England, West Coast
Devonshire, Dartmoor
St. George, house of the Jäger family
5 November 1898, 8:57 pm

The old woman's gaze slid to the door on the left, painted with vines and flowers. She did not want to follow the thought, but could not resist it. The eyes of the two seekers were also fixed on the door of the room, full of bewilderment. Their thoughts rolled over like a mountain slope that had let go of a tiny pebble and was now hurtling down a valley. Unstoppable and devastating.

"Anna would never do such a thing!" the old woman suddenly exclaimed harshly and rose again. But her legs and hands were shaking so much that she could not hide it. "She is a good child! She never hurt anyone!"

Kyle also found it difficult to think along these lines. Dr. Archer, however, found it easier than it should have been. Children saw the world through different eyes. He had already seen children, against their better judgment or for lack of alternatives, pull the trigger of a gun and smash stones against their heads. Sometimes, when their world was shattered, they would pick up the sharp-edged shards and use them as weapons against others. Simply because they had no choice. Desperation pushed humans beyond the boundaries of morality and made them more like the wild animals they had once been. Instincts were not as easily subdued as some would have you believe. Humans had proven many times that they were capable of terrible deeds.

Kyle was sure there had to be more to it than they had seen so far. Even if the little girl was born with abilities for arcane arts, that talent couldn't just take on such a life of its own. They were missing the crucial pieces to solving this mystery. He pursed his lips and ran a hasty motion through the black waves of his hair, disrupting the otherwise meticulously groomed order.

"We need to talk to Anna, Mrs. Jäger," said Dr. Archer seriously, taking a step towards the child's room. "Please get out of the way."

"No!" the old woman reached down onto the table in a lightning-like movement and pulled one of the knives from the tabletop. A red and white gleam crept swiftly like a small bolt of lightning across the sharpened blade. The old woman, who could not begin to match the doctor in height or width, reared up as if she had to protect the girl from terror and bravely held out the blade to the two men. She was ready to defend her only treasure tooth and nail. Alone in her eyes, however, shone the tears of despair. "You're not taking her away from me! She has done nothing!" she cried, her fingers around the handle of the knife turning white from the pressure that gripped the wood. "Take me with you! I did it!" she suddenly swung around and confessed what she had denied so vehemently before.

She was lying. It was a confession without guilt. Kyle and Dr. Archer both suspected as much, even though they had no solid evidence for either theory so far. To their own chagrin, of course, they understood why the old woman acted as she did. The girl was all the family she had left in this foreign land. The old woman had already lost everything and Annabeth was her anchor. It was clear to see how much she loved the girl. And the loving grandmother would indeed rather be hanged than see her child in a workhouse. This too was understandable - for this was tantamount to a death sentence.

"Mrs. Jäger." put in Kyle now, pushing past Dr. Archer and towards the woman. He knew the doctor would have his back should the need arise, for still, the man extended the barrel of the gun toward the old woman. "We need to talk to her to find out what is going on. We don't think Annabeth did anything out of ill will either." at this he raised his right hand for the lady to see. But the left continued to hold the wand as reassurance. Kyle had to weigh how dangerous this woman was. Considering the spell book, he had to be ready for anything. On the other hand, rather than use her magic, she reached for a knife. "You don't want any more people to die either."

Grey strands fell tangled around the old Frau Jäger's features. A tear rolled down her cheek, slid through the furrows of her wrinkled skin, and dripped from her chin, which trembled uncontrollably. Her cramped fingers around the knife handle were white as snow, as were her features. One could see the inner struggle that had actually been decided long before it had begun. "She certainly didn't mean to..." stammered the rough voice, then slowly lowered the knife.

Now Dr. Archer shifted in front of Kyle again, keeping the pistol ready to fire with his arms bent and at the same time stretching his hand out flat. Old, wrinkled fingers let the knife slide out of them without resistance as he reached for it and then threw it back onto the table. Clattering, it landed on the tabletop and slid a little before hitting a cutting board and coming to rest.

"Come on," instructed Kyle and then pointed the lady towards the nursery. They didn't want to scare the child anymore, as she would inevitably have overheard everything through the door. The old woman seemed aged by many years as she put her hand on the door of the nursery. Her nightgown fell around her body as if she were a spirit guiding her and had returned to warn or protect her loved one. She inhaled deeply, a wedged stone in her old chest and a pile of heavy pebbles in her stomach. When she pressed the handle, however, it did not open. The old lady's brow furrowed even more than it already was as she pressed once more.

Locked.

That was all right. The girl was scared and it was understandable in such a remote location of the hut and with the past weighing on her that she preferred to be locked. Perhaps she sat shivering on the other side of the door or in a corner of her room like a heap of misery.

"Anna." her grandmother said gently, "Open the door, dear. It's all right."

Behind the door, silence remained. Even after the old Mrs. Jäger gave a good chuckle. You could see unease slipping into her features. The dark waters stirred in Kyle's gut too, reminding him of all the situations before when a gate had remained locked. Nothing good had ever come of it.

"Anna?" Mrs. Jäger's voice took on a worried tone as she extended her thin fingers. The entire door frame was painted with chalk, suns, and especially numerous flowers. But between the colorful pictures, a little below the level where the castle was, the woman now touched one of the sunflowers. Yellow paint from the chalk stained her fingertips, but she didn't seem to mind. Only when the brief glow was visible and the door clicked did Kyle recognize under the paint and in the shapes the same rune as had been found carved on the inn: the opening spell! 

With a quick jerk, the grandmother pushed the door open and the old eyes searched through the chamber. The little light from the parlor fell into the children's room, casting a long streak of flickering candlelight and their elongated silhouettes. Moonlight fell in through a window and seemed to glow dimly. The intense smell of fir trees and damp forest, earthy air, and resin permeated the interior of the house through the window. The bed was rumpled and abandoned as if the child had just lain there. The floor was sparsely lined with simple and worn toys. A few building blocks and a quirky wooden doll's house cast long shadows. But there was a terrible loneliness about the room that tightened their hearts.

"Anna!" her voice rolled over and collapsed at the same time. The old woman now literally stumbled into the room. Although the bed was empty, she still ran there and tore away the blanket. She even bent to peer under the bed, hoping the child was hiding in the shadows below. But she was not there either.

Dr. Archer, meanwhile, stepped up to the window, its sashes open to the outside, letting cold night airflow inside. The curtains fluttered in the wind and seemed to stretch towards him as he stepped up to the ledge and stared into the night. Behind the house, a stretch of meadow led directly into the forest. He didn't have to search the small wardrobe or the corners first. It was immediately clear to him that the girl was no longer to be found there. "I'm afraid you won't find Annabeth here Mrs. Jäger," he spoke his conclusion without regard for the grandmother's feelings and unseen earned a reproachful look from Kyle for it.

"Oh no. Nononono!" the old woman whimpered, sinking to her knees in her quivering despair. Her trembling fingers sought a foothold on the floor but could not find it. Her eyes were fixed on the window, on the little stool pushed in front of it, making her worst fears come true: Anna had run away.

"She must have been terrified..." conjectured Dr. Archer in a snail-like feat of detective work, sliding the gun back into the holster under his coat.

Kyle just couldn't help the brief eye roll before he nodded and something else magically attracted his gaze. The mage reached out to grab the child's pillow and push it aside. From under the feather-filled linen pillow, he pulled out an old book with a purposeful grip. The cover might once have been dark green. Now faded covers, worn in many places, hugged the yellowed pages. The spine of the book was ornate and pretty, numerous ornaments formed vines and flowers that rose it in the same manner as the childish paintings on the bedside table and the door of the room. In golden lettering, thick words framed a black unicorn set in a golden circle, rearing up above a golden sun. The looped letters in ancient script wrote the title "Kinder- und Haus-Märchen der Brüder Grimm" (Children's and Household Tales by the Brothers Grimm) "Stuttgart, Deutsche Verlags-Anstalt" on the much-loved volume.

Terrible trepidation overcame him. Suddenly, a landslide seemed to take place inside him, washing all the previously incoherent fragments into his mind and overwhelming him. Colors and sounds blurred and in a mechanical movement, the magician opened the book. His trembling fingertips brushed over the rustling pages, feeling the thick paper and making it ripple as he turned the pages. Pictures of woodcuts depicted the events of the fairy tales recorded in the book. As soon as he saw the first illustration, the scales fell from his eyes and Kyle uttered a harsh curse between clenched teeth.

Uncomprehending glances flew at him. The magician knew no German, but he knew the fairy tales. It hadn't been so long ago when he had heard about them.

In his childhood, too, he had heard one or two stories from the German Empire, which now forced their way to the surface from thickly dusty chests in his mental attic. Buried under boxes of arcane arts and other teachings that one automatically piled on top of childish stories as one grew up.

He finally paused, however, at a picture in the thick storybook. On it was a gate under which a girl was writhing in fright under the viscous contents of a large cauldron. Two monkeys were pouring the liquid down on her while an old woman watched smiling in the background...Kyle saw the words written there, a few chunks similar enough to her language. He knew the fairy tale, the plot...

"Lady Holle also led her to the gate, but when she stood under it, instead of gold, a great cauldron of the pitch was poured out." Kyle's soft, velvety voice resonated like a nightingale's dark song in the gloom of the room. The aging binding groaned under the Seeker's grips as he turned page after page, only confirming his dark apprehension more and more.

"Bad luck Marie." the old woman murmured, sinking into herself. The proud woman looked like a heap of misery, full of despair and disbelief. But the facts were becoming clearer, taking more and more shape, and the fog that had lain around this case was receding more and more.

"Rapunzel. Sleeping Beauty. The Frog Prince and Little Red Riding Hood." said Dr. Archer, also seems to understand. The priest fell from the tower into the thorns. Marie, doused with pitch. Little Victor, almost drowned in the pond. Walter, who had pricked himself on the knitting needle, and Sandra, who had been torn by a wolf.

Time seemed endless to him as Kyle's eyes lay on the pictures and letters that underpinned the heinous facts. It all seemed so unbelievable and bizarre that Kyle had to restrain himself from pinching himself or rubbing his eyes. All in the hope that maybe he would wake up from this dream and instead of standing in this old, draughty shack, he would be lying in his bed in London, staring up at his dark wood ceiling. There he would wonder about this obscure dream for a few seconds, then shake it off like the remnants of sleep in his eyes and go about his day's work. But he was not dreaming. He was standing here, in St George. In a village in the middle of Dartmoor, where a little girl somehow killed people by making them die like in fairy tales.

His head kept making that word pound in his mind: Grimm. Grimm. GRIMM. Had they considered that a child was involved, or recognized the signs in German fairy tales, the biggest clue would have been at their feet all along. But what person thought of fairy tales when it came to such deaths? Or had the cadavers in the forest put them on the wrong track? This mystery was still unsolved. German fairy tales were not so well known in England and Kyle could not remember any in which ravens appeared in such a way. Moreover, there had been no fatalities in the forest. Now everything seemed to suddenly interlock and the construct was increasingly coming together.

Kyle wished they had come across this barren path of breadcrumbs more quickly and had perceived the core of the evil sooner. But they could not undo it. When you knew too many legends and theories, as he did, burying your nose constantly in books that revealed to you a chaos of possibilities in the otherwise tiny world, your mind overflowed like a vessel unable to contain all that knowledge.

"I didn't know..." the old woman murmured, running her hands over her quivering lips. She could hardly speak, overwhelmed by the terrible realities she had to come to terms with. Her beloved granddaughter had these lives to answer for. Kyle understood what a shock it must be. Could it be? But how?

These questions continued to linger unanswered. There had to be an answer. As certain as any material thing inevitably cast a shadow in the light.

Kyle put the book back on the bed, then reached for the drawer of the small bedside table. He didn't want to risk any more clues perhaps slipping through their fingers due to lack of accuracy. "Do you know why she might have done this Mrs. Jäger? Or how?" asked Dr. Archer, the same questions swirling around him as they probably did in the minds of Kyle and Mrs. Jäger.

A brief hesitation befell the old lady. "The fire. All the torment. The way they treat us." she didn't speak it. It was only a split second before she opened her mouth but then closed it again. The strands of her hair shook with the movement of her head as she finally shook her head. Perhaps because she didn't want to justify what had happened with it. She clutched her nightgown in front of her chest and it wrinkled harshly around her fingers as if she were suffering physical pain. Maybe she did. Sometimes suffering and grief inflicted agony, invisible to the eye and yet as vivid as if someone had stabbed with a blade. Her facial expressions were just as shattered.

Dr. Archer then turned his gaze to let it slide back out the window into the night. Out there in the forest was a frightened girl, full of unknown abilities and unbridled fear. Which would be more likely? That something would happen to her, or that there would soon be another victim? A dark cloud moved in front of the moon in the sky, as if something in the protective veil of night, hidden behind the curtain, wanted to prepare the next act.