Hansel & Gretel-The Twin Demon Hunters

Chapter 2

The fortress of Galley is a fine castle, built with a panorama of the surrounding land. From the towers once stood medieval watchers, quiver and arrow ready to fly. Steadfast walls were built for defence in an age that was defined by jealousy, greed and the love of power as much as honour, nobility and loyalty to the crown. Past the iron gates that trapped would-be intruders, lives of servitude were eked, safe from battle-axe and ballista alike. This castle stood to inspire awe in a realm run on deference to royalty, to title and social status. From cloistered rooms land parcels were given to lords for promised service.

Hansel and Gretel were sitting on the top of two fine steeds. The animals were stolen of course. They had arrived from about six centuries in the future to the land which Father Santiago had written about extensively in his diary. They could only hope that they had arrived at the perfect time to save some of the people from the clutches of the vile demons who used the human beings as bags of flesh and sucked upon their soul until they were dry before they moved on the next victim.

“I think Sister, you should take upon some kind of work of servitude at the castle,” said Hansel as he put down his binocular glasses.

“I was thinking along the same lines but what are you going to do?” asked Gretel as she placed her foot on the stirrup firmly before descending down the animal.

“I was thinking that at times like this being a priest and that too Catholic would be most suitable. I would not be unwelcome at the monastery and I would be able to have relationship with the Lord of this castle as well. On the other hand you would be inside the walls which puts you at a situation of privilege,” said Hansel as he watched his sister change her clothes which they had stolen from the village that they had crossed a little while ago.

“Hans, this kind of behavior is not going to be tolerated at all in these parts, you know,” said Gretel in a hoarse voice as she found her brother eyeing her lustfully.

“On the contrary Sister, I think this is the kind of behavior that is expected in these parts and these times when women and cattle are considered to be one and same. When they are ripe for breeding they are yours if you choose to take them. That is what is expected from you and that is what you need to remember Sister,” said Hansel, chuckling with an evil grin.

“Might be so. But not for a priest who is expected to maintain a life of celibacy and steer clear of women folk. And you know now Brother, I am all willing to lay down splaying my legs open for anyone who might want to take me but the consequences would not be in my hands,” said Gretel, as she tied her corset deftly.

“Now now Sister, don’t get all excited at the prospects of f*****g different men. You know we would not be able to control the situation if they get hooked on the after effects of the body of the succubus. At least not until we are done with what we are here to do,” said Hansel as Gretel finished putting on her coarse habit.

Her face turned into a scowl as the rough material rubbed against her skin.

“Brother, you are sure this is a good idea right?” asked Gretel, as she tied up her dark hair into a bun and covered it with a bonnet.

“As sure as you are about the authenticity of the diary I am currently carrying in my satchel,” said Hansel as he patted the bag hanging at the side of the steed.

Gretel sighed without any conviction and nodded at him as she headed off down the vale towards the castle. The silver cross that hung on her throat felt cool on her skin.

The castle walls are the strongest thing for miles around, yet when Gretel looked carefully she notices the stones. It is built of stones of varying sizes and shapes, each one unique. From a distance it is uniform grey, from up close it is a mosaic of humble rocks, each of them nobody would think anything of them were they found loose by the roadside. But together they are a castle, the crown of the landscape and protector of ancient peoples. At least so she hoped. She knew and had known for the better part of her life what went behind the walls of these castles.

She had reached the gates of the castle and knocked on the grill to draw the attention of guards in the uniform with the spike in his hand.

“Good morning Master. I am here for the position of the scullery maid,” said Gretel in a soft, squeaky voice as mildly as possible. She had overheard at the inn back in the village that the scullery maid who was supposed to go the Galley Manor would not be arriving since she had eloped with someone.

“Ah…you are the one that Maria has been waiting for since morning,” said the guard with a gruff smile as he opened the squeaky metal gates.

“Am I late to arrive for the position? I did not know that I would have to arrive earlier, or I would have started one day before,” replied Gretel as she entered the gates.

“Not to worry at all lass, Maria is a woman with the tongue sharper than my razor but she is the best cook in the country you can find. If there is anything that she hates is washing dishes. What is your name lass?” asked the guard as he escorted her to the place where she was supposed to report, that is the kitchen.

“Rosa Maria Espinoza,” said Gretel, as she recalled was the supposed name of the maid who had fled.

“Aha…quite a name you have there lass… are you Catholic?” asked the guard.

Gretel quietly nodded her head saying yes.

After that they walked in silence as Gretel considered it was better to keep silent and listen better for the purpose that they had come back six centuries in time. She knew that it was only a matter of time that walls would stand mute, water awaits the call of the wind to ruffle and move as molten glass of deepest green. Grey stone would rise from the land, unapologetic and bold to defy entrance and protect what has been entrusted to their care. Below the uneven patches of grass are arrowheads of old, hilts of broken swords and armour that failed to protect. She knew that time would not be soft in its blows to ravage the beauty of the grey turrets that stood erect in the sky listening to the chorus of the words.

Finally they reached the kitchen where she could hear a woman shouting a string of curses in Spanish rapidly and throwing a pan at someone who was cowering at slight distance.

“So I shall leave you here, I think you can handle her quite well,” said the guard smiling apologetically at and fled away in rapid footsteps.

Gretel went inside the kitchen and caught hold of the pan which was mid-air and almost on the verge of falling on the head of another poor girl. She looked at the older woman with daggers in her eyes.

“Who the hell do you think you are?” asked Gretel, her voice at the top of her pitch in local Spanish.

The woman looked at her with her mouth hanging agape just at the audacity of the new girl talking to her in such a tone and language. Gretel kept the pan on the floor and helped up the sobbing girl from the floor. As she rose up she found the cook supposedly named Maria coming down towards her with brutal intensity to hurt her. Maria raised her hand to hit Gretel but she had no idea whom she was up against. Gretel could have hurt the woman without even touching her but she considered that a little hand to hand was never too bad.

Gretel caught hold of her raised hand without much fuss and then rolled her wrist around her back making the woman scream out loud.

“You might be the one who has been calling shots here since early but from now on things are going to change,” said Gretel, as she let go of the hand of Maria.

Maria turned back to look at her eyes with a wince since her hand was hurt and made the only mistake of looking in the eyes of the young woman standing before her. They were not normal at all, with no irises or cornea, but two endless pools of darkness with no light at all.

“You are going to be the most well-behaved woman ever with no such inclination of showing temper to anyone whatsoever, am I right?” prompted Gretel gently. Maria nodded her head with her mouth opening like a fish out of water.

Gretel’s eyes turned back to normal and Maria snapped out of her reverie.

“Are you the new girl who is supposed to take over the position of the scullery maid?” asked Maria, with no inkling of what had happened sometime earlier.

Gretel nodded her head like the good girl she was and smiled softly at her new boss.

“You are heaven sent Lass…now come on…do not dilly-dally anymore. Get on with the utensils and the crew will be back from church very soon,” said Maria, like a responsible well-behaved adult.

Gretel did not bother with words and went back to the washing of the dishes. Undoubtedly cleaning at the monastery was far easier with the newer chemicals and detergents and soaps. Here she was back again to ashes and husks and the pots were black with sticky things attached to them. Gretel gritted her teeth and cursed her brother in her mind. Why she could not be the priest and he would come and wash the dishes? She was the one to do all the menial jobs and he was no fun at all.

She kept on washing the utensils much faster than human speed in her anger and within an hour everything was rubbed and brushed, all she needed to do was take them to the water trough at the back of the castle and wash them and bring them back.

There was no one in the kitchen apart from her. Gretel rubbed her already red hands on her apron and went out of the kitchen to find someone who could help her carry the entire load. She did not look up while coming out of the kitchen and collided head on with a hard body and fell down on the floor with a slam. She winced at the impact out of habit, not pain and looked up to find herself looking at the most handsome mortal other than her brother.

He had tousled dark brown hair, which was thick and lustrous. His eyes were a mesmerizing deep ocean blue, flecks of silvery light performed ballets throughout. His face was strong and defined, his features molded from granite. He had dark eye brows, which sloped downwards in a serious expression. His usually playful smile had drawn into a hard line across his face. His perfect lips ripe for the kissing. His strong hands, slightly rough from working, held mine as he stared deep into my eyes. I couldn't help but blush. His smile etched its way back into his face. His body was warm and toned as he helped me up, comforting to the touch. His voice was deep, with a serious tone.

“My apologies Madame…did I hurt you in any way?” asked the man in his deep voice.

Gretel forgot how to speak.