• Nied Darnell

TALES ABOUT THE GRIMMS RATHER THAN COLLECTED BY THE GRIMMS


Now if that headline has you scratching your head, believe me, you aren’t alone in that.


My name in Gwendolyn Grimm and my great-great uncles are the ones who put the family on the map – and possibly in the sights of beings who hadn’t wanted the sort of attention they got as a result.


Not that everyone was in the dark about such things when Jakob and Wilhelm collected those folk legends. You know the ones, the type that can scare even adults – because that was the idea – into staying indoors and definitely out of the woods.


But it wasn’t just stories about girls with lost slippers, dwarves with really sound sleeping housekeepers, crossdressing wolves and other such things that the Uncles (yes, capitalized to cull these two from the hordes of other, and frankly less impressive, uncles) collected in the early 19th century. It was the fact that magic actually existed and the things in those “fairy tales” were real.


Naturally, something had to be done about them, hence the creation of SIN – the Supernatural Investigation Network where nearly everyone on the payroll is a Grimm. Like me.


It’s a new world now though. The 20th century got off to a bang with flying machines, motorcars, and jazz music. The Normals had just duked it out in Europe and were slapping German hands for daring to invade the surrounding countries, and even my homeland (the U.S) got involved. But before any of them were in the trenches, we Grimms were in the woods attempting to quell the war fever between the Elves and the Trolls.


I’d been off undermining and conning the two sides, but by mid-1919 I was back home and ready to begin a whole new career as one of the family’s SIN agents. My specialty is glamours – consider them disguises though it’s all in my magic, not from a theatrical company’s wardrobe and makeup supplies. And for my first assignment – my first week on what I’d hoped would be a less hectic and less dangerous job – I got lumbered with those dratted Elves and Trolls again, only this time supposedly partying ones in Capital City.


Why am I telling you this? Well, because it just so happens that the report on those events is known around the office as “The Follies of 1919”. Follies as in festivities, though I sure the heck wasn’t having any fun! The report has been dropped into the 3rd volume of THE CASE FILES: NABU CARNEVALE which launches from Tell-Tale Press on June 1st (viewbook.at/CASEFILES3). Nied Darnell turned my originally dry report into something with a bit more pizazz, so a tug on my clouch hat to her.


But it all began the day my cousin Albert Grimm called me into his office to drop the assignment in my lap. It seems the Trolls’ holy celebration of bridges coincided with the Elves film festival awards. There would be fireworks but they weren’t likely to be the type that were popular in Chinatown.


Although this details my first week with SIN, it’s not the first account of one of my assignments to be turned into what I hear the Darnell dame calls Dieselpunk. She rifled the files awhile back and spun a tale of out-of-this-world drugs and a con we worked on vice lords that had me glamour hopping from one personna to the next like I was dancing the quickstep.


It’s called WAGES OF SIN, of course.


Gwen


getbook.at/WAGESofSIN

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