3

Hands bound before her, Rosenrot trembled, standing in line with the other unfortunates up on the platform. A crowd of buyers was gathering. Soon to be sold into labor, she suddenly felt like a slave awaiting the end.

‘Rotten, rotten dad!’ she growled inside her head as the selling began.

“Young man, 25 years of age, well-built. Ten years of debt to work off. Do I have a buyer?” hollered the auctioneer.

Buyers waved their arms, battling bids.

“Sold, to the gentleman in the green hat!” The auctioneer pointed.

Another man was auctioned off, and next a woman. And then…it was Rosen’s turn.

Something started shuffling through the crowd clustered around the platform, something shabby, hunched and deathly green.

“Young woman, 18 years of age, a fine beauty if you dismiss the arm. Fifteen years of debt to work off. Do I have a buyer?” the auctioneer blared.

Rosen’s toes squirmed inside her shoes.

A hand raised, belonging to an ugly toad of a man.

“15,000 marks for fifteen years! Do we have another offer?”

A second hand raised—a skinny, crooked man with an eel’s grin.

Rosen shivered.

“15,500 marks! Going once…”

The first man shot his toad hand up again.

“16,000 marks!”

The crooked fellow sneered at the toady.

“Going once! Going twice! Going—”

Rosen stared grimly at her future: a toad man that would no doubt work her to death, and have her do who knew what else…

Why did this have to happen? Why did she have to end up stuck in this town of greedy people, abandoned by an awful parent?

“17,000 marks.”

Rosen lifted her gaze at the creaky, strained voice, barely audible through the hubbub. A black sleeve with a greenish hand rose with the voice, and the frail arm shook as if the effort were too great. The owner was aged beyond humanly possible, with threads of hair jutting in all directions on a balding head. The old man made zombies seem like a real thing.

“17,000 marks from the old gentleman,” hollered the auctioneer. “Going once! Going twice!”

The toady and the eel shot dreadful glares at the living corpse, who had suddenly swooped in and out-bid them. Thumbing through their wallets, the hammer fell before either one could bid again.

“Going thrice and sold! To the old gentleman!”

Rosen didn’t have much time to contemplate if working for this zombie was a better fate than the toady. Hands grabbed and steered and shoved her down off the platform, toward the waiting hunchback form.

There was a ring of space around him as he signed two papers, as if everyone thought he looked too much like a zombie too, and the steering hands retreated from Rosen’s back.

The whites of the old man’s eyes were grayed, and Rosen tried not to stare at the dark splotches pocketing his greenish complexion. At least he wore a suit. His bony, warty arm lifted, turned, and creaked in a gesture that meant “Please, after you.”

She realized her hands had been freed.

With no other choice, she strode forward, and the zombie gentleman fell into step beside her, knee-joints popping.

They walked for over twenty minutes until they reached the edge of town, she following slightly behind the old man, heading towards the single road that wound off through the valley and trees.

But the zombie man halted and turned to the right. With a shaky palm, he indicated an overgrown path veering to the side. His legs creaked and groaned as he took the forlorn path up a slope.

She peered up the path, trying to see where it snaked up to, into the western foothills. Surely nobody lived out there, so close to the forbidden zone, did they? She started after the old gentleman, catching up. Each footstep crunched through layers of autumn leaves. Birches stood white against the cacophony of orange and gold smothering the forest canopy. The sky was a sea of clouds, trapped by the mountaintops surrounding the valley, and growing darker by the minute, the fading light casting a strange glow and turning the autumn forest almost eerie.

“Where are you taking me?” Rosen asked tentatively, finally breaking the silence. “And why me?”

“I am…Butler Sterbetod.” The old man’s voice strained, like it was his dying breath, and she had to lean in to hear—though not too close; he smelled. “And…you are?”

“Rosenrot.”

“Ah, Miss Rosenrot.” His joints popped and wobbled. She thought a sudden breeze might blow him away. “I am…taking you to…serve Lord Varick.”

Lord? There was another lord who lived around here, besides the creepy Kalt ruling town?

A branch covered in yellow leaves brushed the top of her head as she passed under. She reached and let her fingers graze along it fondly. Hopefully, as a slave, she’d still be able to walk outdoors and soak in the beauty of nature.

“Lord Varick is in need of…a younger servant,” Butler Sterbetod wheezed.

She creased her eyebrows. “And he has a home up in the mountains? To the west, where everyone’s afraid to go?”

“The castle, yes.”

Castle… She didn’t know of any inhabited castle in the western foothills.

A rumble of thunder drew her gaze up to the frothing, grim clouds. The bright orange and yellow leaves were beginning to fade around them, melting away as dark trunks and red leaves took over.

A sea of red soon lined either side of the path. Twigs clawed down toward her from their bleeding canopy.

The memory rushed back: the path she had wandered as a too-curious girl. The wailing of a creature wrapped in black. Twin glowing silver eyes.

“The forbidden castle…” she murmured, then spoke louder, “You’re taking me to the forbidden castle?”

Butler Sterbetod continued as if she hadn’t stopped walking and cracked his neck back. “Forbidden? Hm…ja, it has been…a long time since…a human visited,” he wheezed. “But it is…a nice place…to live. Much better…than with those other…gentlemen, I should think.”

Well, on that she might agree. Living in a hole under a road would be better than living with any of those creepy buyers. But she knew nothing of this Lord Varick, or how he could live in a castle which none dared go near and all claimed to be cursed. Did he move here recently? He must have, to be so ignorant. The Nachzehrer was still rumored to dwell in these parts.

Rosen drew her cloak up to her chin against a breeze that should have been cold, but instead felt warm and moist. Strange. She considered turning around and making a run for it. Though she’d no doubt be caught and jailed for running away, and this butler would come for her again. Did she really have no other fate than this?

Loose leaves fell like drops of rubies around them. She caught one, and fingered a rotted hole, black along the edges. What if this Varick owned the Beast creature people were so afraid of, like some twisted kind of pet? Or what if he himself was the Beast?

She swallowed. ‘Whatever that thing I saw was, it wasn’t human.’