Ok, so here I am with chapter 2! This one's a lot longer. Um . . . anyway . .
Special thanks to my reviewers: Lara D., me the ONE and ONLY ME hahaha, and PeterPansgirl
me the ONE and ONLY ME hahaha: Thanks, love you too! I couldn't resist the puppy dog face, so here's the next chapter.
EXTRA EXTRA EXTRA EXTRA special thanks to my amazing beta, limegreenwordmachine, who you all can thank for making this thing somewhat readable. She's just awesome like that.
Oh yeah, and I forgot the disclaimer in the last chapter . . . oops . . .well, I don't own the Sisters Grimm. There you go.
~ Evil Scrapbooker
Chapter 2: A Warning?
Sabrina woke up with a jolt. Sweat dripped down her face, stinging her eyes and uncomfortably sticking her long hair to the back of her neck. Her fists were filled with clumps of her twisted bed sheet, which she was gripping for dear life, and her t-shirt stuck to her back. It took her a few seconds to get her bearings and slow her tense breathing. She sat up in bed, pulling her hair up in a ponytail.
It was amazing, really, how many times she could have the same dream and still be absolutely terrified by it. This was what, the fifteenth time? Sixteenth? Did it even matter anymore?
Night after night, for the past few weeks, the same disturbing episode had replayed itself in her head. Morning after morning, she awoke to the same voice whispering in her ear.
What is wrong with me?
She hadn't told anyone else in the family about these dreams. Aunt Briar had just given birth to Sabrina's new cousin, Relda, or Ellie, a few weeks ago, so there were enough distractions as it was. Besides, no one in the Grimm family needed to worry about her mental health more than they already did.
But this was getting a little out of control.
The nightly horror shows were taking their toll on her, she knew. Every day, her skin looked a little paler, her eyes a little more bloodshot. She'd been seeing things, too. She couldn't count the number of double takes she'd done, thinking she saw a scarlet handprint, or a pair of red eyes peering through a window when, in reality, there was nothing there. She had become increasingly paranoid, locking every door behind her, drawing curtains closed so no one could see in, grabbing her little brother at random times and making sure he wasn't red-eyed and made of gray smoke. She'd even picked up one of Granny's quirks, and snuck the Vorpal Blade up to her room. She kept it right next to her bed, just as Granny did with her samurai sword.
It was also because of this paranoia that, after accepting the fact that sleep was out of the question, Sabrina felt compelled to go check on her siblings. Her digital clock blinked 4:03, and she knew it would be at least a couple of hours before anyone else was up. She tiptoed into Daphne and Red's room, expecting to see the reassuring sight of the two happy girls sleeping peacefully, Daphne snoring like an elephant with a clogged trunk. But no.
Daphne was twisted up in her sheets, frowning and mumbling under her breath. She was soaked with sweat, and it looked like she'd been crying. For once, she wasn't snoring, but mumbling, kicking, and occasionally yelping.
She looked like . . . like she was having the kind of dream Sabrina had had.
All of a sudden, the little girl let out a shriek that made Sabrina jump. She burst into tears. "No! Out! Out!"
"Daphne!" Sabrina frantically shook her sister. "Wake up! You're dreaming!"
Daphne's eyes popped open, fear and confusion written all over her face.
The sisters stared at each other for a few seconds, taking everything in. Then Daphne whispered, "Sabrina, I . . . I had a nightmare."
"About what?" Sabrina asked, although she had a sneaking suspicion she already knew.
"Mirror." Daphne's voice faltered when she said his name. It had been so long since any of the Grimms had spoken of the Master. Ten, almost eleven, really, months had passed since that fateful day when Sabrina had blown Mirror out of Granny using the magical kazoo, returning him to his sanctuary, which she then smashed. Since his life force was tied to the mirror, he died when it was destroyed. And that was that. The Grimms did not mourn the loss of their former friend, nor did they rejoice in the defeat of their enemy. They repaired the damage (which took some time, magic, and a lot of forgetful dust), and rebuilt their house, this time adding a few more rooms for their ever-expanding family. They never really talked about the war anymore, and tried to carry on with life. To hear his name spoken out loud again made Sabrina's hair stand on end. There were so many memories wrapped up in that one word, memories she would prefer not to revisit. "He . . . he possessed me. I can't really explain it. It was . . . scarifying."
When Sabrina raised an eyebrow, she said, "You know, like scary and terrifying. Like, really, really scary and terrifying. Scarifying."
Sabrina couldn't help but smile, despite the circumstances. "I think scarifying's already a word . . ."
"Well too bad. My definition is better than whatever theirs is." The little girl attempted a smile, but Sabrina could tell she was still shaky from the dream. So Sabrina sat down on her bed and wrapped her in a hug, something she seemed to do less and less these days.
"Is this the first time you've had this dream?" Sabrina, although a tiny bit relieved that there was a chance that she wasn't insane (or if she was, then she wasn't alone), did not want her sister to have to go through the same pain she experienced every night.
"No, this is the third or fourth time I've had it. Why?" Daphne's wise brown eyes searched Sabrina's face. "Have you been having dreams, too?"
Sabrina swallowed and fixed her eyes on the window on the other side of the room, its purple curtains drawn shut. "Yes. The same kind as you. You know, running away, Mirror possesses me, etc."
Silence.
"So what do you think it means?"
Sabrina was taken aback. "What do you mean, what does it mean? It means we both need therapists!"
Daphne shook her head. "I don't think so. I don't know about your dreams, but mine always seems so . . . real. It doesn't really seem like a dream. More like a vision."
Sabrina continued to stare at the purple curtains. Now that she thought about it, the nightmare was more vivid than any dream she'd ever had before. "Or a hallucination."
"What's a hallucer - hallu - "
"A hallucination is a delusion. It's when you see or hear something that's not really there. Crazy people usually have them."
"I'm pretty sure I'm not crazy, Sabrina."
Sabrina wasn't so sure. She had been questioning her own mental health lately, and her sister couldn't have been much better off than she was.
"Anyway, I think these dreams are warnings. Someone is sending us visions to warn us about something bad."
"What?"
"There are plenty of Everafters in this town that are powerful enough to mess with our dreams. I think someone is trying to warn us that something bad is going to happen. Something with Mirror."
"Mirror is dead. Gone. It's impossible." Even Sabrina heard the obvious doubt in her voice as she said these words.
"We've always assumed that, but what if we didn't really destroy him? How do we know he's gone? Someone could be sending us a warning that he's back, and we can't just ignore it!" Daphne's face was starting to assume an expression that Sabrina knew well, but hadn't seen in a long time. The little girl's brow was scrunched up, and her eyes were deep and calculating. There was a mystery to be solved, and Daphne Grimm was going to get to the bottom of it. Sabrina was, once again, stunned by her sister's perceptiveness.
"Well, what are we going to do about it? Go traipsing around Ferryport Landing asking everyone who has access to magic if they've been sending us dreams? Yeah, that totally won't land us both in straitjackets."
"I have a plan." Daphne looked up at her sister coolly. "I don't know if Mirror is alive or what, but I think I know who will."
"And who, pray tell, would this omniscient informant be?"
"What does – never mind. Well, it's not one person. But the ones who would know whether we really destroyed Mirror or not would be the ones closest to him, wouldn't they? If anyone knows anything about the Master, it's the Scarlet Hand."
I blinked. Daphne's ability to dissect a situation and come up with a theory and a course of action never ceased to amaze me. True, it may not have been the most accurate theory, or the best course of action, but it was better than the zilch I was offering. Still, though, I wasn't about to go running off half-cocked. Again. "'Cause the Scarlet Hand is just so eager to volunteer their mortal enemies their deepest, darkest secrets."
"It can't hurt to talk to them. You never know, they're pretty stupid. I bet we could get something out of them." The little girl stood up and started re-braiding her hair.
"What makes you think anyone would let us in to see the Scarlet Hand? Mom and Dad don't want us there, and Swineheart knows that." Swineheart had recently taken over the police department from Nottingham, while Boarman stayed with the contracting business. There was no way he would go against what Henry and Veronica's express wishes to keep their children away from the Hand members.
"That's why we're going now. C'mon, hurry and put some clothes on. We have to leave now if we wanna get back before anyone wakes up."
"Now?"
She practically shoved Sabrina out of the room. "Please. This could be our last chance. Whatever bad thing that's going to happen isn't going to sit around waiting for us to figure out what it is. I'm not letting anyone get hurt because we were too lazy to listen to a warning!"
Sabrina bit her lip. Well, when she put it that way . . .
Scarcely able to believe she was agreeing to this, Sabrina went back to her room and pulled on some sweatpants, a t-shirt, and a hoodie. She grabbed her backpack full of things one might need in an emergency, and was about to leave when she spotted the Vorpal Blade sitting next to her bed. Hm. There was no telling what they'd meet in the streets of Ferryport Landing at 4:15 in the morning. So she shoved it in her bag, and went to meet Daphne.
"Ready?" The little girl was now outfitted in an oversized black sweatshirt and dark jeans. She was carrying a backpack of her own, and with her hood up, she looked like a little ninja. She closed her door as quietly as she could so she wouldn't wake Red, who had happily slept through everything. "Alright then, let's go." Daphne marched downstairs, followed by a dumbfounded Sabrina. When did she start calling the shots?
As usual, the Queen of the Sneaks and her ninja partner in crime made it out of the house without waking anyone up. At least, so they thought.
They had just stepped out of the door when a voice behind them said, "Boo."
Being as paranoid as she was, Sabrina jumped, and before anyone could blink, the Vorpal Blade was at Puck's throat, threatening to end the life it had once saved. "Whoa! Easy, Grimm!"
Daphne, however, just smiled and said, "Aw, that's cute. So glad you could join us, Puck. We're off to have a little chat with some cold-blooded murderers." With that, the little girl dutifully began marching towards their destination on the other side of town.
Puck and Sabrina exchanged a look. Who put her in charge? But neither of them were scrambling for the position, so they obediently followed her.
"Sneaking out again, Grimm? Good, it's been a while since we caused some trouble. Do I want to know what it's about this time?"
"We're going to break into jail and visit some insane murderers whose greatest goal in life is to see our entire family dead, because Daphne and I have been having dreams that the Master takes over our bodies and crushes our souls."
"Sounds like fun."
"Yup."
A few feet in front of them, Daphne had stopped to catch some of the millions of fireflies that populated Ferryport Landing at night. Sabrina had had a phobia of them ever since they had met the "fireflies" that covered them in nasty, bleeding bites their first night in Ferryport Landing. Apparently, Daphne wasn't at all emotionally scarred from that little episode. The little girl giggled loudly when one landed on her nose, all traces of her ninja-ness gone.
And for the hundredth time that night, Sabrina wondered if she was insane.
*/*/*
The Ferryport Landing Penitentiary and Police Department was about two miles away from the Grimm house, which translated to about forty-five minutes of walking. Sabrina suggested that Puck just fly them there, but Daphne deemed it too risky, even though Ferryport Landing still didn't inhabit any human families apart from the Grimms.
The jailhouse was just coming into view, when Sabrina spotted a tall man across the street, standing with his back to them. She couldn't see much of him in the dark, but she could tell that he wore an oversized sweater, a striped scarf, and an odd little beret. From the back, at least, he bore a slight resemblance to Gru from Despicable Me, except this man was much skinnier. There was something about his demeanor that seemed very familiar to Sabrina, and very sinister. She was getting bad vibes just from looking at him. Sabrina pulled her sister and Puck behind a nearby car, out of view of the strange man.
"What the –" Sabrina clamped a hand over Puck's mouth and watched as the man turned around and stepped into the light of a streetlight for a moment.
He wore small, round, tinted glasses, and his scarf was pulled up to conceal most of his face. All she could see of it was a long, thin nose, and the silhouette of his small, beady eyes. A greasy black ponytail stuck out from under his beret. Sabrina stifled a gasp. No, it can't be. Nottingham is in jail.
She had just told herself this, when the man turned and caught his boot in a sidewalk crack. He didn't fall, but his glasses flew off his face and his scarf slipped several inches, revealing an ugly, jagged scar that ran down the lower left side of his face.
Daphne gasped loudly. The man turned to see what had made the noise, and judging from the dumbfounded look in his eyes, saw the three pairs of eyes peering out from behind the van and recognized their owners.
"You!" the man sputtered, his familiar accent sending all Sabrina's senses into automatic red-alert mode.
There was no doubt about it. Inexplicably, Nottingham was no longer in jail, but here, looking ready to murder them.
