"It looked like it was to let an attacker know you were constipated," Sabrina said.
"What does constipated mean?" Daphne asked.
Sabrina leaned over, cupped her hand around her sister's ear, and whispered the definition to her. The little girl stepped back and crinkled up her nose.
"You're gross."
Granny led the girls to the porch and dug in her handbag for her key ring. It had hundreds of keys on it, which she quickly sorted through to find the ones that fit the dozen locks on the front door. When she was finished with the keys, she knocked three times on the door and said, "We're home." The last magical lock slid open and the family hurried inside the house and out of the cold.
Daphne had to help Sabrina out of her coat and boots. With her broken arm in its clunky cast, Sabrina realized there were a few things she wouldn't be able to do on her own. She didn't like the feeling of helplessness. It didn't feel natural for Daphne to be taking care of her.
Still, there was something she could do to help everyone and she couldn't wait to get started. She made a beeline to the enormous bookshelves in the living room, which housed the family's collection of journals, clothbound records of everything every Grimm had experienced since Wilhelm Grimm had arrived in the town more than two hundred years earlier. Sabrina was sure there must be something in them about a little girl and her pet monster, but before she could grab a single volume, her grandmother stepped in her way.
"Uh-uh. No detective work today. You're going straight to bed and getting some rest."
"Rest? I've been asleep for three days," Sabrina complained. "I can rest when Mom and Dad are safe at home."
Granny Relda shook her head. "Upstairs," she said.
Sabrina scowled and stomped up the steps to her room. The old woman and Daphne followed and helped her out of her clothes. The whole experience was humiliating. Sabrina couldn't even put on her own pajamas without help. Climbing into bed was equally difficult, and when her grandmother started laying heavy quilts on her, she knew that getting out again was going to be a real challenge.
"I bet reading one of the journals might make me sleepy," Sabrina said as her grandmother added another blanket to the mountain of down quilts trapping her.
"Are you warm enough?" Granny Relda asked as she tucked the sides of the blankets underneath Sabrina, turning her into a human burrito.
"Yes! You could bake a turkey under here," the girl said, struggling to free herself.
Just then, Elvis peeked around the doorjamb.
"Elvis!" Sabrina called. "Come here, boy! Help me escape!"
The family's two-hundred-pound Great Dane let out a soft whine. Despite his imposing figure and a face that said "I can eat you in one bite," the dog had a sensitive, loving nature. He was incredibly playful and affectionate to the girls, and normally he would have leaped onto the bed and covered Sabrina in happy kisses. There was something wrong.
"What's with him?" Sabrina asked.
"He's pouting," Granny Relda said stiffly.
"Pouting? Why?"
"I'll show you," Daphne said, rushing over to the dog. She tried to pull him into the room by his collar, but Elvis wouldn't budge.
"Young man, get in here and say hello," Granny insisted.
Elvis snorted and reluctantly stepped into the doorway. He was wearing a green vest, white booties, a saggy red Santa hat with furry white trim, and a long white beard attached under his chin. When he was in full view, he dropped his head and whined.
"Don't feel bad, pooch," Sabrina said, sympathetically. "I might be known as Captain Doodieface until I'm in college."
"I think he looks handsome!" Daphne cried, wrapping her arms around the dog's neck. "He's my handsome little Christmas baby."
"He's one miserable baby," Sabrina said, laughing.
"I've been working on that costume for days!" Granny exclaimed.
Elvis dropped his head and whined again. "OK," Granny surrendered. "Take it off him." Elvis ran around in circles happily, knocking Daphne to the floor as she tried to remove his vest and hat. He gave her a slobbery lick on the face when she succeeded in removing his white beard. She handed it to Sabrina. "You want this? It'll hide the goatee."
Sabrina frowned and shrank down so that the covers were just beneath her nose. "The fairy boy is dead."
"Your sister's bunking with me tonight, so you've got the bed all to yourself," Granny said.
"What about Mom and Dad?"
"Your parents are fine. You said yourself they looked as if they had been sleeping the whole time. For now, I think it's best if we just wait until we get another chance to rescue them. I don't believe chasing after that girl and the Jabberwocky is wise."
Sabrina couldn't believe her ears. Granny Relda, one of the famous Grimm detectives, was turning down a mystery, and one that involved her own flesh and blood.