Chapter 8

8

"Who needs swords when you've got Snickers?" I tossed my candy weapon aside as Kendra, Zara, and I made like Olympic divers into the chocolate fountain's portal. The thick, velvety chocolate clung to us, and I chuckled, even as the chocolate pool swirled around us, tugging us from this reality into... well, wherever portals inside confectionery fountains led.

We popped out like Hershey's Kisses from their wrappers, landing in a heap on a cool, marble floor. Wiping the delicious mess from my eyes, I squinted at our new surroundings. We were smack dab in the middle of an art gallery that screamed 'haunted' louder than a banshee at a ghost convention. Shadows danced along the high walls, playing tag with the dim lighting.

"Okay, that was bizarrely fun," I admitted, trying to ignore how the gallery's silence seemed to drape over us like a heavy, velvet curtain. Part of me wanted to sprint and explore, while my other half cringed at the mess we were making.

"Look alive, girls." Kendra's lawyer-turned-bounty-hunter-witch instincts kicked in as she scanned the room. "Something tells me we're not alone."

As if on cue, the paintings started a shimmering disco show. I watched, transfixed, as a large elephant wiggled free from its oil-painted prison. It stretched, trunk to tail, becoming full-sized, somehow, and let out a trumpeting sound that echoed off the gallery walls.

"Is that Dumbo's cousin or what?" The creature's size could give any Macy's parade balloon a run for its money. Its tusks gleamed under the feeble lights as it stepped out with the grace of a ballerina—albeit a two-ton ballerina who could crush us without breaking a sweat.

"We're not at Hogwarts anymore," I added as the elephant gave a gentle flap of its ears and eyed us curiously. It was surreal, like stepping into a Salvador Dali painting—only, you know, with less melting clocks and more wildlife emerging from frames.

"Hailey," Kendra said. "Let's not end up as elephant stomping ground."

"Or worse, modern art," Zara said out of the corner of her mouth.

No sooner had the elephant taken its first lumbering step away from the canvas than a chaotic symphony of rolling, tumbling, and thumping filled the gallery. I swiveled around, my feet sticking slightly to the chocolate-covered floor, as a cavalcade of fruit bowls began their great escape from still life imprisonment. Apples bounced like rubber balls, bananas unpeeled themselves mid-air with a cartoonish flair and grapes... well, they grape-shotted in every direction.

"Watch the oranges!" Kendra shouted, dodging a zesty citrus missile that whizzed by her ear, leaving behind a spritz of citrus scent—nature's perfume.

"Oranges have layers." Zara batted away a rogue peach with a spin worthy of a martial arts movie. "Like onions or ogres."

"Is now really the time for food analogies?" I dodged as a pineapple rolled past, its spiky exterior threatening to turn this into a tropical-themed game of dodgeball.

While we were busy fending off the fruit salad uprising, the portraits lining the walls took it upon themselves to join the party. First came a dashing pirate, complete with a wide-brimmed hat and an attitude large enough to fill the sails of his ship, stepping out with a swagger that suggested he'd plunder our sanity if given half a chance. His cutlass gleamed in the dim light as he eyed us with a mix of curiosity and hunger—the latter, I hoped, metaphorically speaking.

"Ahoy there, mateys!" he bellowed, apparently missing the whole 'stealthy' part of being a supernatural intruder. "Where be the rum?"

"Wrong franchise," I yelled back, rolling my eyes. "And wrong century!"

Next, a Victorian lady in a poofy gown glided out with all the grace of a ghost waltzing through a wall. She looked down her nose at us, her fan fluttering fast as she surveyed the pandemonium with disdain.

"Goodness gracious!" Her British accent was as crisp as a crumpet. "What is this unseemly ruckus?"

"Welcome to the twenty-first century." I gave her a mock curtsy that nearly sent me toppling over. "We do chaos with style here."

"Hailey," Kendra said. "Friendly or not?"

"Can't tell, but let's not stick around for introductions!" I grabbed her arm as we sprinted toward what appeared to be safety but was just another corridor in an endless maze of animated art.

"Harry Potter never had to deal with this kind of crap!" I vaulted over a wayward melon that had joined the chase.

"Neither did Nancy Drew!" Kendra added breathlessly.

"Less literary critique, more running!" Zara yelled from behind us.

The gallery seemed to stretch on forever, each new passageway lined with paintings eager to spill their contents into our path. Knights brandished swords, harlequins tumbled out with juggling pins in hand, and landscapes morphed before our eyes, their painted subjects hopping out with wild abandon.

"Does anyone else feel like we're inside a badly organized flash mob?" I asked, side-stepping a charging unicorn that had burst forth from a fantasy scene complete with rainbows and sparkles.

"Keep moving!" Kendra shoved me forward as a portrait of a serene lake decided it was time to try its hand at stormy weather, splattering us with droplets of paint rain.

"Seriously, where's the exit in this place?" I groaned, ready to leave this otherworldly art exhibit gone awry.

We skidded to a halt in front of what used to be a tranquil impressionist painting. Now, it was more like an abstract disaster scene. Gobs of thick, pastel paint oozed onto the floor, swirling into a slippery mess that looked like Monet's garden had melted in the sun.

"Watch your step." Kendra's eyes darted around for the best path through the colorful chaos.

"Or better yet, don't step at all." Zara leaped gracefully over a puddle of lilac and lime green.

Kendra tried to follow suit but wasn't as nimble. Her foot caught on the edge of a cobalt blue splotch, nearly sending her face-first into a dune of yellow ochre. I grabbed her just in time. "Who knew art could be so aggressive?" I regained our balance with a move that was less ballet and more slapstick.

Then a cacophony overhead drew our attention. A flock of animated birds, each one squawking louder than the last, burst from a nearby canvas. They swooped down, their wings a blur of vivid colors that rivaled any sunset.

"Seriously? Angry birds?" I couldn't help but giggle, ducking as an ornery cardinal took aim at my head.

"Those aren't the kind you can fling at pigs." Zara chuckled as she sidestepped a dive-bombing blue jay.

"Keep moving!" Kendra's tone brooked no argument as she dodged the aerial assault.

We zigzagged through the gallery, laughter mixing with the occasional yelp as we avoided both the avian attackers and another rogue fruit bowl that rolled along the floor like it was late for a very important date. Oranges and grapes tumbled out, creating a fresh obstacle course that made me grateful for every advanced vampire reflex I had.

"Anyone else craving a fruit salad?" I asked, vaulting over a runaway banana like it was the world's weirdest hurdle.

"Only if it comes without feathers." Zara swatted away a persistent finch.

"We need to find that exit." Kendra's lips twitched in amusement at our absurd situation.

"Watch out!" I yelled as a massive portrait of a knight erupted from its frame. The gallant figure towered over us, his armor clanking with each step. His face was obscured by the shadow of his helmet, but there was no mistaking the gleam of determination on his painted sword as it swung overhead.

We ducked under the arc of the blade, which cut through the air where our heads had been moments before.

We dodged another swing that sent a shockwave rippling across the room, toppling a nearby vase that shattered into a thousand porcelain pieces.

As we raced past a row of landscapes, one particularly tranquil scene caught my eye—a meadow dotted with wildflowers beneath a sky of soft blues and puffy whites. But as we watched, the clouds in the painting roiled and darkened, transforming into a menacing storm front right before our eyes.

"Uh, guys?" I pointed at the canvas. "I think we're about to get rained on."

"Seriously?" Zara groaned.

"Not just rain. Paint rain," Kendra corrected, as thick droplets splattered down from the once-serene painting, bursting into vibrant splotches of color upon impact with the floor.

"Run!" I hollered as the downpour turned torrential, streams of reds, yellows, and greens cascading down like a waterfall of paint.

"Here!" shouted Kendra, veering toward a large oak tree that had just stepped out of its pastoral scene. Its leaves rustled animatedly as it shook its branches, seemingly as disgruntled by the deluge as we were.

We huddled under the tree, which offered surprisingly good shelter, despite its leaves being a mix of impasto brushstrokes and autumnal hues.

"Nice tree," I complimented, patting its trunk. It responded with a shudder that might have been a thank you or simply a shiver from the cold paint.

"Add this to the list of 'things that only happen to us'." I peered out at the chaos of the gallery, now awash with rivers of paint.

Sopping wet with chocolate and paint and feeling like a walking disaster, not to mention the dried gelatin, I squinted past the chaos to spot salvation. A door at the far end of the gallery. It was almost lost behind what looked like a cosmic blender's aftermath: a giant painting of a swirling galaxy. Stars and nebulae danced in a dizzying array of colors that were so vivid, that it felt like gazing into the universe's groovy lava lamp.

"Guys, a door!" I yelled, pointing with a chocolate-coated finger. "That's our exit!"

"Looks more like a black hole from here." Kendra eyed the celestial spectacle warily.

"Better than being Van Gogh's next Starry, Smeary Night ." Zara flicked a glob of yellow off her hand.

We made a break for it, but our path wasn't clear for long. With each step, more paintings around us came to life. A dapper gentleman with an overly waxed mustache hopped out of his gilded frame, cane twirling with unnecessary flair. A woman in a bonnet, straight out of a Jane Austen novel, stepped into our world, looking utterly scandalized by the sight of three paint-soaked women on the run.

"Excuse us, coming through!" I tried to sidestep yet a bowl of fruit that had rolled onto the floor, apples bobbing like they were trying out for the Fruit Olympics or something. "What is it with all the paintings of bowls of fruit? Paint something else!"

"Are they friendly?" Kendra asked, ducking as a parrot from a tropical scene took flight, nearly taking her ear with it.

"Doesn't matter. Keep moving!" I wasn't willing to stick around long enough to find out.

But the animated figures weren't just stepping out to say hello; they were forming a barrier between us and our escape route. The dapper gent raised his cane like a conductor's baton, and the others seemed to fall into step, creating a living blockade of petticoats, feathers, and still-life fruit.

"Back off, Monet's minions!" Zara snapped, trying to push through only to be met with resistance from a stern-looking matron who must have escaped from a church picnic scene.

"Could use a dragon about now," Kendra said under her breath, which of course, was my cue.

"Dragon it is." I felt the familiar pull of transformation. But before I could unleash my inner beast, I remembered the cramped space and the potential for turning my friends into accidental s'mores. "Or... maybe not."

"Plan B?" Zara ducked as another parrot dive-bombed us.

"Plan B," I said with a nod.

"Running and dodging?" Kendra guessed.

"Running and dodging," I affirmed.

And so, we darted, ducked, and weaved—three sticky, paint-covered musketeers—making our way through the animated obstacle course, determined to reach that door and whatever semblance of normalcy lay beyond it.

"Zara, where the heck are you going?" I shouted, but she was already out of earshot, sprinting back through the gallery in the direction we'd come from like a bat—well, more accurately, a vampire—out of hell. Kendra and I exchanged a look that was one part panic and two parts exasperation before we followed in hot pursuit.

"Hailey, she's—" Kendra said only to be cut off as Zara reemerged atop the elephant from before. She was grinning like a kid who'd just discovered her sundae had an extra scoop of ice cream.

"Come on!" Zara yelled, beckoning us with a wild wave of her arm as the elephant bulldozed through the crowd of animated figures with surprising agility for its size.

"Sure, why not?" I said, and we dashed after her. The elephant was like a living battering ram, clearing a path straight toward freedom—or at least toward the door that promised it.

"Watch out!" Kendra shrieked suddenly, yanking me to the side as a steaming pile of elephant dung dropped perilously close to our feet. "Ew! Seriously?"

"Better than being squashed by a fruit bowl." I danced around another heap of poo.

"Look out!" I said again as the elephant unexpectedly veered right, heading straight for a massive painting of a chess set, pieces frozen mid-battle.

"Zara, no!" But it was too late; the elephant was inside the painting. Zara was already dismounting, leaping off the elephant's back with an Olympic-worthy gymnast's flourish. Except when she tried to return, an invisible barrier seemed to hold her back, trapped within the frame.

Kendra reached into the painting, grasping for Zara's outstretched arm. But instead of pulling Zara out, she got sucked into the chessboard world herself.

"Great." I sighed, rolling my eyes at the absurdity of it all. "Here we go." With no time to second-guess, I jumped through the painting after them, ready for whatever wacky Wonderland awaited us on the other side.