The Badlings

Chapter 26. Girls, Books, and Diamonds

To you the last page of a book heralds the end of the story. Not to the characters. The moment you're done reading it and slam it shut (or, preferably, gently close it), they gather to congratulate themselves on the job well done. "One less badling in the world," they cry, "one less badling!" They hope whoever reads the story next won't have to taste a badling's misfortune.

"But," you think, "Mad Tome is gone!"

This Mad Tome is gone, that's true. And yet, who knows how many more of them are out there, lurking in hidden places, waiting for you to find them? They might have varying appearances and different names, but rest assured their purpose is the same: to teach bad children who abandon books a lesson.

But back to the pond.

"Disgusted, are you? Scared? Did not expect me to look like this, did you?" wheezed Mary through her toothless mouth. "This is what will happen to you, badlings. One day you'll forget what you've been through and leave a book unread." Exhausted by her speech, she bent over, hacking and coughing.

The children watched her struggle for breath, too petrified to move.

At last she raised her head, no more than a skull wrapped in vellum. Her mouth opened and closed, producing no sound. Her eyes shone with jealousy and spite.

"What happened to you?" asked Bells.

"Don't provoke her," warned Rusty. "She'll be gone soon, like the rest of them."

Peacock covered his mouth. "This is sick, I'm going to be sick." The bike tumbled out of his hold.

"I could really use a doughnut right now," muttered Grand. "A fresh sugar-glazed doughnut and a long dreamless nap."

With an inhuman effort, Mary took a step. There was a snap like that of breaking twigs: the bones in her legs splintered. That didn't deter her. She took another step, and another, balancing on stumps, held together by will alone.

"Badlings!" she rasped. "How pleasant it is to see you in flesh and blood, when I'm no more than a bag of bones. This happened at your hands. You're responsible for my torment." Her eyes flashed. "You think you have escaped my fate? You're mistaken. Mad Tome will come for you, like it came for me. I did not wish it to end like this. I wished to live on, in books, forever. You have robbed me of immortality!" She curled her bony hand into a fist and shook it. "I curse you! I curse you to never—"

But her curse was cut short by a duck, that same insolent duck who pulled out Mad Tome and who always begged Grand for doughnuts. It waddled over to Mary and pecked her, which was enough to turn Mary to dust. Her skull caved in, her body collapsed, and she went up in a gritty cloud.

Startled, the duck took off.

"Whoa, man," said Rusty, "that was crazy. See? I told you she'd be gone."

"They're all gone," said Bells. "That's horrible. I didn't expect that to happen. I thought they'd go home, but they simply died. They all died!"

"Then we don't need to do anything about them," concluded Rusty. "Problem solved!"

Bells glared at him. "How can you be so insensitive? Maybe we shouldn't have destroyed Mad Tome, maybe we should've stayed."

"And be the puppets at the mercy of stories?" Peacock snorted. "No, thanks."

"Um, it wasn't us who destroyed it, though," ventured Grand. "It was the ducks. And we don't know if all the badlings died, some of them left. Maybe they're still alive."

There was a reflective pause.

Rusty scratched his head. "These ducks are weird, man. Why would they tear up a book? They're not dogs, they're ducks!" He looked at his friends, suddenly animated. "So get this. Grandma got me these nice sneakers for my birthday, right? Guess what. I forgot to put them away and the dogs ate them. Like, they chewed off the leather! All of it!" He grinned, waiting for a positive response, but the mood was too somber to dissolve.