Gretchen spent the next day working at a feverish pace. She didn't want to think about anything else but the lottery, of her suddenly increased chance of being chosen. Gretchen wasn't the only visibly nervous person, however. The bar's patrons started drinking earlier than usual, and were getting more than their usual amount of liquor. This wasn't surprising. Every year at this time, people's nerves got worked up about the lottery. Everyone dealt with it in their own way. The men drank. The women stayed inside sewing or cleaning or embroidering. Well, some of them anyway. Gretchen had never understood why people did needlepoint. It was silly and not much good in the long run. Her preferred method of calming her nerves was to preoccupy herself so she didn't have any time to think about her problem. This being the case, she poured herself into work. She had little time to talk to Peter or her uncle. She didn't even stop to shout at Sonya when she ignored her duties. Time went by in a blur.
"I must say Gretchen, I've rarely seen you this dedicated to your chores," Klaus Hilmar chuckled as his niece began filling another order.
"Someone's got to pick up the slack," she said by way of excuse, "Besides; we've got all this extra business! I don't want to keep any customers waiting too long."
Klaus patted her on the shoulder. "Just don't exhaust yourself, my dear."
"I won't," Gretchen said, though truth be told, she did feel a little tired.
Before Gretchen realized it, the clock struck three. Suddenly the barroom grew deathly silent. Seconds later, the church bell began ringing. The time for the lottery had come. Those in the Drunken Steward hardly made a noise as they rose from their chairs and left to assemble in the square. On the way out, Gretchen passed Sonya, and noticed that she was smiling.
"What've you got to smirk about?" Gretchen asked miserably.
"Nothin'. I'm just wondering what it'll be like once you've gone." Sonya's smile turned into a humorless grin. It was all Gretchen could do not to hit her.
Sheriff Guntag stood on the platform now. A wooden box filled with slips of paper sat on a table in front of him. Behind the sheriff sat Mayor Weisskopf with his wife and three daughters. Gretchen looked around, but saw not trace of Jake and Will. She assumed they were still out looking for some way to defeat Balthazar.
"Is everyone here?" Sheriff Guntag looked around. Gretchen felt a nudge and looked over to see Peter sidling up next to her.
"Good luck, Gretch," he attempted a smile.
"You too," she whispered back.
"Everyone present and accounted for?" Sheriff Guntag asked again, doing a quick head count. "Excellent. Well, let's get started!" He rubbed his hands together and removed a key from his ring. With a loud CLICK the padlock on the lottery chest opened. There was a long, ominous creak as the lid came back. Sheriff Guntag reached his hand in and stirred the papers around. Finally, he pulled out a name. There was a collective gasp as he opened the folded paper.
"Roland Gunderson, would you please step forward?" There was a murmur, but nobody came. Gretchen breathed a huge sigh of relief. "Roland Gunderson, please." There was another long pause.
"Oh come now!" Sheriff Guntag dropped his hands in exasperation. "Does anyone know where Roland Gunderson is?"
"Sure I do!" came an old woman's voice from the back, "He's under the old oak tree in the churchyard. Roland Gunderson died two months ago!"
"Peterson!" Guntag shouted to his deputy, "Go to the churchyard and make sure the old woman's telling the truth, would you?"
"Yes sir." Peterson took off at top speed to the churchyard. Gretchen seized up again. The deputy was back in less than a minute, but it seemed an eternity.
"Roland Gunderson is, in fact, dead sir," Peterson said upon his return.
"Well, that takes care of him, then." Sheriff Guntag crumpled up Roland Gunderson's lottery slip irritably and tossed it over his shoulder. Again he reached into the chest, stirred around the slips, reached his hand in and pulled one out. Gretchen was about to explode.
Everything from that point seemed to happen in slow motion. Later, Gretchen would swear that Sheriff Guntag's voice suddenly took on a booming quality, as though it were the voice of God himself.
"Peter Hilmar, will you please step forward?" Gretchen gasped so hard that she almost choked. Peter looked stunned. He trembled like a leaf as he stepped forward to approach the podium.
"Peter, no!" Gretchen hissed desperately. She grabbed her cousin's wrist.
"Let go, Gretch." Peter sounded as though he were on the verge of tears. Gretchen did so, sobbing. The crowd parted as Peter approached the platform. Sheriff Guntag placed a hand on Peter's shoulder.
"Peter Hilmar, you have been chosen as this year's sacrifice."
"Yes, sir," Peter said nervously. He had gone deathly pale.
"You are to be escorted by my men to the jail, where you will be kept until eleven o'clock tonight. At midnight, you shall be sacrificed to the demon Balthazar."
"Yes, sir."
"Men, take Mr. Hilmar to the jail." Two policemen stepped up from the side of the platform. Quietly, they led him off the platform. Gretchen couldn't take any more. The anger, the pain that was welling up inside of her came gushing out.
"NO!" she screamed, running through the crowd, "Don't take him! Please, please don't take him!" She fell to her knees in front of Sheriff Guntag. "Please, Sheriff, I beg you! Don't take my cousin."
"Stand aside, fraulein." Sheriff Guntag pushed her aside.
"Take me instead!" she implored.
"Gretchen, no!" Peter cried, "Don't do this." He hung his head resignedly.
"I suggest you return home and let your cousin fulfill his purpose," Sheriff Guntag told Gretchen. He spoke with authority, but Gretchen could tell he didn't like this any more than she did.
"Gretchen, come on," Klaus squeezed Gretchen's shoulder, "Let's go back to the inn, alright?" Gretchen looked at her uncle. He was crying. His eyes were averted, as though he couldn't bear to see his son being led away. The policemen continued walking. Peter didn't even look back. Gretchen's sorrow suddenly turned into anger.
I've got to get him out of there, she thought, even if I have to go by myself.
The Drunken Steward stayed open for another hour, but it was clear that nobody was able to function well under the strain of their grief. Even Sonya seemed to have felt the effects of Peter's absence. There wasn't as much sting in her words now, though that could have been due just as much to her disappointment that Gretchen wasn't selected. At four o' clock, Klaus Hilmar gave the shout for last call. At four-thirty, everyone had gone. The only thing on Gretchen's mind as she cleaned the tables and went upstairs was how to spring her cousin from his heavily guarded cell in the town jail.
At five, Gretchen heard voices downstairs. Jake and Will had returned.
"Anyone here?" Will shouted.
"Yes, but we're closed," Gretchen shouted from upstairs. She emerged from her room. "Sorry, gentlemen. I know it's early, but it's been something of a hard afternoon." She sniffed and wiped away a tear. She went down the stairs to meet them.
"Have you been crying, Gretchen?" Jake asked her. Gretchen nodded.
"They held the lottery earlier," she said quickly.
"But then…if you're still here…"
"No, I didn't get chosen, if that's what you're wondering," Gretchen said.
"Then what's the matter?" Will asked.
"It's Peter, my cousin. He was selected. They've got him in the jail now, and they'll keep him there until 11 tonight."
"Oh…" Jake was stunned. "I'm…I'm sorry Gretchen."
"Thanks. But don't worry. I'm going to get him back."
"I'm sorry, what?" Will said, disbelieving, "Did you just say you were going to get him back?"
"Glad to see you've not lost your hearing, Herr Grimm."
"Does that mean you're on our side now?" Will asked.
"Yes. I want to save my cousin, and it would seem that saving him would also mean getting rid of Balthazar."
"Sounds good enough," Will said, "We'll help you."
"I wasn't asking for any help," Gretchen said.
"No, but something tells me you won't do much good by yourself." Gretchen thought about this for a moment. He was right. If she tried to spring Peter by herself, she'd be outnumbered, and any one of those guards were probably stronger than she was anyway.
"What's the catch?" she asked.
"You have to help us," Will said.
"How?"
"Um…" Jake wrung his hands uncomfortably.
"We've not had much luck navigating the terrain," Will cut in. "We thought since you live here, you'd probably know the area better than we would…we're looking for a lair. A possible base of operations for Balthazar. Would you be willing to help us look?"
"Count me in," she said. "When should we meet?"
"It'll be dark by eight, so meet us at the stables then. Bring anything you think might be useful."
Gretchen nodded. "I'll meet you then." Gretchen left the Brothers, and went up to her room to prepare. A reassuring feeling swept through her as she climbed the stairs. They were going to get Peter back.