if one of you brings me my boy.”

“Hand him over,” the Cheshire Cat cried. “He will still be alive, as will we. What good is there in letting us all die?”

Puck drew his sword, but his arm shook from the earlier blasts. “I will run through the first person who even thinks of trying.” His weakened state sapped the necessary intimidation from the threat.

The first reviser scurried into the room. Its sharp little teeth chomped and gnashed. Then it sprang at Sir Lancelot. The knight fought fiercely, swinging his sword at the monster, but the reviser was fast and agile. It leaped out of the way of Lancelot’s attacks until it sank its teeth into the man’s sword. A second later, the sword was gone. Three more revisers sprang into the room and jumped on Lancelot, the dodo, and King Arthur.

“It’s the only way to save his life, Starfish,” Mirror said with open arms.

“Daddy!” the boy cried.

Sabrina felt faint and flushed. Her head was turning like a top. What should she do? What was the right choice?

“Give him to Mirror,” a voice said. Sabrina turned, ready to throttle whoever had spoken. She was surprised to find it was Daphne.

Reluctantly, Sabrina held out her brother to Mirror. She had no choice.

“We will stop him. We’ll have another chance,” Daphne said.

“I have no doubt you will try,” Mirror said as the toddler hugged him. Mirror paid little mind to his affection. He held him the way one might a sack of groceries. He opened the door and stepped into the angry wind, and then he was gone.

“Clearly that was the responsible choice,” the White Rabbit said.

If Sabrina could kill someone with a look, the rabbit would have died on the spot. “Get through the door,” she shouted. “Every last cowardly one of you!”

The crowd rushed past her and fled into the empty void of the door. Puck snatched Pinocchio by his collar.

“You’re sticking with me, toothpick,” he said as the little boy fought to escape his grip. Pinocchio’s hand shot into his pocket and the fairy godmother wand came out. He flicked it and it lit up like a firecracker. A blast came out that narrowly missed Puck’s foot. Unfortunately, it hit the ball of magic yarn instead. The ball let out a little yelp and smoke came out of it.

Daphne reached down and snatched the ball. “If you busted this, you’re in deep trouble.” She tried to take the magic wand from Pinocchio but he squirmed free and jumped through the portal before anyone could stop him.

At that moment, Sabrina couldn’t have cared less about him. “Just go!” she said as a tear dropped from her cheek. She followed the others through the door. The last thing Sabrina saw was the gnashing teeth of the revisers.

 

Sabrina found herself inside a tiny horse-drawn coach packed to its roof with children. Her group’s sudden appearance triggered a massive groan from the already crowded kids as they were shoved violently into smaller and tighter corners of the coach. Sabrina had never had claustrophobia before, but at that moment she felt trapped and unable to breathe.

“Sabrina!” Daphne’s voice cried out from somewhere in the mob.

“I’m here,” Sabrina said, choking. She tried to turn, but dozens of bodies were pressing against her. It felt like being locked inside a coffin or buried alive. She could feel panic coming on like a typhoon and her stomach was swirling uncomfortably. “Stay calm,” she told herself.

“Where are we?” the Cheshire Cat said, shoving the crowd for a little space. His efforts tumbled the children back and forth.

“And where’s Pinocchio?” Daphne asked.

“I see him,” Puck said from somewhere behind Sabrina. “He’s outside the coach, near the driver.”

Sabrina pushed against the mob of children and peered between the bars separating the coach from the front of the vehicle. She spotted a short, fat tub of a man who was wider than he was tall sitting with his back to her. His appearance was almost inhuman—more like a drawing of how a person might look than an actual person. The strange driver rode atop a buckboard and steered a team of skinny donkeys. Sitting next to him was Pinocchio.

 

“What story are we in?” Sabrina called out to him.

“Mine,” Pinocchio said. The smile on his face was not reassuring.

“Uh-oh,” Daphne said.

“I have to get out of here,” Sabrina said as she pulled on the bars that lined the coach. She fought desperately, letting out a terrified scream, and then everything turned a milky gray and flashed black . . .

When she woke, she saw her sister above her and a crowd of concerned faces gathered around. She was no longer in the coach. She was lying on a cold, cobblestone street.

“What happened?” she said, trying to sit up. Her eyes felt like they were rolling in their sockets, so she lay back down for a moment.

“You fainted,” Daphne said.

“Where’s Pinocchio?” she asked.

Daphne pointed down the street toward a little town. She saw a banner that read
WELCOME TO TOYLAND
.

Sabrina craned her neck for a better view and saw a bizarre little town lined with multicolored houses and streets littered with discarded toys. Everywhere she looked there were children running and playing without a care in the world. The biggest house on the street was under attack by an army of children dressed in tinfoil armor. A boy dressed in a king’s robes and a cardboard crown stood on the roof waving a paper sword and laughing at the approaching army. His soldiers below him were pelting them with water balloons and eggs.

“Just rest,” Daphne said.

Sabrina forced herself to her feet. “We can’t. We have to turn him over to the Editor.”

Daphne looked concerned as she took out the ball of yarn. She said Pinocchio’s name into it and set it on the ground. It popped and fizzled, but would not roll forward.

“That magic-wand blast must have fried it,” Daphne said. “I think we should leave it alone for a while—give it time to cool off.”

Sabrina frowned and took a few deep breaths. “Then we’ll do this the old-fashioned way. We should split up. Arthur, Lancelot, Guinevere—take a few of the other knights. You’re in one group. Puppy, rabbit, cat, dodo—take some knights with you, too. My sister and Puck and I will stick together.” She didn’t want anyone slowing them down.

“I must protest your plan,” the White Rabbit said. “What if we do not find one another again? Any number of things could happen while we are here. One of us could become injured—or we could get lost. We would be trapped here.”

“I couldn’t care less,” Sabrina said. “We’re not babysitting you.”

Daphne raised her hands to calm the group. “Rabbit, you’re the one with the pocket watch. Meet us back here in an hour. And everyone else, do yourself a favor and don’t play with any of the kids in the town. Playing is a bad thing.”

“The words you say are insane,” Puck said. “They come out of your mouth like regular words but make no sense.”

“Every kid on this island is going to turn into a donkey,” Daphne explained, pointing to the beasts that had pulled them in the coach. “The driver will sell them all to farms, where they will be worked to death.”

“She’s right,” said a boy who, unlike the others from the wagon, had stayed behind when the rest rushed into the town. “Pinocchio gets sent to a circus to be trained as a dancing donkey. I end up on a farm where I die.”

“How do you know?” the Cheshire Cat purred.

“I’m Lampwick, his best friend.” The boy started to run off to join the other children.

“Wait! Where are you going?” Sabrina said. “If you know you’re going to die, why not turn around and go home?”

The boy shook his head. “The Editor would not approve.”

“Then join our army,” Arthur said. “We’re traveling through the stories. Soon we’ll find a door to the real world and we’ll escape for good. You could be free.”

Lampwick smiled and shook his head. “And then what? I have a role here. I’m important to Pinocchio’s development. When he witnesses my death as a broken-down farm animal, it has a profound effect on him. Without me, his efforts to become a good boy might never occur. Even though I have a small part in his life, I’m essential to its direction.”

“You’re a fool!” the dodo said.

“I’m part of his growth as a character,” the boy said. “It is my tragic end that makes him a better person. In any good story the hero must experience tragedy to grow and ultimately defeat what is destroying him. I know the story isn’t called ‘Lampwick,’ but I’m arguably the most important character in it.”

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