A Month of Midnights

XI

“Prince Charming and Maleficent, interesting pair,” said Bluebeard. He stroked his peculiar facial hair with an acute look in his eyes. He had us seated in his extravagant dining hall. The table must’ve been twenty yards long with ornately carved chairs lining each side. The dining set was made of a beautiful crimson wood, but it looked oddly paired against the shiny, white walls of the room. The whole mansion was decorated in this sort of fashion. It was filled with glamorous things that looked awkwardly matched together. The decorator had clearly been trying to hard to make the house attractive.

Bluebeard had us all seated at the far end of the table with himself sitting in the kingly chair. Rudy sat across from me, and we were forced to communicate through only hidden glances. Bluebeard was relaxed in his velvet cushioned chair, his hands resting on his belly and a pleasant smile on his puffy lips. He had a jolly demeanor with his rosy cheeks and red nose. It was clear he had downed many spirited drinks in his life time and gone through his fair share of lively parties. The beard of his though, the one that gave him his name, was brighter than one could imagine. The hair was by no means a dull, powder blue. It was vibrant and electric. It grew from beneath his nose and crawled around the corners of his mouth, covering all of his chin, and cascading down past the collar of his shirt. His hair was salt and pepper and his eyebrows coal black. Everything about him seemed normal, and even affable, except his blue beard.

What was still alarming in the back of my mind was that neither Rudy or I had any idea of what Bluebeard’s Story was. Sure, the name was familiar, but Bluebeard’s Story was what Chorio citizens considered “back of the book.” Back of the book Stories like Bluebeard or Juniper Tree or Donkeyskin weren’t as popular and remembered by many people mainly for their disliked plots. Unfortunately, unless the Writer decided to not retell their Stories, people were still chosen to play their characters. Parents stopped bothering to tell their children these Stories, only bringing them up should their child be chosen. So naturally, Rudy and I had no real clue to Bluebeard’s past or future, but we couldn’t deny the gnawing inkling that it was not good.

“And how did you ever end up here at my neck of the woods?” Bluebeard asked. I made another hidden glance to Rudy. He would take this question.

“Well, these men who called themselves Madmags drove us into the river, and we washed up farther downstream. We saw your smoke and found our way here,” Rudy explained.

“Ah, the Madmags, always causing trouble. I’m sorry they’ve been such an inconvenience to you. Not much of a welcome party to Istoria.” We all laughed uncomfortably. It didn’t go unnoticed that Bluebeard didn’t address the smoke. “Well,” Bluebeard continued, “when I received my magic, my Storyteller instantly knew something was wrong. He was older and so was his magic, you see. He told me my beard would not be blue enough, and so he sent me to Istoria early to find the Writer. Is it safe to assume that, like me, you have been sent to have a glitch in your magic fixed?” Rudy and I nodded. Bluebeard pursed his lips and looked between us.

“Is something wrong?” I asked meekly.

“It’s just that I see nothing wrong with either of you. Why would you need the Writer?” Bluebeard asked. Though his tone was not intimidating, I felt as though I were under interrogation.

“Well, uh, I have both human and animal magic in me,” Rudy quickly jumped in, “and Blyss, well…”

“I don’t have a glitch. My Storyteller thinks there’s been a mishap with my role. There’s a possibility I’ve been given the wrong one,” I finished for Rudy. Bluebeard raised an eyebrow.

“Are you suggesting the Writer has made a mistake?” Bluebeard asked.

“Yes,” I answered bluntly. Rudy looked between me and Bluebeard anxiously. Did I say something wrong? Is he offended? I assumed Bluebeard would appreciate my honesty, but Rudy’s fearful eyes suddenly tore down any confidence I had left.

“Well, then” said Bluebeard with a twinkle in his eyes, “I shall be delighted to see what the Writer does.” Rudy sighed as I smiled in relief. Bluebeard laughed and clapped his hands twice. A thin, ghostly butler appeared promptly.

“Yes, sir?”

“Bring our guests some food and tell the maids to set out some warmer clothing for them. See how they shiver so!” Bluebeard ordered.

“But, sir, the maids are ready to-”

“Do as I say!” Bluebeard commanded. “You know the consequences.” The butler’s eyes bulged out of his skull. He nodded and walked away briskly. Bluebeard returned his attention to us with a cordial smile. “Now, tell me of your journeys. It gets so tiring here; your tales will keep me entertained.” Rudy gave me another look. Go along with it, talk his talk. It seemed if we kept Bluebeard pleased, we’d get food and clothing out of the deal. Perhaps the topic of the fire could be brought up this way. Since we had entered the mansion, we saw no evidence of a fireplace, yet I could still hear the crackling of flames somewhere deep in the house. Eager to know more, I did as Rudy had discreetly told me. I thought of Emalee Hillguard and her two-faced family and turned on my most charming smile.

“Bluebeard, you live in such a palace! Don’t tell me there is nothing to entertain you in this wonderland,” I said mocking the accent the Hillguards had in their conversations with members of the town council. Bluebeard was instantly drawn.

“Ah, my dear, these riches do get tiring. People like you never find their way here. You are such a breath of fresh air, a beautiful young thing like you.” Bluebeard patted his hand on my thigh. Rudy kicked me under the table. I spared a glance away from Bluebeard and reminded Rudy I was doing what he instructed me to.

“Bluebeard, surely you must have a wife, a companion, somebody to get you through the days,” I said smiling sweetly. Bluebeard sighed.

“Marriage has always been a complication for me,” he admitted.

“Whatever for?” Rudy piped in. “What woman wouldn’t want you?”

“Well, my beard isn’t so popular with the ladies but seducing them has never been a problem. I know how to throw a party,” he bragged.

“Tell me, Bluebeard. What troubles you with the ladies then? Perhaps I can help you,” I urged. In reality, this was the furthest thing from the truth. I already had enough trouble when I conversed with Rudy. There was no way I was equipped to give advice in the area of love.

“Women, they just don’t listen! Surely, you know what I mean,” Bluebeard said in address to Rudy. “This one must be a riot,” he guffawed. Rudy looked at me and laughed along.

“Quite a handful, indeed,” Rudy said. Now I was the one kicking him under the table.

“No, Rudy and I are not-” I began to say when Bluebeard interrupted me.

“Oh, hush, darling, why else would a villain and a prince team up unless there was some sort of scandalous romance between them?” Bluebeard chuckled.

Oh, no, he did not just say that. Do something, Rudy!

“Yeah, I guess I liked her so much, I kept her!” Rudy agreed. Bluebeard doubled over in laughter at the face I must’ve made. Using my fresh, burning anger, I let magic shoot from my fingertips underneath the table, and I zapped Rudy’s knee. He flinched, and, in response, he crushed my foot.

“I knew I wouldn’t regret welcoming you two in,” Bluebeard said wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. “Doomed romances were always my favorite. Tell me, what will you do when your Stories begin?”

Not letting Rudy open his big mouth one more time, I answered, “Oh, I suppose we’ll have to part. Maybe throw in an occasional moonlight tryst until I’m slaughtered like all the other villains.” Despite my bitter sarcasm, Bluebeard still laughed.

“You picked a good one, Rudy! And don’t worry, Blyss, I’m a villain too. Perhaps that’s why I have so much trouble with the ladies!” Bluebeard cackled loudly at this, and I took the opportunity to shoot Rudy the nastiest look I could conjure. As Bluebeard finished his laughter, a light clicked on inside my memory. Villain, lady troubles, parties…

The themes Bluebeard kept dropping sounded so familiar. It just didn’t make sense how such a mild mannered person like him could be a villain. Sure, he made digs and subtle insults, but who hasn’t done that? What set him apart? What made him different? My father had told me a few “back of the book” Stories years ago, and I’m sure Bluebeard’s was included. Oh, if I could just remember! I yearned silently.

The butler soon brought in heaping plates of food for all three of us. The plates trembled from the butler’s quivering hands as he set them down in front of us. The roasted chicken, the buttered potatoes, the steaming vegetables, all of it made my mouth water. I gobbled it down in minutes. Rudy ate just as fast as me, but Bluebeard was slower. He watched us with great amusement as we shed all the bravado from before to please our hunger. Towards the end of our meal, the meager butler returned.

“The clothing has been prepared. If your guests wish bathe themselves, the maids can prepare hot baths.” Bluebeard nodded.

“Have the maids do that. When they’re finished, send word immediately. I want my guests to have the best treatment!” The butler left, and we finished our meals.

Pushing away his empty plate, Rudy asked, “So, Bluebeard, is your Story finished yet? Is this why you find yourself alone in the mansion?”

“Well, I wouldn’t call myself alone. My Story’s one of the longer ones, but it’ll be done today!” he said cheerfully. Just as I finished licking my fingers, two maids appeared. A simple nod from Bluebeard, and Rudy and I were escorted to separate parts of the mansion. I knew he wanted to get my attention before we separated, but I ignored him and followed my maid. I was given a warm bath with bubbles and rich scents. My hair was washed, leaving the black and red color in my hair glossy and bouncy. The experience was far superior to the river bath I had given myself only this morning. Wrapped in a long, fuzzy towel, the maid brought me an extravagant baby blue dress with many layers of ruffles and lace. I couldn’t prevent a reluctant grimace from appearing on my face.

“Do you have anything more appropriate for travel?” I asked hopefully. The maid looked at the dress and frowned.

“This dress is the latest in women’s travel wear,” said the maid, not understanding what I truly wanted.

“What about in men’s?” I asked. The maid was taken aback.

“You mean, like pants? And a shirt?” I nodded eagerly.

“That would be perfect.” The maid left the room in absolute bewilderment of my request. It seemed the women she had served in the past had far more expensive, fashionable tastes. I stood there awkwardly for several minutes, trapped in the bathing room, wrapped only in a towel. The water on my body began to turn cold, and soon I was shivering. There hadn’t been a sign of any fireplace as we left the dining room, but I could see in the windows I passed that ash was still falling from the chimney. The mansion was so heavily scented with polish and perfume that the smoke’s stench was overpowered. The farther away we weaved from the center of the house though, the more the odor returned.

The maid soon returned with another set of clothing. She didn’t bring back pants as I had hoped, but the dress she held was far more reasonable. The maid assisted me as I put it on and led me to a floor length mirror in the bedroom next door. The dress was an Istorian forest green, and its skirt ended just above my ankles, giving me room to walk without the fabric brushing against mud or getting snagged on thorns when I walked outside. The upper part of the dress laced up in the front, laying on top of a long sleeved blouse. The maid looped a leather belt around my waist, and sturdy boots were slipped onto my feet that ended just below my knees. The maid brushed my hair, cleaned my fingernails, and even applied light makeup. She explained that visual beauty was very pleasing to Bluebeard to make up for the lack of his own. I reminded myself through the whole process that Bluebeard was helping us, and if we were lucky enough, we could see the fire.

I made small talk as the maid finished applying blush to my cheeks. “You must do this for all the women who come here,” I said.

“Oh, yes, he’s entertained many and thrown a great deal of parties, but not as much as his wife has,” she said simply.

“So he does have a wife,” I said wondering now where she could be.

“Yes,” said the maid tiredly, “he’s had many before. It’s too bad though. None of them were horrible people.” Yes, that’s right, Bluebeard’s been married before! Finally, I could fit the first few pieces in my puzzle.

“What happened to his first wives?” I asked nonchalantly. The maid hesitated.

“They departed,” she quickly answered. She was a terrible liar.

“Why would someone want to leave a place like this?” I asked.

“I can think of many reasons,” the maid mumbled.

“Well, I must meet his current wife to thank her for this dress. Where can I find her?” I pressed.

“You can’t,” the maid said angrily, “so don’t even bother.” Alright, new tactic, I told myself.

“It’s quite chilly in here, no?” I asked rubbing my arms. “Is there a fireplace somewhere I could curl up next to after this?”

“No,” the maid said. “The master likes it cold.”

“But the smoke from your chimney-”

“Is from the kitchen.” I knew this couldn’t be true. What kitchen fireplace would make such a big plume of smoke? The maid was right though; it seemed Bluebeard did like it cold. But why?

“Do you think you could bring me a blanket at least?” I asked. The maid nodded and walked to the doorway.

“There are cloaks in the closet you can put on as well. I’ll be back with one of the master’s finest fur blankets. Then you’ll have no need for a fire,” the maid said bitterly . She slammed the door harshly, and I listened to her footsteps fade away from the door. Just as she had said, I found several cloaks, mantles, and capes hanging in the closet. There were some red enough to be suitable for Little Red Riding Hood and others white and lined in fur that would be perfect for someone like the Snow Queen. I found a plain black one my size with brown fur sewn along the edges and around the hood. It even had a pocket in the same place as my old one, a perfect size for Minnie. If we ever found the others again, I’m sure Minnie would be grateful. Throwing the cloak on, I quickly fled the room before the maid could return. I found my way back to the heart of the house. To my right was the way back to the front door. To my left I heard talking and laughter. I crept through the corridors to the left until I came to a large glass door that led to the open back patio that faced the Forest of Temptations. Sitting on two of the patio chairs were Rudy and Bluebeard. Rudy was wearing new boots, brown pants, a cream colored shirt with billowy sleeves, and a brown cloak of his own. If I wasn’t still bitter about what happened over our meal, I might’ve cared about how nice he looked.

Out of the corner of his eye, Rudy noticed me by the door. He quickly looked back at Bluebeard, but it was enough to tell me to go find the fire. It may have been the only chance for one of us to do so. As Rudy continued to preoccupy Bluebeard, I wandered throughout the house in search for the fireplace. My eyes scanned the walls and found a portrait of Bluebeard. Looking at the peculiar beard in the painting, I tried to recollect memories from when my father had told me his Story.

There had been reports of a wolf pack heading towards our village at the time. Wolf bites usually led to infection and fever. I was terribly frightened of being attacked and refused to sleep alone. Father scooped me up in his arms and tucked me in that night. He sang me a lullaby, but I begged for one of his lessons. Father’s face was pained. He knew if he opened his mouth, he could not prohibit his own opinions. Mother had already lectured him several times after the night he told me everything flawed in Rapunzel. Still, I had insisted on a lesson. I thought his retellings were magical, and I loved how real he made them become. Of course, my father wanted to find a Story whose lesson could calm my fear of the wolves. It was Bluebeard’s tale he chose. What was the lesson? If I knew the lesson, maybe I could remember more of the Story. It was this I kept thinking of as I continued on past the portrait.

I found a staircase and followed it up to the upper level of the house. It looked the same as below: hallways and rooms, velvet carpets and decaled walls. I was approaching the end of one of the hallways when I heard faint sniffling. I stood frozen to confirm what I heard. The sniffling continued, and I began to hug the wall, listening for which room it was coming from. I found the right door and opened it, but I saw only a narrow, metal staircase winding up into one of the little towers situated on the roof. I went up each step carefully for every sound I made echoed in the stone walls around me. As I climbed higher and higher, the crying became more distinct. The staircase abruptly stopped in front of nothing. I looked above me and saw a trap door built into the tower. I pushed open the door and pulled myself up into a small, circular room. A plush bed was squeezed tightly against one wall, not leaving room for much more than a nightstand, a washbowl, and a pitcher of water. A dainty young woman was kneeling in front of the bed, her chest heaving as she sobbed. Her head was bowed, and her hands were folded in reverent prayer. I noticed a dark stain on the carpet in front of her and realized it was from her tears. I never believed someone could cry so much until I found the woman in the tower.

“Alas!” said the poor trembling creature, “if I must die, give me, as least, a little time to say my prayers.” My father’s narrative came back to me. He had mentioned a woman praying.

This was part of the Story.

That’s right! She’s praying! But why? Why is she here? I thought, desperately trying to remember. Despite my desire to stay and ask the lady questions, I knew if I interfered with the Story, I might throw it off entirely. I reached for the trapdoor when the crying woman unfortunately noticed my presence.

“You’re not Anne,” she accused.

“No, I’m sorry,” I said sheepishly, “I didn’t mean to-well, I just, I’ll go now.”

“Wait!” the woman cried. “Look out the window. Can you see anybody coming down the dirt road?” I looked out the window at the path that had led Rudy and me to the front of the house. It was completely barren.

“No, there’s no one,” I answered. The woman bawled even louder.

“He’s going to kill me!” she weeped.

“Who?”

“That wretched Bluebeard!” I looked at her confusedly.

“He’s talking with my friend,” I insisted. She pointed to a small clock on her nightstand.

“He’s going to kill me soon! My time is almost up!” she cried. “Oh, if it wasn’t for that blasted key!”

“As she found that the key of the closet had got stained with blood in falling on the floor, she wiped it two or three times over to clean it; yet still the blood kept on it the same as before.” Again, I could remember more of my father’s words. A cursed key.

Before I could ask further, another head appeared from the trapdoor. It was another woman who looked much like an older version of the weeping woman.

“Anne, my dear sister!” shrieked the teary-eyed one. “Tell me, do you see them on the road yet?” Anne looked out the same window I did.

“No, they are not yet here. Who is this?” Anne asked looking at me with great disgust.

“Nobody important!” I said as I began maneuvering back down into the staircase at the speed of light. More of the Story was coming back to me.

“Open, or to do what you like with all the rest of the rooms except this closet. This, my dear, you must not enter, nor even put the key into the lock, for all the world.” The wife had been given a set a keys with freedom to open any room but one. Oh, but where was the room? I flew down the next flight of stairs that took me to the main level where I almost toppled onto Rudy.

“Blyss, did you find anything? Why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?” Rudy asked.

“Where’s Bluebeard?” I asked frantically.

“He said he had to go do something, but he’s coming back,” Rudy answered. “Why? What’s wrong?”

“I think remember the Story, Rudy!”

“You think?” This made me hesitate. There was only way to be sure I was right.

“The basement...” I grabbed his hand and jerked him into one of the hallways. As I had hoped, we soon found one of the maids carrying a few pieces of luggage. She had a warm coat and scarf over her uniform.

“Excuse me, miss, how do we get to the basement?” I asked quickly. The maid paled.

“You don’t want to go down there, miss,” she warned.

“Tell us, please!” I begged. The maid bit her lip.

“Fifth door on the left,” she whispered. Rudy and I raced to the door and swung it open. It revealed wide stone steps that descended down into the underbelly of the house. Only torches lit the way. It looked like it belonged in Maleficent’s castle.

“She slipped away down a private staircase that led to this forbidden closet, and in such a hurry, that she was two or three times in danger of falling down stairs and breaking her neck.” Rudy and I leaped over the steps in a rush to get to the bottom.

“Where are we going, Blyss?” Rudy asked.

“Daddy, why would you tell me such an awful story?” young Blyss had asked.

“My dear Blyss, it is because the scariest wolves aren’t ones that come from a forest. They’re often beside you all along. The animals will not harm you, my child. Mankind will.”

I had to see if I was right. I had to see if they were there. I reached the bottom of the stairs first, but Rudy pulled me back before I could go further. “Slow down, I can barely…” Rudy’s voice trailed off when he noticed what I was looking at. It was at the end of the basement corridor that our eyes were fixed. It was a small wooden door, slightly ajar. No light came from it, but a new odor, different from the burning one, wafted like poisonous clouds from it. On the cold stone floor were long streaks of crimson red. I could tell they were fresh.

“Grab a torch,” I ordered quietly. Rudy took one mounted on the wall and held it out to cast shadows on the bright red stains.

“What’s Bluebeard’s Story?” Rudy asked quietly. We slowly made our way to the door.

“He was rumored to have many wives,” I spoke, “but they all disappeared without a trace. One day, Bluebeard told a rich lady who lived nearby that he was interested in marrying one of her two daughters. The lady was keen on the idea of giving one of her daughters to such a wealthy man, but his blue beard repulsed them all.” I felt I was speaking my father’s own words. “He threw parties for the two daughters, showing off all his riches and property. The youngest daughter began to realize that she did not mind his hideous beard, and so they were married. After a month of marriage, Bluebeard told his wife he had been called away on business. He gave her keys to the whole house, including the key to a little closet in the basement. Only, he warned her not to enter this room, or she’d be dreadfully punished. While throwing a party with all her best friends, including her sister Anne, the wife couldn’t resist the temptation, and she rushed down the stairs to open the closet.” We reached the door. The smell was fetid.

“And in the closet,” I said pushing the door open wider so that the light from Rudy’s torch could better illuminate the room, “she found the bodies of all his wives. Bloody and mangled.” Inside the closet, as the Story went, the torchlight revealed several corpses heaped on one another. There were a few even hanging from nooses on the walls. Their skins were blue and purple, pieces of it already rotted away. Those whose eyes were still in their sockets had glossy, vacant stares. The wives dangling from the ceiling had heads that drooped down to far for a normal human neck, and their stringy hair covered their haggard appearances. Pools of blood surrounded the bodies, and clumps of mold had already grown and thrived on it in several places. Rudy had to look away, but I couldn’t tear my eyes from it. I was frozen in absolute horror. I had known what was coming, and yet I was still overwhelmed by how much death inhabited one room. The man who had fed us, let us bathe, and who gave us new clothes, he was a cold-blooded murderer. This is what true evil looked like. It wasn’t magic that made Bluebead murder all these women. No, the magic only granted him access to survive in Istoria. It was he who had killed all these girls.

“The wife accidentally dropped the key in the pool of blood, and when she tried to clean it off later, the stain could not be removed, for the key was enchanted. Bluebeard came home early from his trip and discovered what his wife had done. He swore to kill her just like the others, but she convinced him to let her say her prayers first. Together with her sister Anne, they waited for their two brothers to come for they had sent word they were visiting that day. The wife stalled long enough that just as Bluebeard was about to kill her, the brothers came in and saved the day.”

All Rudy could manage to say was, “What a gruesome tale. No wonder it’s back of the book.” He already looked sickly green and couldn’t bare another look at the bodies. I did not think him less manly for reacting so. On the contrary, I was jealous I couldn’t manage to have a normal reaction like him. I wish I could just pull myself away and stop staring. It seemed disrespectful to the dead if I didn’t.

“The smoke,” I muttered. The foul smell, the flakes of ash, the blood on the basement floor of the bodies being dragged away. It all made sense. This was the end of the Story. They were already preparing for the next retelling.

They were burning the bodies.

“What about the smoke?” Rudy asked. I turned to him absolutely mortified.

“They’re burning the bodies, Rudy. They’re...they’re getting ready for the retelling...so the new Bluebeard can murder a whole new set of wives.” Tears brimmed at my eyes. We were in the house of a murderer who was burning his dead victims. He didn’t bother giving them a proper burial. And to think! These girls were so excited to get a place in Istoria until they found out they were just another body in a room full of death. If we did find the Writer, I swore to myself then and there I would stop him from continuing this Story. A poor life in Chorio is far better than a forgotten and brutal death.

“Blyss, listen to me, we need to get out of here, okay? No, don’t cry. We’re just going to slip out the door and bolt for the forest. Bluebeard will be killed by the brothers soon anyways.” Rudy tried to get me to move, but I was so terrified Bluebeard might jump out at any corner, knowing that we found his room. Using his free hand, Rudy pulled me into a soft embrace. It was him simple act of kindness that restored my last bit of hope and humanity.

“We’ll be alright,” he promised, “but we have to move.” And this time I did. We flew back up the staircase and barged through the door when we ran straight into Bluebeard’s bloated belly.

“I don’t appreciate you sneaking around after I welcomed you in,” Bluebeard spoke darkly. His eyes were fixed sharply on Rudy. “I expected more of you. I saw such great potential in you.” To be what? A sexist slimeball? I thought bitterly.

“Aren’t you supposed to die soon?” Rudy retorted.

“So you finally remembered, huh? Surprised it took you this long,” Bluebeard said crossing his arms.

“How could you?” I snapped. “How could you kill all of them and not even care?”

“It doesn’t matter if I care. I have to follow the script just like everyone else. If you don’t like it, go to the Writer,” Bluebeard argued.

“Oh, we will,” I assured him angrily. Bluebeard cackled at this.

“No, you won’t. After the trouble you’ve caused me, running around my house like scared little mice and almost tampering with the Story, you’re gonna have to pay your dues,” he said pushing Rudy and me back into the stairwell. We shuffled back down to the basement and returned to the entrance of the room.

“Get in,” Bluebeard whispered huskily. He pushed the door open wider, and Rudy and I were shoved into the room. I almost tripped over one of the bodies. “Don’t worry,” said Bluebeard, “I’m sure my servants will release you after I’m gone. If they remember. Consider this a precaution to make sure you don’t screw anything else up.” With that, he slammed the door shut, and Rudy and I were left in putrid darkness.

“Please tell me he’s gonna die soon,” Rudy begged.

“He will. But I doubt his servants will come right away. They’ll return when they’re ready to burn the next body,” I answered sadly. Rudy sighed.

“There’s a wall over here. As far as I can tell, it’s relatively clean.”

“Where?” I asked fumbling through the darkness. I felt something splash against my boot. Probably blood. Rudy held out his hand and guided me to where he stood. Slowly, I felt my way down to the floor and tucked my knees to my chest in fear my legs might bump up against something unpleasant. Out of boredom, I began counting the seconds that added up into minutes. By minute five, I was already restless.

“Rudy,” I asked looking somewhere to my right. I was pretty sure that’s where he was sitting. “Why’d you let Bluebeard humiliate me at the table?” I wasn’t as furious as before. I just wanted an answer now.

“I was just doing what you were doing. I was pretending,” he answered plainly.

“But you let him walk all over me. You let him call me a villain,” I reminded him.

“And what about you?” Rudy suddenly fired back. “I saw him grab your thigh.You let him touch you like some piece of meat!”

“I was just trying to get on his good side.” Truth be told, I would never let that happen again. As long as I lived, I’d never let someone touch me or treat me like that. My father taught me to value myself much more than that.

“Well, I was too!” he retorted.

“By letting him insult me?”

“Oh, come on, you think I actually believe that stuff? I just went along because you were!”

“I only went along because you told me too!”

“I didn’t tell you anything!”

“Well, what about that weird eye thing you did?”

“What are you talking about?” Before opening my mouth again, I stopped and processed.

“So all this time, you weren’t giving me signals or anything?”

“No, not at all,” said Rudy. “You’re making up things, Blyss.” I’m sure his face was probably stunned at my stupidity.

“I’m such an i***t,” I muttered to myself. I let Bluebeard devalue me in such a humiliating way by following an order that was never even given.

“No, you’re not an i***t,” Rudy said softer. “But how could you forget everything I said this morning? There is no way you’re evil, there’s no way you can be someone like Bluebeard. It doesn’t matter what Bluebeard thinks of you. It doesn’t even matter what I think of you.” I buried my head in my knees. “If it’s any consolation,” Rudy murmured, “when he called you a ‘riot,’ it took everything inside me not to pound the living daylights out of him.”

“Thanks, Rudy,” I whispered. “Sometimes I wonder how you’re still my friend.” Rudy laughed through his nose.

“Don’t kid yourself. I’m not your friend.”

“Oh? What are you then?”

“From the looks of it, I’d say I’m your best friend.” Even in the dark, I still tried to hide my smile. The more I thought about it, the more I realized the truth to it. I’d only known him less than a month, and he’d only been a human for two days, but that was more than enough time. I’d confided in him, and I trusted him completely, well, except when it came to eye signals. Something reassuring inside of me told that Rudy trusted me as well. At this point in our journey, trust was about all we had left.

Based off my poor counting, I figured we were up to two hours in the room. We had to wait for the two brothers to come and kill Bluebeard so the wife could escape and live happily ever after. Then a messenger would have to be sent to the nearest village to declare the end of the Story. After Bluebeard’s body was either buried or burned, perhaps then a servant would come down and free us.

“Blyss,” Rudy pondered, “do you think the dead wives can hear us?” I looked to where he sat.

“That’s the stupidest question I’ve ever heard,” I said bluntly.

“Sshhh,” Rudy whispered, “they might hear us.” He giggled quietly, but he sounded dazed and drunken.

“Rudy, what’s wrong with you?” I asked scooting closer. He giggled idiotically again.

“Wrong with me? What’s wrong with you?” he challenged though his voice sounded brainless. Finally, I felt my shoulder press against his. Though he was only a foot away from where I originally sat, there was a new and distinct smell that wasn’t present where I used to be. It smelled sickly sweet, even worse than the first time I breathed Istorian air into my lungs. It made my head dizzy, but it also made me want to burst out into laughter. Before the last common sense in my brain was veiled in toxic fumes, I recalled learning something about this kind of occurrence back when I was in school with Ms. Tennison. Because of the considerable percent of magic in Istorian air, bizzare plants species were created, and “Barfly Fungi” was one of them. Ms. Tennison, our thin and lifeless teacher, always had trouble teaching us about this plant without getting a few naughty giggles from the back row. Barfly Fungi, as the name suggests, releases chemicals into the air with ethanol molecules, the same thing found in alcoholic drinks. Those exposed to this for long periods of time begin to exhibit symptoms that a barfly or drunkard would. I was sure there were Barfly Fungi growing all over the bodies, but in the dark it was impossible to tell.

“Rudy,” I said trying to remain coherent, “a servant will be coming soon. Don’t…” From then on, only absurdity ensued.

“Did I ever tell you the time when I was a horse, and I had pee really bad, but everyone was on my back? Oh, it was the worst feeling ever!” Rudy exclaimed. I laughed loudly.

“I had to pee once!” I agreed stupidly. “But Upright was right there, and he didn’t understand. I just stood there, waiting for him to leave!” Rudy chortled and hit my arm repeatedly.

“No, no, I can top that! This morning, when I pushed you off of me, it wasn’t because I couldn’t breathe. It was cause I had to pee!” Rudy and I howled at this.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” I asked with a dumb smile.

“I didn’t want to weird you out! I mean, peeing is weird!”

“You know what, it is!” Again, more guffawing like lunatics.

“Peeing as horse, though, that’s the worst. You just kinda...go!”

“Yeah, Rudy, I gotta be honest. Imagining you back as horse is so much weirder now,” I snickered.

“Hard for you to imagine? Try being me! I never wanna go back,” Rudy said with disgust.

“Wait, wait, flaw!” I screeched. Rudy laughed again. “Didn’t you say you wished you could transform back and forth like a, um, like a super horse..human...thing?”

“Well, yeah, that’d be cool and stuff-”

“Buuuuuutttt?” I jabbed my pointer finger into his jaw.

“If I’m a horse, I can’t keep Dane away.”

“Dane...rain...shmane.” My thought processing levels were that of a two year old.

“I just wanna..” Rudy struggled to contain his fury.

“Pee on him?” I giggled impishly.

“Yeah, that would teach him a lesson!” Rudy declared. Memories of Rudy by the fire expressing his hatred for Dane suddenly fought their way to the front of my mind.

“Wait, wha, why are you actually angry at Dane though? What’s the real reason?” I stammered. I was trying to be serious but with not much luck.

“I’m angry cause I’m jealous,” Rudy grumbled after a moment’s silence.

What Ms. Tennison never taught us is that no matter what you inhale, no matter what you drink, all your idiotic, uncontrollable behavior can melt away with something forceful enough to penetrate. Just a simple sentence was powerful enough to part the mist in my thoughts so that reason and sense were within my grasp again. Of course, I had to fight to keep it that way the longer we were imprisoned in the room.

“Jealous because he got the princely ending you wanted?” If I was honest with myself, I knew the real reason. However, this might be the only chance I’d get to hear his truthful opinion. I was not going to let the opportunity pass me by.

“That,” Rudy sighed, “And he got you for eighteen years.” Of course, I was expecting this, but I couldn’t help but still feel overwhelmed.

I said carefully, “Dane and I were never-”

“I know, I know. In my village though, if someone like you had been around, I just know I would’ve seen the world differently, and I’d be different too. I just met you too late. And Dane, he could’ve had that. You were right there, but he didn’t even see. He was lucky enough to grow up with you, but he was too dumb to.... It’s just unfair.”

Could it be, after all this time, all this wondering what Rudy was thinking, he was actually thinking what I was? I’d already decided how much I wished I had him growing up, someone I could express my true thoughts to and not be ridiculed for it. And now, was Rudy telling me he wished he had me too? Don’t be a fool, Blyss. It’s just the fungi making him say delirious things, I reminded myself. Some things are just too perfect to be real.

Rudy fumbled for my hand. “And after eighteen years, he doesn’t even love you like I do,” he said before passing out onto my lap.

Now that wasn’t something I was expecting.