House of Grimm: Book One of the Grimm Trilogy

Chapter Five

Chapter Five

After I finish eating I rush to my bedroom and shut the door behind me. The minute my stars burst to life I pull the leather book out of my bag and sit down at my desk. The lines are faded and the corners yellowed, and when I open it the smell of old paper greets me. I flip through the pages, fanning them out and searching between each one to make sure I don't miss anything, that it really is blank.

I'm about to close it for the night when a notecard falls out. It's small with curly writing all over it. It must have been stuck between the middle pages. I lift it to my desk lamp and try to make out what it says:

Dear Dora,

Don't be concerned with what the pages lack, but rather with the potential they hold. Use this to document what you see, and create what you do not.

Speak soon,

Jakob Grimm

My heart leaps into my throat as I read the name threaded across the last line. Jakob Grimm. One of the brothers. I prop the card up against my lamp and flip my laptop up, clicking to the same search engine I'd used the day before. I type in "Jakob Grimm" and wait as the blue links pop up below. Then I click on one that reads "Jakob Grimm, Younger Brother of the Acclaimed Wilhelm..."

My screen goes blank again.

"Damn it!" I hiss a little too loudly.

Every time I try to find out more about these brothers my computer blacks out. I push it aside and stare at the notecard for a minute more, picking it up and turning it over in my fingers. The boy that was at Rachelle's grave, that gave me this blank book, is Jakob Grimm.

Could Mr. Scarface be the other brother?

Setting the card back down, I focus on what it says. Use this to document what you see, and create what you do not. So...write in it. My fingers tremble a bit as I pick up a pen and flip to the first blank page; just knowing this book was close to someone who could be related to Rachelle's kidnapper terrifies me. But I'm curious to see what happens when I follow Jakob's mysterious directions.

Document what you see.

I look over at my laptop. It's still black, the screen refusing to allow my research to continue. Carefully, I press the tip of my pen to the first blank page of the journal and begin to write:

The screen is black.

My room is still and silent, the stars twinkling down at me as I watch the screen. Nothing happens. I don't know what I expected to happen, but all of a sudden I feel silly for expecting it. I swallow and look back down at the page. My throat goes dry as I realize that my sentence is gone, slowly being replaced by a new one:

Write what you want to be, not what is.

As the last word literally writes itself across the page, I drop my pen and cover my mouth with my hand so I don't scream. The phrase complete, the writing stops, and I stare wide-eyed at the line that wasn't there a moment before. It hits me that the writing is loopy, just like the font on the notecard. Slowly, I regain control of myself, and pluck the card from my desk. I place it next to the sentence and compare.

Both are in Jakob Grimm's handwriting.

"What the hell...?"

I jump back as the sentence erases itself. It takes me a moment to digest what he meant, but then I pick my pen back up and place the tip back on the page. I try to write what I want, not what I see:

The screen flickers to life, the article I'm looking for displayed for me to read.

My breathing slows and I close my eyes, counting to ten. While I stare into the darkness of the backs of my eyelids, I contemplate just how stupid this is. Books don't talk and sentences don't write themselves. That's impossible. Ever since Rachelle went missing I've been losing it, going crazy, and this is just a culmination of that.

But when I reach ten and open my eyes, I go cold; my computer screen is on, and the article is splayed across the top, ready for me to read.

"No way..."

I spring into action, scrolling down the screen and filtering through the information:

"Jakob Grimm, younger brother to acclaimed novelist Wilhelm Grimm, is said to start work on his first project this summer. It's yet to be determined if the young novelist will provide any sneak peeks of the book, but the world is waiting with baited breath for its release."

Novelists. The Brothers Grimm are book writers? It's hard to believe that a book writer would want to kidnap my best friend, I've never thought of novelists as particularly murder-y. Plus I've never heard of them before. If the world were waiting "with baited breath" for a book of Jakob Grimm's, wouldn't I have heard of him before?

My screen shuts off again.

I glance back down at the page and realize that my sentence has, once again, been erased. A new one is being written in its place:

Don't trust my brother.

My heart pounds as I realize that somehow I'm talking to a real person right now, through this book. I shake as I write my response beneath his:

How do I know I can trust you?

There's a pause, then both lines are swept away by an invisible eraser. I wait on the edge of my desk chair for his response, but it does not come for a few moments.

Then it appears:

Because I'm going to help you find Rachelle.