Now that she knew his True Name—if Axel’s theory was right—, she wasn’t sure. The purple light was calling her, and she wanted to enter the Dream Temple and save Loki more than anything now.
If only she could figure out what her brother had deleted from Loki’s phone?
Fable let Axel continue on rambling about his theories, but she wasn’t really listening. That purple’s light effect was too imminent to neglect.
What was going on with her?
Suddenly, Fable began feeling dizzy. She rubbed her head and balanced herself, but almost fell past the purple light.
“Fable?” Axel wasn’t sure what was happening. “What’s going on?”
“I don’t know,” she stuttered. “It’s like…”
“Like what? Answer me.”
“It’s like Déjà vu or something,” Fable’s eyes throbbed. “I feel as if I’m seeing something from another world,” she began choking and shivering. “I feel something bad is going to happen.”
“To who?” Axel asked, holding her tight. “To Loki? To Shew?”
Fable tried not to look into her brothers eyes. What she felt was scary and it didn’t make sense to her. She swallowed hard and told him what the feeling told her, “I feel something bad is going to happen to me.”
23
A Grimm Girl
Shew and Cerené watched as the local’s horses escaped the dark Huntsmen in Furry Tell.
Loki had been walking among the children for a while as if looking for something. He pulled each one by the hair and stared into their eyes the way the other huntsmen did before.
Her eyes were focused on Loki Van Helsing. She’d always known who he really was so Cerené’s remark didn’t surprise her at all. Shew was told that Frederich Van Helsing had been her father’s most trusted physician, and that he’d been present the night she was born. Was Frederich another Dreamhunter who sympathized with vampires? She had no idea what his relation with Abraham or Loki was exactly. She was only sure that Abraham Van Helsing, Loki’s father, was a Dreamhunter who was once banned for loving Loki’s mother, a demon.
“You remember when I was about to tell you a funny story at the Candy House before Baba Yaga showed up? The one about how Furry Tell’s name came to be?” Cerené said.
“What’s that?” Shew said absently.
“Furry Tell is actually another way of saying Fairy Tale,” Cerené explained. “I know it’s crazy but there is a secret language called ‘Anguish’. It’s said that someone created it to communicate with a woman he was prohibited to love. To speak the language you say words that sound alike but have different meanings. I don’t know who invented it but he is said to be from Furry Tell.”
“That sounds like a fun language,” Shew said, mildly interested. Having a chat with Cerené while Loki was about to kill one of the children wasn’t the best thing to do. She was hoping Loki was only looking for the children with ‘winter in their eyes.’ She supposed he should leave the other children be and ride away.
“It’s a fun language,” Cerené said. “For example, you know that rhyme ‘Mary Had a Little Lamp’?”
She nodded. She wished Cerené would stop talking.
“In Anguish language it would be called: “Marry hatter ladle limb,” Cerené giggled.
“What?” Shew said. She thought she noticed someone she knew amidst the children below, but she wasn’t sure.
“Itch fleas worse widest snore,” Cerené giggled again. “It means: whose fleece was white as snow.”
She ignored Cerené, squinting to see who the children were.
“So the whole rhyme in Anguish Language would be: Marry hatter ladle limb, Itch fleas worse widest snore. An ever-wear debt Marry win Door limb worse shorter gore,” Cerené couldn’t stop laughing.
“Cerené!” Shew hissed, and raised a silencing finger toward her. It was rather irritating how Cerené had been acting since they’d reached Rainbow’s End. A bit childish, Shew thought.
Cerené shrugged and tried to see what Shew was climbing down the hill for. She had no choice but follow her, trying to be quiet.
Down in the village, Loki came upon another boy he thought was worth sparing.
“Winter in his eyes,” he said as he set him free—Shew could hardly believe this was Loki’s voice; calm and confident without the slightest hint of compassion.
The huntsmen took the boy and ushered him to a carriage that had just arrived. It was the Queen’s pumpkin carriage. The spared boys were going to be transported to the castle.
“Why are the children with ‘winter in their eyes’ going to the castle?” Shew muttered.
“Maybe it’s ‘glinter in their eyes’, not ‘winter’,” Cerené suggested.
“Is that even a word?” Shew sneaked toward one of the horses that had fled Furry Tell. The horse didn’t move, unafraid of her. She had always been good with horses. It was one of the few advantages of imprisonment in the castle. She was allowed to ride white horses around the castle at night while huntsmen circled her so she would not escape. Angel had been her personal teacher when he was around.
“I don’t know,” Cerené shook her shoulders. “I don’t go to school, you know. I just clean it. Maybe it’s some kind of Anguish Language like I just told you.”
Shew pulled her close behind the horse as it walked slowly near the village.
“I hope Loki’s not collecting children for the Queen to slaughter,” Shew whispered.
“I don’t think so,” Cerené said. “They are sparing both boys and girls. The Queen only swims in the blood of girls. They treat the boys they spare with care. I’d worry about the others who don’t have ‘winter in their eyes.’”
"Please, no!" they saw a boy pleading. He was a bit chubby and he was crying. "My mother and father aren't home. They left town this morning and said they'll be back tomorrow. I’m supposed to take care of my sister. Please don't kill her. I’m supposed to protect her."
"You can't even protect yourself, child," the laughing wind roared and slapped the boy on his chubby cheeks, left and right.
"Who's your sister?" Loki spoke.
"That’s her," the boy said, and pointed at a pigtailed girl.
"Stupid boy," Cerené gritted her teeth. "If you want to protect her, you shouldn't point at her."
Shew omitted a quiet shriek as she had climbed down the hill, suspecting she knew the boy and the girl.
"My sister's name is Gretel," the boy said.
Loki walked over to Gretel and poked her with the tip of his sword in her shoulder, drawing a small trickle of blood out. "Look at me," he said calmly. "Are you Gretel?"
Gretel nodded without raising her head.
Once Shew saw her, she identified her as Fable. She remembered when Fable bravely fought Big Bad in the Schloss. She admired her for that. Loki had told Shew that Fable believed in her every step of the way.
She wasn’t surprised that Axel and Fable were Hansel and Gretel. Loki had told her that Charmwill had hinted to that fact. All the talk about Candy House and food hinted more at it—Shew really hoped Baba Yaga wasn’t their witch mother. That would be awful.
All Shew could think about were the consequences of Loki killing Fable. Would she die in the Waking World if he killed her in the Dreamworld? She thought she would, because if Fable dies around 1812, how could there be a Fable in the present day? The rules that apply to vampires should apply to her, or?
"Get your hands off me," Gretel was saying. "You're the Queen's bastard."
"Shut your mouth," Axel pleaded. “Or he’ll kill you.”
"One day, I’m going to be a witch and I will curse you, Huntsman," she spit in Loki’s face.