The Grimm Legacy

“But why was she following me?” asked Anjali. 

“I bet Mr. Stone sent her to try to kidnap you, to sell you to collectors,” I said. 

“Could be,” said Dr. Rust. “Or to throw us off his trail so we wouldn’t guess he was the thief. I’m ashamed to say it worked. I really believed he was on our side. That reminds me. Where’s that kuduo?” 

“Here,” said Marc. 

“Thanks.” Doc took the lid off, said a few words I couldn’t quite make out, and tipped the contents out on the grass. “Let’s see if we can figure out who trapped me in that bubble. I bet Wallace Stone was using something in here to control them.” 

The contents piled up in a shining mound. I saw my sense of direction—bright, complex, and embarrassing— come tumbling out. “Oh!” I said, before I could stop myself. 

Andre banged on his brother’s shoulders. “Let me down,” he said. Marc swung him to the grass, and Andre ran over to look at my sense of direction. He reached out one hand and poked it. I felt momentarily dizzy. 

“Don’t worry, Elizabeth,” said Doc. “With Wallace out of the picture, I’m sure we’ll find that comb, so you can get your sense of direction back.” 

The flow of kuduo contents slowed. Doc shook the box a little and pulled out something flat and dark, then something fluffy like cotton candy, then something sharp, which he put down carefully on the grass. Something shining oozed out next. It looked infinitely vulnerable and undefined, like a thought before you put it into words. “Oh!” said Aaron, chokingly. 

“So that’s your firstborn! I can’t believe you traded that for the Snow White mirror.” I still felt shocked by this. 

Aaron bristled. “Not traded! It was a deposit—and not for the mirror, for the chance to save Anjali! I thought it would be safe!” 

“It is,” Doc reassured him. “You kept the mirror safe, right? Then there shouldn’t be a problem getting it back . . . Ah, here we go, I think.” 

Something hard and angular clattered out of the kuduo. It lay on the grass, denting the dandelions. Doc picked it up and twisted it this way and that. 

“What is it?” asked Anjali. 

“Somebody’s willpower.” 

“Whose?” 

“I’m not sure—I expect it belongs to whoever locked me up in that bubble. We’ll find out soon. I’ll use it to summon them. They have to obey whoever controls their willpower.” Doc wrapped a corner of the thing around a finger and pulled it tight. “Okay, they’re on their way now.” 

“Here?” I asked. 

Doc nodded. 

“Are you sure that’s safe?” asked Anjali. 

“Oh, I doubt they wanted to hurt me. Their willpower was in Wallace Stone’s hands, and now it’s in mine. I won’t let them hurt anyone. Who has the Golden Key? Aaron? Would you mind letting whoever it is through the gate?” 

“Not at all,” said Aaron. 

“Meanwhile, perhaps the rest of you could put this stuff back in the kuduo, since I have my hands full.” Doc gestured with the willpower. 

“I’ll do it,” said Jaya eagerly. She began picking things up and stuffing them indiscriminately into the kuduo. 

“Gently, Jaya. Some of that stuff is . . . sensitive.” 

Anjali and I went over to help. I found it uncomfortable work. Every one of the objects alarmed me, some so much that I hesitated to touch them. Jaya had no such scruples. 

“What is this?” she asked, holding up a long, translucent, sweater-shaped thing. I had trouble focusing on it. 

“Is that the elusive cloak of invisibility?” I asked. 

“No, somebody’s sense of privacy, I think,” said Doc. 

“I wonder how it works?” said Jaya, turning it inside out and poking at the folds. 

“Quit it, Jaya! That’s none of your business,” I said. 

She laughed—“It obviously doesn’t belong to you! Your sense of privacy is working just fine!”—and tucked it into the kuduo. 

“I’m helping too,” announced Andre. He picked up corners of things and held them out. 

“Thanks, Andre,” I said, gathering up the rest of something large and orange and stuffing it into the kuduo. It didn’t look like it would fit, but it did. 

“Oh, there’s Aaron’s firstborn,” said Anjali. 

“Baby,” said Andre, poking it with one finger. 

“I’ll deal with that,” I said, quickly scooping it up. I held it for a minute before sliding it into the kuduo. It trembled a little—or was that me? 

“And here’s your sense of direction,” said Anjali, holding it out to me. It whirled over the edges of her fingers. 

“Would you mind dealing with it? It makes me light-headed just to look at it.” 

“Of course.” She folded it neatly and fitted it into the kuduo. 

In a little while, Aaron’s head appeared on the other side of the fountain. He walked toward us, ducking under the two waterspouts. Somebody was with him. We all sat up straight. 

“Martha,” said Doc, holding up the willpower. “Is this yours?” 

“Oh! You got it back! Thank heaven!” Ms. Callender almost threw herself at Doc, then stopped and looked around at us uncomfortably. 

“Please sit down, Martha.” Dr. Rust sounded stern but not angry. 

She sat awkwardly on the grass. Her round face was wreathed in worry. 

“Did you leave this as a deposit? I didn’t find a slip,” said Doc, gesturing with the willpower. 

She grimaced, but she didn’t say anything. 

“Oh, I get it. You can’t answer me. Wallace Stone must have put a curb on your tongue. Let me fix that.” Doc twisted the will back the other way. 

Ms. Callender sighed and relaxed. “That’s much better! Thanks, Lee.” 

“So, can you talk now? About Wallace, I mean.” 

“I think so.” 

“What happened to the call slip, then?” 

“I filled one out and filed it, but Wallace made me tear it up when he got the kuduo and got his hands on my will,” said Ms. Callender. “I’m so sorry! I had no idea . . .” 

“None of us did.” Doc held up the willpower. “What was this a deposit for?” 

“That’s almost the worst part. It’s so embarrassing.” Ms. Callender hesitated. I felt so bad for her, I wanted to hide. Why should she have to confess in front of all of us? 

But Doc said, “Go on,” and she did. 

“It was Table-Be-Set, the French one. I thought I was being so smart! I set my will to restraint and left it in the kuduo, where I couldn’t change it. That way I could eat delicious food, but I wouldn’t overdo it. It was supposed to be a diet plan.” 

“A diet. I guess that makes sense.” 

Ms. Callender nodded sadly. “It was working too, until Wallace Stone got his hands on my will. He still has that nasty sense of humor. I’ve been eating corn chips nonstop ever since—and I don’t even like corn chips.” 

“What happened to the table, do you know? I assume he took it?” Doc asked. 

“It should be easy to find out, if we can only catch him. He keeps meticulous records. He has a lot of powerful things. We have to stop him!” 

“Don’t worry—the pages caught him already. Elizabeth led him to Grace’s place and stranded him there.” 

“You did? You angel!” She gave me a big hug.