“Not the happily ever after you were hoping for, huh?” Uncle Jake said. “Girls, I’m sorry. I think in all the excitement I’ve forgotten how important waking them up was to you and then to have them snapping at everyone—I wish it had been different.”
“We’re coming up on the farms,” Daphne said as she pointed directly in front of them.
Sabrina expected to see long plains of corn and wheat, neatly planted in rows—maybe a silo here and there, the occasional cow mooing at the moon, but what they drifted over was unrecognizable. Much of the farmland was in ruins. The little houses that freckled the fields were ablaze.
“The Scarlet Hand has been here,” Uncle Jake said gravely.
“But these are Everafter farms,” Daphne said. “Why burn them when there are human farms not far away?”
“These fires are about sending a message to the rest of the Everafters: Anyone who doesn’t join the Hand will regret it,” Uncle Jake said. His jaw stiffened and it was obvious to Sabrina that he was now doubly worried about his girlfriend. She was an Everafter, and thus difficult to kill, but, as Sabrina had witnessed, it wasn’t impossible—especially if the killer was an Everafter, too. Had the Hand gotten to her?
Once again, Uncle Jake seemed to be listening in on her thoughts. “Can you make this thing go faster?” he said.
Daphne nodded and spoke a few words to the carpet. It accelerated and the ground below whipped by. Uncle Jake nearly fell off the side but Sabrina did her job and kept him upright. In no time the group left the farms of Ferryport Landing and darted into the town proper.
Daphne slowed the carpet and lowered it so that they hovered only a few feet above the ground. They floated down Main Street, absorbing the shocking scene before them. Stores were gutted with fire, their contents coughed onto the street and smoldering into ash. Old King Cole’s Restaurant was not much more than a shell, as was the Blue Plate Special diner. Cars lay on their backs like hunters’ trophies. Bicycles were scattered about the street, bent beyond repair. The town’s one and only traffic light had snapped off its wire. It lay shattered on the road.
“Get this thing to the coffee shop, now!” Uncle Jake blurted out.
The rug seemed to understand and didn’t wait for Daphne’s command. It zipped down the street toward the bank of the river where the little shop was located, but when they arrived all of Sabrina’s worst fears were realized. Sacred Grounds was destroyed. The windows were black with soot. The roof had collapsed. All that remained was the sign that once hung over the door, and it had fallen to the ground. A red handprint covered the name.
Uncle Jake leaped off the rug before it came to a full stop. He rushed to the shop and threw the door open. A blast of still-smoldering fire exploded out and Uncle Jake fell backward. The girls rushed to his side and helped him to his feet. His face was red from the heat, and it was clear the fall had jarred his shoulder. He could barely stand.
“You can’t go in there,” Sabrina said.
“I have to,” he cried.
“Looking for your sweetheart, Jacob?” a voice called out from behind them. The trio spun around to find Sheriff Nottingham glowering beneath a dead streetlight. The flames from the open door illuminated his face, exaggerating his already disgusting scar and causing the red handprint on his chest to cast an eerie glow.
“Where is she, Nottingham?” Jake said, his fists clenched.
“She’s dead … or she soon will be,” the sheriff said, his white teeth flashing in the flames.
Jake charged the sheriff. Before the villain could pull his weapon Jake swung widely, and his fist slammed into Nottingham’s cheek. The sheriff collapsed to the ground. Bewildered, he grasped for his dagger, aiming it upward at the girls’ uncle.
Jake didn’t give Nottingham a chance to strike. His hands were in his coat pockets before Sabrina could clearly see what was happening. In a flash Nottingham was enclosed in a perfect green bubble. When Jake lifted his hand the bubble and its prisoner lifted as well. Nottingham kicked and fought like an angry marionette, but he was completely helpless.
“You’ve made a terrible mistake, Grimm,” the sheriff shrieked.
“The mistake is yours, Nottingham. You think that I am good-natured like my mother, or tough but fair like my father, God rest his soul. But you and the rest of your thugs are wrong.”
“Is that so? Then what are you, Jacob?” Nottingham sneered.
“A man who will kill to protect the people he loves.”
Nottingham’s face grew pale.
“Where is she?” Jake continued.
Nottingham shook his head.
Jake swung his arm around and the bubble followed. He whipped it into an abandoned building. Nottingham slammed into the wall and let out a pained groan. Uncle Jake swung the bubble at a building across the street, with similar results. Then he returned Nottingham to the center of the street. The sheriff’s nose was covered in blood.