The Fairy-Tale Detectives (The Sisters Grimm, Book 1), Page 2

  "Ladies, let me give you the grand tour." She led them into the living room. It was enormous, a much larger room than seemed possible in a cottage so small. Each wall was lined with bookshelves, stuffed with more books than Sabrina had ever seen. Stacks of them also sat on the floor, the tables, and every other surface. A teapot perched precariously on a stack that looked as if it would fall over at any moment. Books were under the couch cushions, under the carpet. Several giant stacks stood in front of an old television, blocking any chance that someone could watch cartoons. On the spines Sabrina read the strangest titles: Birds of Oz, The Autobiography of an Evil Queen, and Shoes, Toys, and Cookies: The Elvish Handcraft Tradition.

  Mrs. Grimm led them through another door where a dining room table sat littered with books, open and waiting to be read. Sabrina picked one up and rolled her eyes when she read the title: 365 Ways to Cook Dragon.

  The old woman led them from room to room, showing them where she kept the snacks in the white-tiled kitchen and how to get the rickety bathroom door to close. Sabrina pretended to be interested but in reality she secretly "cased the joint." It was a technique she had picked up after spending a year in the foster care system. In each room she noted where the windows and doors were, eyed locks, and paid close attention to creaky floorboards. But it wasn't easy. She kept getting distracted by the odd books and the dozens of old black-and-white photographs that decorated the walls. Most of them were of a much younger Mrs. Grimm and a stocky, bearded man with a wide smile. There were pictures of them hiking in the jungle, standing on an icy glacier, scaling a mountain, and even riding camels in the desert. In some pictures, Mrs. Grimm was carrying a small child in a papoose, while the bearded man stood next to her, proudly beaming at the camera.

  Daphne was just as distracted, and when they arrived back in the living room, she walked over to a picture and looked at it closely.

  "That was your opa, Basil," Mrs. Grimm said wistfully.

  "Opa?" Daphne asked.

  "Grandfather, liebling. He passed on about eleven years ago," she said.

  "Is that your baby?" Daphne said.

  The old lady smiled and studied the picture as if she weren't sure. "That's your papa," she said with a smile. The little girl eyed the photo closely, but Sabrina turned away. Babies all looked the same. An old photo couldn't prove anything.

  "Oh, my, I've forgotten the cookies," the old woman said as she dashed to the kitchen. In no time she returned with a plate of warm chocolate-chip cookies. Daphne, of course, happily grabbed one and took a bite.

  "These taste just like my mommy's," she exclaimed.

  "Where do you think she got the recipe, angel?" Mrs. Grimm said.

  Sabrina refused to take a cookie, giving Mrs. Grimm an "I know what you're up to" look. She wasn't going to be bribed with sweets.

  Just then, Mr. Canis walked into the room.

  "I was about to introduce the girls to Elvis," Mrs. Grimm said to him.

  Mr. Canis gave a slight smile, nodded, and walked past them toward the kitchen.

  That's a weird man, Sabrina thought as she noted two loud creaks in the middle of the living room floor.

  "Is he your boyfriend?" Daphne asked the old woman, who was trying to balance the plate of cookies on top of two uneven stacks of books.

  Mrs. Grimm blushed and giggled. "Oh, dear, no. Mr. Canis and I are not courting. We are just good friends," she said.

  "What does courting mean?" Daphne asked her sister.

  "It's an old-fashioned word for dating," Sabrina replied.

  Suddenly, there was a great rumbling in the house. Books fell from their shelves, windows shook in their frames, and the tray of cookies slid to the floor before the old woman could catch it. And then something enormous came charging through the room and right at them.

  It moved so quickly Sabrina couldn't tell what it was. It pushed over lamps and chairs, leaped over an ottoman, and knocked the terrified girls to the ground. Sabrina screamed, sure they were about to be eaten when, much to her surprise, a gooey tongue licked her cheek. She opened her eyes and looked up at the friendly face of a giant dog.

  "Elvis, please, get off of them," Mrs. Grimm said, half commanding and half laughing at the Great Dane. "He gets very excited around new people." The enormous dog gave one last lick to Sabrina's face, leaving a long trail of drool, before sitting down next to the old woman, panting and wagging his immense tail.

  "This is Elvis. He's a member of our little family and completely harmless if he likes you," said Mrs. Grimm, scratching the beast on his immense head. The dog licked the old woman on the cheek.

  "And if he doesn't?" Sabrina asked as she climbed to her feet. The old woman ignored her question.

  Daphne, on the other hand, jumped up and threw her arms around the dog. "Oh, I love him! He's so cute!" She laughed as she covered the dog with her own kisses.

  "This is the only boyfriend I have." Mrs. Grimm smiled. "And probably the smartest one I've ever had, too. Watch!"

  Daphne stepped back and she and Sabrina watched as Mrs. Grimm put her hand out to Elvis. "Elvis, shake," she said, and the dog reached out a huge forepaw and placed it in her hand.

  Daphne giggled.

  "Play dead," Daphne said hopefully, and the dog fell stiffly over onto his side. The impact dislodged several books from a nearby shelf.

  Mrs. Grimm laughed. "You two must be starving after your trip. I suppose I better get started with dinner. I hope spaghetti and meatballs is OK."

  "I love spaghetti and meatballs!" Daphne cried as Elvis gave her a fresh lick.

  "I know you do," Mrs. Grimm said with a wink. She disappeared into the kitchen, where she began rattling pots and pans.

  "I don't like this at all, Daphne," Sabrina said as she wiped off the last of the dog's goo. "Don't get used to this place. We're not going to be here long."

  "Stop being a snot," Daphne said as she laid a huge smooch on Elvis. Snot was her favorite word lately. "She wouldn't hurt us. She's nice."

  "That's why crazy people are so dangerous. You think they're nice until they're chaining you up in the garage," Sabrina replied. "And I am not being a snot."

  "Yes, you are."

  "No, I'm not."

  "Yes, you are," Daphne insisted. "Anything is better than living at the orphanage, right?"

  Daphne had a point. Sabrina walked over and examined the photograph the old woman claimed was of the girls' father. The rosy-cheeked baby in the photo seemed to stare back at her.

  • • •

  Mr. Canis had cleared the big oak dining room table of enough books for everyone to eat comfortably. He had left an exceptionally thick volume entitled Architecture for Pigs on Daphne's chair so the little girl could reach her dinner. As they waited patiently for Mrs. Grimm, who was still making a thunderous racket in die kitchen, Mr. Canis closed his eyes and sat silently. Soon, his stillness began to unnerve Sabrina. Was he a mute? Was there something wrong with him? In New York City, everyone talked, or rather, everyone yelled at everyone, all the time. They never sat quietly with their eyes closed when people were around. It was rude.

  "I think he's dead," Daphne whispered after staring at him for some time.

  Suddenly, Mrs. Grimm came through the door with a big copper pot and placed it on the table. She rushed back into the kitchen and returned with a plate of salad and set it in front of Mr. Canis. As soon as the plate hit the table the old man opened his eyes and began to eat.

  "How did you know I like spaghetti? It's my favorite!" Daphne said happily.

  "I know lots of things about you, liebling. I am your oma," Mrs. Grimm replied.

  "Oma?” Sabrina asked. "What's this weird language you keep speaking?"

  "It means grandmother in German. That's where our family is from," Mrs. Grimm answered.

  "My family is from New York City," Sabrina said stiffly.

  The old woman smiled a sad smile. "Your mama sent me letters from time to time. I know a great deal about you both. In fact, w
hen I stopped getting them I knew that ..." She sighed.

  "That they'd abandoned us?" Sabrina snapped. Suddenly, Sabrina felt as if she might burst into tears. She ducked her head, fighting their escape down her cheeks.

  "Child, your mother and father didn't abandon you," Mrs. Grimm cried.

  "Mrs. Grimm, I —" Daphne began.

  "Liebling, I'm not Mrs. Grimm. I'm your grandmother," the old woman said. "You can call me Grandma or Oma, but never Mrs. Grimm, please."

  "Can we call you Granny? I always wanted a granny," said Daphne. Sabrina kicked her sharply under the table and the little girl winced.

  "Of course, I'll be your Granny Relda," the old woman said with a smile, as she took the top off the pot.

  Sabrina stared inside. She had never seen spaghetti like this. The noodles were black and the sauce was a bright orange color. It smelled both sweet and spicy at the same time, and the meatballs, which were emerald green, were surely not made from any kind of meat Sabrina had ever had.

  "It's a special recipe," Mrs. Grimm said, as she dished some out for Daphne. "The sauce has a little curry in it and the noodles are made with squid ink."

  Sabrina was disgusted. There was no way she was going to eat the old woman's weird food. This sicko had lied about being someone's dead grandmother. Who knew what she had yanked from under the kitchen sink and added to the recipe: arsenic, rat poison, clog remover? No, Sabrina wasn't going to eat a noodle. Of course, Daphne dug in with gusto and had already swallowed a third of her plate before Sabrina could warn her.

  "So, Mr. Canis says your suitcases felt almost empty. Don't you have any clothes?" Mrs. Grimm asked.

  "The police kept them," Daphne said, shoveling a huge forkful of noodles into her mouth. "They said they were evidence."

  "Kept them? That's crazy! What will they do with them?" She looked at each of them and finally at Mr. Canis, who shrugged.

  "Well, we'll have to go into town and pick you out new wardrobes. We can't have you running around naked all the time, can we? I mean, people will think we're nudists."

  Daphne laughed to the point of snorting, but when she saw Sabrina's disapproving face she stopped and stuck her tongue out at her sister.

  "I was thinking that we—" Mrs. Grimm started, but Sabrina interrupted.

  "Who are you? And don't say you're our grandmother because our grandmother is dead!"

  Mrs. Grimm shifted in her seat. Mr. Canis, obviously seeing the question as his cue to retire, got up, took his empty plate, and exited the room.

  "But I am your grandmother, libeling," the old woman replied.

  "I said our grandmother is dead. Our father told us she died before we were born."

  "Girls, I assure you that I am who I say I am."

  "Well, then why did he tell us you died if you didn't?"

  "I'm not sure it is time to discuss your father's decisions. We are all just getting settled in and we can talk about it later," Mrs. Grimm said. Her eyes dropped to her lap.

  "Well if you really were our grandmother, I would think you'd be happy to discuss it," Sabrina snapped.

  "Now is not the time," Mrs. Grimm said softly.

  Sabrina leaped up from her seat, sending her fork clanging to the floor. "Fine! I'm tired and want to go to bed."

  Mrs. Grimm frowned. "Of course, liebling. Your room is upstairs. I will show you—"

  "WE'LL FIND IT OURSELVES!"

  Sabrina walked around the table, grabbed Daphne's hand, and dragged her from her chair.

  "But I'm not done eating!" said Daphne.

  "You're never done eating. Let's go!" Sabrina commanded.

  She marched through the house and up the stairs with her sister in tow. At the top of the stairs they found a long hallway with five closed doors, two on each side and one at the end of the hallway. Sabrina yanked on the closest one, but it was locked tight. She turned and tried the door behind her. It opened to a bedroom decorated with dozens of wooden tribal masks, wild-eyed and smiling hideously. Two ancient swords were mounted on the wall alongside the masks, and there were pictures of Mrs. Grimm and her husband, Basil, everywhere. Like the ones downstairs, each photo was of a different part of the world. In one picture, Basil was standing at the top of an ancient stone temple; in another, the couple were guiding a gondola through what Sabrina guessed were Venetian canals. She closed the door, realizing that this had to be the old woman's room. She tried the next door.

  Inside, Mr. Canis sat cross-legged on the floor, his hands resting on his knees. Several candles lit the nearly empty room, illuminating its sparse furnishings and a small woven mat on the floor. There were no pictures or decorations at all. Mr. Canis opened his eyes and turned to look at the girls, his eyebrows arched.

  Sabrina slammed the door without apologizing. "What a nutcase," she muttered. The next door opened to a queen-sized, four-poster bed with their suitcases resting on top. Sabrina pulled Daphne inside and slammed the door.

  "That woman is hiding something!" she said.

  "You think everyone's hiding something."

  "And you would hug the devil if he gave you cookies."

  "Well, I like her!" said Daphne. She sat down on the bed and let out a Harrumph!

  Sabrina looked around the room. It was painted in soft yellow and had a slanted ceiling and a fireplace. A red ten-speed bicycle sat in the corner, an old baseball mitt rested on a desk, and several model airplanes hung from the ceiling. A nightstand sat next to the bed with an alarm clock perched on top. And on every wall were dozens of old photographs. A particularly large one showed two young boys staring out over the Hudson River.

  Sabrina went to the window and looked out at the porch roof below. She could probably jump off it and then to the ground, but Daphne might hurt herself.

  "Let's give her a chance," Daphne begged.

  "A chance to what? Kill us in our sleep? Feed us to that monster dog of hers? No way!" Sabrina said. "While you were shoveling in those meatballs did you ever think that they might be made from the last couple of kids she claimed she was related to?"

  Daphne rolled her eyes. "You're gross!"

  Suddenly Sabrina heard a faint whistling sound, almost like a flute, coming from outside the window. She peered into the dark forest behind the house. At first she thought she had seen something or someone sitting in a tree, but when she rubbed her eyes for a clearer look there was nothing there. Still, the music continued.

  "Where is that coming from?" she said.

  And like an answer to her question, a little light flickered outside the window. Sabrina thought it was a lightning bug. It flew up to the window as if it was trying to get a better view of her. It was joined by another light and the two danced around each other, zipping excitedly back and forth in the air.

  "Amazing," she said.

  Daphne rushed to the window. "They're so pretty," she whispered as dozens more lights joined the original two. Within seconds there were almost a hundred little lights blinking and flashing outside.

  Without thinking, Sabrina reached up and unlocked the window. She just wanted to get a closer look, maybe grab a couple to keep in ajar in the room, but as she undid the window's latch, the bedroom door blew open with a crash. Startled, the sisters spun around and found Mr. Canis looming in the doorway.

  "Girls, you'll leave that window closed if you know what's good for you!" he growled.

  Chapter 2

  r. Canis stomped across the room, pushed the girls aside, and locked the window. The little lights outside flew around, bounced off the glass several times, and buzzed as if in protest. A moment later they were gone, and the whistling sound faded away. Mr. Canis turned and stood over Sabrina.

  "You are never to let anyone or anything inside this house," he said in a voice as low and scratchy as an angry dog's.

  "It was just some lightning bugs," said Sabrina. Her face was hot and red with shock. Who was this man to think he could tell her what to do?

  "No one comes into this house. Do you unde
rstand what I have just asked of you?" Mr. Canis said.

  The girls nodded.

  "Very well. Good night." He stalked out of the room, closing the door behind him. Sabrina stood dumbfounded, trying to comprehend what had just happened.

  "What was that all about?" Daphne whispered, but Sabrina said nothing. She didn't want her sister to hear the fear in her voice. Since her parents had run off, Sabrina had had to be the tough one. Her little sister needed to know there was someone strong by her side, even if it meant Sabrina had to pretend sometimes.

  There was a knock on the door and Mrs. Grimm entered the room. "It's been a long day, hasn't it?"

  "Mr. Canis yelled at us," Daphne cried.

  "I heard," the old woman said as she sat down on the bed. "Please don't be too upset by Mr. Canis. He can be a little grouchy from time to time but he has your best interests at heart. Believe me, lieblings, we are both very happy to have you here, but there are a few rules you have to follow ..." she said, pausing as she looked into Sabrina's face, ". . . and I know that what I tell you might not make a lot of sense but the rules are in place for a reason.

  "First, never let anyone or anything into this house without asking Mr. Canis or me if it is OK," she said. Her tone was stern and serious and no longer that of the sweet, loving old lady with the funky spaghetti.

  Mrs. Grimm took the girls' hands in her own. "Second, there is a room down the hall that is locked. It's locked for a reason and I ask that you stay away from it for the time being. You might hear some unusual noises coming from inside, but just ignore them. Do you understand?" she asked.

  The girls nodded.

  "As for the rest of the house, feel free to explore. You'll notice there are plenty of books to keep you occupied."

  "Really? Books? I didn't notice," Sabrina said sarcastically.

  "If worse comes to worst we can always dig out that old TV," Mrs. Grimm continued, as if Sabrina hadn't spoken. She got up from the bed and crossed to the door. She turned to smile at them one last time. "Who wants pancakes in the morning?"