Page 43 of Bluebeard’s Key

Suddenly, Zayan looked at him and something broke in his eyes, a wild look filled with worry and fear. He demanded, dead serious, “Promise me, please, that you won’t go looking. He’s a dangerous man, and I’m afraid you’ll get hurt.”

Again, Zayan didn’t need to spell it out, but the reason for that cut on his face became clear. Zayan had always been ambitious. He must have overstepped and felt Bluebeard’s wrath.

“Of course, sweet prince,” he said, kissing Zayan’s forehead. “I’ll stay above ground and play with my plants. Thank you for looking out for me.”

But this was far from over. Zayan was not going to face this alone, if he had anything to say about it.

CHAPTER 29

Zayan wallowed in broody despair, and he didn’t know how he was going to extract himself. Winter blew in dark and cold, matching his mood perfectly. He knew the snow was beautiful on the bare trees and towers, but it reminded him only of Beatrice’s white skin, drained of blood. His laboratory, the site of so much joy and accomplishment, was tarnished by its twin, locked out of sight by that evil key, and he slogged through his creation of gold, trying to keep up with Bluebeard’s demands. He was making pounds of the vile stuff now. It was becoming clearer every day why Bluebeard needed an assistant. Transmutation of lead to gold, once you got down to it, was dirty, smelly work.

He was also still trying to figure out who knew what, whether he had allies or whether the entire castle was complicit. Sometime soon, he needed to plan an escape for himself and Tom, stealing back to the mainland and leaving the horrors of the Château behind. He forced himself to pay attention, looking for clues. On the coldest day in January, Bluebeard was away and tongues were looser. They all huddled in the dining room having their breakfast around the big open hearth, laid with a raging fire. Under other circumstances, it would have been a moment to enjoy and remember, especially with Tom there at his side, eating a cozy bowl of porridge. But he couldn’t do it. The memory of Beatrice haunted him, and he was paralyzed with fear that Bluebeard’s wrath would one day turn toward Tom.

Tom asked, as he did nearly every morning and often again at suppertime, “Have we heard any news from Beatrice?”

Thierry answered, “I’m afraid I have some bad news. Her mother notified me, and she’s been in a traffic accident.” Zayan said nothing, knowing again he was betraying Tom by not telling him the truth.

“That’s terrible! Is she okay?”

“Unfortunately, she did not survive the incident. It was a collision with a drunk driver.”

“No! That’s so tragic! Will the Mage be visiting her family on his trip?”

“Perhaps, if he’s able to make the arrangements in time. He’s currently immersed in business halfway across the world, in New York.”

“But you’ve notified him?”

Thierry answered, “He is aware of the tragedy, yes.”

Every word drove Zayan deeper into despair. Thierry was obviously a co-conspirator in everything, lying freely and easily. Zayan didn’t trust him in the least.

Surprisingly, Hoyle chimed in, saying, “You know, the Mage has had a terrible history in his relationships. In fact, the entire family has.”

Tom prompted, “Worse than this? That’s hard to imagine.”

“As a matter of fact, yes. I’ve been with Bluebeard for, what, twenty years?”

“Something like that,” Charlie said. “It’s been almost fifteen for me.”

Hoyle continued, “In those years, he’s lost three other marriages. It’s tragic. I don’t know how he bears it.”

“Maybe that’s why he’s always so angry,” Zayan grumbled.

Tom asked, “What happened to them?”

“Iris was diagnosed with cancer a few years after Bluebeard hired me from the village. It came on suddenly, and he rushed her to the mainland, but she never came back from the hospital. Then, like Beatrice, Eleanor and the Mage were hit by a drunk driver on the highway in Los Angeles. Bluebeard walked away with barely a scratch, but she wasn’t so lucky. And the third, what was her name?”

Charlie said, “Constance.”

“Right. She ran off with a merchant from Cynchester and disappeared entirely. Bluebeard wasn’t happy about that. He stormed around the castle for a month until you guys arrived and he married Beatrice.”

Zayan was about to ask, but Tom beat him to it, “You mentioned his family also had some tragic circumstances?”

Hoyle continued, “Thierry can probably tell you more, but the village is rife with rumors and innuendo.”

“That was before my time, I fear,” Thierry said. “But I’ve also heard the rumors.”

Hoyle said, ready to provide some juicy morsels, “Bluebeard’s father was at the center of a scandal. He provided jobs for eligible women at the Elixir offices—he was an alchemist too, like Bluebeard—and many of those women disappeared. Ferry Vale does have some sketchy corners, but that didn’t explain everything. There were some accusations of impropriety and a handful of investigations, but they never uncovered anything conclusive. But the gossips are still serving up all sorts of sordid details.”