The Badlings

Chapter 9. Bluebeard's Revenge

There must be an ancient hostility between a book and its characters for them to turn against it. It rarely happens to good books, but it's what happened to Mad Tome, the bad book that didn't care for its inhabitants. Not one bit. Yawning, it sensed unrest on one of its pages but didn't bother investigating, too lazy to rouse from a nap.

The unrest quickly escalated to a deadly chase. Six women hunted for three badlings through the halls of Bluebeard's chateau.

Bells rounded a turn and bumped into a winding staircase.

"Where are you going?" called Peacock.

"Up," she answered, leaping two steps at a time.

"You don't even know where it leads!"

"Who cares? It goes up, and that's good enough for me. Are you guys coming or what? Or would you rather be smothered by a bunch of crazy cadavers?" Her ponytail flipped and winked out of sight.

"I guess." Peacock reluctantly followed. "Grand?"

"Coming!" Grand reached the staircase last, huffing and sweating. His stomach grumbled, and he made himself think of doughnuts to move faster.

They reached the top, crashed through a door, and found themselves in a large hall bedecked with medieval décor: suits of armor, lances, shields, tall candelabra with hundreds of candles. The shifting light they cast on the walls made the shadows look alive and creepy.

Bells waited for Grand to labor out, slammed the door shut, and leaned on it. "I need to catch my breath. Help me hold it."

"Can't we lock it?" asked Peacock.

"I don't see a lock. Do you?"

He shook his head.

"Then quit whining and help!" She glared at him.

Peacock pushed at the door with both hands, but it was Grand's weight that saved them. He slumped into it, shuddering under sudden blows from the other side. Muffled screams trickled through. The door trembled but held. It was thick and heavy, made of solid oak, and after a few more tries to force it open the commotion behind it faded. The pounding stopped too, and they heard retreating steps.

"I'm sure this is not over yet," said Bells with conviction. "This place looks like a castle, and as far as I know, castles have lots of hidden passages. I bet they just decided to take another way. Let's get out of here before it's too late."

"I hate castles," moaned Peacock.

"Maybe there's some food here," blurted Grand. "Maybe we could go look—"

"Are you insane?" Peacock shook his head. "How can you talk about food when we just saw butchered bodies? How can you even...doesn't it make you queasy?"

Grand shrugged. "I have lunch with my mom all the time."

"Yeah, I've heard that before. I'll believe it when I see it."

"Guys?" said Bells with alarm.

High under the vaulted ceiling a harsh cry rebounded, followed by the sound of bare feet slapping on the stones. The wives gathered on the balcony overlooking the hall.

"There they are!" Boulotte pointed down. "Get them!"

The children dashed across the room to a pair of doors so big, a giant could pass through them.

Bells struck them with wide-apart palms and pushed. The doors slowly swung out. Moist air washed over her face. It was dark, and it was raining. A horse whinnied, and moments later a carriage manned by a humpbacked driver sped into the court. It stopped abruptly by the porch. The door flipped open, and, just their luck, out stepped Bluebeard.