Page 34 of Hansel and Gerhardt (The GriMM Tales #3)

Hansel Must Eat

H ansel took his time washing. He cleaned every part of his body, washed his hair, took enormous care. He worked without thought, like an automaton, buying time, buying time.

But he knew there was no way out.

It was as though he thought an indestructible weapon might fall in his path, perhaps an ancient spell book that would undo all Herr Candy’s evil magic.

Perhaps he hoped Gerhardt would grow immune to the enchantment—that he would awaken somehow.

That his lovingly spoken words had finally gotten through.

But even if they had, what could he possibly do to help?

So there was but one choice available to him. Eat. Become whatever Gerhardt had become. Do whatever it was Herr Candy wanted him to do. Stay here forever in some blissful twilight.

Maybe he could fight it. Maybe he could eat, keeping in mind what he knew to be true—that Herr Candy was no man.

That he was whatever demon or monster of the forest Hansel had seen in its true form the night before.

Maybe then, even if he ate, he wouldn’t fall under the spell so completely as Gerhardt had, because he knew better.

But then he remembered Gerhardt the night before, so yielding and unguarded in his bedroom. The way he heard, but didn’t hear. The way he was Gerhardt, but the way he also wasn’t. How close Hansel had come to taking advantage of him through sheer folly…

And how he would be left completely unprotected if Hansel ate.

But if he did not… Hansel wasn’t sure what would happen. Yet Herr Candy had made it clear he would be separated from Gerhardt if he did not comply, one way or another. No matter what, he could not let that happen.

Hansel took up the lederhosen, laid out on his bed. There was no option of putting a shirt underneath or a jumper over the top. No socks were provided. He would be barefoot, half naked.

Would he feel the cold after he ate? Gerhardt didn’t seem to. But after all, the kitchen was warm. That oven burning all the time, pumping out heat and cakes. And whatever else Herr Candy had in mind for that day’s feast…

He slipped one leg, then the other, into the soft leather shorts, then pulled them up to his hips. He brought the straps over his arms, then buckled the pants. It was strange how well they fit. Tight, clinging, but the right size.

Why did Herr Candy have them? Where had they come from? What kind of messed-up fantasy required both Gerhardt and Hansel to walk around half naked doing chores for a demonic creature in the woods?

He had neither energy nor time to mull it over.

Slowly, he trod down the stairs, searching everywhere along the way for a weapon of some type.

Nothing.

Nothing.

No control.

He returned to the kitchen to find that Gerhardt hadn’t moved—not a step since Hansel had left the room.

Herr Candy leaned against a bench, the fingers of one hand tapping impatiently on his thigh, and it was as if no words had been spoken between them.

As if Gerhardt had remained there, frozen in time and silence, waiting to be set back in motion, like a doll.

But with Hansel’s return, activity whirred up once again, starting with a delighted smile that beamed from Gerhardt’s face, and with the hands that slid to his hips. “You look so nice, Hansel.” He verily gasped the words out, that pink about his cheeks, his skin luminous.

Gerhardt. He was in there. It was in his eyes now. The way they shone for Hansel and Hansel alone, in spite of all the riches laid out before him.

And the proof was in the instant drop of Herr Candy’s pretence. Whatever slight welcome had been in his pose upon Hansel’s return fell with his left shoulder as his eyes narrowed on Gerhardt. “Even with all this before you…”

Gerhardt’s own eyes fell a little frightened on him, then brightened forcefully.

“Oh, but this feast! It-it’s wonderful.” Yet he couldn’t hold it.

His gaze immediately flew back to Hansel.

“But your lederhosen. They, um…” He licked his lips.

“Look at how big your chest is in them. The way the straps…” He ran his own hand down his own strap absentmindedly, his fingers feeling over his delicate skin as greedily as if it was Hansel he could feel. “Look at your thighs.”

Hansel did look down, with a blush and a smile. He’d never been so proud of them.

Herr Candy cracked it all apart, snapping at Gerhardt, “I thought you were hungry?”

“Oh, but I am,” was Gerhardt’s breathless reply. He looked as though he might leap on Hansel right then and there, might take a bite. Then he almost burst with an even brighter idea. “Should I go get changed too? Maybe Hansel could help me upstairs—”

“No!” shouted Herr Candy. “You should stay right there! Right by your seat!” He strode to the head of the table and threw out a hand to bid Hansel to come behind his seat.

Hansel took his place opposite Gerhardt, and they both stood still, awaiting Herr Candy’s word to sit, one excited, the other terrified, but with the warmth of love ever-kindling in his chest.

Herr Candy dipped his head as he gripped the back of his chair, then he let out a long sigh.

Gathering himself, he then picked up his golden truffle and raised it high on his thumb and first two fingers.

He twirled his handsome wrist, the orb glittering, glinting in the fading light of the day, just filtering through the forest trees.

There it was.

The very dessert that had horrified Hansel that first hour of their arrival.

The one that was to be his undoing.

He looked to Gerhardt, expecting him to be devouring it already, or for his eyes to be glued expectantly to Herr Candy’s treat.

But Gerhardt’s eyes were on Hansel, clear and adoring.

Herr Candy assessed them as their eyes met across the table. Hansel didn’t say a word, only clung to that last look with all the love in his soul. For it was but a moment, and they would both be gone, one way or another.

“One bite,” said Herr Candy, as if reading his thoughts. “One bite, and you can say goodbye to hunger forever.”

“Forever?” asked Hansel.

“I’ll keep you well fed,” said Herr Candy. “I’ll make you plump and healthy. Look how Gerhardt’s filling out already.”

Indeed he was. Still thin, still worn from the years of abuse, but with a new and youthful colour in his cheeks. With a smoothing of the skin, some softening about his cheekbones. With the smallest outward curve of his abdomen, disappearing beneath those tight leather shorts.

Feeling both sets of eyes on him, Gerhardt looked down bashfully.

“You’re beautiful,” Hansel said. “In my eyes. No matter what you look like. But I like it. Seeing you fed.”

His blush only deepened, but there was that smile again, accompanied by a tremble at the left of his lower lip.

“Sounds like you want to stay, then,” Herr Candy broke in, his words like shattered caramel.

“I do,” said Hansel. He dropped his head to assess that little ball of gold.

He could almost feel it between his fingers, the way that gold would crackle when he picked it up, the way his fingertips would sink in.

He knew what was inside. His mouth watered at the thought of the thick raspberry bursting over his tongue.

And he blinked, a vision of beautiful Gerhardt slick with jam assailing him so his heart beat for that golden delight.

He reached down.

It was so delicate, yet so heavy in his hand. He could feel it, plump and full of promise. His body screamed for it, his hand shaking as he lifted it high.

Gerhardt watched him intently. As if he knew that whatever Hansel did now would seal both their fates. As if he understood, even deep in the haze of all Herr Candy’s treats.

“Gerhardt,” Herr Candy reprimanded him, a razor slicing into the tension.

“Oh.” Gerhardt smiled shyly, that curl of hair falling forward when his head bowed. “I’m sorry.”

He took up the offering, but even when it was in his hand, his attention remained almost wholly on Hansel.

Hansel wanted to yell at him, to ask him what he would have him do.

But the last thing he could take in this life was for Gerhardt to tell him again to eat—to take away that last belief Hansel had, that he was in there.

That he still cared. That he, maybe, would have felt the way Hansel did, could he think clearly again.

“Hansel?” said Herr Candy.

And so Hansel lifted it, slowly, inching ever closer to his mouth. His lips parted, it touched his skin…

Hansel dropped it.

The golden truffle smashed onto his plate, breaking open, spilling a splatter of red across the table cloth, across Hansel’s stomach.

Everything went still. Hansel looked only to Gerhardt, who stared in open-mouthed silence, his own truffle held aloft, mid-air.

Herr Candy’s face snapped across to Gerhardt. “Eat!” he screamed.

Gerhardt’s hand opened, the ball rolling into his palm, and he slammed it into his mouth. He doubled over at once, two hands bracing him against the table as the pleasure swept over him.

Hansel didn’t wait. He knew what he’d done. This was last ditch.

He picked up the chair, raised it to attack Herr Candy, but it squeezed in his fingers, turning to marshmallow in a trice.

He flung it away, reaching instead for his plate, but on contact, his fingers sunk into jelly.

Hansel wasn’t about to give up. Whatever might happen next, whatever Herr Candy might try to turn him into, he would do his very best to kill him first.

He lunged forward, directly for him, but before his body could hit the table, he was caught at the throat and thrust back to standing, pinned in place by Herr Candy’s foully long arm.

It extended, man at the shoulder, then black and demonic from the elbow, that same shiny and hard skin he’d seen the night before.

Hansel felt the fingers at his neck, long and piercing, such as he’d witnessed stab into the ceiling.

And how easily they could tear his throat out.