Tales from the Hood BY Buckley, Michael
For my friend Joe Deasy
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
In writing this book I have mined the work of many great writers and folklore collectors. Without their prolific imaginations, the Sisters Grimm could have never come to life.
I’d also like to thank my editor, Susan Van Metre, for her patience and support; Maggie Lehrman for her careful reading and excellent ideas; my wife, Alison Fargis, for her help with brainstorming and, of course, for being the best-looking literary agent in the world; Jason Wells for making me famous and for his tireless efforts to keep me that way; Joe Deasy for his friendship and laughter; my family and friends and everyone at Abrams, whose continued support keeps these books well written and well read.
SABRINA HAD NEVER FELT AS CONFIDENT as she did at that moment. For the first time in a long time she wasn’t worried about monsters, villains, or lunatics. She didn’t fear surprise attacks or betrayal by people she trusted. In fact, she was eager for a confrontation. Let one of the Scarlet Hand’s thugs try something and she would crush them into dust! Her body was strong. Her blood was hungry. She was a wrecking machine.
She wanted to tell her sister how she felt. If only she could make Daphne understand that what was happening was a good thing, but the words were hard to find. Her thoughts were cloudy and complicated. It didn’t help that everyone was shouting, and the room was filled with strong winds.
Sabrina turned to Daphne. The little girl was undergoing her own transformation. A swirling black fog circled her body, blocking out most of her face. All Sabrina could see were her eyes, like two brilliant suns illuminating dark corners and obliterating shadows.
“Sabrina, you have to stop this!” Granny Relda cried.
Sabrina was confused. What did her grandmother mean? She wasn’t doing anything wrong.
“You have to fight this!” Daphne said from behind the black fog. “I know you are still in there. Don’t let him control you!”
“Why are you talking to me like this?” Sabrina asked. When no one replied, she realized her words were only in her head.
“Fight him, child,” a voice said from below. Sabrina glanced down. Mr. Canis lay at her feet—old and withered, his body trapped in the clutches of a huge, fur-covered paw. It was squeezing the life from the old man’s chest. She cried out, hoping someone would help her pull her friend from the monster’s terrible grip, but her pleas ceased when she realized the claws that were killing Mr. Canis were her own.
abrina Grimm awoke with a crazy dream fresh in her mind. In it, she was walking along a stone path when she realized she was naked. She screamed and rushed to some bushes to hide herself, wondering how she could have left the house without remembering to get dressed. A moment later the worst possible person came along—Puck. Since she had little alternative, she begged him to bring her clothes. He flew off and quickly returned with a pair of jeans, a shirt, and sneakers, which he left by the bushes so she could dress in private. Then, surprisingly, he walked away without a single smart-aleck comment. Relieved, she put the clothing on and continued on her way, only to find people pointing at her and staring. She looked down and found she was naked, again. Puck appeared once more. He told her that clothes couldn’t hide who she really was. That’s when she woke up, angry and embarrassed. Even in her dreams, Puck was a pain.
She lay in bed, enjoying the cool breeze drifting through her bedroom window. The model airplanes hanging from the ceiling swayed back and forth. She watched them for a while, imagining her father building them when he was her age. He had put a lot of effort into the models. They were painted, glued, and assembled perfectly. Her father was meticulous.
Her little sister, Daphne, lay asleep beside her, breathing softly into her pillow. Sabrina glanced over at the alarm clock that sat on a night table next to her bed: 3:00 a.m. It was a good time, she thought. There were no emergencies to deal with, no impending chaos, no responsibilities, and, best of all, no prying eyes. She climbed out of bed, rushed to the desk sitting in the corner of the room, and opened the drawer. Tucked in the back was a little black bag. She snatched it up and tiptoed into the hallway.