A Story about the Brothers Grimm
Author’s Note
When I began to think of what to do for the Classic Authors Challenge,
I almost instantly though it would be fun to do a story about the Brothers
Grimm, but to add a supernatural element to their personal lives and tie it
into the stories they wrote. I know the idea has kind of been done before, but
I have never seen it done with the actual brothers, and I thought it would be a
really fun idea to make them sort of supernatural detectives. A favorite book
series of mine is The Secret Journeys of Jack London by Christopher Golden and Tim Lebbon, which is about Jack London and
his actual adventures but with a supernatural flair added. I wanted to have the
same kind of feel in this story. There’s not a lot of fact in this story at
all, and obviously Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm were writers and storytellers and
not monster hunters, but I had a great time writing it, narrated by my original
character, Hugh Sharpe. This story is actually going to be the first in a
series of short stories I’m planning to continue the adventures of Hugh and the
Brothers Grimm.
As for the skinwalkers, I took most of everything here from actual
lore, and yes, this is a loose retelling of Little Red Riding Hood. It actually
really fits skinwalker lore strangely well. Skinwalkers are Native American
folklore, but I’m sure the same principal can apply in Europe. And the part
about how you kill them and everything is directly from folklore.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Most everyone now knows a good deal about the infamous Grimm
brothers, but few know the truth of what they did. Stories circulated for a
while, but now almost everyone has seemed to have forgotten what their real purpose
was; apart from the few they helped, and myself, of course, their unnamed
chronicler.
If one were
to ask the average person of the brothers’ profession, they would likely smile
indulgingly and say ‘writers of children’s tales, of course’, but they would
never be so far from the truth.
No, the truth
was that these ‘tales’ were not necessarily ‘tales’ at all. And my humble self,
so young and innocent at the time I first met them, was, in fact, the original writer
of those well-loved stories.
But the
brothers themselves? Why, they were more a type of investigators or hunters.
Hunters of
what, exactly? Well, that’s a question that needs a bit of explaining. The game
they hunted was far more likely to hunt one back than your typical deer or
pheasant.
What I’m
getting at, dear readers, is that the stories they wrote about were all based
upon some truth—a great bit more than the common reader would probably expect.
Of course,
there was a good bit of embellishing on my part, and over the years we decided
it prudent to take out names and certain events and make them what they are
considered today—children’s tales. But it is to be reminded that all these
stories did come from somewhere in old folklore and tradition, and as is so
common in tradition and folklore, there is often more truth to the old tales
than is let on. However, the real stories are no longer circulated and only
abide in these, my personal journals, tucked away in the dusty catacombs of my
library for future generations if they are bold enough to believe them.
But I
suppose you would probably like to know how I, Hugh Sharpe, came into such a
profession and to know these men so well.
It was many
years ago now—many more than I wish to think about—and I was a young man of
eighteen. My parents had died of a fever when I was twelve and I had been sent
to live on the aunt and uncle’s estate where I went to school like a normal
child and learned all the mundane things a boy should. But I grew bored of it,
and languished for a year in University before I left on my Grand Tour to see
the world. I had a good sum of money from my parents and was not what one could
say ill-fitted for my venture, but as I traveled, seeing many wondrous and
oftentimes strange things, I began to realize I could not go on like this
forever, for soon my coffers would run out and I would be forced to return home
to the mundane everyday life once again. I’ll be the first to say that such a
thought didn’t appeal to me. I might have traveled a good portion of Britain
and Europe, but I was looking for a real adventure and little did I know then
that I would find all that I wanted and more.
It was one
morning in Germany where I had been staying for a while, enjoying fully, the
climate, culture and people, that I was sitting in the café across the street
from my hotel, having breakfast and reading the day’s paper. I was casually
looking for occupation in the advertisements, fancying that something must
catch my eye one day, when I came across a curious add that instantly had my
attention.
WANTED
A young man for a
secretarial position.
Must be good with
words, strong, and above all courageous.
Contact Jacob and
Wilhelm Grimm
There was also an address and I eagerly took it down. It was
true, that the idea of a secretarial position was less than interesting to me,
but I suppose it was the idea that this particular secretary had to be strong
and courageous. It seemed so strange that I found I had to find out exactly
what it meant. In any case, I could always turn down the job if it was less
than interesting and it would prove a diverting entertainment for the morning
if nothing else.
So after
breakfast, I went to the address listed in the advert and found a townhouse that
was, in itself, rather less than extraordinary. I almost turned away then,
thinking there was no way such a person living in a place quaint as that could
offer me anything but pittance, but I had little else to do and my curiosity
was still running against my better judgment, so I threw caution to the wind
and rang the bell.
The door
was opened a moment later, by a young man, not much older than myself, who I
took to be a butler, though he did not hold himself as any servant I had ever
seen and was dressed less than crisply.
“Good
morning, can I help you?” the young man asked.
I took my
hat off and offered the paper as explanation. “Yes, I am here in correlation
with this advert I found in the paper. Is this the residence of Jacob and
Wilhelm Grimm?”
“Yes, I am
Wilhelm, come right in.” I was a bit shocked to find this was to be one of my
potential employers, and not their servant as I had thought, but I went in all
the same and Wilhelm Grimm closed the door behind me, motioning through to the
next room, which happened to be a sitting room. Cluttered and cozy, but not in
a messy way, more in the way of a working house.
“Make
yourself comfortable, I will go fetch my brother. Would you like some
refreshment? Tea, coffee, chocolate?”
“Tea would
be fine, thanks,” I replied and Wilhelm was already out the door, leaving me
clutching my hat rather awkwardly. I looked around the small room and chose to
sit in a chair by the fireplace. I glanced over at a stack of books on the
hearth, wondering how long I would have to wait for my interview. I picked up
one of the volumes and frowned at the title: The History of Fae in Western Europe. I picked up the next title
and saw it just as strange: Shapeshifters,
Skinwalkers and Bisclavret, and, perhaps even stranger, The Anthropological Study of Vampires from
the Fall of Rome to Modern Times. A very strange taste in literature these
men had.
Thankfully,
I did not have to wait long, for just as I was putting the books back, I heard
footsteps and looked to see Wilhelm return with another man who could be his
twin though he was a few inches taller and had darker hair. I stood to greet my
interviewers and the second man, who must be Jacob Grimm, stepped forward to
clasp my hand in a strong grip, smiling.
“Good
morning, I am Jacob Grimm, and this one you have met is my brother, Will. I see
you have come in answer to our add.”
“Yes, I saw
it this morning, and since I have been looking for employment, I thought I
would come and see what you had to offer,” I said, shaking back and trying not
to wince at the hand crushing mine. “I am Hugh Sharpe.”
“Good to
meet you, Hugh.” Jacob turned to his brother. “Put the kettle on, Will, we
shall have tea for the interview.” He turned back to me and motioned for me to
sit again as he too took a seat. “I see you are from England, Hugh. Might I ask
what you are doing seeking work so far from home?”
“I got
restless,” I said with a small wry smile and a shrug. “I had the misfortune to
be born rich, so instead of squandering my money on cards, I traveled.
Unfortunately, it’s been a while and my funds are running out. I wanted to find
a place to roost for a while, and I like it here in Germany. It’s as good a
place as any. Your add intrigued me, though I will admit it is a little vague.”
“You will
see the reasons for that, soon enough,” Jacob told me as Wilhelm reappeared
with a tea service of old and slightly chipped china cups. But the tea was hot
and the cream fresh and there were pastries accompanying it, so I couldn’t
complain. I sipped my tea as Wilhelm settled down in the chair next to his
brother’s so they were both facing me.
“So, to
business,” Jacob said efficiently, setting his cup to one side, and leaning
eagerly forward with his elbows resting on his knees. “Tell me, Hugh Sharpe,
what are your thoughts on the occult and things of the supernatural?”
I frowned
slightly. “Why, I don’t rightly know. It’s admittedly not something I think
about on a daily basis. I’ve heard my good share of ghost stories, sure enough.
I notice you seem to find the subject interesting, if nothing else, from your
collection of books here.” I motioned to the stack by the fireplace.
The
brothers shared an amused look that caused me some indignation. “I don’t really
understand how that correlates with the business of a personal secretary,
however.”
“We meant
not to deceive you in the advert, it’s only that it’s the type of thing one
must explain in person,” Jacob said, taking up a pastry. “To start, I’ll inform
you that it is not so much a secretarial position as that of journalist or
chronicler, if you will.”
“And what
is the nature of the chronicling?”
“Our
cases.” Jacob put his cup down and pulled a worn leather journal out of his
coat pocket, handing it over to me. “I do try to do it myself, but I have
always been more the fantasist, and Will says I lie too much. Though he’s no
better. But the real reason is that we have so little time with our jobs that
we rarely get the chance to write down all that happens, and oftentimes forget
the important bits. We need someone who is willing enough to accompany us on
our cases, but who can also act as an observer, to properly chronicle the
events as they happen.”
“And the
nature of these cases,” I asked, as I flipped through the rather poor
scratchings in the journal that I could only barely distinguish, “Are you some
sort of investigators then?”
“Of a kind,
yes,” Wilhelm affirmed. “Though we tend to take on the more…unnatural cases
than the local constabulary do.”
“And by
unnatural you mean…”
“Exactly
what I mentioned earlier,” Jacob said, a small smile playing across his face.
“Things of a supernatural nature.”
“Of course,”
I said and gave a short laugh, handing his journal back to him. At the time I
was nearly certain they were both mad. I was about to get up and walk out right
then, when there was another ring at the door. Wilhelm stood to answer it and
Jacob turned to me apologetically.
“I don’t
know if that might not be another contender for the position, but don’t worry.
I rather like you so far, Hugh.”
I certainly
wasn’t sure enough about the Brothers Grimm yet to form an opinion either way,
but I was soon distracted when Wilhelm returned with a young girl, who couldn’t
have been more than thirteen or fourteen years old, and dressed in a rather
startlingly bright red cloak.
“A client,
Jacob,” Wilhelm told him as he showed the girl into the sitting room. “Please
make yourself comfortable, Miss.”
I stood to
make my leave, but Jacob stopped me. “No, stay if you would, Hugh; if you wish
to take the position, have a trial run. Stay to see what the young lady has to
say.”
“I don’t
want to be a bother,” I replied, rather torn, for I would be lying to say I
wasn’t interested. “I have not necessarily made up my mind as to how I stand on
the matter of the job.”
“This
should decide it for you,” Jacob told me with a somewhat knowing smile that
kept my feet from going any further from the room. He motioned me back to my
vacated chair. “Please.”
“Very
well,” I nodded to the girl who took a seat on the settee to the left of my
chair and clasped her hands in her lap either in anxiety or nervousness.
Wilhelm handed her a cup of tea and a pastry.
“There now,
miss, I assume you have some sort of problem if you have come to see us,” Jacob
said kindly to her. “Otherwise you have come for the secretarial position.”
“I do have a problem,” the girl insisted, clutching her tea in her hands as she looked between the two brothers. “No one will believe me, but I know something is wrong.”
“I do have a problem,” the girl insisted, clutching her tea in her hands as she looked between the two brothers. “No one will believe me, but I know something is wrong.”
“What’s
your name?” Wilhelm asked her.
“Annabelle,”
she replied and sipped the tea cautiously before setting it down on the small
table next to her. “I heard that you two help with…well, strange things. And I do think my problem is rather strange.”
“We are
quite good at strange,” Jacob told her with a smile. “What is this strange
thing that is troubling you?”
“It’s my
grandmother,” Annabelle replied slowly. “I, well, she hasn’t been herself at
all lately. And she’s not just ill or old, I know there’s something really
wrong! Mother and Father won’t believe me, they just say she’s not feeling
well, but it’s not just the way she acts, it’s…I don’t know how to describe it
but that I do not think it’s my grandmother at all.”
Jacob
nodded and leaned forward to speak with her. “And why would you say that? What
led you to think that it was not your grandmother?”
“Well, she
doesn’t really look different,” Annabelle conceded. “But her eyes,
they—well—they don’t look like hers; if I stare at them too long, they make me
feel strange, and on the outside, she appears to be just as warm and kind as
she always was, but it all seems false. And the way she carries herself is
different. That’s why I know she’s not sick, because she seems to walk better
than normal if anything.”
“How long
has this been going on?” Jacob asked her.
“Nearly a
week now. I’m just afraid of what might be wrong with her.”
“Has anything else strange happened?” Wilhelm asked. “Have you seen anything out of the ordinary lately?”
“Has anything else strange happened?” Wilhelm asked. “Have you seen anything out of the ordinary lately?”
Annabelle
shook her head, but then seemed to turn to another thought. “Well, nothing
really. The only odd thing that has happened recently is that I did see a wolf
when I was going to her house last, but I don’t see how that could tie into the
problem at all. And it’s not terribly uncommon to see them. She lives outside
the town in the woods, you see. My parents keep trying to get her to move in
with us, but she refuses. She loves it out there.”
The
brothers took in the information while I looked on, becoming more and more
baffled by the second. Were they actually taking all this seriously? A girl
claiming her grandmother was not her grandmother? To be fair, Annabelle did
look like a sensible girl, but it was utterly ridiculous all the same. They
couldn’t possibly think there was something supernatural at hand here.
“Can we go
and visit your grandmother?” Jacob asked her.
Annabelle
nodded. “I’m going out there tomorrow. You can come with me.”
“Good, that
should give us enough time to do a little research.” Jacob stood and held his hand
out to Annabelle as she stood and took his hand. “We will do our best to figure
out what is going on with your grandmother. Let me show you to the door. We
will see you first thing tomorrow morning, Miss Annabelle.”
“Thank you
very much,” she said as she left the room.
Jacob
returned shortly and looked over at me.
“Well?” he
asked. “Are you ready to start your first case?”
“I
suppose,” I said against my better judgment. I was quite convinced of the fact
that the brothers were insane, but I didn’t think it would hurt to work one
case with them either. It would be entertaining if nothing else.
“Good!”
Jacob said briskly. “To the armory then.”
“The…armory?”
I asked but had no choice but to follow.
The next
thing I learned was that the house looked a lot smaller on the outside than it
did inside. I followed Jacob through the kitchen and what looked like a pantry
door, but actually went down into a basement. Jacob pulled a lucifer from his
pocket and lit an oil lantern that hung from the wall before he descended into
the room. I followed hesitantly, almost afraid of what I would fine down there
and what I did find left me speechless and frozen at the foot of the stairs.
Jacob lit
several more lanterns to light the place up, and with each one, more of the
room was revealed. On one wall sat shelves of books. More heavy volumes with
odd titles and pamphlets, and folders with tattered papers spilling out of
them. The wall connected to that at the end of the room held more shelves but
these were full of bottles and boxes of heaven knows what; some looked ancient
or nearly so. But the third wall was what stopped me because it held countless
pieces of weaponry from all eras, as well as some things I had no name for.
There was everything from swords and pistols to crossbows and strangely shaped
knives and weapons that looked to be a mixture of many things. Between the
weapons hung various charms and amulets that I assumed were to ward evil and
the like.
I
eventually realized that Wilhelm was still at my back and he chuckled. “It’s a
bit much to take in at first, I imagine. Sorry for the lack of warning. I do
hope it won’t scare you off.”
“What is
all this?” I asked in awe as I forced myself to move forward into the room.
“The tools
of our trade,” Jacob told me, picking up a dagger from the wall and tossing it
in a shining arc in the air. “Our business is oftentimes dangerous. That’s
another thing that you will have to keep in mind.”
“You’re
investigators?” I asked suspiciously.
Jacob
shrugged. “More hunters, but I prefer the more sophisticated title of
investigator. It sounds more professional on paper.”
Wilhelm was
already dragging out several volumes from the shelves and setting them on the
table in the middle of the room before taking a seat himself. “Research is an
even bigger part of our job though. Have any ideas yet, Jacob?”
Jacob took
a seat and pulled a folder towards him, flipping through what I saw to be newspaper
clippings. “There’s several possibilities, but I’m thinking it’s likely a
shapeshifter of some sort. We won’t know what variety exactly until we see what
we’re dealing with first hand.” He turned to me as I was still standing and looking
around the room. “Sit, Hugh. You’ll have to learn this part of the job as
well.”
I sat
reluctantly and tried to keep my attention on Jacob as he began talking.
“If this is
a shapeshifter we’re dealing with, Will, I have a feeling it might not be the
only one in town, or Miss Annabelle’s grandmother might not be the first
victim. Do you remember the story a few days back about the man accused of
murdering his wife and swearing he didn’t, that he was gone all day? There were
even witnesses who could testify to the fact that he wasn’t there, but also
ones that said quite firmly that they watched him go into the house and then
come out again, after which his wife was dead.”
“I read
that story,” I said, looking down at the clipping that Jacob had produced from
the folder. “I remember thinking it was a bit odd.”
Jacob
grinned. “There, see, you’re off to a good start, Hugh! That’s why I saved it.
There was another incident a couple weeks back as well, if I recall, that was
similar.”
“The
butcher?” Wilhelm asked.
Jacob
nodded. “Killed by his apprentice. The boy hadn’t been working there long; I
only met him myself once, but he seemed a kind enough lad. I didn’t mark
anything strange about him. No one believed that he would have done something
but he was never found after the murder.”
“But isn’t
it natural to run away after you have killed someone?” I asked.
Jacob
shrugged. “Yes, but killing someone without reason is not. There was no
fathomable reason the apprentice killed the butcher, thus it is strange.”
“This is
really all you have to go on?” I asked. “A few somewhat odd murders?”
“Hugh,”
Jacob said, his voice darkly serious for the first time. It made me instantly
silent. “My brother and I have saved countless lives because of our caution and
knowledge of the supernatural. I know there are many skeptics in this world,
but all I ask is that you wait to see how this case plays out before you judge,
and above all else, do exactly what I or Will say, because it will cost you
your life.”
I swallowed
hard, but nodded. “I understand.”
Jacob
smiled, cheery again and turned back to his work. “Good. Now, it looks like
it’s going to be a long day of looking through books. Take down notes, Hugh.”
And I did.
I took down so many notes, my hand cramped, and they were about the most
ridiculous things that I could ever have imagined. I was beginning to wonder
about my sanity as a proper Englishman, getting into this seemingly insane
business. But I had never been what one would call a proper Englishman, so for
whatever reason, I stuck with it until it was nearly dark.
“You do
have a place to stay, Hugh?” Jacob asked and I nodded, folding away the notes I
had taken down. “Good, you will meet us back here first thing in the morning,
if you are so inclined.”
“I’ll be
there,” I replied rather resignedly. My interest was peaked beyond help now.
There was nothing more to do than see this one case through. That couldn’t hurt
anything, surely?
***
The next morning, I woke before dawn and looked to dress in
something that might work better for hiking through the woods. I chose sturdy
boots, and a thick brown jacket to go over my waistcoat. I didn’t have anything
in the way of the weapons the Grimm brothers owned, but I had a blackjack,
which I put in my pocket, and a practical knife that I slid into the top of my
boot. I waited around, not wanting to arrive too early, but not wanting to be
late either, so as soon as the first glow of the rising sun came over the
horizon, I decided to set out to the house of my potential employers.
I shouldn’t
have been worried, because I found them already up and awake and having
breakfast when I knocked on the door.
“Have you
eaten?” Wilhelm asked to which I sheepishly replied I had not and was swiftly
interred into a chair and given a plate full of breakfast.
“So you did
come back,” Jacob stated with a small smile. “I knew I saw the right thing in
your eyes, Hugh. A curiosity; a sense of adventure. Perfect for this job.”
“So let me
ask,” I said, setting down my fork. “How many of these strange cases have you
worked?”
“Oh, at
least twenty by now,” Jacob said, reaching for the sugar for his coffee.
“Though, granted not all were a complete success, and several ended up being
nothing odd at all. It’s bound to happen every once in a while. But we’ve been
all over Europe. It seems to be a gathering place for things of the
supernatural. I bet you would be surprised to find exactly how many things you
came across in Britain that were strange but you either didn’t notice them or
thought nothing of it.”
“It is
possible,” I conceded. “I grew up on stories of haunted castles and faeries and
other things.”
“There’s
more truth to folklore than we are often led to believe,” Wilhelm added. “If
this case goes the way we predict, you will be face to face with your first
strange beastie very soon.”
I smiled in reply, but still wasn’t entirely
sure of what to think of it all.
Not long
after we had finished eating, the doorbell rang and Annabelle was admitted a
few seconds later. She was once again dressed in her bright red cloak and Jacob
frowned a bit at it.
“I don’t
know if that’s the right garment to wear into the forest.”
She
clutched it around herself indignantly. “My grandmother gave it to me, I always
wear it when I visit her, even if she isn’t…her. Besides, it’s not like we’re
hiding.”
“Um…” I
spoke up and the brothers turned to me questioningly. “Do we have a cover story
about going with Miss Annabelle to visit her grandmother? Isn’t that a little
strange?”
“Her roof
needs to be repaired,” Annabelle said helpfully. “I told her a while back,
before this happened, that I would find someone to fix it for her.”
“Well,
whatever works,” Jacob said with a shrug and grabbed a jacket from the back of
a chair. I could see that it had many pockets on the inside that held various
weaponry and charms and other things I couldn’t hazard a guess about. Wilhelm
suited up likewise and went to fetch a tool chest to keep up appearances. He
also handed me a pistol and I nearly dropped it on my foot as I took it. It was
far heavier than I expected. I had hunted before on my aunt and uncle’s
property, but this was like no gun I had ever seen. It had four barrels on it.
Two large ones and two small underneath.
Wilhelm
pressed a small button on the side and I flinched as a knife folded out over
the barrels like a tiny bayonet.
“It’s not
as hard to fire as it looks, and it’s only for emergencies,” the younger
brother explained. “Just in case.”
I wasn’t
convinced, but I tucked it into my jacket and we set off.
As we went,
Jacob explained calmly to Annabelle about what they thought had happened to her
grandmother after the research we had done the night before.
“But if
that thing is not my grandmother,” Annabelle protested. “Then where is she?”
“I don’t
know,” Jacob told her gently. “Shapeshifters will sometimes keep the people
they are impersonating imprisoned. I assume this is what it has done with your
grandmother.”
“Because no
one has found a body,” Annabelle said blandly.
“Yes,”
Jacob admitted. “But do not give up hope yet. We’re going to go and scope out
the area. Hugh and I will stay with you while Will goes and checks the
surrounding woods to see if they might have a lair where they’re keeping your
grandmother.”
Annabelle
didn’t look entirely convinced. I wasn’t sure I was either. For all I knew we
could just be dealing with a lunatic murderer who just happened to be a master
of disguise.
Before I
had any more time to doubt why I was there, we reached the little cabin. It was
a cozy place, and I didn’t blame the old woman for wanting to stay out there.
Even if it put you in danger to be taken by a shapeshifter.
Annabelle
knocked on the door and it was opened a minute later by an old woman with a
scowl on her face. It lightened somewhat when she saw the girl, but darkened
again as she looked past her to us.
“Who are
they, Annabelle?” she asked.
Annabelle
motioned vaguely behind her. “I told you I would find someone to fix your roof,
Grandmother. These men have come to do that. Papa found them.”
The old
woman looked us over suspiciously, and I saw instantly that there was
definitely something wrong with her eyes. They didn’t look…human, for want of a
better description. I found myself both wanting to cover my own so I didn’t
have to look any more and to gaze all the deeper. I shook my head, and finally
willed myself to break the contact, feeling strangely empty afterward. I
glanced at the brothers to see if they were feeling the same effects and they
had a strange knowing look on their faces.
“Well, get
to it then, boys. Come in when you’re done for some cake.”
Annabelle
gave us one slightly worried look before the door closed behind her. Jacob
instantly turned to Wilhelm and I and took the tool chest, handing it to me.
“Go look in
the woods, Will,” he said. “Hugh and I will stay here and fix the roof so we
can be close if Annabelle needs us.”
Wilhelm
nodded and instantly trotted off into the woods. Jacob turned to me and nodded
to the shed that was off of the cottage.
“Let’s see
if there’s a ladder in there,” he said.
After we
found one and climbed onto the roof, I nearly catastrophically lugging the tool
chest, we crouched there and looked to see the damage done.
“That looks
like it,” Jacob said, pointing to a rotted spot. “We can at least do something
useful while we’re waiting for Will to get back. But that is definitely a
shapeshifter in there, and I would guess, more specifically, a skinwalker.”
“A
skinwalker?” I asked, not really liking the sound of that.
“It’s a
type of shapeshifter, it comes from Native American folklore. Unlike your
traditional shapeshifter that can take any form it wants with a look, the
skinwalker, as its name denotes, needs something from the person it is
impersonating to bind the spell. For them it’s more of a magic than a natural
impulse.”
“So, please
tell me that Annabelle’s grandmother has not been skinned somewhere,” I said,
cringing.
“Oh, they
wouldn’t skin a human. They only take the pelts from animals. No, in order to
impersonate a human, a skinwalker, needs something from them, such as an
article of clothing, or a piece of jewelry. Then they need to make eye contact
with the person in order to take on their form, and while doing so, they read
their mind so that they can fool even their closest relations.”
“That’s why
its eyes are so strange. So hard to look away from,” I said, shuddering as I
remembered the eyes of Annabelle’s grandmother. And then I realized I was
actually believing this. Because I was, wasn’t I?
Jacob
nodded. “Yes. You should never look one in the eye if you can help it. I’ve
heard that using a mirror as Perseus did fighting Medusa works. It takes a
powerful skinwalker to change into a human though. Usually they are only able
to take on animal forms.”
“And those
murders you were mentioning yesterday, you think they’re all connected?”
“I’ll have
to do a little more investigating to know for sure, but I believe so. We need
to work on finding a connection between the three cases. If we can, then we
should be able to find out what their motive is.”
“It has a
motive?” I asked, somewhat incredulous.
Jacob
turned to me very seriously. “Oh, yes, Hugh. Even monsters have motives.”
I started
to work on the roof with Jacob when I looked over and saw something odd.
“What’s that?” I asked.
Jacob
turned around and inspected the spot on the roof closer. He frowned, tracing
his finger in the four identical grooves that were dug into the roof, looking
quite a bit like claw marks.
“That’s
strange,” he mused and reached into his pocket, taking out a paper and a charcoal
pencil and making a rubbing of the marks. “Looks large. Maybe like a wolf.”
“Like what
Annabelle said she saw?” I asked.
“Quite
possibly. And also quite possibly the skinwalker who took her grandmother
captive.”
“But that
would mean there’s more than one, if the wolf she saw is also a skinwalker,” I
said, staring at the size of the claw marks and feeling glad I had the gun in
my pocket now. “How does one go about, well, getting rid of a skinwalker?”
“I’m a bit
rusty on that angle,” Jacob said. “We’ll have to take a look later when we get
back home.”
We were
nearly done when I looked up to see Wilhelm coming back out of the woods. Jacob
hailed him and we climbed down from the roof.
“Well?”
Jacob asked.
Wilhelm
shook his head, still looking off into the woods. “Nothing. You?”
Jacob
showed him the rubbing. “I think skinwalker.”
Wilhelm
nodded and started off back to the door of the cottage. “Well, we should get
some research done then so we know exactly what we’re up against.”
We fetched
Annabelle from the house, and she bid farewell to her grandmother after we were
paid for our ‘services’ and we made it back to town just after midday.
“Let’s
split up and see what we can find out,” Jacob said. “Will, you go back to the
house with Hugh and do some research into skinwalkers.”
“Where are
you going?” I asked him.
“I’m going
to take a look at the sites of the murders and see what I can find out about
them. Look for similarities.”
I nodded
and followed Wilhelm back to the Grimms’ place.
“Get the
door, please?” he asked, still holding the tool chest.
I opened
the door and he followed me inside, setting the chest down behind the door. He
made us something to eat before we headed down into the basement or armory, as
Jacob had called it. The younger Grimm brother seemed quieter than usual, but I
didn’t know him all that well yet either. Maybe he was just more talkative
around his brother.
I pulled
out several books that looked like they might have the information we would
need. One was about Native American folklore and I found myself instantly
fascinated with the stories and myth—or history—behind skinwalkers. I had
always loved fairy tales when I was a boy, the more frightening the better, and
I suppose I had not changed since.
It seemed
that skinwalkers were men who had done something to offend the tribe, such as
murder a kinsman or perform other sins. They would then turn into these dark
sorcerers, and sometimes acquire the ability to take different forms, thus
making them skinwalkers. I didn’t know if that was exactly what we were dealing
with here, for obviously, we were in Germany and not the Americas, but I knew
well enough that most cultures shared folklore. I supposed now, if the Grimm
brothers were right and not insane, that it wouldn’t be so odd for different
peoples to collect traits and monsters from other cultures as they did customs
and fashion and food and drink.
I finally
found what I was looking for though, and turned to Wilhelm with the
information.
“It says
here that skinwalkers can only be killed when in their human form; their true
form,” I said. “And they must be shot with a bullet dipped in white ash.”
“Good job,”
Wilhelm said, offering me a small smile, before he turned back to his book. I
frowned, something really did seem strange.
Just at
that moment, Jacob came clattering down the stairs and threw his jacket onto
the table.
“I think I
have a lead, lads,” he said, as he sat down and helped himself to the tea on
the service we had brought down. “I went round to the butcher’s shop, and found
his brother there who had come in to take over the business. Apparently it was
left to him. But that’s not all. The man who murdered his wife was also left a
lucrative tannery in town when his father-in-law died just two months back. And
I also found out from Annabelle that her father owns an import business that
makes good money, and that he has only recently willed it out to his
brother-in-law should something happen to him. These three businesses are the
richest in town. I don’t think that’s a coincidence.”
“But why
would skinwalkers want businesses?” I asked.
“They’re
people just like us,” Wilhelm said. “They want money same as the rest.”
“So they disguise
themselves as members of the family?” I asked. “I could understand if one
played the part of the man who was set to inherit, and the butcher’s brother,
but why the apprentice and Annabelle’s grandmother?”
“For one,”
Jacob said, “The butcher’s brother wasn’t from town. He just came in,
supposedly, yesterday. But I talked to him, and I think he’s a skinwalker.
There’s just something…off about him. And also, there’s a fact about
skinwalkers that I remember reading a while ago. They can only enter a house if
they are invited because they are cursed beings.”
“I read
that,” I said.
“So it
would make sense,” Jacob continued. “If they disguised themselves as people who
would be certain to get into these establishments, like the husband, the
apprentice butcher and Annabell’s grandmother, so they could do their dirty
work and then take on the form of the person set to inherit instead.”
“Clever,” I
said.
“Isn’t it?”
Wilhelm said with a small smile touching his lips.
Jacob
turned to him for the first time, and looked him in the face. I opened my mouth
to say something, but Jacob’s expression suddenly balked and he whipped a gun
from the back of his belt.
“You. What
have you done with my brother?” he said in a low, dangerous voice.
Wilhelm, or
the thing that was wearing his face, smiled in a ghastly way. “Oh, he’s locked
away somewhere you won’t find him. It was foolish of you to let him go into the
woods alone.”
My heart
was hammering in my chest and I too fumbled for my gun, hoping that a bullet
might work even if it didn’t have white ash on it. I remembered then, how the
Not-Wilhelm had asked me to open the door. I had invited him in, just like
Jacob had said. And he was wearing the younger Grimm’s clothing to bind the
spell, not just one article. I didn’t think he would be obliged to change for
us.
“You’ll
tell us where he is,” Jacob told the skinwalker, still leveling the pistol at
him.
“You won’t
do any damage to me with that,” the skinwalker said with disdain.
“He’s
right,” I said quietly to Jacob. “He needs to be in his true form and the
bullet needs to be covered in white ash.”
Jacob
cursed and made as if to lower his gun before he lunged at the skinwalker. But
the creature seemed to be ready and threw Jacob backwards into the bookshelves
with inhuman strength. Jacob slumped to the ground with a groan and then it
came after me, leaping the table like a hurdle.
I backed up
and cocked the pistol, shooting it off; even if it wasn’t going to do anything,
I hoped it might slow him down a bit. The bullet hit him low in the right side
and he staggered, but then just grinned at me and struck me a blow to the face
that left my ears ringing and I felt blood dripping down my chin from my nose.
Before I could recover, it had me by the throat and was slamming me up against
the wall, my feet only scraping the floor. I gagged, trying to get air into my
lungs. I had dropped the pistol too.
“Pathetic,”
the skinwalker sneered. “I do not miss the days I was human. You’re all so
weak. I can be anything, anyone I want to be. Right now, my brothers and I are
making a name for ourselves here, but who knows? Maybe someday I’ll be the King
of England.” He laughed but it was cut short by a gunshot and he staggered
forward, letting me go, just as I thought I would pass out from lack of air. I
slumped to the floor, seeing blood flowing from the skinwalker’s shoulder.
Jacob was standing behind it and kicked it to the floor, wasting no time in
tying the skinwalker’s hands behind its back and then thrusting it into a chair
and winding more rope around it. I saw a small pile of ash on the floor and
realized that Jacob must have quickly gathered enough white ash to make a
bullet. It didn’t kill the skinwalker as he was still not in his true form, but
it still seemed to wound it at least.
I drug
myself up, rubbing my throat, still trying to get my breath back. Jacob was
favoring one arm, but he was angry, and he wasn’t going to let it stop him. He
pulled a knife from inside his jacket and leaned over the skinwalker
dangerously.
“You will
tell me where you are keeping my brother and the others now,” he said coldly
and started slicing the shirt and waistcoat down the middle. The skinwalker
growled defiantly, but Jacob just tore the sleeves and pulled it all off of
him. I blinked as something akin to mist seemed to flutter over the figure that
looked like Wilhelm until there was a middle-aged man with a beard and long,
black hair sitting there, a feral snarl on his lips. I gasped and shook my
head, wondering what I had just seen.
“That…” I
stammered.
“This is
his true form,” Jacob explained, and took a bullet out of his pocket and went
around the table to cover it in the white ash that he had made. He held it up for
the shifter to see. “This time I will not miss. I will do it too; I’ll kill you
if you don’t agree to take us to where you are keeping the people you have turned
into. And tell me how many of you there are and where you are hiding.”
The
skinwalker glared at Jacob and I shuddered at the thought that the eldest Grimm
brother might actually have to shoot him. He loaded the pistol deliberately,
and as the silence continued, he finally cocked it and pointed it right between
the skinwalker’s eyes.
“Last
chance.”
The
skinwalker scrunched up his face, seeming to brace himself before he sighed and
shook his head. “Fine. I’ll take you there myself. It’s deep in the woods and
you’ll get lost if you don’t know where you’re going.”
“I
appreciate your concern,” Jacob said. He turned to me. “We’ll make more of the
proper bullets and get them loaded up. Then we’ll see if we can’t find out
where he’s keeping the victims. And if he’s lying,” Jacob turned back to the
skinwalker, a cold ring to his voice. “Then I’ll just keep shooting bits of you
until you do tell.”
I went up
to the parlor to make a fire in the hearth and once there was enough white ash,
I covered the bullets in it and settled them gently into a cartridge box. Jacob
was gathering what we would need. Half way through, I found myself trembling.
It was actually real. All of it. It was going to take me a while to come to
terms with it, I knew, but now wasn’t the time. We had to go rescue the people.
I touched my throat gingerly. I thought there must certainly be bruises there.
After I had
finished, I went back to find Jacob readying the skinwalker for our journey. He
handed me his pistol and I held it on the creature, hoping he didn’t see the
shaking of my hands, while Jacob trussed him up tightly with his hands behind
his back and his arms tight against his sides. He took the pistol back and
shoved it between the skinwalker’s shoulder blades as he took hold of a lead
rope.
“Come on
then. Let’s go.”
We went out
the back of the house so as not to draw unwanted attention to ourselves, and
began on the way to the forest. I could see a new tenseness in Jacob’s
shoulders as he grumbled at the skinwalker to get a move on. He wasn’t showing
it, but I knew he was worried about his brother. I was too. I was afraid of
what we would find when we got to the skinwalkers’ hide. What if they had just
decided that keeping prisoners was too much work and they just did away with
them? I kept my own pistol in my palm, having loaded each barrel with an
ash-covered bullet. I was ready should we be surprised.
We passed
the cottage that belonged to Annabelle’s grandmother and Jacob pressed his
pistol warningly against the base of the skinwalker’s skull lest he cry out and
warn his companion. I wasn’t willing to bet that just because that one was in
the form of an old women it couldn’t beat the devil out of us like our captive
had.
It was
getting darker, and Jacob pulled a small lantern from his belt and handed it to
me. I lit it and took the lead to light the way, wary of every shadow that I
caught out of the corner of my eye.
“How much
farther?” Jacob asked our prisoner.
“Only a
little bit,” he growled.
I caught
sight of it first, though just barely for it was a well hidden place, but
someone had been burning a fire and the smoke drifting up alerted me to the
place’s existence.
“Is that
it?” Jacob asked the skinwalker.
The
creature nodded. “Yes, that’s it.”
“Call out
to them,” Jacob told him, pressing the pistol into the skinwalker’s side.
“Hey!” he
called. “You there, Franz?”
There was
no answer. Jacob and I exchanged a look. It might be a trap, some sort of code.
Jacob finally turned back to the skinwalker and pushed him against a tree,
quickly tying him to it before shoving a handkerchief into his mouth.
“If this is
a trap, I will still kill you,” Jacob said firmly. He turned to me and motioned
for us to go forward. He took the lantern from me and led the way to the small
hovel that was cleverly hidden with downed foliage. I gripped my pistol
tighter, licking my lips in anticipation.
Jacob
grabbed the door and threw it open, jumping inside with his pistol leveled. I
was right at his back in case he was attacked, but there was only a group of
figures at the far end of the hovel, flinching back at the sudden light.
“Will?”
Jacob called, and there was a muffled reply. He ran inside and set the lantern
down, pulling his knife out and started to cut his brother loose. Wilhelm was
shivering in only his shirt and trousers and he had crusted blood on the side
of his face, but he was obviously relieved to see his brother. Jacob took off
his gag and once he had cut his bonds he pulled him into a strong embrace. I
sighed in relief, then started to help the other captives, beginning with who I
took to be Annabelle’s grandmother.
“Don’t ever
do that to me again,” Jacob told his younger brother as he started on another
prisoner who I thought might be the butcher’s assistant.
“I know I
should have kept a better lookout,” Wilhelm said and rubbed life back into his
hands with a wince. “How long did it take you to figure out it wasn’t me?”
“Not long,”
Jacob replied with a smile as I released the last prisoner.
“What now?”
I asked, helping Annabelle’s grandmother to her feet and taking off my jacket
to wrap around her. “It’s not like we can go to the police with this.”
Before
Jacob could reply, there was a shout outside the hovel and we shared a look.
“They’re
here,” Jacob said and took a pistol out of his coat to give to Wilhelm.
“Protect the people here, Will, Hugh and I will go hold them off.”
I wasn’t
sure I could do that very well, but I didn’t have much choice but to try my
best. When we got outside we saw another skinwalker untying our prisoner and at
his heels was a wolf, who was obviously not an actual wolf. It still had the
teeth and claws of one though, and it wasted no time in attacking.
Jacob shot
his pistol and hit the one shifter high in the chest. I didn’t know if it was a
fatal shot or not, but it would slow him down providing he was in his true
form. I had little time to think of it though because the wolf skinwalker had
decided to go after me. I got off one shot which did about as much as if I had
tried to stop a ship with my hand, and found myself bourn to the ground by the
furry maniac.
I lost my
pistol in the impact and brought both hands up just in time to keep its fangs
from my throat. Not that the pistol would have done any good if I had had it
because the skinwalker was still wearing its skin. That was when I remembered
the knife in my boot. I slammed a fist into the beast’s nose and bought a
second to reach down and grab my blade. I tore it up the wolf’s belly and as it
yelped, I threw it off me, and tore at the skin. It came off nearly instantly
in my hand as a pelt and left a feral looking man lying there, growling at me.
He lunged, his hands going for my throat, but I reached back and grabbed my
pistol, leveling a shot right in his chest. The skinwalker’s eyes rolled up in
his head and he fell over me, pinning me to the ground.
Jacob was
standing over the other two skinwalkers who also seemed to be dead, and he
turned back to me, coming to my aid. He hauled the skinwalker off of me and
helped me to my feet, slapping me on the back. I was panting and unable to form
two words together.
“You did
good for your first time, Hugh,” he said simply.
I just
nodded, having to bend over and get my head back. There was blood all over the
front of my shirt, and I wasn’t sure if I was going to be sick or not. I felt
all together rather giddy. Exhilarated almost. I had honestly never felt so
alive.
Wilhelm
came up wearily with the victims and nodded to Jacob.
“Good job,
brother. Now how about we get these people home?”
***
We went cautiously back to the cottage that belonged to Annabelle’s
grandmother, hoping that the shifter wasn’t there, but all we found was a
bonnet and shawl lying on the ground, and we figured that one of the
skinwalkers we had killed had been the one masquerading as the old woman. All
the victims had confirmed that the three men now lying dead in the woods were
the ones who had attacked them, and it seemed we had gotten them all.
After
seeing the old woman settled in with a hot kettle of tea, we made our way back
to town to bring the other victims home before heading back to the Grimms’
house. We were all exhausted and sore, having sustained multiple bruises, but I
felt strangely good. As if I had accomplished something. I had never felt that
way before. I don’t think I had ever done something that really mattered.
Jacob sat
Wilhelm in front of the fire and cleaned his head up before making us all a pot
of strong tea. It was the most wonderful thing I had ever remembered drinking.
“So, Hugh
Sharpe,” Jacob said with a small smile as he settled into a chair and stretched
his feet out toward the fire. “What did you think of your first case?”
I shook my
head. “I fear it will take me a while to realize it all really happened.”
“Will you
consider taking another one?”
I was
silent for a long time. Part of me, a rational part, said to run far away and
never look back, but what good would that do me? Once you knew the kinds of
things that lived in the dark of night, you couldn’t really go back from that.
And I knew skinwalkers weren’t the worst there was either. Besides, I would be
lying if I said I hadn’t liked it. I had been the one who said I wanted an
adventure. Well, one had certainly fallen onto my plate!
“I think I
would enjoy being your chronicler,” I said truthfully.
Jacob and
his brother grinned and raised their tea cups to me. “Welcome to the business.”
I smiled
back and somehow, the next thing I knew, it was morning and I was still sitting
in the chair by the fireplace. I blinked blearily and realized I must have
fallen asleep, exhausted from the previous night’s events.
There was
no one else in the parlor, but I smelled food coming from the kitchen so I got
up and bit back a groan as my body protested, and all the bruises made
themselves known quite frantically. I found Jacob and Wilhelm sitting at the
table with their normal large breakfast, and I suddenly realized how starving I
was. Hunting monsters must give you an incredible appetite.
“Good
morning,” I said with a sheepish grin. “I apologize for falling asleep in your
chair.”
“No
worries,” Jacob said, waving his hand dismissively. “I was going to tell you
that there is an extra bedroom for you. It would be the most convenient
lodgings with the long nights and strange hours this job comes with. If you are
still willing to take the job.”
“I believe
I am,” I said truthfully. “I don’t really know how one would go back from
that.”
“That is
the truth,” Wilhelm said with a wry smile.
We finished
the breakfast just as there was a knock at the door. Jacob went to answer it
and came back with Annabelle, still wearing her red cloak. She smiled happily
at us.
“Thank you
so much for saving my grandmother, and it seems my father as well. I’ve brought
your payment.”
“We’ll call
this one a public service,” Jacob told her, waving away the money she handed
him. “I’m just glad we could get your grandmother back for you.”
She smiled
and nodded. “If there’s ever anything I can do for you, let me know. And if I
ever find anything strange going on again, you’re the first ones I will come
to.”
“That is a
wise choice,” I told her and gained a smile from the brothers.
Annabelle
turned to me. “Good luck with your new job,” she said.
I thanked
her and then she said she had to leave.
After
breakfast was cleared up, I decided to go back to the hotel I had been staying
at and check out. I gathered my things and carried them back to the Grimms’
house, thinking it strange that the odd place would now be my home. It felt
right somehow.
Jacob led
me to the room that would be mine and left me to see to my unpacking. I dropped
my bags to the floor and had a look around. It was in the attic, so the ceiling
was sloped on one side, but it was cozy, with a bed covered in a patchwork
quilt and a dresser of drawers on the other end of the room and a rag rug in
the center. There was an arched window and tucked beneath it was a desk. I went
over to that first. There was already pen and ink there and when I opened the
drawer, I found parchment.
I sat in
the chair and took up the pen. I smiled as I dipped it into the inkwell for the
first time, pausing a moment, before I set pen to paper and began to write.
©Copyright 2014 by Hazel B. West
~~~~~
Next week I will posting the full details of the Dictionary Word Challenge, so definitely check back for that if you are interested!
~~~~~
Next week I will posting the full details of the Dictionary Word Challenge, so definitely check back for that if you are interested!
I like it :) It reminds me a little of Lockwood and Co, and I mean that in entirely a good way.
ReplyDeleteIt was really surprising when 'Wilhelm' wasn't himself, too. I hope you do write more of these :)
Abigail
That surprised my mum as well so that's good, I was afraid it would be too obvious. It's blasted hard to write a story where there's an actual story and characters meeting each other in just 10,000 words!
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