Hansel and Gretel Read online

  “No.”

  She pressed her lips to his again and they stayed like that for some time before he attempted once more. “Cora, let me come with you. Let me help you on your quest. There is nothing I desire more than to see the Larkein kingdom returned to my sister. I will be your ally. Let us do this together.”

  She pulled back and looked at him. Hard. Then she whispered, “Release.”

  His legs gave way and he immediately stepped free of the stiffness. “Thank you.”

  “Why?” she asked, folding her arms. “Why do you wish to help me?”

  “Was I not clear enough a moment ago?”

  “If you make one false move, I will kill you. You do realize that, do you not?” She leaned up and kissed him again.

  “Yes.”

  “And you are not afraid of death?” she whispered.

  “Never.”

  Pulling back, her eyes skimmed Hansel from head to toe. A grin formed upon her pretty mouth. “Good. You may prove to be very useful. Now follow me.” She brushed past him and opened the door.

  Hansel turned and watched her walk out of the room. As quickly as possible, he wiped at his mouth and then followed her. His hands shook slightly from the ease it was to outwit her. She was vain, very vain, and as long as she believed him to be infatuated with her, she would be quite easy to manipulate.

  He paused at the foot of the stairs when his father opened the door and walked into the cottage. Cora brushed past her husband and out the door without saying a word. Adale looked shattered and lost. His clothing was visibly soaked through and he would most likely catch an illness from the effects of being in such a storm. “Hello, Pa,” Hansel murmured as he stepped forward to catch the man’s quivering arm. “Let me get you dry.” He knew the witch expected him to follow her, but he simply could not leave his father in such a state.

  Adale swayed a bit under the pressure of his son’s hand, but Hansel was able to remove the worn outer coat and hang the dripping thing on the peg near the door. When he came back to his father, Adale merely blinked at him before asking, “Hansel? Is that you?”

  Hansel’s jaw twitched. What was the woman doing to this man? How dare she mess with his mind so? “Yes, Pa. It is I, Hansel.” He glanced at the open front door and whispered, “Where have you been?”

  His father blinked again and stared blankly ahead. “I do not know. I went somewhere far away.”

  Hansel clutched his arms. “Was Gretel with you?”

  Confusion flitted across Adale’s features. “Who?”

  “Gretel. Your daughter. Remember? Where did you take her?”

  He nodded and pulled out of his son’s arms. “Nowhere. I did not take her anywhere. It was not Gretel—it was someone else. Someone bad who would hurt us both.”

  “No, Pa. It was Gretel, and she is not bad. What did you do to her?”

  “I did nothing to her!” Adale snapped. His eyes blazed before settling into a stupor again.

  “Then who was in the cart with you?”

  “I do not know!” He spun about and stumbled to his chair. Collapsing into it, the poor man began to cough violently. “Leave me be,” he gasped. “I did what was best for us. Now leave me be.”

  “Hansel!” Cora hissed from the doorway. “Stop meddling with things that do not concern you. We must leave at once.”

  “No. I must take care of my father first.”

  She laughed, a long cackle. “Your father will be dead in a week—I will make sure of it. Now, if you do not want to lose your life too, I suggest you hurry with me, boy.”

  Incensed, he stood there for several moments, weighing his options. He still had no idea where Gretel was. His father clearly needed to be warmed and fed and sent to bed—but the idea of Gretel out in the cold somewhere, in the same predicament as his father, pulled and tugged at him. Where was she? How afraid and alone must she be? It was getting late already—the sun had begun to fade. His father would not care for his help, and Cora knew where Gretel was—un less this was all some elaborate hoax to get him away from the house as well.

  She clicked her tongue in irritation. “Do not make me regret unfreezing you. I will do so again in a heartbeat if I must. Now come, and you may live to see your sister again.”

  He stepped toward her. A strange, overwhelming urgency to stay put conflicted with his need to see Gretel. He took another step, and the urgency only increased. What was she planning to do to him if he followed? Or could it be worse—if he left, would his father surely die? “Forgive me. I will go with you as soon as possible, but right now, I must attend my father.” He turned his back toward her and walked over to the man.

  He heard a hiss and the front door slam shut. “Stand back! You will not touch my husband!”

  Adale did not even flinch at the commotion. His glazed eyes stared straight ahead.

  “What have you done to him?” Hansel ignored the witch’s command and lowered himself to tug off his father’s boots.

  “If you do not stop this, boy, you will be sorry. Why must you persist in irritating me?”

  Hansel slipped off the first boot. “You have not answered me. What are you doing to him? Why is he only a shell of the man he once was?”

  “I do not answer to anyone!” she screeched. “Now leave him be or you both will cease to exist this moment!”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  HANSEL PULLED THE BOOT off his father’s other foot. He could feel a tingly awareness of Cora as she approached him.

  “You would not be so bold as to disobey me,” she snarled in response to his defiance.

  “Please, I must attend my father. We may leave shortly, I promise. Just let me see that he is comfortable first.” His skin began to crawl as she drew even closer to him. He could see the shadow of her form creeping over him, caused by the fading light at the window. Her hands drew upwards and he heard the same familiar muttering of gibberish she used to freeze him coming from her lips. Instinctively he whipped around, one hand snaking out to clutch at her ankle. Without a moment’s hesitation, he yanked her foot forward while his other hand pushed against her knee, forcing the witch to lose her balance and slam to the ground, her head cracking against the wooden flooring as she did so.

  In just a little over a second, she had been completely knocked unconscious.

  Shaking, Hansel jumped to his feet. What had he done? He leaned over the prostrate form of his stepmother and gasped. Was it truly that easy? Picking up one limp arm, he allowed it to collapse to the ground. The overwhelming sense of urgency came again—but this time it was to run. Now.

  As quickly as possible, he urged his father to take off the rest of his clothes and tucked him into his night attire, helping him between the covers of his bed. Then, grabbing a few essentials from the kitchen, Hansel dashed out of the house, leaving the powerless witch upon the floor. Who knew how long she would be in such a state—who knew how long it would take to find Gretel. He simply could not wait another moment.

  Running into the stables, he saddled his father’s horse and took off down the lane. Thank goodness the mud held the tracks of the cart within it. He followed those tracks for several miles before he came to a fork in the dirt road and could not make out which way they had come from. It had grown much too dark.

  Was it left or right?

  He decided to take the road to the right first. After he had gone several hundred feet, he swung the horse around to try the road on the left. As he was about two hundred feet down the left-hand road, he passed a branch with a piece of cloth stuck to it.

  In the now-glowing moonlight, it was easy to make out the pale fabric against the darkened bush. He walked over to it and removed the small piece. Was this Gretel’s doing? He retraced his steps to the original road and slowly walked the horse back down it again. Before, his eyes had been trained upon the ground, watching the muddied tracks. This time he looked up. After about eight hundred yards or so, he was able to make out another small patch of cloth on a branch.

>   This one was the same pale color. He noticed a pattern similar to the apron she usually wore.

  Good girl.

  He quickly turned the horse around and approached the fork again. He cantered down the left lane, easily following the small pieces of fabric she had left for him. Every ten minutes or so, he would come across another torn remnant.

  Thank goodness she had thought to do so.

  This went on for a few hours as he rode his horse deeper and deeper into the woods and away from any paths he had ever taken before. In some places, the lane would become so narrow and shrouded over with trees and branches looming above him, he would have to bend down to make it through. How in the world had Pa made it with the horse and cart? He was simply amazed. His father must be locked deeper within Cora’s spell than he originally imagined if the man was willing to do all this at her bidding. No telling what shape the cart was in after his jaunt through the storm.

  With Gretel tearing her apron as she had, it was clear she was awake and had enough of her wits about her to remember their little talk earlier—at least that much he could ascertain. He sighed and plowed deeper into the forest, hoping against hope he would come across her soon.

  Hansel knew when she had run out of fabric to tear. It had been at least thirty minutes and there had been no sign of cloth anywhere. He finally decided to retrace his steps to see if he had missed a turn in the path or something. He picked his way back up the lane and eventually found the last marker he had seen. Glancing around the dark area, he searched for an opening through the forest that would lead him on. Seeing nothing but foliage, he decided to slip off the horse, tying him to a nearby tree, and go by foot.

  “Gretel!” he called out, his voice quickly becoming muffled and lost within the shrubs and trees around him as he clomped through the fallen leaves in the dark. “Gretel, where are you? Can you hear me?”

  Everything still smelled damp from the storm earlier, but the air was clear and the night breeze almost warm. “Gretel!” he attempted again.

  Walking slowly back down the lane, he paused every few feet or so to search through the brush for an opening he might have missed while on horseback. An owl hooted nearby and a small woodland creature could be heard scampering across the forest floor behind him. He quickly pushed back some shoulder-high bushes to his right, peering into the darkness to see if he could make out a path. Nothing.

  Turning to the left, he was about to do the same on the other side of the lane when he noticed everything around him become still and silent.

  It was too still and too silent.

  The hairs on the back of his arms stood on end as he listened. “Gretel?” he called, nearly whispering this time.

  The sound of the soft crunching of wet leaves reached him before he heard the witch’s voice.

  “Hansel. So I have found you at last.” She laughed and clicked her tongue.

  Whipping around, he searched frantically for her, but she was cloaked within the dark. He could barely make out the misty beginnings of the sunrise, but it was still some minutes away.

  “Why must you always make things so very difficult for yourself, boy?”

  Another rustle to his right this time.

  “Come here. It is time we settled this once and for all,” she hissed.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  GRETEL PAUSED IN HER munch-munching of the taffy in her hand. A faint sound broke through her thoughts again—this time it was just a bit louder. She took another bite, forgetting about it until it broke through her subconscious once more.

  She knew that sound. Pulling the candy away from her mouth, she stood up. What was it?

  Pausing, she waited to hear it again.

  “URGHHHH!”

  She jumped. This time it was extremely loud and close by.

  What would make such a frightful noise? Dropping the candy to the floor, she rushed to the window, desperately trying to peer through the tinted confection into the woods outside. What was out there? Was it an animal of some kind?

  “URGHHH!”

  No. She knew that grunt. That was no animal—it was something familiar. Her foggy brain was not working correctly—she could not think at all like she normally did. Something was wrong. Something was very familiar as well, as if she knew, if she could just put her finger on what was really happening to her. But she did not know what to do or say to make the thoughts assemble themselves into some sort of order. Confused, she glanced down and saw the forgotten taffy upon the ground.

  Oh, how she loved taffy. She took a step toward it. Already her tongue could taste the deliciousness in her mouth.

  “You will not run from me again!” came a shriek less than twenty feet from the cottage.

  Gretel jumped again and looked up. She knew that voice as well. Where was she? Who was out there? Why did it all sound so familiar?

  “Get back here, boy! I will kill you now!”

  “No!” The reply was loud and strong and so very natural, as if she had heard it a hundred times before.

  Someone was going to die. Gretel stepped back toward the window to look outside. It was too marred—she could not see through it. Frustrated, she walked to the door and set her ear against it. Did they need help? What was happening? With her nose so close to the red door, she began to pick up the faint scent of strawberry. Hmm… It smelled so good. Just as she was about to lick the door, she heard the thundering of feet rushing toward her and then something slamming into the other side. She yelped as the whole door rocked under the impact.

  There was scuffling of some kind and some grunting noises before she heard the sound of steps making their way around the back of the cottage.

  “Hansel, halt!” yelled the voice.

  Hansel. Why did that name sound so very familiar? Gretel pulled away from the door, this time not glancing at anything particular. Hansel. Who was that? How did she know this name? She rubbed at her face, trying to remind herself of that distant foggy memory, the one that would explain this all.

  Placing a couple of fingers in her mouth, she sucked them as she thought. The salty tang of them was an interesting flavor mixed with the sweetness already on her tongue.

  She sucked some more, liking the peaceful effect it had on her.

  And then she remembered. Just like that.

  Hansel! Hansel is being chased by Cora—she is trying to kill him!

  Gretel could not remember how she came to be in the strange house, or why, but she knew Hansel was in danger and he needed her. Somehow the salt on her skin counterbalanced whatever was holding her mind hostage.

  Her thoughts were less cloudy—now she could think. She had to help Hansel.

  Frantically searching around the one-roomed cottage, she looked for any tool she could find that might be of assistance. There was nothing, simply nothing but oodles of edible sweets. Even the chair and table were edible. Bah.

  She noticed a small window above the kitchen basin on the other wall. Climbing on the cookie countertop, she attempted to peer through that pane. Ugh. Why must every single surface of the place be candy? Tapping against the solid sugary mass, she could not even manage to get it to crack. Outside, the blurs and shadows told her Hansel was still not caught, but it could not be long before he was. And from the shouting, she knew Cora would soon lose all control.

  Frustrated, she slipped off the counter, her eyes taking in the small candy stools near the cookie table. Wait a moment. Walking over to a bright blue stool, she picked the thing up. It was not very heavy, but at the same time it was most definitely not light. It had enough substance in it to do some damage if needed. This would work.

  She tucked it under her arm and listened a moment. The main scuffling was happening behind the cottage still. Good. Slowly, she opened the door and stepped into the bright morning sunshine.

  Hansel grunted again and dodged to the left. Thank goodness the witch’s powers had dimmed somewhat after her fall—he had been evading her for hours and she was still not able to freeze
him. One thing was certain—the woman did not give up easily.

  He heaved another lungful of air and dashed under the bushes on his right. Exhausted, but not about to give in, he plowed on just a few steps ahead of his stepmother’s every movement. “Give up!” he hollered as he felt the bushes next to him shift. He kicked out with his foot and met the solid force of thigh.

  She shrieked as she stumbled to the ground. “You will die!”

  “Never!” he called back, his feet already scrambling out of the brush into a dead run toward the colorful cottage. If he could get to the strange house, he might find something in there to protect himself and then get his bearings to resume his search for Gretel. Just as he was about to reach the red-and-white wraparound porch, he felt a tug upon his shirt.

  No. He was whipped violently backward and flung upon the ground, landing on a large, sharp rock.

  “Enough!” Cora shouted. Her bruised features and shabby, filthy dress rose above him as he winced.

  His back ached from the stone she had thrown him upon.

  The witch’s angry eyes blazed as she loomed over him. This time she planted her knee into his chest as she slammed down on top of him. Hansel groaned and attempted to fling her off, but the grass instantly grew into vines that wrapped themselves around his body and held him prisoner. He tugged and jerked against the pressure of the green straps, but it was all in vain. Within seconds, he was completely held captive by them.

  Cora leaned down and grabbed his throat, her fingers tightening and digging into his neck, her other hand slipping into the pocket of her dress. “Now drink this vial!” she roared. “Drink it all! I am through with you—you will pay for what you have put me through!”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  GRETEL CREPT CLOSER TO the pair. Her arms shook as she held the small stool above her head. There was no chance she would allow Cora to take Hansel from her, not after all the woman had done to destroy her pa. Hansel grunted and squirmed against the tight bands around his frame as her stepmother dug her nails into his throat. But it was the vial—the small jar of liquid she hovered over his lips—that lunged Gretel into action.