The Inside Story by Michael Buckley
THE SISTERS GRIMM
BOOK EIGHT
THE INSIDE STORY
ALSO BY MICHAEL BUCKLEY:
In the Sisters Grimm series
BOOK ONE: THE FAIRY-TALE DETECTIVES
BOOK TWO: THE UNUSUAL SUSPECTS
BOOK THREE: THE PROBLEM CHILD
BOOK FOUR: ONCE UPON A CRIME
BOOK FIVE: MAGIC AND OTHER MISDEMEANORS
BOOK SIX: TALES FROM THE HOOD
BOOK SEVEN: THE EVERAFTER WAR
BOOK EIGHT: THE INSIDE STORY
In the NERDS series:
NERDS: NATIONAL ESPIONAGE, RESCUE,
AND DEFENSE SOCIETY
NERDS: M IS FOR MAMA’S BOY
PUBLISHER’S NOTE: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data has been applied for and may be
obtained from the Library of Congress.
ISBN 978-0-8109-8430-1
Copyright © 2010 Michael Buckley
Illustrations copyright © 2010 Peter Ferguson
Published in 2010 by Amulet Books, an imprint of ABRAMS. All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, mechanical, electronic, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission from the publisher. Amulet Books and Amulet Paperbacks are registered trademarks of Harry N. Abrams, Inc.
Printed and bound in U.S.A.
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For two very good editors,
Susan Van Metre and Maggie Lehrman
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This book was the most difficult of the series to write, even with the considerable help of the geniuses who came long before me. First, thanks to Carlo Collodi’s masterpiece The Adventures of Pinocchio, and also to Sir Richard F. Burton’s translation of The Arabian Nights, L. Frank Baum’s Wonderful Wizard of Oz, as well as Rudyard Kipling’s Jungle Book, Washington Irving’s “Legend of Sleepy Hollow,” and Lewis Carroll’s Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. The Annotated Brothers Grimm, edited and translated by Maria Tatar, was also essential to this writing. Unfortunately, there are tales I used whose authors have faded from our collective knowledge, but their spirits visited me and I thank them for their timeless stories.
I want to thank my editors, Susan Van Metre and Maggie Lehrman, for their incredible patience. Without their many, many, many extensions (and efforts to prevent my nervous breakdown), I would not have been able to finish. I also want to thank everyone at Abrams for their incredible support, including Michael Jacobs and Howard Reeves, the marketing and sales departments, and my publicists, Jason Wells, Mary Ann Zissimos, and Laura Mihalick. Much thanks to Chad Beckerman for his amazing vision and talent.
There is also my agent and wife, the amazing, talented, and beautiful Alison Fargis of the Stonesong Press; my good friend Joe Deasy, who reads and rereads these books; my family; my good friend Josh Drisko, who keeps me laughing at myself; and Mary Brown, Jessie Harper, and Erica Alicea at Starbucks #11807 on Smith Street in Brooklyn.
But above all, thanks to my son, Finn, who inspires a million stories with every smile.
THE SISTERS GRIMM
BOOK EIGHT
THE INSIDE STORY
THE FIRST EXPLOSION sent Sabrina flailing backward to the floor of the ancient tomb. Her head slammed against the stone and her sneakers were blasted off her feet. Before she could stand up, there was a second explosion. The noise rattled her eardrums and a blast of wind scorched her face, neck, and hands. But the third explosion was the one that really frightened her. It split columns in two and churned the ground like a pot of boiling water. Fissures formed, allowing skin-searing steam to escape from deep below. Along with it came an unearthly concoction of lights and sounds and colors. It wasn’t a mist or a fog—it was alive, made from something old and angry. It spun into a whirlwind and surrounded Sabrina’s ragtag crowd of would-be heroes.
“This is not good!” Daphne shouted over the din. “We have to stop it.”
“Be my guest!”Sabrina cried. “If you haven’t noticed, I don’t have any magical powers. I’m not an Everafter. I’m just a girl from New York City.”
Sabrina searched her mind for an idea, a notion, a plan—but there was nothing. Why was she drawing a blank? This wasn’t her first end-of-the-world scenario. She had always managed to find a solution before. Where were all her brilliant ideas when she needed them?
There was a fourth and final explosion, and something inside the odd swirling gases began to pulsate. A loud, pounding rhythm, not unlike a heartbeat, filled Sabrina’s ears. The light and sound and color formed into a single being with eyes like a bottomless pit and a smile that chilled her bones.
It was too late. He had his freedom and Sabrina could feel the world trembling.
1
THREE DAYS EARLIER
(OR HALF AN HOUR . . . IT’S ALL IN HOW YOU LOOK AT IT)
aphne, I don’t think we’re in Ferryport Landing anymore,” Sabrina Grimm said. Without waiting for an answer, she grabbed her sister’s hand and ran back to the wooden farmhouse. Once inside, she slammed the door shut and leaned against it. The farmhouse was small and rustic, with dirt floors and shabby furniture—three chairs, a rickety table, two tiny beds, an iron stove, and a frayed rug. What little light managed to slip through the windows was overwhelmed by shadows, and there was a thick cloud of poverty hanging over everything. To call it a house would have been generous. It was more like a shack.
“Daphne?”
“I’m OK,” her sister’s voice called back. “They’re singing for us.”
Sabrina clambered up atop one of the beds, where Daphne stood. Her little sister was wearing a yellow dress and pushing a pair of creaky shutters open in order to peer out into the sunshine. She smiled brightly, her eyes filled with curiosity. Sabrina envied Daphne’s attitude. Her sister was much better at adapting to the twists and turns to which the two sisters were often subjected. She seemed to lack suspicion or worry, but Sabrina had a never-ending supply. Unfortunately, Daphne also lacked the necessary wariness their lives often required.
“Get away from the window,” Sabrina scolded.
Daphne giggled and then bit down on the palm of her hand. It was a quirky habit that came out when she was very excited or very happy. From the look of the bite mark she now had, it appeared she was both. “We’re here. We’re actually here!”
“Where’s here?” Sabrina asked as she climbed down from the bed and slowly opened the front door again. A breeze swept into the shack, swirling a cyclone of dust on the floor. Standing on the stoop outside was a very short, very chubby old woman who resembled a baked potato stuffed in a white dress. Accompanying her was a trio of equally tiny men. Each had the face of a cherub, except for their bushy white beards and untamed eyebrows. None was taller than three feet, and all were dressed in matching blue suits and pie-tin–shaped hats. Behind them, Sabrina could see a town square lined with little round houses the same color as the tiny people’s suits and hats. The square had a road leading away from it paved with yellow bricks. A Yellow Brick Road.
“Welcome—”
&nb
“I know! It’s awesome.”
“No, Daphne, it’s not awesome. All the people from Oz are crazy!”
“I know how much people from Oz annoy you, but think about it. We’re actually in the Land of Oz, or I guess, we’re technically in the story of Oz. I didn’t believe it was possible when Mirror told us about the Book of Everafter, but he was telling the truth. We’re inside a book of fairy tales!”
Sabrina bristled at the mention of Mirror’s name, and a wave of sadness swept over her. She felt her throat tighten as she fought back tears. She never wanted to hear that man’s name again.
“I wonder when Dorothy will show up,” Daphne continued, still grinning.
“Try to focus,” Sabrina insisted. “The reason we’re in this story is to find Mirror and save our baby brother from whatever wicked plan Mirror has cooking in his stupid bald head. We don’t have time for some idiot from Kansas.”
Daphne frowned. “OK, so what’s the plan?”
Sabrina sat down on one of the creaky beds and stared at the empty wall. “I don’t know.”
“I’m sorry,” Daphne said, “but did the great Sabrina Grimm just say she didn’t know what to do?”
Sabrina understood her sister was teasing, but she couldn’t bring herself to smile. The few options they had felt murky and confusing. Should they chase Mirror in hopes of rescuing the baby, or stay put and hope the rest of their family would show up to help? She and Daphne knew next to nothing about the Book of Everafter. How did it work? What were the rules of the Book? Could they be injured—or worse, killed? The Grimm sisters had a hard enough time staying alive in the real world. Could they survive in a magic book? And then there were the others to consider: Pinocchio, who had betrayed them, and Puck. Both had stepped into the Book alongside them, but where were they now? Dead? Injured? Lost? Should she and her sister wait for them to show up, or start searching for them, too? There were too many questions and too much still unknown to answer them. What if Sabrina made the wrong choice?
Two years ago, Sabrina and Daphne had a simple, happy life on the Upper East Side of Manhattan, in New York City, when their parents disappeared. Overnight, Sabrina was enrolled in a crash course on taking care of her little sister, being tough, and thinking on her feet in order to survive the foster care system. The sisters were bounced from one cruel and crazy family to the next, finally landing in the home of an eccentric old woman who turned out to be the grandmother they never knew they had.
Granny Relda, as they called her, lived in a tiny town on the Hudson River called Ferryport Landing. There was no point looking it up on a map, as it wasn’t on most—and for good reason. Most of the town’s inhabitants were the real-life people so many fairy tales were based upon. Witches ran the local diner. Ogres delivered the mail. The Queen of Hearts was the town’s mayor. With a population so strange and magical, it was best if everyone kept a low profile.
Granny Relda filled the girls in on their equally fascinating family history. She was a detective, a fairy-tale detective to be exact, just like all the Grimms before her. Their ancestors, the Brothers Grimm, had been detectives too, investigating the strange and magical cases they encountered. If the world thought their book was a collection of bedtime stories, it was probably for the best, because the truth would keep everyone up at night.
The girls had lived with Granny Relda for almost a year, and in that time she trained them to take over the family business. It was dangerous work. The girls learned that sometimes the good guys were villains and sometimes the bad guys were their greatest allies. Sabrina never really let her guard down and continued to call the shots for her sister and herself. Inevitably, she butted heads with her grandmother and nearly everyone else they met. When her mother and father were returned to her, she saw it as an opportunity to go back to being a normal kid. She should have known better. As Grimms, they could never be sure what danger might appear around the next corner.
“Well, we can’t sit here all day, I guess. We should go outside and see if Mirror and Sammy are in this story,” Daphne said.
“Sammy?” Sabrina asked.
“We can’t call the baby ‘what’s-his-name,’” Daphne said. “You don’t like the name Sammy?”
Sabrina shrugged. “Whatever. The real problem is that this could be dangerous, Daphne. Some of the stories in this book aren’t exactly kid friendly. A lot of them are pretty . . . well, twisted. What if we step through one of these doors and walk into Bluebeard’s house or onto the plank on Long John Silver’s boat?”
“We’ll kick butt and take names like we always do,” the little girl said, stepping into the karate stance she had learned in a self-defense class.
Sabrina wished she could muster the same confidence. “I’m just saying we need to be careful. One look around and you can see that something is off. The colors are weird. Everything is too bright and cheery, and there are too many things with the same color. There are flowers in the square the same color blue as the houses. The Munchkins outside look strange too. Like the details aren’t all there.”
“So the colors are off. I don’t think we have anything to fear from the color blue,” Daphne said.
“What I’m saying is this book has its own rules. Like the dress you’re wearing: You didn’t have that on when we stepped into the Book.”
Daphne looked down at the yellow dress she wore, and then back to her sister. “So the Book changed my clothes. Big deal.”
“If it can do that, what else can it do?”
“It didn’t change you at all.”
Sabrina was still wearing her jeans, sneakers, and sweater. She had no explanation.
Daphne continued. “Unfortunately, big sister, the only way to learn the rules is to get started.” She pointed out the window to a sea of Munchkins that had circled the house.
Sabrina groaned. “Fine! But stay close. And just so you know, I have no problem serving up a plate of knuckle sandwiches to these weirdoes if they get in the way—whether they’re real or not!”
Daphne opened the door and a crowd of Munchkins gaped in wonder, letting out a collective “Oooohhhhhhhh!” The lumpy old woman in white hobbled forward. She cleared her throat and bowed as low as her old bones would allow. “You are welcome, most noble Sorceress, to the land of the Munchkins. We are so grateful to you for having killed the Wicked Witch of the East, and for setting our people free from bondage.”
“No problem,” Sabrina said, rolling her eyes at Daphne. “So, we’re looking for a man carrying a small boy. Has anyone seen them?”
The Munchkins seemed startled by her response, as if they were waiting for a different reply.
“Wait a minute! We killed who?” Daphne shouted as she pushed through the crowd. Sabrina followed, and the girls rounded the side of the little farmhouse. Sticking out from beneath the house was a pair of legs wearing bright silver shoes.
“Call 911!” Daphne cried as she knelt beside the feet.
“There is nothing to be done,” the squat woman in white said in an irritating singsong voice. “She was the Wicked Witch of the East. She held all the Munchkins in bondage for many years, making them slave for her night and day. Now they are all set free and are grateful for the favor.”
Daphne ignored her and shouted at the feet. “Don’t worry, lady! We’ll get you out of there.”
One of the tiny men stepped forward. “That’s not the line.”
Sabrina and Daphne eyed one another, confused. “Huh?”
The woman in white looked around her and then leaned in close and whispered in a voice no louder than a mouse. “That’s not what you say. You’re supposed to ask me if I’m a Munchkin. That’s what happens next.”
Sabrina scowled and clenched her fists. “What is she talking about? Every person from this nutty place is—”
Daphne turned to the little woman. “OK, we’ll say what you want us to say. Are you a Munchkin?”
“I thought Glinda was the Witch of the North,” Sabrina said.
Daphne shook her head. “That’s the movie. Glinda’s the Witch of the South. Haven’t you read this story?”
“I skimmed it.”
Another of the little men chimed in. “No, you’re supposed to say ‘Oh gracious! Are you a real witch?’”
Sabrina fumed and stomped her foot. “Just let me punch one of them out. It will be a lesson for the others.”
“Silence your animal, Dorothy!” another Munchkin demanded. “This is not what happened.”
“Dorothy?” Sabrina said.
“My name’s not—wait! They think I’m Dorothy,” Daphne said as a happy smile spread across her face. “The Book must have turned us into characters.”
“Then who am I?” Sabrina said as she studied her clothing.
Daphne snickered. “Probably Toto.”
Sabrina started to smile, but it quickly turned to a frown. She reached under her shirt and found a small leather collar fastened around her neck. A silver tag engraved with the name “Toto” was attached. She pulled it off and angrily threw it to the ground. “Of course! I have to be the dog.”
Daphne laughed so hard she snorted.
“Yes, it’s hilarious,” Sabrina steamed. “Don’t be surprised if I bite your leg.”
Daphne got herself under control. “Well, this is interesting. If the Book is turning us into the characters, maybe that’s everyone’s problem. We’re supposed to follow the story. Am I right?”