The Grimm Diaries Prequels Volume 11- 14: Children of Hamlin, Jar of Hearts, Tooth & Nail & Fairy Tale, Ember in the Wind, Welcome to Sorrow, and Happy Valentine's Slay. (18 page)

The moon beamed onto the night as I stood in front of the cottage. I hadn’t been fond of the moon. The way it insisted on lightning up the dark of the night in Sorrow bothered me. I hated when I didn’t have power over something, even if it was the moon—I managed to control the sun many years later.

“I am chasing it every night, my Queen,” Managarm said, sensing my insecurities toward the moon. “I will catch it one day. You can count on me.”

“Can I?” I scanned him from top to bottom. It struck me as stupid that Managarm had an obsession with hunting the moon, and I wondered why he was like that. Did it have something to do with the pain the moon bestowed on him each month when it turned full? I didn’t know for sure.

“I will drown the moon one day, my Queen,” Managarm fisted a paw. “You have my word, and if I fail, I will abide with whatever punishment you see just for me.”

“Well, Managarm,” I mused. “You could start your noble journey of hunting the moon by opening the cottage’s door for me.”

“In your service, my majesty,” Managarm opened the door with a smile on his face. One thing I liked about him was that he adored my sarcasm. “Still, I promise you, my Queen. I will catch the moon one day.”

I never hung onto people’s promises, however sincere they sounded or sweet their words tasted on my tongue. People, creatures, and all beings in this world had a tendency to break promises—of course, their default hobby is lying to each other, but broken promises came in second best.

Promises are like silly jokes, told around a table when the food is good and no one has anything to lose by telling a lie or two—lies should have been a synonym for the word ‘promise’  in dictionaries, but only a few people knew it. And who was I fooling? If the Grimms forged the fairy tales, why wouldn’t someone else have forged our dictionaries? Maybe the word Beast meant Beauty and vice versa. It would actually explain most of our universal conflicts if it was true.

When I entered the cottage, Jacob Carl Grimm was sitting, slouched over the table, sipping soup from a small bowl. It was obvious that he hadn’t shaved or washed in a long time. He had given in to his condition and didn’t even bother looking at me when I entered. It was hard on him, living without a heart to remind him that he was once against me. Still, there was something about him that warned me to not trust him, yet.

What I always hated most about the cottage was Snow White’s scent, which never faded through the years. It sparked memories of love and hate inside me. I hated memories—unless I had practical use remembering something. They distracted me from my path. When you wake up one day deciding you will not play nice with the world anymore, your greatest enemy becomes your older memories. They soften you and pull you back to your older self. That person who once cared for a cat or a beloved more than themselves. If you want to change your life and keep the new mask you’re wearing on, kill the memory of the past and bury it in the sun.

“Do you like your soup, Jacob?” I said, still standing in my place. There was no way I was going to sit on any of the dusty,  spiderweb-coated furniture in the cottage.

“It’s beetle soup,” Jacob answered without looking. Like a talking zombie, he pulled a beetle’s leg out of the soup and spit another away. It looks like the old man had been enjoying himself for some time. “It took me two days to make this soup, because I had about a hundred beetles to catch.”

“Oh?” I frowned.

“The hardest part is catching the beetle without squashing it,” he explained. “You wouldn’t want to end up scrapping its guts off the floor. It makes the soup taste funny.”

“Good for you,” I said nonchalantly, checking out the cottage’s cealing and taking off my gloves. “I hope that catching a lot of beetles taught you that in order to survive you should avoid being squashed by those who are stronger than you.”

“Do you mean those who have your heart?” Jacob dropped the spoon. I was astonished that my sarcasm made him lose his appetite while the beetles didn’t.

“I wonder why you always think badly of me,” I told him. “Do you think I would do something bad to your heart, like squash it, maybe? I wouldn’t do that to you, would I?”

“Let’s cut to the chase, Queen of Sorrow. When are you going to release me from this cottage?” he said.

“I’m not here to discuss that, Jacob,” I said. “Every time I remember how you resurrected Rumpelstiltskin and made a Rumpelstein out of him, I fear for our safety. Your mind isn’t in the right place at the moment. You need time to adjust.”

“I was trying to see if I could resurrect myself with another heart after you have taken mine,” he explained. “Rumpelstein was my experiment to prove it could be done, but then you caught me before I could apply it to myself.”

“And look at what you’ve created, Jacob,” I said. “Now we have a monster walking around in Sorrow.”

“I waited so long,” he pleaded. “And it’s killing me. When will you ever give my heart back to me? Or are you just taking it because you failed to take
hers
?” he waved his hand angrily.

It only took me a second to move over toward him and grab him by the throat, staining my carefully manicured fingernails with the sticky sweat on his neck. I hated when I had to do the dirty job myself, but don’t ever let my majestic looks fool you into thinking I wouldn’t slash at you like a mad cat when I need to.

“If you ever insult me again, I will hurt you in ways you have never imagined,” I whispered to him.

“I didn’t mean to,” Jacob choked, my sharp nails scratching at his neck. “It was a slip of the tongue.”

I let go of him and stared at the trickles of blood on my fingernails. Now I was going to have to wash them thoroughly when I got back to the castle, but it was my fault because I lost my temper when he mentioned
her
heart.

What can I say about Snow White’s heart; the most precious thing I had desired all of my life. And don’t frown when you hear me talk about my daughter that way. You know nothing about her, Wilhelm. Nothing!

“Speaking of my daughter’s heart,” I said to Jacob. “Did you remember anything about the Lost Seven?”

“You know Wilhelm cast a spell on me before you wanted to kill me,” Jacob said. “It didn’t wear off and I remember nothing. Maybe if you give me my heart back, I will.”

“If I give you your heart, you will be back on Wilhelm’s side,” I said. “I will not risk that.”

Jacob said nothing.

“So why did you send for me, Jacob?” I asked. “You said you could help me know who the Lost Seven are.”

“Cassandra, the fortuneteller, could help you,” he claimed.

“Who is Cassandra?”

“An immortal woman who has been gifted with the sight of the future,” Jacob said.

“Most fortunetellers are liars,” I said. “Or unable to see everything. I have Dame Gothel, and she is of no use to me when it comes to the Lost Seven. She only foretold Rapunzel’s birth, and my only use for Rapunzel is for entering the Dreamworld. Even when I asked Dame Gothel to tell me if Rapunzel was one of the Lost Seven, she couldn’t tell me.”

“Cassandra is different,” Jacob said. “She has predicted the fall of Troy in the past before it happened.”

“Let me ask you something, Jacob,” I leaned forward, held the tip of his ear and whispered in it. “If this Cassandra had predicted the fall of Troy, then why did Troy actually
fall
?”

“Because she is cursed.”

“What kind of curse?”

“That no one would ever believe her,” Jacob said.

“Ah, all that nonsense,” I straightened back up. “That’s the lamest excuse I’ve ever heard from a fortuneteller.”

“It’s true,” Jacob insisted. “It’s written all over the books of history. She has predicted many things but the curse prevented anyone from believing her. You can try her. You have nothing to lose.”

“Even if I do, why do you think I need to see the future?”

“The Lost Seven will help Snow White in the future, my Queen. She can see that.”

“Are you saying she can see what’s going to happen starting in 2012, when the curse is lifted and we’re resurrected again?”

“That’s what I was trying to say all along.”

“Let me see her,” I shook my shoulder. “Maybe she has what I need. I don’t see the harm in trying her out.”

“I could send her to you, but there is only one problem,” Jacob averted his eyes from mine. He knew I hated obstacles. “Like I said, she was cursed so no one would believe her.”

“So?” I raised my eyebrows. “I will. Are we done?”

“No. It doesn’t work like that,” Jacob said. “Her curse is real. No matter what she tells you, you will not be able to believe her, even if you want to.”

“What kind of hocus pocus talk is that?” I started putting my gloves back on, regretting that I had come in the first place. “Did you call for me to tell me that the only person who knows who the Lost Seven are is cursed, and that I will be listening to the truth with my own ears and still not believe her?”

“Yes,” Jacob stressed on his teeth, still avoiding my eyes, but it was enough for me to know that he wasn’t fooling around. “The curse is beyond anyone’s reach or understanding. It’s the kingdom’s miracle and joke at the same time, showing us that we could read the future but never believe it. Or why else do you think no one has benefited from Cassandra before?”

“Well, maybe she’s a fraud like everyone else,” I said, signaling for Managarm to prepare the carriage so we could leave.

“Please believe me. She knows. Why would I lie to you? I want to please you so I can get my heart back.”

“Alright, Jacob,” I took a step forward and tickled his chin like you do to a child. “Don’t be mad, little kitty. I just don’t know what you want me to do if whatever she tells me I will not be able to believe.”

“I know a way around it,” Jacob said. “Only the consequences could be fatal.”

“I don’t bother with consequences, Jacob. We’re going to hell anyways. This immortality we’ve been given could be hell itself. Tell me what could be done.”

“The curse is that whoever is told the precognition will never believe it in his heart so they will never act on it,” Jacob said reluctantly. “But it doesn’t apply to those who overhear the conversation and haven’t ask the questions.”

“You mean an eavesdropper, a peeping tom, right?” my eyes glittered like pearls. I loved that feeling of being able to fool greater forces. It was so addictive and it suited my personality.

“Yes,” he nodded, almost ashamed.

“So you’re suggesting I let someone ask Cassandra what I want as I eavesdrop? I would certainly enjoy that.”

“No, I wouldn’t recommend that. The eavesdropper will be cursed. It’s true that they will be able to listen to Cassandra and believe what she predicts, and it’s true that they will be able to tell the truth to someone else who’d believe them,” Jacob shrugged and looked at me for the first time. “But the eavesdropper will be cursed. Horrible things will happen to them in their life.”

“Hmm…” I considered. “Such amazing protections this Cassandra has. But I don’t see the problem. I will ask Cassandra myself and get someone—whom I’d like to get hurt and tortured—to eavesdrop and tell me what Cassandra has told me.”

“That’s the way to do it,” Jacob nodded and lowered his head again.

“Of course, the debate right now will be who I would want to use,” I said, thinking I could use any of the maids, the peasants, or even the huntsmen. I could even kill them myself after they tell me the truth. No need to wait for a curse.