Michael Buckley - Once upon a crime

"No!"

Sabrina cried. She found a life preserver and tossed it overboard, knowing it was pointless. Even an Everafter couldn't survive that kind of injury.

In the distant waters, Sabrina spotted a flashing blue light heading in their direction. "This is the Coast Guard," a booming voice called out. "Lower your weapons and prepare to be boarded."

Moth turned to the girls. "Your job was to find Oberon's killer. He is dead. You are no longer needed. Find your grandmother and your friends and go back to the mud hole you call home."

She gestured for the pixies to swarm around Puck's cocoon. They latched onto it as Moth's wings sprang forth and she lifted into the air. She flew off, carefully guarding the cocoon as it fought and resisted being taken from Sabrina.

Sabrina and Daphne were taken into custody by social services. A friendly man named Mr. Glassman, who insisted they call him Peter, spent several hours trying to track down Granny Relda. By the time she arrived to claim the girls, it was nearly two in the morning and friendly "Peter" had lost his patience.

"These children were found on a yacht in the middle of the New York harbor, Mrs. Grimm," Peter said sternly. "The boat was filled with alcohol."

Granny smiled uncomfortably and shifted in her seat. "This has all been a misunderstanding. The girls and I got separated and-"

"So you were supposed to be on this yacht, too?"

"Why no-"

"We told you what happened. We were kidnapped," Daphne said.

"Young lady, the police have searched the boat. There was no one on it. In fact, the owner, a Mr. John Silver, is thinking of pressing charges against you for stealing it from the marina."

"Forgetful dust," Daphne grumbled. The pirates had used it to make a clean getaway.

Sabrina kicked her sister under the table and shook her head. The less crazy their story sounded the better off they would be.

The social worker took a deep breath. "Yes, the forgetful dust you keep telling me about. Children, I was your age once. I had imaginary friends, too. They're fun and they can even be healthy, but you need to learn the difference between reality and fantasy."

"Well, I think the girls learned their lesson," Granny said. "I'm sure you have other things to worry about. I'll take the girls and get out of your hair."

"Mrs. Grimm, you seem like a sweet lady but I'm afraid that's impossible," Peter said. "We need to evaluate your parenting skills. We can't just let you take the girls with you."

"How long will this evaluation take?" Granny asked.

"A few weeks at least."

A few weeks!" the girls cried.

Daphne nudged Granny. "Throw some forgetful dust on him." Granny shook her head. "I'm all out."

Peter rolled his eyes. "In the meantime, the state will retain custody of the girls until we can determine if they should be returned to your care," he explained.

"But who's going to take care of them?" Granny Relda asked anxiously.

Just then, there was a knock on the office door. Standing on the threshold was a rail-thin woman with a face Sabrina knew and could never forget. She had thin lips, a hooked nose, and dull gray hair.

"Hello, Ms. Smirt," Peter said. "Please come in."

The orphanage was exactly as Sabrina remembered. Much like Ms. Smirt, it was nasty and drained of color. The floors were still filthy and the kids still miserable, and the moth-eaten sheets still smelled of mildew.

Smirt led them through the main sleeping room, which was little more than a hallway with two rows of tightly packed cots, filled with sleeping children. Sabrina and Daphne were assigned the last two empty beds and then forced to change into what Smirt called "orphanage attire," bright orange jumpsuits that reminded Sabrina of prisoners' clothes. When the girls were changed, Ms. Smirt led them to her office, where they were ordered to sit down.

Smirt eyed the girls with contempt. "Imagine what a surprise it is to see my favorite orphans, Sally and Denise."

"First, we're not orphans," Sabrina replied. "Second, I'm Sabrina and this is Daphne."

"Yes, the Grimm sisters, the bane of my existence," the woman replied.

"Listen, let's cut to the chase," Daphne said. "You're going to send us to live with some nutcase and we're going to escape like we always do. You should probably just send us back to live with our grandmother. At least then we are out of your hair."

Sabrina was stunned by her sisters bold speech. It sounded like something Sabrina herself might have said.

Smirt smiled, a frightening sight. "Well, if you would kindly explain your plan to the city, I'm all for it. Unfortunately, I'm required by law to keep trying to place you in a good home no matter how pointless it all seems."

The caseworker opened a drawer in her desk, took out some forms, and scribbled some notes. Sabrina could read them upside down. Smirt had written "incorrigible troublemakers" on the form and underlined it after adding several exclamation points at the end.

"I have some good news for you girls," the caseworker offered. "I've already found you a foster home that is willing to take you in."

"We don't want to go to a foster home. Our grandmother is going to take us back as soon as she can," Daphne said.

"I highly doubt that. The orphanage doesn't make a habit of letting people take care of children who encourage them to risk their lives on the high seas. Maybe someday… when I'm in charge," Smirt said wistfully. "But for now you're going to live with a Mr. Greeley."

Their caseworker snatched a folder off a stack of books and opened it. Sabrina noticed the title of the book on top. It was called

The Purpose-Driven Life.

"Mr. David Greeley is currently in prison but he's getting out tomorrow and will pick you up as soon as he has met with his parole officer," Smirt said.

"Prison! What was he in prison for?" Sabrina said.

"Hmmm, let me see. Oh, here it is. Murder," the caseworker said.

"Murder?" the girls cried, nearly jumping out of their chairs. "Yes, he murdered someone. No, I'm wrong. That was someone else," Ms. Smirt said. Sabrina caught her breath and eased back in her seat.

"No, Mr. Greeley murdered several people. Seven to be exact. Beat them to death with a crowbar," Smirt said.

"You're going to send us to live with a serial killer?" Sabrina said.

"No, I'm sending you to live with a former serial killer. Mr. Greeley is rehabilitated. Now, off to bed with you. Newbies have to fix breakfast for everyone so you better get some sleep."

Smirt shoved the girls down the hall and back into the sleeping area. They found their beds among the rows of snoring, groaning children, and crawled underneath the scratchy blankets. Sabrina's cot was next to a window that had a baseball-sized hole in it. The cold wind blew directly onto her feet, so she tucked herself into a ball for warmth. Before Ms. Smirt left, she handcuffed the girls to their beds.

"Well, I suppose you're happy now," Daphne said when Smirt had scurried back to her office.

"Happy? Why would I be happy about this?"

"Isn't this what you wanted? To get away from Granny, the Everafters, and Ferryport Landing? Now you can pretend none of it ever happened."

"Daphne, I-"

"Every step you fought her. You've complained and disobeyed and been a real-"

"Jerkazoid?"

"Yes!" the little girl cried. "And don't use my word."

"Daphne, I'm only trying to protect us, all of us. Can't you see what has been happening since we moved in with Granny? I accidentally killed the giant. I nearly got Mr. Canis killed when the school exploded-and look what's happening to him. Puck had his wings torn off trying to protect me and now Cobweb is dead, too. I'm jinxed. I'm not meant to be a Grimm. Everyone I'm close to is in danger, including you."