Read The Fairytale Code - Chapter 29 & 30

The fairytale code

Chapter 29

15:21 pm:  

The British Library, London

Tom couldn’t believe Blood Mary was aiming a gun at him again.

“What the hell are you? A ghost?” He gritted his teeth, pondering whether to call the officer inside or not. Something about her made him curious. He wondered if she knew something that would help him find Anne. “How the hell did you enter the library?”

“I’m Bloody Mary. I can do anything,” she said. “Besides, your daddy has a backdoor that is accessed from the library behind the desk.”

Tom turned to look, feeling betrayed.

“Oh, daddy didn’t share all of his secrets with you, fancy boy?”

“What do you want?”

“Well, first of all you weren’t going to find no Singing Bone in your father’s throat,” she said. “I made that up.”

“To mess with me?”

“Now you’re learning,” she said. “I like games. It’s boring being the one who knows too much, so I have to entertain myself.”

“What is that you know, the?”

“I know that you haven’t announced the murder of the girl on the cross to the public yet,” she said. “Before you tell me that you have orders, let me tell you that you’re going to take orders from me from now on.”

“And why would I do that?” He said. “My men will arrest you. You won’t make it out of here, secret door or not. Not even if you shoot me.”

“Stop the babbling and listen,” she said. “Here is the deal.”

“Deal?”

“The man who poisoned your father, has an antidote,” she explained. “Don’t ask me why he tried to kill him. This man kills for the sake of it. Your father must have pissed him off. This man doesn’t like the human race in its entirety. I mean it. He doesn’t like the human species.”

“Tell me his name and I’ll torture him and he begs me to kill him.”

“Shut up, ugh,” Bloody Mary said. “David was right about you thinking you’re a James Bond villain. You talk too much."

“Okay. I’m listening,” the veins in his neck struck out again. “What the hell is this all about?”

“I told you,” she again pushed the gun against his neck. “We make a deal. I can get you the antidote to your father’s condition. It’sThis is an ancient poison, almost untraceable. It’s been used to poison queens, mistresses, and even recent world leaders. If you do as I say, I’ll use it to save your father’s life.”

“And you want what in return?”

Bloody Mary smirked, “Be a man and get your ass on the BBC. Time to announce what happened in Abbey. The people need to know.”

“And risk Her Majesty’s trust?”

“You’re not even sure you’re working for her,” she said. “You’re reporting to an office that is full of politicians with agendas you don’t know about. They will get rid of you in a blink of an eye. You think any of the elite men and women your father dined with cares about his condition now?”

Tom considered her words for a moment. He didn’t want to admit it, but he believed her, and also he would be lost without his father in his life.

“I’ll add a bonus to the mix,” Mary said.

“I’m listening.”

“I’ll tell you where Anne is right now,” she whispered, teasingly. “So you get to save your father and get to catch her. I’m quite sure your superiors will forgive you for exposing the girl on the cross to the world then.”

“I don’t see the appeal in your bonus offer,” Tom said. “My men will find Anne eventually.”

Mary chuckled, “Oh, you naive boy. Anne isn’t even in Britain anymore.”

Tom tensed. “How is that possible?”

“Just make the announcement, and I will let you kill two birds with one stone,” Mary said.

Tom took a last look at his father, and realized Mary was right about no coming to save him.

He only had one last question for her, one that bothered him the most, “Why are you doing this? You let Anne and David escape and then keep helping me to find them? Why?”

Mary lowered her gun and stared into his eyes, “Don’t ask questions above your pay grade, Thomas Jonathan Gray.”

Chapter 30

15:35 pm, Jacqueline de Rais’ Private Jet

“Is this what’s it about?” David asked Jacqueline. “Continuing your ancestor’s killing legacy?”

“Don’t jump to conclusions, detective,” Jacqueline dragged from her cigarette. “But then again, you’re man. You can’t understand.”

“This has nothing to do with my gender,” David said. “The poor girl on the cross needs justice.”

“Justice is man-made, detective — the same way his-story, was never her-story,” Jac2queline said. “Justice is never served by catching the killer or beheading him. It’s served by telling the truth.”

“I’m not into word salads,” David said. “I don’t even want to participate in this game you’re playing. Just tell me the victim’s name, and why she was killed.”

“You’re asking me about her name?” Jacqueline said. “Aren’t you the police?”

“Hadn’t your Bloody Mary interrupted the investigation and forced us to leave, we would have known her name by now,” he said.

“I don’t know who this Bloody Mary is,” Jacqueline said. “But do you honestly believe the authorities were going to announce the girl’s name on the news?”

“Why wouldn’t they?”

“Don’t you find it strange that no one mentioned her in the media so far?”

David didn’t know what to say. She was right about that part.

“You’ll figure it out, detective. Give it time. The world around us is neither allies nor enemies. It’s an intricately but random web of momentarily needs for survival.” Jacqueline said.

David didn’t like Jacqueline’s pretentious and convoluted choice of words, but then again, his mother talked just the same. He remember never having understood her complex theories about life and death, so he had decided he’d love her unconditionally instead.

“I’m not the enemy,” Jacqueline said. “I mentioned my ancestors to emphasize Anne’s theories about fairytales being true stories that have been distorted to conceal a certain, and most terrifying, revelation. I’m a living proof.”

“We’re here to find the girl’s killer,” Anne said. “not to listen to your story, even though it’s of great interest to me.”

“Are you sure this what it’s about, catching a killer?” Jacqueline said. “Come on, Anne. You’re curious. Ask me. What do you really want to know?”

“Let’s start with you why never answered my emails when I requested interviewing you for my book,” Anne said. “I’ve found all the documents supporting that the story of Bluebeard was based on Gilles de Rais murdering his wives in the fifteenth century. I found evidence that someone wanted to erase the first serial killer from the books of history for some reason.  But I needed your side of the story, and you never gave it to me.”

“Because it would have hurt my business, chérie,” Jacqueline said. “Reputations are golden when you own billions. People can’t know that I’ve descended from darkness.”

“I can relate,” David said, meaning his mother’s reputation as a devout atheist, but he didn’t tell her. “But why talk to Anne now?”

“Lady Ovitz’s death is why.”

“You knew her?” Anne said.

“Not personally, but I knew of her. I knew what great service she did to the Sisterhood.”

“There is no Sisterhood, Madame. My research proved it to be an myth.”

“The same way you claimed there was no Singing Bone?” Jacqueline said. “Did you notice that you have a tendency to deny the things that scare you most?”

“What do you mean?”

“You don’t believe in a Singing Bone because it will leave you guilty after you’ve never found in girl’s killer when you were in the well with Rachel.”

Anne swallowed audibly.

“You hated Rachel for telling you that justice was only a flute away, when later in real life you failed at applying it. Is that why’re searching for the origins of fairytales, Anne? It’s easier to pretend we’re hopeless and hand-tied than admitting that we’re unaccountable and have failed,” Jacqueline said. “The same way you don’t want to believe there is a Sisterhood, or your whole research would be debunked.”

“What is the Sisterhood?” David asked.

“You better listen only and not interfere, detective,” Jacqueline said, eyes on Anne. “Who knows, you might learn a thing or two.”

David said nothing, unfazed by her insult. Had a man told him so, he’d have stirred a fight or something. But in respect to his mother, he’d vowed never to take a woman’s backfire personally. It wasn’t a moral choice, but a curious one. Something about women interested him in ways he could never understand — or admit.

“I’ll tell David about what I know later,” Anne told Jacqueline. “Tell me why Lady Ovitz’s death led to that girl on the cross being murdered.”

“Sacrificed, Anne. Sacrificed,“ Jacqueline said. “But it doesn’t take a genius to connect the dots. Lady Ovitz, having earned the title of True Sister in the Sisterhood — which more or less matches the title of a nun in the Vatican — was the sole prayer of the original version since World War II.”

“Prayer?” Anne said.

“Keeper of Sacred Stories, that is,” Jacqueline said. “In the Sisterhood, if you prove your loyalty — and belief it’ll take you years of effort to do so, since I tried an failed — you’re honored by guarding one of the original stories of a now so-called fairytale — including names, dates, documentations, and everything else. Just my serial killer ancestor Gilles de Rais.”

“How do you know that?” Anne said.

“I’m rich, Anne.”

“What do you mean?”

“When you have too much money, and can buy everything in the world, you start to look for unusually exclusive things to buy,” Jacqueline said. “I chose to pay for secret knowledge about the past.”

“It looks like you’re not rich enough to me,” David said, sounding slightly mean. “Or you wouldn’t be sitting here with Anne, had you got ten the story you paid for.”

Jacqueline’s lower lip quivered.

“So the Sisterhood honored Lady Ovitz with a sacred story that somehow led to the girl on the cross killed?” Anne interrupted. “May when it leaked or something?

“You could say so. But let me explain why Lady Ovitz was high in the Sisterhood’s hierarchy,” Jacqueline said. “It’s because, unlike the rest, she weren’t told a sacred story, but she uncovered it herself. And from who?From Nazi files she found in the concentration camp.”

“The Germans kept an original print of the Brother Grimm fairytales? That’s a bit far fetched.”

“See, you’re doing it again, Anne. Denying whatever doesn’t serve your pre-meditated reality,” Jacqueline said. “You of all folklorists know how the Nazis were obsessed with fairytales. Snow White being Hitler’s favorite story. His fairytale propaganda films. Even the Donkey Trail road he built in the Black Forest in Germany that was inspired by her huntsman in the forest. He his private cottage on the road can still be found there somewhere.”

David listened along, realizing his silence helped him understand more of Anne’s world. He was listening to two prestigious, educated, and ambitious women talking about fairytales in the most factual ways, including real world events and Nazis. There was so much he had to ask Anne about later, but right now he couldn’t deny his interest in this world.

“The Nazis, like us, knew the book contained a secret, and wanted to get their hands on it,” Jacqueline suddenly lowered her voice, briefly glancing back at Xaver. “Hitler pursued the secret that he felt was rightfully his, written by his own German people.”

“I’m not convinced yet. And no need to lower your voice. We all know Xaver’s ancestors were Nazis,” Anne said. “But if I believe you, why did they hand the original book to Lady Ovitz.”

“They didn’t. Lady Ovitz stole it, the same way that Hitler stole it from the Sisterhood,” Jacqueline said. “Lady Ovitz is said to have made each one of her daughters memorize part of it. Her daughters: Lily, Lara, Lucia, Leanne, Lotte, Layla, and Lisbeth. But I can’t confirm it.”

Anne and David took a moment trying to memorize the names.

“The killer probably is either after Lady Ovitz’s secret after her death or trying to expose it to the world before it dies with her.”

“By killing the girl on the cross?” Anne said.

“Indeed. And I think it’s only a start, because it seems to me that dead girl is only a mean for you on a journey to unlocking the rest,” Jacqueline pointed at the Singing Bone in her hand.

“How do we know you’re not the killer?” David interfered.

“Like I said, detective, I have a billion dollars business that I can’t risk losing. I mean look around. Living lavishly is fun. Besides, I have nothing to hide,” Jacqueline said.

“So are you familiar with what a mapestry is?” David said.

“But of course. Xaver is a good friend. He taught me a lot,” Jacqueline said. “Speaking of him, did you know that someone contacted him and claimed they can prove the Brothers Grimm never wrote the fairytales we have now, but wouldn’t tell who they were.”

“And?”

“Xaver was asked to plant you luggage with the laptop that secret someone sent.”

“Why impersonate Rachel, then?” David asked.

“Ask Anne,” Jacqueline said.

“Why should I know that?” Anne said.

“Because you and I know what happened with Rachel, which I suppose David doesn’t know yet.” Jacqueline said.

“Anne?” David said gently.

“She isn’t going to tell you, David,” Jacqueline said. “Let’s just say that the killer succeeded in winning Anne’s undivided attention and devotion to this case by doing that.”

David surprisingly squeezed her hand for assurance. He wasn’t going to pressure her to know about Rachel. Anne’s hand was a tad too cold when he did, and she failed to conceal the slight shivers in her lower jaw.

“I see you’re carrying the laptop already,” Jacqueline said. “I suppose Anne has the experience to unlock its content — which I don’t want to know of, by the way.”

“I don’t buy the idea that Xaver and you don’t want to know its content,” David said. “Neither do I believe it that Xaver couldn’t trace the killer down.”

“Xaver and I don’t want to catch the killer, detective. We want the truth about our ancestor’s past, whatever the price,” Jacqueline killed her cigarette and clicked her finger for another pink drink. “Let me tell you what I know is going to happen now.”

“Please do,” Anne said.

“As per the killer’s instructions, you won’t be landing in Kassel, Germany, at least not now.”

“Go on,” Anne said.

“Xaver and I are attending a clandestine but historical event in Kassel, one that you haven’t earned the right to attend yet.” Jacqueline  said. “According to the killer, we’re supposed to transport you to wherever the mapestry leads you.”

“Okay?” Anne said.

“Once you land, I suggest you take care because there are so many parties I know would want to get their hands on whatever the Singing Bone leads you to. Not to mention those who would kill to stop you from exposing the truth,” Jacqueline said. “Then, if you survive, I’m sure we’ll meet again.”

“I suppose the next mapestry leads to a location in the Fairytale Road,? Anne said.

“You supposed right, professor,” Jacqueline said. “Now start working before we fly too far from your yet unknown destination.”

“I will, but I’ll ask you a favor,” Anne leaned forward and grabbed Jacqueline’s nimble hand between hers.

Jacqueline fidgeted a little, not sure why she allowed Anne to touch her, “What do you have in mind?”

“You and I spent our lives digging into the past to get answers, and I respect you having empowered women in your way through the years.” Anne said. “I mean you and I, in different circumstances, may have been friends, fighting for the same cause, Madame Jacqueline.”

“Where is this going?” Jacqueline pulled away. “Why are you trying to charm me, Anne?”

“If you know, for the truth’s sake, tell me who the girl on the cross was,” Anne said. “I promise I won’t ask anything else of you.”

Jacqueline sighed. “All I know is that she was a dwarf.”

“She didn’t look like a dwarf,” David said.

“Not as stunted as most but you may have noticed she was way too light and small,” Jacqueline explained. “So-called dwarfism is a spectrum of many conditions. You can be born stunted, some are taller, and some are even as tall as normal people but would still have disproportioned heads or limbs. It differs, and I’m not an expert.”

“So the girl on was not prop, chosen for being light and small enough, to help erect the design?” David said.

“She wasn’t a prop, God forbid,” Jacqueline sounded offended. “She was a human being. A dwarf who was smaller and lighter with a bone disease that make her look almost like a skinny teenager. She was a sacrifice. God bless her.”

“What did you just say?” Anne couldn’t believe her ears.

“I won’t say more. Like I said, you haven’t earned such knowledge yet,” Jacqueline stiffened, and her two female body guard approached Anne and David immediately. “The best I can do is admit I know her name, and who she is. But you will have to figure the rest out on your own.

“So you knew her name all along,” Anne said.

“I also knew she was going to be sacrificed all along,” Jacqueline said. “Do you want to know her name or not before I leave you two to solve the mapestry and drop you wherever you have to be right now?”

“Please do,” David said.

Jacqueline snapped her fingers to calm the bodyguards down and said while standing up to leave, “The girl on the cross’s name is Layla Ovitz.”

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