In this spellbinding sequel to Kathryn Purdie’s bestselling dark fairytale, Clara and Axel must return to the forest―and its monsters―if they have any hope of finally breaking the curse on their village.
Intrigued? Read on to discover the synopsis and an excerpt from Kathryn Purdie’s The Deathly Grimm, which is out March 25th 2025.
Emerging from the shadows of the Forest Grimm, Clara and Axel return to their village, the one place they can be safe behind the forest’s border. But when the trees themselves begin luring villagers into the forest, it becomes clear that the darkness they battled was merely a whisper of the true horror lurking there.
Burdened by unsettling visions and bound by a love as perilous as the cursed woods that call to them, Clara and Axel must once again enter the forest to unearth the sinister secret at its heart. As they fight murderous woodsmen wielding riddles sharp as blades, spectral maidens who threaten to drag them into an eternal dance, and phantoms able to use the very essence of the forest against them, Clara and Axel realize the stakes are higher than ever. If they can’t break the curse once and for all, they may not have a home to return to…
BEFORE THE CURSE
The first snowfall of the season was a dangerous time for a ten-year-old girl to sleepwalk in the Forest Grimm. To her grandmother’s knowledge, this was
the only occasion Clara had ever walked while asleep. If it had been a habit, Marlène Thurn might have bolted the front door of their cottage shut or sent Clara to bed wearing a fur mantle, sheepskin boots, and woolen stockings.
As it was, the wisp of a girl was bare-legged, with only the linen of her nightgown to protect her from the bitter cold. Clara had fallen asleep curled up on a fleece in front of the kitchen hearth, and she looked so warm and contented that Marlène hadn’t wanted to disturb her. The old woman had nodded off herself, her head tucked against a wing of an armchair mere inches away.
Clara’s mother and father were dozing in another room, so when the snow swirled inside past the open door and tapped Marlène’s shoulder with its frosty fingers, only she had awakened to find Clara missing.
Marlène searched the cottage to see if the child might be elsewhere, and when she wasn’t, she grabbed a shawl from a peg, shoved her feet into slippers, and raced outside. She didn’t dare wake anyone else. The Grimm wolf had been prowling around these parts, and Marlène had a careful relationship with the creature.
Once a year, the old woman allowed the wolf to snatch one of her lambs for a meal—a sad loss for the family, but Marlène considered the beast’s feelings as well, and it must have been hard for a predator to be bonded to a shepherdess. It was only fair that the wolf reap some of the benefits, especially since Marlène had the ability to slip into its skin and possess its body at will.
Marlène considered doing so now. Would she be able to find Clara faster? But what if Clara’s father or their farmhand did awaken and bring weapons? If anyone killed the wolf, they would also unwittingly kill Marlène. She had a better chance of protecting Clara and the wolf as a woman.
No one knew about the bond Marlène shared with the animal that sealed their fates together. It was safer that way. When Marlène’s family of Anivoyantes had been massacred in a foreign land, she’d learned an unforgettable lesson: most people feared magic, especially when it presented itself as seers who wore the skins of wolves. Alone, she’d escaped to Grimm’s Hollow, and all she claimed to be now was a simple fortune-teller.
Following her granddaughter’s footprints in the snow, Marlène dashed past the herb garden, the north sheep pasture, the woven fence, the hedgerow, and, beyond it, the frozen stream that divided her farmland from the Forest Grimm.
Her heart thumped when she spied large canine paw prints that merged with Clara’s tracks. She hastened, willing the wolf not to harm her only grandchild. But no amount of inward pleading could penetrate the wolf’s mind. Marlène’s bond didn’t include that ability.
At last, Marlène clapped eyes on Clara. Twenty feet away, the child stood in a moonlit clearing beside a lone aspen with only six golden leaves clinging to its branches. If only there had been seven, they would have made a lucky number.
Clara’s expression was distant, her gaze unfocused, her mind lost in a dream. Perhaps a nightmare. For that’s how this moment felt to Marlène—because looming a few feet to Clara’s left, opposite the skeletal aspen, stood the Grimm wolf.
The girl and the beast looked eerily disproportionate, Clara being smaller than other children her age, and the wolf twice as large as common breeds.
The old woman froze, as transfixed as Clara, unsure what to do. The Grimm wolf stared down at the girl, and while it didn’t bare its fangs, the tip of its tail elevated slightly, indicating its uncertainty about the child. Perhaps it was trying to determine if she was a threat or a tasty midnight snack.
What must have confused the wolf most was the fleece Clara was holding—the same fleece she’d lain on by the hearth. It gave her all the more appearance of an offering come willingly from the Thurn sheep farm.
Marlène strained to breathe. She couldn’t stop thinking about two fortune-telling cards she’d drawn over and over for Clara: the Midnight Forest for a forbidden choice, and the Fanged Creature for an untimely death. Clara’s fate seemed to be playing out this very night.
No, it can’t. Not yet.
“Adiah.” Marlène spoke to the wolf, and it turned its great head. Marlène had never ascertained if the wolf knew the name she had given her. Wolves couldn’t be domesticated like dogs. The only thing Marlène could trust was how the Grimm wolf had always tolerated her presence. They were halves of a strange whole even she couldn’t comprehend fully after all these years. “Adiah, come to me.”
The wolf didn’t understand the command, but perhaps the primal gesture of Marlène’s open hand might stir some buried instinct to press forward.
It didn’t. The wolf looked away and fixed its large brown eyes on Clara again. Thankfully, the girl didn’t return the stare directly, but if she were to awaken, she most certainly would, and the wolf would attack.
Marlène made herself look small, bowed her head, stooped her posture, and tentatively advanced five steps, cringing as the snow crunched beneath her slippers. On her sixth step, a low growl reverberated from the Grimm wolf. Marlène halted.
She knew what she must do—slip into the skin of the wolf. Doing so should be safe now. No one had followed her. No one would try to kill the beast.
Still, she hesitated. Marlène had never determined how quickly her spirit could leave her body and take possession of the wolf. Until now, she’d never had reason to time it. Could she shift fast enough to protect Clara? Any sudden movement might provoke the wolf.
The Grimm wolf growled again, throwing the sound at Marlène, as if it could sense her intentions. It curled back its lips and bared its fangs at Clara.
