The Badlings

Chapter 19. The Inside-Out Rescue

What reader wouldn't enjoy a book about valiant knights rescuing wretched maidens from formidable castles? Even badlings read books like that. Not this book, though, or rather, not this page. On this page, irritated at not being saved fast enough, the maiden scolds the tardy knights and brings them back on task.

The boys watched Dracula shrink to a dot.

"He left!" exclaimed Rusty. "We can get Bells now!"

Peacock paled. "Did you see the size of those wings?"

"I think he went on a hunt," said Grand gloomily. "It's what he does every night. He hunts innocent people, catches them unawares, drinks their blood, and returns in the morning to sleep in his casket in the dungeon, in the dark and the mold and the death around him."

Peacock's jaw dropped. "You read Dracula?"

Grand reddened. "Um...I watched the movie."

"And you didn't get scared?"

"Well, maybe a little," confessed Grand. "There's nothing to be scared about, though. Dracula is very lonely because nobody wants to be friends with him. They all think he's scary and dead. And he's just sad and thirsty and wants company, so he goes out there to make friends the only way he knows how."

When Peacock didn't respond to this, Grand added, "My mom says living people are scarier than dead ones. She works with dead people every day, she must know. She says when she touches the face of a dead—"

"Guys, come on!" cried Rusty anxiously. "We need to get Bells! What if he bit her? What if we're too late? If we are, it's your fault." He glared at Peacock.

Peacock lifted his arms—either to protect himself from a beating or to start a beating, he wasn't sure himself—when a strangled gasp made him spin around.

Don Quixote did something bizarre. He took off his helmet and bent to the knee, one hand on his heart, another outstretched to three figures that stepped out of the gloom.

Peacock quailed. "The vampire sisters."

The sisters hissed, advancing. Their eyes gleamed, and their lips peeled back, showing long sharp incisors.

"Oh, beautiful maidens!" intoned Don Quixote. "How fair is your skin! How precious your faces! Your lips are rubies that put sunsets to shame! Oh, let me feast on your beauty with my ancient eyes. I'm your humble servant, the revered knight Don Quixote of La Mancha."

"Whoa. They're pretty," said Rusty, spellbound.

"Um. I don't think he's a badling," said Grand, nodding at the knight. "I think he's a real character, and I think he thinks they're real too." His comment went unheard.

Peacock and Rusty had fallen victim to the vampire sisters' charm. They stared at them, awaiting instructions. The sisters—one blond, the other two dark-haired—consulted in sibilant whispers.

"Take that one," said the blonde to the taller of the two, pointing a finger at Grand. "Look how plump and juicy he is, just the way you like them."

Every little hair on Grand's neck stood up. He wanted to run but couldn't move a muscle.

"I shall," agreed the tall one with a sneer. "Come, badling." She beckoned to Grand. His legs unlocked, and he obediently waddled up.

"I'll take the little one. He seems so full of life," said the short sister and gestured at Rusty.

He walked to her slowly, stumbling and swaying.

Peacock whimpered. The blonde regarded him hypnotically. He took a step, and another, and another, wanting nothing more but to come close.