Page 20 of Hansel and Gerhardt (The GriMM Tales #3)

Maybe Don't Lick That...

I t wasn’t long, perhaps ten minutes or so, when leaves began to come into focus again.

Tree trunks all around started to resolve into solid forms. And there was more light off in the distance.

The forest floor revealed itself, their two hands, still clasped, came into sight, then finally, a clearing.

The view was scant through a thicket, but on and on they walked, until they were able to peek through the foliage into paradise.

It was a sizeable clearing, covered with green grass, short and trimmed.

Strangely adorable toadstools grew red and shiny in little groups about the place, as though put there deliberately for decoration.

The trees surrounding were tall and oddly straight along the line of the yard.

There was a long pathway that ran to the edge of the forest, well-kept and strewn with small white pebbles, not a single weed in place to break the pleasing order.

And all of this, strange as it was in the middle of that dark and terrifying forest, was as nothing compared to the tall, higgledy-piggledy, cheery and homely cottage that smiled back at them from the centre of the clearing.

The house existed in such extreme contrast to all around that Gerhardt actually looked back over his shoulder, as if to reassure himself every horror they’d just been through was real.

Hansel edged a little closer, then whispered, “Have we found the outskirts of a town already?”

But both knew the strange cottage was surrounded on all sides by the Dark Forest—that the pretty little path ran down to the edge of the trees and stopped dead just there, waiting for who or what to step onto it, neither could imagine.

“This seems like…” Gerhardt began. What? It was confusing, to say the least. But it was incredibly beautiful. It was everything his wildest imaginings of homely comfort could have conjured, and more.

A small, grey bunny hopped into a shaft of sunlight.

To Gerhardt, it looked for all the world like a beacon of safety.

That this little creature, surviving in such a hostile environment, should have taken shelter here, with whichever human tended this land so carefully, was a sign they could do the same.

“Let’s take a closer look.” Gerhardt started forward, but as ever, Hansel caught his arm.

“This isn’t right. You can see it’s not right.”

“Yes, I can see that,” said Gerhardt. “It is unusual. I know. I’ll keep my wits about me.

Stay here if you like.” He moved fast to escape Hansel’s grip, hearing his name whispered harshly over his shoulder as he ran from the trees, keeping low all the while until he found a blank wall of the cottage, out of sight of any of the windows.

He pressed his back to it, reeling away again when a white spray of powder dappled over his shoulders.

He turned to the wall, more bewildered now he was up close. It shone bright in the place he’d loosened the powder. Pale aquamarine, but with a whisper of colour beyond. Pink? Yellow? He brought a hand to the wall, where it touched down smooth, and he cleared away more of the dust.

Some strange and long-lost nostalgia for something of his childhood took him. More and more he wiped away, and a swirl of colour appeared before his eyes, twisting, refracting the light, so entrancing, layer upon layer, through the transparent exterior to that rainbow bridge.

An odd impulse took him. He turned his hand over, white with powder, then took a fingertip to his tongue, setting off a wave of pleasure that swept into every extremity.

Sugar.

Sweet, delicious sugar.

He hadn’t had sugar for many winters.

His eyes fell to the window ledge, rough, brown, looking for all the world from the distance of the trees as though it were weather-beaten wood. But up close…

He reached out his fingers, felt over the smooth and yielding surface, right to the edge, where a piece snapped off into his hand. He brought it up slowly, scared to look, because if it was or it wasn’t what he thought it was, the situation was desperate.

Closer to his lips it came, until a little swirl of rich brown melted onto his hot skin. Then into his mouth. “Ohhhh.” Gerhardt groaned uncontrollably. “Ohhhh!” Chocolate! Real chocolate. Yielding and creamy and melting on his tongue.

He almost fell to his knees with the intensity of his pleasure, but he staggered around instead, desperate to see what other secrets the place held.

“Gerhardt!”

He heard his name, but as if in a dream, it came from somewhere far away.

He rounded the front of the house, too enthralled now to care whether he was seen or not.

He walked to the path that shone and glistened, where he dropped to the ground.

Touching a tentative hand down on a sparkling white orb, he lifted it, light, crumbling, a soft ball that yielded invitingly beneath his fingers.

Sugar shone from its surface. He brought it to his lips, and he sank his teeth deep.

Food! Glorious, beautiful food! But unprecedented.

Never once in his life had he felt such a sensation.

The exterior of the treat cracked beneath his teeth, melted, gave way to a thick cake that set his salivary glands off like cannons.

Then, in the middle… Another layer of crispy chocolate cracked over soft raspberry ganache.

He pulled the cake away. Stared down at the colours, looked up and down the path. There were a million of them. A million of these unctuous, exquisite, never-before-imagined cakes, all in perfect order, row after row.

Hansel was at his side, but Gerhardt was in a daze. He almost fell over as Hansel grappled to get him to his feet. He stumbled back, was steadied by Hansel’s arm, and his head flung up to behold the front facade of the house in its full glory.

It glistened in the sun like a treasure box. That white, powdered, hard-candy wall, but all of it beset with the jewels of a billion chewy sweets. Every shape and size, speckled here and there, blue, red, purple, orange, all waiting to be plucked out by his starved and desperate fingers.

Windows, more windows again, three at the top, one on either side of the door, gorgeous chocolate frames that he could, even from that distance, feel cracking between his teeth.

Awnings that hung out long, decorated with sparkling golden orbs—more cakes, black with the richness of their chocolate exterior, but this dipped into crinkles and sprinkles of gold leaf.

And what they hid inside… he had to know.

Gerhardt started forward, as if he were pulled by an invisible force. But he wanted to go—oh, how he wanted to go. There was no more thought of death, or of life, or of anything but getting his hands on one of those little golden balls.

Until Hansel stepped in front of him.

All the world, even the house, seemed to sway beyond those clear blue eyes.

Concerned.

He was worried.

Gerhardt could see it, could sense it, but that warmth wrapped him so tight, he couldn’t feel it.

“Gerhardt, stop,” said Hansel. “You don’t know what that is.”

Gerhardt glanced down at the half-eaten cake still in his hand. He’d forgotten all about it in his quest to get that golden treat. He shoved it upwards. “Hansel, you need to eat this.”

Hansel slapped his hand away. “No, I do not.” Gerhardt was half bereft as he watched the thing crumple in his palm. But Hansel spoke on. “This is magic. This has to be magic.”

“What do I care if it’s magic?” Gerhardt threw back. “What do I care? It’s food! It’s beautiful food!” He tried to make for the orbs, but Hansel held him firm this time.

“We’re leaving. We have to go before anyone sees us.”

But just then, there came a loud snap.

Both heads turned, both pairs of eyes settled on the front door of the cottage.

The handle moved. The handle, made of a swirl of blue and pink candy, glimmering with sugar and more sugar again, turned around and around. Gerhardt’s body swayed with the movement, his eyes locked on so intently he didn’t feel himself falling.

But he did feel Hansel’s arm wrench him against his chest. He did see the shine on the deep brown and chocolaty door as it pulled open. And he did see that man.

Dark eyes, black. Dark lashes, long. A dark smile, for that was the only word for it. But all the rest…

The man was glorious. He was tall and lean.

His hair shone blond in the sunshine. His shirt was black and loose about his chest, inviting the eye to delve beyond the low neckline.

It disappeared into tight brown breeches that hugged his fine hips and long thighs, and the exquisite line of the man was only accentuated when he stretched one arm up the doorframe to lean nonchalantly.

He cocked his head to the side, his smile deepened into something knowing, and he said, “Hello, boys. Welcome to my home. I’m Herr Candy.”