"Release me at once!" Johanna protested, trying to wiggle out of Beadle Bamford's grip.

"Gladly." He thrust her into the waiting carriage and climbed in after her. "Before too long I'll have released you for good." He signaled for the driver to go, and before Johanna could even attempt to jump out, he had her by the arms again.

"Where are you taking me?" she glared at him through her hair, now hanging across her face.

"Doesn't matter, you're not coming back." The Beadle sat back in the seat and occasionally checked out the window as they drove. Johanna was sitting, rather, being forced to sprawl, across him sullenly. She would have tried to run, honestly, but she had no idea where she was now.

"You're repulsive!" she blurted suddenly, still twisted in such a way that she was half-facing the window. The Beadle was taken aback.

"Well, you're…" he paused and Johanna tossed her head angrily to try and rid herself of the hair in her face. "You're blonde."

"I don't even know what color your hair is! Do you ever bathe?" The driver was making a serious effort not to listen—his orders were simply to do as the judge told him. Following orders, he mused, was difficult when there were young women around.

"That's uncharacteristically brutal of you." Beadle Bamford swallowed hard. "Anything else I should know?"

"Yes!" she struggled in vain, now partly-hysterical, and attempted to kick him as each syllable came out. "You've…got…a…hideous…mole!"

"Well, I never!" He pulled her up by her sleeve. "It's a good thing we've arrived, or I'd have thrown you out on the side of the road just then!" Apparently immune to her violent resistance, the Beadle kicked open the door and hauled her out with him. She braced herself when he tried to go up the steps, and it seemed to be working until he got fed up and threw her over his shoulder. Once accomplished, he was able to nudge open the door.

"Let go! Put me down this instant!" she pounded his back and he exhaled loudly. He should have just gone to art school like he'd wanted to, and he wouldn't even be in this mess.

"Again, gladly." He dropped her unceremoniously onto the ground, and a sordid-looking man entered from a back room. Johanna's eyes widened. She didn't even want to know what she was doing here. What would Amelia say?

Amelia!

She would never know where she was! She might not even know she'd gone! Johanna drew her knees to her chest and pounded her head on them. What if she thought she'd left on her own?

"Yes sir, insane as they come." The Beadle nudged her with his foot. "Just look at her. What person in their right mind would consider her rational?"

"You're not getting any arguments from me," the man laughed. "I'll just throw her in with my other blondes."

"I'm glad we've reached an understanding." Beadle Bamford gave him a strange sort of smile and backed out through the door quickly. "She's your problem now."

"Shame." The man tilted her chin up. "It's always the pretty ones." Without another word, he pulled her to her feet and towards the back room. He ended up half-dragging her, with the fight she was putting up.

"Let go, let go, let go, I'm not insane!" she dug her heels into the ground upon reaching a row of cells, each holding several mad women of all sorts. He reached into his pocket to unlock the one laying claim to those with yellow hair not unlike Johanna's.

"I see. In you go." He gave her a shove and quickly locked the door. The other ladies seemed to take Johanna's cue and screamed along with her as the man left the room as hastily as he could. While they all went wild at once, Johanna sank to the ground and buried her head in her hands, saying to herself over and over, 'why?'

"Anthony, get up!" Amelia all but knocked him off his bed with the pillow she was swinging in his direction.

"Ah—" he protested through a mouthful of cushion. He pushed it off him and laughed. "Amelia, you'll have to quiet down, everyone else is still sleeping."

"Well, I'm not!" she bounced on his mattress. "We have to go bring Johanna to your friend!" She attempted to haul him out of the sheets herself, but he stopped her.

"Might I at least get dressed first?" he asked pointedly.

"Oh, Anthony, we live together." Amelia rolled her eyes. "You're like my brother."

"Fine," he conceded, rolling off his bed. Amelia waited impatiently as he pulled on his trousers and hunted for his shoes in the closet.

"She's going to think we've forgotten her!" Amelia wheedled.

"She won't, either." He paused. "Will she?"

"Not if we hurry!" she bounded out the door and poked her head back in, jerking it to the side. "Come on!"

"I'm coming," Anthony exhaled, tripping over himself as he tried to follow her while pulling his shoe on. By the time he got to the sitting room, she was already pulling the door open.

"And where're you going at this hour?" an obviously irritated Brianne called from her doorway, clad in her nightgown.

"Oh—well, we just…I thought I might…" Amelia toed the ground. "I thought I might show Anthony some of the new shops before everyone woke up and kept his attentions."

Brianne seemed to consider this. "All right then. Just…make a little less noise, will you? Allen's only just gotten to sleep."

"Sorry!" she whispered. By now, Anthony had caught up with her and was backing outside. Brianne nodded and waved before retreating back into her room.

"Let's go!" Amelia leaped off the main step and into a huge pile of snow. Anthony laughed upon seeing her fall face first into the whiteness.

"Oh, you!" she pelted him with a crudely-made snowball before pushing herself back up and onto the road. "Now we can go."

"You've been saying that since you woke me up," he teased, keeping pace with her as she calmed down a little.

"I'm sorry I'm so excited," she said. "It's just that I didn't even know I had a sister until yesterday, and if it's anyone, I'm so happy it's her. I really like her, Anthony."

"Oh, I understand."

"What was that?" she jammed her hands into her coat pockets and glanced up eagerly.

"Oh, I—nothing, I was just saying that…I understand why you would…well, you know."

"Anthony Hope!" she hit him in the arm. "You like her!"

"I do not!" he sputtered, cheeks reddening anyway.

"Oh, you do so!" she danced around him. "Why, that's lovely!"

"It is? I mean…it would be, if I were to—not that I do, but hypothetically…if I did, it would…?"

"It'd be absolutely brilliant!" she slowed to a twirl. "But you said you don't, so…I suppose there's no point in telling you how she feels…"

"She…has she mentioned me?" Anthony's mouth hung open slightly. "Amelia, wait! Wait, what has she said?"

"Oh, nothing of consequence, since you clearly wouldn't be interested," she giggled, sprinting off toward Johanna's house.

"Amelia, wait, you can't just do that, you've got to tell me if she's said something, what if it was something mean?"

He caught up with her, breathing heavily. For a girl, she could cover some distance. "Amelia?"

"Where…where is she?" Amelia stood at the gate, peering through what she could see of Johanna's window. The room was, from what she could see, vacant. Before Anthony could stop her, she'd stepped over the fence and was quickly pulling herself up the side of the house.

"Amelia, be careful…oh, why do I bother with that?" he said no more, but watched her carefully to be sure she wouldn't fall, or—he shuddered—get caught. Amelia leaned in through the window for a few minutes, then slid back down the way she had come. In a matter of seconds afterwards, she was back in front of him, looking most distraught.

"Anthony, she's gone!"

"Gone?" His breath froze in his mouth. "What do you mean?"

"Her room's all torn apart, and she isn't there, I checked! I even called her name! Anthony, something must have happened to her!"

"This is terrible!" he gasped. "We have to find her…"

"Where would she be? What could have happened to her?" Amelia, fully panicking now, looked wide-eyed up at Anthony.

"I don't know, I—I'm not sure…" he stood as tall as he could and looked all about the house, but found nothing. He even turned around to look—and gasped again.

"Where do you keep coming from?" he demanded. The beggar woman simply blinked. They both waited, and she smiled pleasantly and turned in circles a few times before cocking her head and giving them a strange look.

"They've taken her!" she screeched so suddenly that Anthony nearly knocked Amelia to the ground in his shock.

"Taken who? Johanna? Do you know where she is?"

"There's a place for crazies like you," she replied, eyes narrowed.

"What?" Anthony put his hands on her shoulders. "No, I need to know where Johanna is."

"Crazies!" she barked once more before coughing. Amelia looked on in bemusement as the woman interjected, "Smoke! Smoke! Sign of the devil!" And promptly took off toward the chimney that was smoking in the distance.

"What good did that do us?" Anthony sighed.

"Wait!" Amelia breathed. "Crazies! Anthony!"

"What, not you too…"

"Anthony!" Amelia exhaled impatiently. "Judge Turpin must've done something to her, and I bet she saw! Now what do you think that could translate to?"

Anthony pondered this new information. "She's hidden…"

"Yes!"

"At…the…"

"Yes, yes!"

"The bookstore!"

"What?" Amelia shook her head. "No, Anthony, that has nothing to do with crazies…"

"Clearly you've never attempted to purchase the Grimm Tales…"

"Anthony, please!" Amelia stared straight at him. "Crazies. Insane. Asylum."

"That must be it!" he stomped into the several inches of snow. "Amelia, follow me. I know what we can do."