Chapter Five

Storytellers

Wilhelm sat dumbfounded on the floor until he felt Lorita's gaze on him again, spurring him into action. Shame burning red on his face, he dragged himself to the bed and climbed back onto the mattress. Seated once more, he looked down at his hands and his brow suddenly furrowed in confusion. His fingertips were coated in a sticky layer of blood. He glanced over his body nervously for the source and he spotted the scratches on his bare chest, each one bearing a slick overlay of crimson. Several thin tendrils had rolled down his skin in zagging patterns.

Confused by these unfounded new injuries, he quickly grabbed the water and cloth from where Jakob had left them on his bedside table the night before. He winced slightly as he dabbed the wounds gently, removing the scarlet stains. Lorita watched the whole scene passively until he finally set the tools back on the nightstand.

"Where did you get that necklace?" she asked abruptly. Startled, Wilhelm clasped the pendant against his breast protectively.

"From a girl I loved very much," he answered shortly, not meeting the curious woman's eyes.

"Both of them?" she inquired. Wilhelm nodded. "Where is she?"

"Gone," Wilhelm responded simply but the emotion in his voice betrayed his meaning. Despite herself, Lorita felt a pang of sympathy for the rude man. She knew how it felt to lose a loved one and, judging by the defensive way that Wilhelm clung to the necklace, his whole heart had belonged to the maiden.

"I'm sorry," Lorita mumbled quietly. "If you don't mind, how did she die?"

"Scarlet fever," Wilhelm said flatly, all feeling rapidly draining from his speech. Turning his head down to hide his expression, Wilhelm's mind drifted aimlessly into his memories and, almost without thinking, he opened the locket. In each side was a small and faded black-and-white photograph. The right hand showed a handsome man and a young woman in a flowing dress. The woman was seated and the man stood behind her, a hand on each shoulder. Wilhelm smiled slightly as he ran his thumb over the photograph of his parent's wedding.

The picture on the left was of three children, and had been taken many years later. The farthest back was a seven-year-old Wilhelm, his hair as untidy as always. Wilhelm's right hand rested on the shoulder of a five-year-old Jakob, his little, gold-rimmed glasses perched on his nose. And in the very centre of the photograph...

Wilhelm's breath caught at the sight. A cherub face surrounded by spiralling curls, nearly three-year-old Lotte Grimm beamed up at her eldest brother adoringly.

Wilhelm gazed in agony at his left hand; the hand that had clasped Lotte's own so protectively; the hand that had failed. No more than a year after this photograph was taken, Lotte had died.

Wilhelm jumped as he felt something touch his arm. He glanced down and saw Lorita's sable fox standing on its hind legs in front of him, one small paw placed on Wilhelm's forearm in a very human gesture of comforting. "Fate works in mysterious ways, Wilhelm," Lorita said gently from her seat at the kitchen table. "Do not drown in your losses but treasure your gains." Lorita emitted a weak laugh. "That's what my father always used to tell me when I was upset."

The wooden door suddenly swung open, startling all of the room's occupants. The fox darted up to its perch on Lorita's shoulder as they turned to the door. Jakob came in, removing his familiar duster and setting it on a chair near the door.

"Will, you're awake," Jakob said in surprise. "I thought I told you to rest."

"You did," Wilhelm replied grumpily. He didn't like being bossed around by his younger brother. "In the great length of time you have been gone, I have already rested and awoken again."

Jakob sighed at his brother's stubbornness and then his eyes fell on Lorita. "Oh, Miss Lorita, my apologies. I didn't see you there."

"Apologies accepted," Lorita said kindly, a fey smile dancing across her pale lips. "I was simply looking for someone to tell me about the tales of the forest and her queen. A girl from town directed me to this house, saying the family here knew it the best."

"That much is truth," Jakob laughed hollowly. He pulled up a chair across from the blonde girl and asked, "What is it that you wanted to know?"

"Well I've heard strange tales about a witch that lived in the forest in a tower for five hundred years, and who she was kidnapping the girls of the village, and I thought it sounded like an intriguing tale," she said simply. "I've always enjoyed a good story."

"Then you definitely came to the right place," Wilhelm chortled, leaning back against the wall behind him. "The tale is most certainly a fantastical one, and none can tell it better than Jakob." He paused thoughtfully and then added, "Except perhaps me, of course."

Jakob and Lorita both made noises of exasperation and rolled their eyes. Lorita returned her attention to the younger Grimm. "Mister Grimm, could you please tell me your tale?"

"Why of course," Jakob said excitedly. "I'm always happy to tell it to a captive audience." Jakob cleared his throat lightly and then began, his voice deepening just slightly and his face growing more intense as it did every time he recited a story. "It all began over five years ago, while our country was still under the reign of the French. Will and I were staying in a tavern in Karlstadt after ridding the millhouse of a 'witch.' Suddenly a French commander and his entourage burst in, interrupting our gaiety."

Jakob instantly launched himself into a detailed narrative of every event that had occurred since they had been captured in the middle of the night by Cavaldi. Having had a considerable amount of practice in reciting the tale, he was able to continue easily without faltering and his descriptions were accompanied by animated gestures and expressions.

Even though Wilhelm had heard the story enough times - on top of having actually lived it - he still felt himself drawn into Jakob's entrancing visions. Lorita was infinitely more spellbound, and she sat gazing at the storyteller with attentive eyes, gasping and laughing and even half-screaming a few times. Angelika returned to the room with Aurora shortly after the account had begun and watched her husband with a contented smile at the rapt enjoyment on his face.

As Jakob's words created fantastic images in Lorita's mind, Wilhelm viewed the realistic visions in his mind. He clearly recalled the swollen belly of the horse as it rode off with Elsie; the sleeping body of Sasha floating in the pond; the sickening transformations of the snarling wolf into the axe-wielding hunter; the grotesquely disfigured and severed heads of their dead companions tied to the lids of baskets on either side of a Frenchman's horse; the enchanted knives forcing the brothers to face each other as they had play-acted many times before, but this time so much more dangerous...

"The queen's magic was laced into the metal of the blades and no matter how hard we fought, our blades were each determined to enter the heart of the other," Jakob said dramatically, pretending to be wresting against his own wrist. "Will to release my wrist, believing that my knowledge of magic would save us both, but her power was too great and, as much as I fought it, she won over. The blade slid into Wilhelm's heart as easily as if into its own sheath."

Jakob never had difficulty retelling this part of the story in all its horrific reality, purely because as he told it he felt as if he were reciting the tale of fictional characters. It never occurred to him until long after that it was actually the story of his own life that he was recounting. Wilhelm, on the other hand, rubbed the heel of his hand against his chest, where the absence of his heartbeat was all-too-obvious beneath the skin.

Nearly two long hours had passed before Jakob drew to the conclusion of the tale.

"As all of the sleeping girls awoke I returned to Will's side. Even though the spell over everyone else had broken, he did not stir." Forgetting that Wilhelm was sitting in room with her, Lorita gasped in horror, one hand covering her mouth.

Smiling slightly, Jakob continued. " 'Perhaps another kiss?' Cavaldi suggested. Bracing myself I knelt at Wilhelm's side and leaned towards him." Wilhelm saw a faint blush creep into his brother's face at this part, as it always did, and a smirk crossed his own mouth. "No more than a few inches above his face I heard a faint grumble. 'Not you,' Will had muttered and then cocked an eyebrow at me without opening his eyes. Angelika swept to his side and as she leaned to kiss him, Will magically awoke."

Lorita laughed and applauded. "That was a wonderful story," she complimented. "You are a very talented storyteller, Jakob."

"I'm glad you enjoyed it," Jakob responded. Worn from his spirited retelling, he collapsed back into his chair - which he'd risen from at some point in his eagerness - and gratefully drained the cup of water Angelika offered him. "You are a traveller," he said suddenly. "Surely you must have heard some good stories on your journey."

"I can think of no good tales, but I did just recently visit Hamelin and heard the strangest news," Lorita replied. Jakob nodded her on enthusiastically; he enjoyed listening to tales as much as he loved telling them, the more unrealistic the better. "Well I was told that the village had been plagued by a horrible rat infestation. The beasts were ruining their crop stores and many people fell ill. Then one day a young man, dressed in patched clothing, came into town and claimed to be a rat-catcher. The villagers offered to pay him a schilling for the head of each rat that he killed and he accepted.

"That night as the villagers lay down to sleep, the man began playing a song on a flute and every rat followed him out of town and into the nearby river, where they all drowned. But the next day, the villagers refused to pay him such a large fee for only playing a flute. They told him they would pay him for each rat's head and since all the heads were on the bottom of the river they would pay him nothing.

"As they were all in church the following day, the piper began playing his flute and every child in town followed him into a hidden cave in the surrounding country. He returned to the village and refused to return the children until they paid his fees. Finally relenting, they paid him nearly one-hundred-thousand schillings and when he put his flute to his lips again the village's children returned. Then the piper walked out of town and was never seen again."

"Amazing," Jakob breathed. "To think of someone controlling any creature with only music. What a skill that would be!" Wilhelm rolled his eyes; unlike Jakob, he wasn't quite so willing to believe that all hints of magic were true. More often than not, they were frauds as much as the Grimms had been when they had started.

"Well I won't be wasting your time any longer," Lorita said, standing. "Thank you so much for your story, and I was so glad to see you again, Angelika."

"Will you be staying in town or are you going to leave again?" Angelika asked hurriedly.

"I haven't decided yet, but I think I may stay in Marbaden for a while." Lorita smiled softly. "It does me good to see a friend."

Joy, Wilhelm thought to himself sarcastically.