Page 49 of Bluebeard’s Key

CHAPTER 34

Damn this key. Tom cut his finger when he unlocked the door, but when he looked at it, it looked like a normal key. Pure gold, with a carved image of a rose. There were a few stylized thorns sculpted along the edge of the handle, but they didn’t look sharp enough to puncture his skin. It was so peculiar, but then again, everything was off about this day. But forget that. Zayan needed his help. He’d fallen to the floor, tied to a chair and gagged, surrounded by broken glass. His eyes were wide with fear.

He rushed to his lover’s side and untied him, slipping off the gag.

“What have you done?” Zayan exclaimed, then, “What has he done?”

Zayan jumped up and grabbed his hand, examining his finger. There was a tiny puncture, barely noticeable, with a small bead of blood. Nothing major, but Zayan was terrified.

“No, no, no, no, no,” Zayan keened, eyes scanning the room. Zayan grabbed a rag off the table, ripping off a thin strip and binding his finger.

“It’s just a scratch,” he said. “What about you? Are you okay? What did he do to you?”

“You don’t understand,” Zayan babbled, eyes wild, scanning the room. “The Key, it can’t be stopped. How are we going to stop it? He said there was no…”

He followed Zayan’s eyes and took in the room…and understood his fear. There was a dead woman on a slab at the back, and it looked like she’d been dead for a long time. And there, in an open coffin, surrounded by desiccated herbs, was that Beatrice?

The more he looked, the less he believed it was true. Dozens of dead women, maybe more, lying in a shadowy crypt. It couldn’t be real. He didn’t know what to say first. He stammered out, “What’s going on in here? Who are all these women?”

But Zayan was lost in his own manic fear, about what he didn’t know. Zayan didn’t answer the question, but said, “We need to get out of here and find help before it’s too late. Maybe there’s a magician in Riverford who can stop the bleeding, or a doctor.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The Key is magic. Bluebeard uses it to kill his wives, and now he wants to do the same with you.”

Everything clicked into place, and he knew everything Zayan said was true. This sounded so much like something Bluebeard would do. He put himself entirely into his lover’s hands and asked, “What do we do?”

Zayan was frantic, far more than was called for. Between the two of them, surely they could best Bluebeard, but Zayan didn’t mention Bluebeard at all. Instead, he demanded, “We ride to Riverford and find help. There must be somebody there who can help. Come on.”

When they opened the door, Bluebeard was nowhere in sight, and the door to the stairwell stood open. They stole up the steps, listening carefully for any hint of where he’d gone.

When they emerged into sunlight, Zayan walked quickly to Thierry’s door and pounded.

“Thierry! We need a doctor!” But they heard nothing but silence, and the door remained resolutely locked. No help there, not that it was a surprise. Thierry’s actions always shadowed Bluebeard’s, and he was probably part of the entire affair.

Zayan grabbed Tom’s hand, the one without the wounded finger, and pulled him forward. As they ran, he saw that the makeshift bandage had a substantial spot of blood now, and the small puncture was starting to prickle.

They fled through the courtyard and out the postern, making a beeline for the stables, but found the building deserted, both of people and of horses. No horses, so Riverford wasn’t an option. What about Hoyle or Charlie?

They ran around the castle to the greenhouse, and it too was empty, locked tight. They were on their own, so they’d have to go on foot. Miles on foot, but if Zayan thought it necessary, he would follow. Back in the castle, Zayan packed a hasty bag with a few apples and rushed them out the front gate. There on the road, Bluebeard sat on his horse, blocking the forest trail.

Bluebeard said, amusement in every word, “Zayan, have you gotten this dramatic nonsense out of your system? Are you ready to do your duty?”

“Never,” Zayan said and turned onto the promontory path.

As Zayan dragged him along, Tom asked, “Where are we going?”

“I don’t know, but I need a moment to think.”

They scrambled up the rocky trail in silence, and he was left to wonder. His finger ached, and the spot of blood had spread to cover most of the hasty bandage. He was getting scared, truly scared, and Zayan was frantic. At the top, the ocean view spread before them, and Zayan guided him to an outcropping of granite. And good thing—his legs were betraying him after the hike, and a strange lethargy clouded his mind.

Zayan unwrapped the bandage, saying, “Stay with me, love. I’ll figure something out.”

With these words, Zayan seemed to be trying to convince himself. He tied the bandage tighter, covering his own hands with blood as he formed the sturdy knot.

“Why is there so much blood?” Tom asked, not understanding. He was having trouble concentrating on anything.

Bluebeard strode up the trail, putting his hands on his hips and saying, “Enough of this foolishness. It’s time for you to grow up and assume the mantle of an alchemist.”