THE BADLINGS ALSO BY KSENIA ANSKE Irkadura Rosehead Siren Suicides I Chose to Die My Sisters in Death The Afterlife Blue Sparrow 2: Tweets on Reading, Writing, and Other Creative Nonsense Blue Sparrow: Tweets on Reading, Writing, and Other Creative Nonsense THE BADLINGS KSENIA ANSKE Copyright © 2015 by Ksenia Anske http://www.kseniaanske.com/ All rights reserved. This work is made available under the terms of the Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 license, http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/3.0/. 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ISBN-13: 978-1514397510 ISBN-10: 151439751X To Peter for not being a badling (don’t you ever) CONTENTS The Duck Pond 1 The Talking Book 13 The Ice Woman 22 The Petulant Donkey 29 The Enormous Puppy 38 The Red Menace 45 The Creepy Masquerade 51 The Forbidden Dungeon 60 Bluebeard’s Revenge 67 The Missing Head 75 Giant Birds and Giant Diamonds 84 The Badlings in Wonderland 93 Down the Caterpillar Hole 104 The Underground Throne Room 114 The Hen Uncovers the Culprit 128 The Vampire Hospitality 143 The Healthy Boy Fight 157 The Lunatic Knight 164 The Inside-Out Rescue 176 The Sleigh Chase 187 The Wrong Council 195 One Monkey’s Mischief 206 The Queen’s Betrayal 216 The Unrivaled Curiosity of Ducks 225 On the Importance of Doughnuts 233 Girls, Books, and Diamonds 245 Chapter One The Duck Pond What if you found a book stuck in dirt? Would you take a peek inside, or would you chuck it at innocent ducks that happened to waddle nearby? Poor ducks. You wouldn’t hurt them, would you? Because who throws books instead of reading them? Meet Belladonna Monterey, or Bells, as she’d like you to call her—she has decided that Belladonna was too pompous a name for a scientist. See her dark flashing eyes? Her ponytail all askew? Don’t try talking to her, lest you want to be throttled. On this sunny September morning Bells was mad. Mad at her mother, the famous opera singer Catarina Monterey, for calling her a “poor scientist.” The argument started with Bells refusing to go to her Saturday choir practice and escalated further into a shouting match when Bells declared that under no circumstances would she ever become a singer. “So you want to be a poor scientist?” said Catarina, hands on her hips. It was her usual intimidating pose mimicked by Bells’ little sister Sofia from behind her mother’s back. “What does it matter if I’m poor?” asked Bells, stung to the core. Sofia stuck out her tongue. 1 The Duck Pond Bells ignored it, refusing to descend to the level of an eight-year-old. “Oh, it matters a great deal,” replied Catarina. “How do you propose to make a living? You have seven years left until you’re on your own, Belladonna, and every year is precious.” “I told you I don’t like that name. Call me Bells.” Her mother’s lips pressed together. “As I was saying, Belladonna , every year is precious. I’ve picked out an excellent stage name for you, and I expect you to thank me.” Her demeanor softened. “You are destined to become a star, with my talent running in your blood. If you stop practicing now, you might never develop your voice.” “I don’t want to develop a voice,” grumbled Bells. “You’re a girl !” cried Catarina. “What future do you think you have in science?” “Why does it matter that I’m a girl? I certainly have no inclination toward prancing around in some stupid medieval dresses and hollering my lungs out like you do.” As soon as she said it, she regretted it. Her mother looked hurt. “Is that what you think I do? Holler my lungs out?” “I hate dresses,” said Bells stubbornly. “I hate singing. I hate it that I’m a girl. I want to do science. Stop sticking your tongue out!” That last bit was directed toward Sofia. “Mom, Belladonna is being mean,” she whined. “Shut up,” said Bells. “You shut up.” “Don’t pester your sister,” snapped Catarina. “Look at her. She’s younger than you, but she has the presence of mind to follow my advice.” 2 Chapter One Sofia flashed a triumphant smile and twirled, showing off her gaudy pink dress, the type their mother liked to buy for both of them. Bells made a gagging noise. She hated pink or anything decidedly girly. She made sure to never wear dresses, and if she absolutely had to, she smeared them with mud so thoroughly, her mother would pronounce them ruined. “Well,” relented Catarina, “if being a scientist is what you want to do, that is your choice. Go ahead. But don’t come crawling back to me asking for money.” “Mom, I’m only eleven!” “At your age I was already working, modeling and making a considerable sum from every photo shoot.” “I don’t want my face plastered on a can of macaroni, thank you very much,” said Bells. “I want to be a model,” said Sofia. Bells made a strangling motion that sent Sofia behind her mother’s skirt. “What do you want, then?” asked Catarina. “All I see you do is run around with those abominable boys, doing who knows what and coming home as dirty as a dog.” Bells’ face flushed. “I’m not going to change just because you can’t stand dirty clothes.” “Then get out of here. Out of my house!” Catarina waved her hand, her eyes throwing daggers. “Go live with your father, and don’t you dare come back here unless you’re clean and you’ve changed your mind.” “Fine,” said Bells quietly. An iron determination rooted her to the spot. She flung her head high and professed in an injured tone, “I will make it on my own. You’ll see.” 3 The Duck Pond Catarina took a step forward. “Belladonna Monterey—” “I’m not Belladonna, I’m Bells.” “Your name is Belladonna.” “No, it’s not!” Bells shook so hard, her voice quavered. “I’m Bells, I’m Bells, I’m Bells! ” She turned on her heel and stormed to the garage. “Come back this instant!” Catarina shouted, but it was too late. What do you do when you’re mad? I’ll tell you what Bells did. She grabbed her bike and took off. “I will run away, that’s what I’ll do,” she said through clenched teeth. “I’ll find a way to make it. I don’t need her. That will teach her to call me a poor scientist.” She pedaled so fast her ponytail whipped in the wind and her eyes spilled over with tears. It took her no more than ten minutes to reach the duck pond where Peacock, Grand, and Rusty were already waiting. Without a glance at them, she dropped the bike and stomped to the stagnant water in search of something to hurl as far and as hard as possible. Her eyes fell on a dark corner sticking out of the mud. She kneeled, clasped it, and pulled. Out came a thick leather-bound tome. It was as large and as heavy as her choir teacher’s notebook. Without a second thought Bells chucked it right at the ducks, sending them flying with cries of displeasure. “There,” she said. “Now I feel better.” I imagine you want to know what happened next. Well, it was as expected. The book landed by the growth of sedge. With an ominous creak, it flung open and lay still, as if waiting to be examined. 4 Chapter One Bells frowned. “Did it just...open on its own?” She walked up to it and bent over. An otherwise ordinary book with ordinarily printed words, it was huge and thick and bloated, containing way too many pages for its binding, all of them yellowing and uneven, as if they were borrowed from various mismatched manuscripts. A page turned, and Bells thought she saw something move on top of the paper. It was the most peculiar sight. The pages held a miniature landscape. A frozen lake and a dark forest around it, covered with snow that sparkled in the light of a tiny sun. It hung in midair, so close, Bells was tempted to touch it. She blinked, and it was gone. All of it, the sun and the lake. An old tattered book, albeit enormous, lay sprawled at her feet. She felt her head. It was warm, the normal temperature. “That’s it. I’m seeing things,” she muttered. “Hey, Bells!” called Peacock. “Hey!” echoed Rusty. “Man, we were waiting for you for like an hour already, right? I mean, come on, you said nine in the morning.” They were ambling over. Grand made it first. “Um, Bells? Are you all right?” He puffed out his cheeks, taking a laborious breath.