Page 67 of Hansel and Gerhardt
Gerhardt had dropped to his knees now, sitting on the floor, eyeing the desserts from the edge of the table, waiting like a dog to be told he could eat. And Hansel was dragged, like a rag doll, around the table, his tiptoes skidding across the floor, until he was yanked eye to eye with Herr Candy.
The eyes that had mimicked a beautiful man had changed. They grew reddened, watery. His skin aged, wrinkling deep, until it became the face of an old woman. But just as quickly, it melted and reemerged with the fresh skin and appearance of a young girl. Then with a grin, back to the face they’d known as Herr Candy.
His disguise, perhaps that which had been best to entice Gerhardt and Hansel into the cottage that first day, was slipping with every second. Maybe he didn’t care enough to hold it anymore. He could let those eyes turn milky, wobbling and bulging in their sockets. He could let his fangs grow long, because Gerhardt wasn’t capable of noticing or caring. Not even when Herr Candy spoke directly to him. “More fire in the oven, boy.”
Gerhardt swiped raspberry from his lips with the back of his hand and jumped to his feet. “Right, you are, Herr Candy!” He pulled the lever and ripped the oven open. Already volcanic inside, the fierce heat ripped at Hansel’s flesh. Gerhardt began piling logs in.
“I tried with you,” Herr Candy seethed. “I gave you every opportunity to improve yourself.”
“Please let him go,” Hansel begged. “I’ll do whatever you want. Whatever you needed him for.”
A deep and inhuman laugh crawled out of Herr Candy. “You were always going to do that. I just wanted a little more fat on those bones before you became dinner.”
The forked tongue crept out of his mouth, sweeping long and dripping over his lips, and the horror hit Hansel.
The shoes and the clothes in the shed. That strange pink meat on Herr Candy’s plate. The food in the forest, if only one knew where to look…
“No,” whispered Hansel, reeling back in disgust.
Herr Candy’s head twisted across to Gerhardt. “Are you hungry, dearest?”
Gerhardt slammed the oven door closed and bounced back to the table. “Starving, sir!”
“Then let’s eat…” He picked Hansel up by the throat and threw him, his back slamming down in the middle of the feast. Cakes exploded beneath him, to his left, to his right. Jellies wobbled against him, parfaits soaked and splashed over him. But before ever he could get his bearings, the noise of a whip sounded, and his wrist was grasped, pulled tight, and wrenched over his head, as a multi-coloured candy strap lashed around his arm to hold him immobile. The other wrist was taken by strawberry licorice, thick, unforgiving, pulling at his skin until both arms were bound to the table.
Herr Candy slammed two hands down on his thighs with such strength that Hansel was pinned.
Gerhardt stood statue-still, staring at his stepbrother tied to the table, surrounded by desserts, struggling with everything he had in him. “Oh, Hansel. You do look delicious.”
“What?” cried Hansel, arm muscles bulging as he tugged at his sweet binds.
“Hand me a knife,” Herr Candy directed.
But oddly, Gerhardt didn’t move. He glanced at the knife block, replete with sharp steel, then back to Hansel, writhing in front of him. “You’re not going to hurt him, are you?”
“How are you still doing that?” Herr Candy yelled. “Do you want to eat or not?”
“Of course I want to eat. You made all this beautiful food…”
“Then stop being so ungrateful and give me that knife!”
“Gerhardt, no!” Hansel screamed.
“Uh…” Gerhardt’s eyes, wild with awakening fear, searched the small kitchen.
“Get it!” Herr Candy screamed at him.
Still Gerhardt hesitated until Herr Candy let out a cry of exasperation. He let go of Hansel’s thighs just as two long ropes of green candy shot out from the floor like vines, strapping Hansel’s legs down. He scooped up a handful of strudel, and before Gerhardt even knew what was happening, he’d shoved him back against the wall and pushed the food into his mouth.
Gerhardt seemed to fight for a moment, to try to turn his head away, but all too fast the sugar settled on his tongue, and the magic took hold. His shoulders eased, he slumped back. He let out that groan of happiness that Hansel knew too well.
Hansel threw his head back, tears rivering down his cheeks.
“The knife, Gerhardt,” said Herr Candy, the too-distinct ‘t’ of the sound stabbing into Hansel.
“Sir,” Gerhardt mumbled over his mouthful, stumbling to the bench to wrap his fingers around the biggest knife in the block.
Herr Candy’s two hands dragged over Hansel’s cheekbones, and he lowered his head to his ear. “It’s this bond you two have, you see, Hansel. This is why I have to get rid of you. You make my magic weak. I’ve never been in this situation before.”
