Her eyes widened. “Shadow! What are you doing?”
He paused and twisted to look back at her, brows knitted. “Visiting Jor’calla, of course. That’s why we came.”
“Yeah, but you don’t just walk into someone else’s house uninvited.”
“Perhaps you don’t.” He turned and continued inside, adding over his shoulder, “Besides, he already knows you’re here. Why waste time knocking?”
Already knows I’m here?
Alice glanced up at the sky and sighed. “That’s not the point.” Reluctantly, she followed Shadow across the threshold.
The interior of the house was dimly lit, but once Alice’s eyes had adjusted to the gloom, she came to an abrupt halt and glanced behind her to make sure she’d actually entered a building—the inside of Jor’calla’s home looked exactly like the forest outside, with lush vegetation and huge tree trunks. But in here, it was relatively dark—the only light was provided by those little orbs floating around like tiny, faint suns.
She didn’t know if it was the result of expert paintings, holographic projectors, or simply another quirk of the simulation, and she supposed it really didn’t matter. If she had to journey through this world to find a way out, she’d have to learn to shrug off things like this no matter how disorienting they were.
Alice hurried to catch up with Shadow, who was several paces ahead. Everything was closer together in here, giving the sense of walls and a ceiling around her even if she couldn’t see them, and the air was hazy with sweet-smelling smoke that thickened as she advanced.
They followed a path between the trees and thick clumps of foliage, curving ever to the right, as though they were winding steadily toward the center of the building—but it seemed to go on and on, much farther than could’ve been possible given the size of the home from the outside.
Finally, Shadow stopped. Alice peered around him to see a door in front of him—not a door on a wall, but a door on the forest floor, standing without any apparent support. Like the door through which they’d entered, this one was oddly shaped and overly wide, as though it hadn’t been designed with humans—or humanoids—in mind.
Alice placed her hands on Shadow’s back, instinctively pressing against him. “Is it…safe?”
Shadow twisted to glance down at her; his eyes and grin were bright despite the poor lighting. “As safe as anything we’ve done so far.”
Before she could reply, he took hold of Alice’s wrist, reached forward, and opened the door.
A cloud of smoke billowed around them. Alice coughed, squeezed her eyes shut, and waved a hand in front of her face to clear the air. The smoke filled her nostrils and stung her eyes, and its sweetness was overpowering. Shadow pulled her forward.
“No, no, no!” someone cried in a thin, warbling voice. “You’re not supposed to be here, not you, not now.”
With a final, sputtering cough, Alice opened her eyes.
Though a faint haze lingered in the air, the worst of the smoke had cleared. Her eyes rounded; she was now standing inside a circular room, its walls made of the same material as the outside of the home. The light in here was stronger than in the fake forest—or was it technically a fake-fake forest?—they’d just come from, cast by electric bulbs in several lantern-shaped light fixtures along the wall.
Large pieces of fabric in various colors hung from the wall and ceiling, and an overly wide bed was positioned directly ahead, covered in what Alice could only describe as a nest of blankets and pillows. Sticks of incense—the source of the smoke—glowed orange as they slowly burned on a table positioned on the right side of the room. The lantern light, which was somehow white and gray at the same time, dulled all the colors and made the entire room seem…muted. It was reminiscent of the lighting in an old underground bunker.
That thought didn’t provide Alice any comfort.
She glanced behind her to see a closed door identical to the one Shadow had just led her through.
Her attention finally fell on the individual who’d spoken. She’d seen many aliens during her lifetime—though she’d seen few of them in person—but none of them had been quite like Jor’calla. From head to toe, he couldn’t have stood more than four and a half feet tall, but he was at least just as wide thanks to his long, spindly arms—six long, spindly arms. His legs were comparatively short and thin, and he seemed to support his hunched upper body on his knuckles. Each of his hands had two long, thin fingers and a thumb of nearly equal length.
He had large, black eyes that gleamed with reflected light from the lanterns, and long, yellow protrusions sweeping back from his head. His mouth was a set of insect-like mandibles, which seemed odd given that he had skin rather than a rigid exoskeleton. He was primarily green, but there were splashes of yellow around his mouth and along his forearms, and a deep, rich purple at his shoulders, fingertips, and around his neck, with another swatch of it bisecting his face.
To Alice, he seemed almost a cross between a spider—an oddly cute spider—and a caterpillar.
Jor’calla lifted one of his arms—Alice guessed it was at least as long as he was tall—and pointed a finger at Shadow. “Ill omen, harbinger of doom! You should not be here.”
Shadow lifted the hat off his head and dipped into a bow. “Pleasure to see you as well, Jor’calla. It’s been too long.”
Jor’calla turned and paced away—primarily using his arms to move—shaking his head; the gesture seemed more like he was simply thrashing his chin from side to side, as he seemed not to have much of a neck. “Never too long with such as you. Grinning Ghost, Slinking Shadow, Faceless One.”
Alice frowned as she glanced between the two of them. “What does he mean we shouldn’t be here?”
“Not you,” Jor’calla said, “him.”
Shadow smiled at her as he replaced his hat. “He’s quite mad, Alice. Best not try to make sense of everything he says.”
“Why did he call you all those names?” she asked.
“Because he has a tendency to be rude, I suppose.” Shadow stepped to the center of the room—causing Jor’calla to back away farther—and sat on the floor with his legs folded beneath him. “We have some questions for you, Jor. Feel up to giving answers?”
Jor’calla retreated onto his bed, still shaking his head. “Away, away! Do not speak in steel, Wandering Void. Death has returned to Wonderland, and now it will not go.”
Shadow glanced at Alice over his shoulder. “See? Stark raving mad.”
Alice slowly approached Jor’calla, placing herself between him and Shadow. “He looks like he’s scared. What did you do, Shadow?”
Shadow crossed his arms over his chest. “I didn’t do anything, Alice, and I don’t appreciate your accusatory tone.”
“The Hatter is no more,” Jor’calla whispered hoarsely.
Shadow scoffed. “I only stabbed him a little. He’s come back from worse. No need to be so dramatic about it.”
“No, no,” Jor’calla whined. “No coming back now. No one coming back—none but the Red King. He rides with his faceless army, and his touch is forever-death. The Hatter is gone, and the Red King hunts.”
Alice stopped once her thighs hit the bed and reached toward Jor’calla. She lightly patted one of his arms. “Hey, it’s okay. We’re not here to hurt you, I promise.” She glanced pointedly at Shadow, who put on an offended pout. “We’re here to see if you could help me.”
Jor’calla looked from Shadow to Alice, his mandibles twitching. He shifted the arm that she’d touched, gently wrapping his long, spindly fingers around her wrist, and his eyes—though still impenetrably black—seemed to clear. “You…you are different, Alice Claybourne. Not like the others. You know. Do not let yourself forget, never forget. Remember how you came here—it is how we all came here, but the rest released their memories.”
“How…did you know my name? How do you know all this?”
“I hear you. I hear them. All of them, all the time.” He lifted two hands and clamped them on
the sides of his head.
Alice’s eyes widened. “You can hear thoughts, can’t you? Even the ones out there, where we’re sleeping?”
Jor’calla nodded. “Never quiet, never silent. All but him. All but the ghost.”
She frowned and turned her face toward Shadow. “Why is he different?”
“He is empty. Dangerous. Chaos that walks.”
“He is also sitting right here,” Shadow said in an exasperated singsong. “We didn’t come to listen to how much you don’t like me despite my obvious charm and charisma, Jor. She wants a way out. Is there one?”
But Jor’calla was staring at Alice; if he’d heard Shadow, he made no indication. “The Red King is from beyond. He did not come like us. Wonderland is too full, too many, and death rides to collect hearts. Cull the people, cull the city… What is dead is dead. Flee, Alice, flee far and pray you never meet the king again.”
“Again?” she asked, brow creasing.
Jor’calla dropped his hands and clutched the bedding in his fists. His mandibles moved rapidly as he muttered; the words were too jumbled, too indistinct for Alice to decipher. He shook his head throughout.
He was a broken being who’d been horribly mistreated; Alice guessed many of the people in this asylum were just like him.
She leaned closer and gently placed her hands on his arms. “Jor’calla, how do we get out of here? How do we leave Wonderland?”
“Remember,” he replied. “Remember, and wake.”
“How do we wake up?”
Jor’calla released a distressed, chittering sound and leapt back suddenly, pressing himself against the wall behind the bed. “He comes! He comes, he comes for me.”
“Who, Jor’calla?”
“Red Death, Red King, King of Hearts.” Trembling, Jor’calla tipped his head back. “Too much noise. Couldn’t hear…and now he has come, now he is here.”
“Finally, something that makes sense,” Shadow said.
Alice glanced back to see Shadow push himself to his feet, his lips curling into a grin.
He met her gaze. “I think I’ll have a look.”
Before she could say anything, Shadow was gone—vanished like a ghost.
Grinning Ghost.
Unease filled Alice as she stepped to the spot in which Shadow had been standing a moment before. The air was thick with foreboding and tension, which mixed with the wisps of smoke to press in around her.
“Shadow?” she called shakily.
“He has come! He is here!” Jor’calla cried out.
The door burst open and banged against the wall, startling Alice. She spun around, eyes wide, to see at least six tall, black figures march into the room. They were clad in armor and roughly human in size and shape, but the exposed metal at their joints and necks revealed their true nature—they were robots. The only color on them came from their glowing red eyes and the X’s on their chests, the latter of which were painted in dripping crimson over the place where a human’s heart would’ve been.
Several of the robots fanned out around the room, aiming their guns at Alice and Jor’calla, as four more filed inside. These four wasted no time in grabbing hold of Alice and the alien. Their fingers were impossibly strong and solid as they hauled her toward the door. Terror seized her.
Rapid flashes of memory assailed Alice—cruel hands and rough fingers, mocking laughter, searing pain, a dim corridor.
“No! No! Not again,” Alice screamed, only vaguely aware of Jor’calla’s voice in the background; he was speaking too frantically for her to understand. She thrashed against her captors’ holds, kicking and clawing, seeking any means of escape.
They held firm, unfazed by her struggles. Her shoulders burned with the exertion, one of her nails broke, and pain radiated up from her toes as they struck solid metal, but she didn’t stop as they dragged her along the spiraling trail through the interior forest.
When they emerged from Jor’calla’s home, the woods were gloomy with approaching twilight. More of the robotic soldiers stood on either side of the purple cobblestone path, lined up in neat, mirrored rows that ignored the way the path meandered and curved.
The robots holding Alice dragged her between the lines of their fellows, toward the man standing at the end of the formation. He was tall and broad-shouldered, dressed in a long, red, double-breasted leather overcoat that had polished silver armor pieces on the shoulders and arms. The belt around his waist held a holstered gun on one hip and a sheathed sword on the other. His coat’s collar was upturned, wrapping around the back of his neck and framing his cheeks. Like the robots, he had a mark over his heart, but his was a heart—or at least the shape of one, depicted in the deepest black. It matched the black hair that hung past his shoulders in waves.
The man’s dark eyes fell on Alice as she neared.
Breath heavy and ragged, she bared her teeth and stared up at the man through the mess of her hair. His lips were curled in a self-satisfied smirk, and smugness gleamed in his eyes. He exuded the air of a powerful man—but more than that, he exuded the air of a man utterly confident in his power.
“Alice”—his smirk shifted into an unsettling grin—“I’ve finally found you.”
Chapter 9
Alice trembled in the grasp of her robotic captors as icy fear crept through her veins and dread pooled in her stomach.
She knew the king’s voice—it was familiar, it was horrible, and she’d heard it somewhere before. The answer danced along the edges of her consciousness, but she just couldn’t figure it out. Why couldn’t she place that voice?
Oh God, why can’t I remember?
She swept her gaze around, searching for Shadow, for even a hint of him, but he was nowhere to be found.
Another pair of robots dragged Jor’calla up beside Alice. They had their arms looped around his, keeping his long, thin limbs pinned together. His legs kicked and scrabbled for purchase beneath him in vain; they were too weak to resist his captors.
“If I’d known she was here, I would’ve paid you a visit sooner, Jor’calla,” said the Red King. “I hope you didn’t run your mouth too much. Wouldn’t want you spoiling the fun.”
“Who are you?” Alice asked, barely keeping her voice steady.
“Here, I’m the king. Act accordingly.”
One of the robots placed a hand on the back of her neck and forced her to her knees with her head bowed. Alice gritted her teeth and pushed back against the robot’s hold, but it was useless.
“Perfect. Before long, you’ll learn to do it on your own.” He placed a finger beneath her chin and tipped it up once the robot removed its hand from the back of her neck. “And you’ll get on your knees often—any time I want my cock between those pretty lips.”
From somewhere nearby, there was a faint, nearly inaudible growl; Alice heard it only as a low rumbling, but it was somehow reminiscent of an agitated lion.
Pulling her chin away, Alice snapped her teeth at the king’s finger.
The king yanked his hand back, narrowly avoiding her chomping jaw. His features contorted in fury, eyebrows angling down and nostrils flaring. With a snarl, he grasped her hair and jerked her head back, brandishing that finger in front of her nose. “You’re going to pay for that, Alice. I’m not going to kill you, not right away. You’re going to suffer for a long, long time. People can survive a lot of punishment here, but they feel”—he trailed the back of his finger down her cheek—“everything.
“Winters failed to condition you as I instructed, but that’s all right. I think I’ll enjoy breaking you. I’ll enjoy making you learn.”
Alice glared at him with her teeth clenched and lips pressed tightly together. Anger overrode her fear, and she didn’t bother to hide it.
The king yanked her head back farther, tugging hard on her hair, and she hissed at the flare of pain on her scalp.
“Like I said, girl, you’ll learn. One way or another. I guess if you don’t…you’ll just have to be part of the culling, won’t you? Just l
ike our friend here.”
Releasing her, the king stepped back and turned toward Jor’calla, who was squirming in his captors’ restraining arms. “You’ve always been a nuisance, bug. Always caused issues. Because you knew there wasn’t anything we could really do about it. What do you know now, Jor’calla? What do you see?”
“The mandate,” Jor’calla rasped. “The culling. Death.”
“True death.” The king reached forward and patted the side of Jor’calla’s face. “True death for any I choose. And you…well, time’s come for you to stop being a problem.” He swept aside his coat, revealing a knife strapped to his thigh, and wrapped his fingers around the grip.
Alice’s eyes widened, and she threw her weight forward. “Don’t! Leave him alone!”
The robots holding her didn’t move so much as an inch.
Jor’calla twisted his head to look at Alice. “He is deathless in Wonderland! End him beyond, only beyond!”
“Pull his head back,” the king spat.
The robots complied, forcing Jor’calla’s head up to expose the soft-looking skin of his throat. The alien’s mandibles twitched and writhed.
“The Red King knows the way,” Jor’calla cried. “He travels between worlds! He—”
The king plunged his knife into Jor’calla’s throat, cutting off the alien’s words.
“No!” Alice’s stomach churned; she was sickened and horrified but unable to look away.
Settling his free hand over the butt of the knife, the king dragged the blade downward, opening a huge gash down Jor’calla’s chest. Thick, blue blood gushed from the wound, bathing the king’s hands.
Jor’calla spasmed, his mandibles flaring wide, and Alice watched in silent horror as the alien’s entrails spilled from the gaping wound.
The king pulled the knife free and plunged a hand into Jor’calla’s chest. He tugged on something inside; there was a wet, squelching sound, followed by a long, slowly fading hiss from Jor’calla. The alien sagged in the robots’ hold.
Escaping Wonderland Page 10
