Blood, Milk & Chocolate - Part 1 (The Grimm Diaries Book 3) Read online

  "Can I stay until morning?" I asked, neglecting the men's request.

  "I think you will have to stay until morning, actually." He nodded. "Not because I want you, but because you can't handle the sea tomorrow. No one can handle the Seven Seas tomorrow." The hissing and murmurs increased again behind me. "The mermaids don't just come to take a man and feed on him." The sailors and misfits let out several sighs. The puffing boy wailed and began to say they were all going to die in the sea. "The mermaids' arrival is only a prelude."

  "Prelude to what?"

  Captain Ahab's pipe dimmed, dying in the ghostly winds. He tapped it on the back of his hand and said, "Take your sack, and stay until tomorrow." He wasn't going to answer my question. "I don't promise the ship will be safe, though. Tomorrow is going to be one of the hardest days." He turned and walked among the sailors and misfits, his hands behind his back.

  All men on ship were on their hands and knees, as if God walked among them. Captain Ahab seemed disgusted by their existence. I really wondered why he allowed all lost souls on the ship, let alone why he was after a whale in the Seven Seas. He glanced at the frightened men by his feet and said, "Stand up, all you lost souls at sea." He waved his hand like a magician as they slowly raised their heads. "Do you really think that I'm H—?"

  "Him?" a few of them said.

  Captain Ahab shook his head, as if Him wasn't the real name. It seemed to be a name starting with an H, but not Him. Captain Ahab shook his head. "Do you think you can sell your soul to me?" He laughed. "I'm not who you think I am."

  The men exchanged looks of surprise. Even I thought it was Captain Ahab, sailing the sea with a ship full of desperate men and forcing them to sell their souls to him.

  "Then…" The puffing boy shrugged. "Then who is Him?"

  "This must be the ship of fools." Captain Ahab shook his head, like he was about to throw the boy into the sea like the silver-toothed man. "You think you want to sell your soul to Him, but have no idea what it means." He walked back to me. "Besides, he isn't interested in already lost and weak souls like you." Captain Ahab chuckled loudly. "He is only interested in strong souls." He smirked at me, leaving me confused again.

  "Who is he, then?" the puffing boy insisted on asking, foolishly ignoring all of Ahab's warnings.

  "All of you fools will meet him tomorrow," Ahab said without turning back. "He sends the mermaids to a ship he is about to attack, so sleep tight and dream long, because tonight might be the last of your lives."

  Captain Ahab was about to finally walk back to his room when he had one last thought. He approached me and neared my ear again. "When you see Him tomorrow, tell him Captain Long John Silver will not be caught."

  Captain Ahab—or Long John Silver—walked away with another smirk on his face, leaving me shrouded in the mysteries of the sea, with no conclusions on how to reach my destiny.

  32

  Fable's Dreamworld

  Somewhere near Ladle's house, the Lost Seven prepared their horses. Fable assumed she should know how to ride horses in the Dreamworld. She was right.

  Each of them named their horse after their last names—all but Marmalade, who named her horse Moon, and the Beast, who named his horse Beauty. Jack's horse was named Madly, something Fable thought suited him dearly. Cerené's horse was the Phoenix, and Fable's was Crumblewood, of course. She decided she would call him Woody for short.

  Ladle's horse was named Rat. Ladle's full name was Ladle Rat Rotten Hut, a play on "Little Red Riding Hood." Fable learned it was a secret language the Lost Seven called Anguish Language. They used it to send secret messages to each other. An example was the name of the town where Fable had been raised, Furry Tell—an Anguish Language way to say "fairy tale."

  Fable hoped they wouldn't use it in this dream. Or was she supposed to know it in this dream?

  Only the Beast's horse ate sugar. Marmalade's horse ate marmalade, and Ladle's ate what she said were squirrel nuts, but they looked like fortune cookies. Jack's horse fed on white feathers like the one in his mouth at all times. Cerené breathed into her horse's mouth with her blowpipe for food. Instinctually, Fable grabbed a few breadcrumbs and offered them to Woody, who nibbled on them with enthusiasm.

  Fable felt so happy being among the Lost Seven. She thought this was the life she had wanted to experience long ago. The hell with the town of Sorrow in the Waking World. This dream was better than fairy tales.

  ***

  The Beast had been the first to put his cloak on. Fable still couldn't see his face. She realized he almost never showed his face to anyone, thinking he was the "ugliest of them all." The rest of them wore their cloaks, except Fable, who was too small for hers. She looked silly in it.

  Jack told them that he had heard the Queen was performing a new Weighing of the Heart ceremony for Shew and all the other girls whose blood she'd bathe in today. Fable understood that the Queen couldn't bathe in the girls' blood unless their hearts weighed twenty-one grams—the same reason she couldn't consume Shew's heart.

  "So why twenty-one grams?" Fable thought she'd take advantage of them considering her young and naive, and ask as many questions she could.

  "Once you we turn sixteen, all of our hearts weigh twenty-one grams," Marmalade said. "Right, Jack?" She was trying to be playful.

  "Not mine." Jack bit on his white feather. "I'm too awesome for it to only weigh that much." He smirked, and threw a rock at the moon in the sky. He seemed obsessed with it, paying it more attention than Marmalade.

  "Awesome." Fable giggled. Did they say awesome in 1812?

  "Don't you know I am so awesome someone will write a book about me one day?"

  "When the soul leaves the body it has to be one of twenty-one grams," Ladle elaborated, neglecting Jack's conceit. "If not, it won't do good in the afterlife."

  "And you know that because?" Marmalade seemed jealous of Ladle, maybe noticing how she and Jack always got along.

  "She is Death, splashy." Jack had called her "splashy" a couple of times. "I'd not argue with her if I were you." He shared a long gaze with Ladle.

  "It's something that appealed to the creators." Ladle broke off Jack's gaze to explain further. "Twenty-one grams is the weight of balance and maturity. Less and you haven't grown enough to face the world yet."

  "And heavier?" I asked.

  "Heavier has always been an arguable case," Ladle said, pulling a squirrel off her back. Squirrels and scythes didn't match at all, Fable thought. "A heavier heart either endures great hardships, is stained by evil, or has been compromised by magic."

  "Magic? How?" Fable was interested.

  "Magic isn't always good, Fable," Ladle said. "Some dark magic has dire consequences."

  Fable shrugged when she said that, then she saw Cerené gazing silently at her. Again, it was as if they shared a secret—but Fable had no idea what it was. It probably had to do with where she was supposed to have been for the past few months.

  "So we're just going to walk among the huntsmen?" Fable said. "Do you think our disguises are good enough?"

  "It's not the disguises," Jack said. "There is a rule among huntsmen that prevents anyone from seeing another's face. Even the Queen herself is denied the pleasure of uncovering any of their faces. Only Loki, the head of huntsmen, can reveal his face."

  "That's a strange rule," Fable said. "Why?"

  "Angel Von Sorrow was the one who hired the huntsmen, before the Queen of Sorrow turned them to serve her while he was away," Cerené explained. "All huntsmen are boys. Only boys. It's said that they're all orphans who escaped from all corners of the world to Sorrow. A myth says they have all crossed something called the Seven Seas, reaching a Tower of Tales, where they were ushered to Sorrow as an escape from their pasts. Angel wanted to protect them from their evil fathers. He used magic to conceal their identities so they wouldn't be hurt."

  "But they serve the Queen of Sorrow now," Marmalade said.

  "She managed to bind them to her side by dark magic," Ladle expl
ained. "But she couldn't break the spell so they'd show her their faces. She compromised their loyalty but not their faces."

  "And I suppose we're going to use that to hide among them," Fable said. "We'll use that to our advantage since no one dares ask us to show our faces?"

  "You're getting better by the minute." Jack winked and turned his horse the other way. "Does my hat look good on me?" he asked Marmalade while adjusting it, then rode away before she gave an answer.

  Fable laughed at his easiness, and watched Marmalade chase him before Ladle did. Cerené nodded at Fable and said, "Let's go save Shew."

  Let's see when and how Shew and Loki fell in love, Fable thought, and rode after the Lost Seven, all of them disguised as huntsmen, to the Schloss. She hoped she'd succeed in getting Loki's Fleece back.

  ***

  Mingling with the huntsmen wasn't a big deal. They usually rode near the forest and never spoke a word unless necessary, or if Loki ordered them. The Lost Seven used the fact they couldn't uncover each other's cloaks to their advantage. They also smeared their faces with black mud to ensure nothing showed through their cloaks. And, of course, they pulled their cloaks down to hide their eyes, just like all other huntsmen did.

  Entering the castle's garden among the other huntsmen, they were shocked by the vastness of the event. The Queen had every artist and performer gathered outside, entertaining everyone. Of course, the elite crowd had been invited inside.

  The Lost Seven rode along, not talking, commenting, or nodding. A few feet shy of the castle walls, they got off their horses and lined up among the other huntsmen. Loki, the head of the huntsmen, rode across his crew and said the Queen wanted them to witness an event of a lifetime. Like Fable had been told, he seemed even crueler than before. She wondered if she would see his snarky and silly side when he played bad boy. But this time, Loki didn't smile one bit. He looked almost…heartless.

  "Tonight, the Queen of Sorrow, She Who Must Be Obeyed, will consume her daughter's heart," Loki roared, riding his three-eyed unicorn. "Unlike last time, she will succeed today, and I shall kill the daughter myself if her heart weighs as desired."

  The huntsmen raised their swords and roared back.

  Fable was reluctant to share in such an insulting moment. Although she had previously known about Carmilla's brutality, she was shocked at her bluntness, announcing her intentions publicly with no holding back.

  Jack nudged Fable, waking her up from her inner monologue. Fable realized she had been the only one who refrained from hailing. She caught up, but a little too late.

  Regrettably, she caught Loki's green eyes.

  Fable had no idea Loki could exude this kind of evil when he looked at her. She thought she'd never forget his eyes years later when she had hopefully succeeded in resurrecting him in the real world. A flicker of a memory flashed before her eyes as he rode down and approached her. She remembered her town, Furry Tell, so vividly now. She remembered how she had been born there, and peeked briefly into her real past as a poor girl in the Kingdom of Sorrow. She remembered when he'd tried to kill her when looking for boys and girls with "splinters in their eyes."

  Loki approached her, suspicion sparkling in those threatening eyes. Fable couldn't break her gaze. She wanted to, but staring evil in the eyes froze the muscles on her face. How was this the Loki she'd had fun with in the Waking World? He was surely going to kill her. There was no escape. It looked like she was going to get killed by Loki in this dream—or have her identity exposed, at least.

  As Loki treaded with ruthless intuition, Fable swallowed a gasp. She saw he had his red Fleece wrapped around his hand.

  This is it. This is what I came here for. Could it be that easy?

  But how? The moment she saw his Fleece was the same moment he was going to punish her, or expose her, for not hailing at the Princess's demise.

  I don't care. Fable finally swallowed. Once he is near enough, I will snatch the Fleece and run away, maybe hide in the forest. Then Alice Grimm should show up there again and help me, right?

  "Damn the Queen's daughter!" Jack hailed next to Fable, and raised his sword as a distraction. "Damn the Snow White Princess!" He seemed to partially enjoy it, too. It began to show that he certainly didn't like Snow White. Maybe he just thought of her as a spoiled vampire girl.

  The huntsmen, noting Jack's proximity to Loki, thought Jack's rant was based on Loki's orders. So they hailed back. Loud enough to distract him from Fable, who hailed as loudly as she could, "Damn the Snow White Princess!"

  Loki, not wanting to criticize his huntsmen's enthusiasm, walked away from Fable and shared their moment.

  "Thank you," she whispered to Jack.

  "I really wanted him to get close," Jack whispered. "My hands were itching to steal his Fleece."

  Fable emitted a laugh.

  "I would have been known as the thief who stole the Huntsman's Fleece," Jack said. "Can you imagine that?"

  Fable discreetly reached for Jack's hand and squeezed it. "Thank you, again," she said, wondering if she'd ever get that close to Loki to get the Fleece. She wondered if she could use Jack as a thief in that matter, but it didn't seem right. She came here to get it herself. It was her responsibility. No one else's.

  Some time later, all huntsmen were invited inside the Schloss. It was the same castle Fable had seen in the Waking World, only grander and impossible to describe with words. This was a dream, after all. Everything was much brighter than Fable's wildest fantasies.

  Then they were ushered to the Queen of Sorrow's private chamber…

  ***

  The Lost Seven stood last in line inside, their backs to the arched double door from which they'd entered. In front of them stood Sorrow's monks and religious idols. Scientists stood honorably before them, closer to the Queen's throne. The closest row was reserved for the Kingdom of Sorrow's advisors and magicians. All meant to witness the Weighing of the Heart ceremony.

  On both sides, young peasant girls were lined up, readied for the kill in case their hearts' weights matched the Queen's desire.

  "Poor girls," Cerené whispered. "All those girls will be slaughtered in the Queen's bloody bathtub."

  The Queen of Sorrow herself, although far from Fable's poor eyesight, sat on her glass throne between Sirenia Lark, her private singer, and the mirror where Bloody Mary lived. Fable was more interested in Sirenia Lark than Bloody Mary this time. She remembered Shew had mentioned her briefly as the siren helper of the Queen of Sorrow. What did this woman do apart from playing eerie melodies with her flute? Fable knew Sirenia also sang. Was that all she did, sitting by the Queen's side?

  "That's Sirenia," Marmalade whispered. She sounded bitter, angry, and sad. "I should have killed her long ago."

  "What do you mean?" Fable whispered back.

  Jack nudged her into silence. "We're in no position to talk about Marmalade's past now."

  Fable's curiosity was piqued. Marmalade was a mermaid, obviously infatuated with the moon. How did she meet Sirenia in the past?

  "I can't stand Bloody Mary," Cerené whispered, sounding sincere. "She scares me like no one else."

  "I tried to steal her mirror once," Jack bragged. "But that's another story for another time. Now, shush, all of you."

  Fable listened to Jack and stopped her mind from thinking about anything that wasn't helping her mission. In truth, Sirenia and Bloody Mary were nothing compared to the Queen of Sorrow. Her presence was undeniable in this dream. Although she sat far away, Fable couldn't take her eyes off her. She looked so powerful and so mean, disguised behind a mask of unexplainable beauty.

  How is she so beautiful? How is this possible? Does bathing in young girls' blood give her such magic? And why had she pretended to be my foster mother—because she knew I was a Lost Seven? Then why me rather than the others?

  ***

  The ceremony of weighing Shew's heart—again—took some time from start to finish. Shew looked pale, as if she hadn't been eating enough. She looked broken, l
ike she had given up the fight. Having been trapped in the Rapunzel Tower for so long must have been an awful experience.

  Shew asked for her father, Angel Von Sorrow. He wasn't there. Angel was away fighting vampires at the borders of the Kingdom of Sorrow.

  Before being laid on the table where Dame Gothel, the Queen's witch, was to weigh her heart, Shew asked about Cerené.

  "Who's that?" the Queen of Sorrow said. Of course she knew who Cerené was, Fable thought. She only pretended she didn't remember her to downplay the importance of the Phoenix.

  "The glassblower. My friend," Shew said. "My best friend, who Loki killed."

  "If the Huntsman killed her, why are you asking about her?" The Queen sounded suspicious.

  Shew didn't answer her. Tears rolled down her face as she gave in to Dame Gothel's sedative. Fable was saddened that, at this point, poor Shew thought her best friend, Cerené, was dead. She must have felt awful having disappointed Cerené. Was that why she was giving up easily, or had she been tortured in the Rapunzel Tower? That must have been another story for another time.

  Cerené, on the other hand, fidgeted beside Fable. Shew's words weren't easy on her. Fable was sure she wanted to remove her cloak and chop everyone's head off.

  Fable wondered when they would make their move. Marmalade had suggested they should wait and see if Shew's heart weighed twenty-one grams. In all cases, the Lost Seven needed to know about Shew's heart's weight as well, since they had no means to weigh it themselves.

  They all had their swords readied for the attack once the weighing was announced.

  As they waited, Bloody Mary suddenly appeared in her mirror to warn the Queen of something.

  "What is it now, Mary?" the Queen said, sighing.

  "I smell treason, My Queen." Mary sniffed the air in the chamber.