I love.
A bittersweet smile curves his beautiful lips, yet he says nothing. Nor does the Caterpillar.
I fumble with pieces of my puzzle. “Is this dream courtesy of the twelfth Wise Woman’s gifts? Whatever she did to me must have countered any curses the thirteenth Wise Woman laid upon me alongside the Piper’s music.”
The music. “He has attempted to wake me with his infernal melodies, hasn’t he? I have not given in, though. I withdrew into my dreams to. . .” It is all so clear now. “To protect myself.” More softly yet resolutely, “Somewhere safe. Somewhere they couldn’t break my spirit. Somewhere I allowed myself to believe was real because reality was too much to bear.”
“You could stay.” Jace clasps my hands. His are beloved and familiar, and it hurts all the more. “You are safe here. You are not at risk of rapture while you stay, no matter how hard they continue to coax you. Your mind is untouchable.”
My mind, yes. What of my body? What about Finn?
“All your dreams of years past are coming true.” His thumbs stroke mine. It feels so real. “Our marriage. Our Courts uniting. Wonderland at peace. It is yours for the taking. If you want, you will forget any other reality. This will be all that there is.”
For so many years, this is exactly what I wished and planned for. But dreams and hopes and roads and stories and seasons change, as they are oft to do, whether we wish for it or not.
My road diverged from Wonderland. From the White King. From formerly precious dreams. I hold tight to new dreams, new goals, and purposes. My heart willingly belongs to another.
It is past time to once more let go of Wonderland.
“You are not really the White King.” I release his hands. “The Jace I know and cherish would never ask me to back down from a fight. I cannot subsist in a dream world, no matter how alluring it may be, not when there are those in the real world who need me.”
The Jace before me fades to translucent. Once more, I ask myself how it is that, after everything he and I have been through, after everything we’ve meant to one another, we arrive at a place where we are only what might have been, rather than what should be. Only, as these words fill my soul, I no longer mourn quite so deeply.
True love encourages you to live.
I do not doubt or resent my choice. Given it a thousand times, I will always make the same. “I thank you for the safety given these last few days.”
His arm crosses his chest in farewell. Soon, the White King of Wonderland no longer stands beside me.
The Caterpillar remains, though.
“Do you know what has happened to me?”
Two of his leather-clad feet absently rub together. “I know no more than you.”
“You are my conscience, just as you were in life.” My lips lift in the barest of ways. “Or my subconscious.”
“I am always with you. It is what those who touch lives do, Alice. Hearts are not solid, not really. They are mosaics, cobbled together from pieces we take from life and others. Sometimes, certain pieces fall away. Sometimes, we fill them in with new bits of emotions and life. Sometimes, what is there remains, even if the people we took them from are no longer with us. You see, some pieces are more steadfast than others. Those are the ones that will remain the longest. I am in your heart. You were in mine.”
“You say that because it is what I wish to be true.”
“I say it because you know it to be true.”
“You wanted me to see the truth—”
He holds up a singular hand. “You wanted the truth. Your stubbornness forced the memories.”
I mull this over. “The Piper was in my visions. Only, when he spoke to me, it was not a memory. Perhaps he was with my body in the real world.”
The Caterpillar blows a question mark.
“He had my crown.” I reach up, but the heavy gold and diamonds symbol is not upon my head. Instead, flowers weave throughout my hair. The last I’d seen of the Diamonds’ crown was in my flat back at the Institute in New York City. The Librarian placed it in a protective case within my rooms so I could hold on to a piece of Wonderland. “He encouraged me to destroy it.”
The Caterpillar blows a replica of my crown. As I wave away the smoke, I muse, “The Piper wants for me to destroy Wonderland’s catalyst.”
My Grand Advisor’s long body shifts upon his pillow. “If he even has the crown at all.”
If he was even with me at all.
“Anything is possible.” The Caterpillar fiddles his pipe. “You won’t know until you wake up.”
“When Finn was attacked, my love protected him. It kept him in a stasis of sorts, where any transformations were delayed.”
A thin stream of smoke pours from his lips, shifting into the pattern that I know to wrap around Finn’s torso.
“Over the last few days, a pattern grew upon my back, one I originally attributed to a bruise. And now there is this.” I peel back my lace sleeve once more to reveal glowing, sparkling lines beneath my skin. “His blood is in mine.”
The Caterpillar’s smoke morphs into stars.
I remember a conversation between the twelfth Wise Woman and myself. As long as you live, as long as your love holds true, he is safe.
Alarm bells sound. I am alive, yes, but for days I forgot Finn, believing the man haunting the outskirts of my dreams to be nothing more than a dream himself. The Wise Woman’s spell protected me, yes, but at what cost?
“I must awaken. I must find Finn.”
“What are you waiting for?”
My mind whirls. “I wonder if there is a rabbit hole out . . . Maybe a looking glass?” I search for the house, but it, too, has vanished. Nothing remains except for the Caterpillar and myself.
However will I escape such a dreamland? I must find Finn. Victor. Mary. Jack. The Piper must be dealt with. Too much is at stake.
Panic seizes hold until the Caterpillar says calmly, “Alice, haven’t you long realized the impossible is possible?”
I believe in the impossible.
I rip the circlet of white flowers from my head. As it drops, bits disintegrate and float away like ash in a storm until nothing remains. None of this is real, but Finn is. So are our feelings for one another. The Piper is, too, as are his terrible crimes against Timelines.
I can no longer stomach this dream world. My soul aches for reality, even when it is beautiful and ugly all at once.
I straighten my shoulders, resolute. The Caterpillar before me wavers, a mirage in a desert, fading upon approach. My own skin does, too, all except the sparkling blue running through my veins. “Will I see you again?”
“In dreams, perhaps. In memories.” He rises, crawling over to where I stand. The tufted cushion he sat upon disappears. One gloved hand gently presses against my heart. “In here. Always in here. Now awaken, Your Majesty. You have much work to do.”
And because I believe in the impossible, I do exactly that.
I AM IN A dank stone cell, lying upon a pile of filthy, moldy straw. My hair is matted, my dress is stained, and my skin is no better off. Crust outlines my eyes; corset boning replaces bones and muscles. There is no furniture within my blurred field of vision, no windows, no conveniences other than a bucket. Before me is wall of rusty bars. Beyond that is a large, heavyset man.
Shrieks of agony pierce the stale air.
The jingle of keys catches my attention. I still, closing my eyes. A child’s voice, honeyed and lilting, inquires in German, “Is there any change?”
“Last I checked, no,” a man answers, most likely the one I saw. “I checked vitals a few hours ago.”
“Heartbeat?”
“Still slow yet regular.”
“Brain activity?” Frustration sours her youthful sweetness.
“Still comparable to REM sleep.”
“What about eye color?”
“Same as before.”
A string of curses no child ought to utter burst like gunfire. “If this keeps up, heads will roll.”<
br />
“They already are.” Something heavy clatters upon wood. “What with the chaos over the codex missing, and the convergence near upon us—”
Another distant scream punctuates his explanation. What codex is missing?
“If you value your head, you will shut your mouth. If the Lady were to overhear you. . .” Fear tightens the girl’s warning, but I suspect it has nothing to do with the cries.
In my mind, images of a large, leather-bound book resting upon a golden stand stationed between two thrones surface, ones that remind me of an order issued by Finn to Jack and Mary: “Get that book.”
When the man clears his throat, the sound is wet and thick. “Any word from the Lord?”
“None. He vowed to not return without success.”
A pause. “How does the other fare?”
The other? Does he refer to Finn?
The girl says, “There have continued to be setbacks.”
“What kind of setbacks? The last I saw, he was in rapture.”
No. My love protects him. Finn is too strong to allow this to happen.
“There are minutes where we are certain rapture has begun. But then his eyes will clear. It never lasts.” Something clanks against the metal bars before the girl continues. “The last time he resisted, blood from three of our brethren was spilled.”
Fierce pride suffuses my achy limbs. Finn is still fighting. He has not fully transformed. Hold on, my love. I’m coming.
“He should die for such insolence!” Another wet cough rattles from the man. “I cannot understand why the Lord and Lady desire these infidels. I could do pretty things with their guts.”
“You dare to question the Lord and Lady?” A stinging slap rings. “It is not for you to understand, you imbecile. If it was, you would be the Lord, instead of a pig who tends the unworthy.”
The man grunts like the pig he’d just been called. “My apologies.” More contritely, “As the other is not down here, I assume he is being dealt with?”
“The latest punishment will be swift and vicious.” Sadistic pleasure coats her promise. “He will undergo a much more intensive immersion round. I’m to join shortly. He will either embrace rapture or die trying.”
Pride transitions to horror.
“In the Lord’s absence,” the man asks, “has the Lady made comment?”
“She has yet to emerge from her chambers, and there are precious few willing to disrupt her.”
The man grunts his piggy grunt.
“If I were you, I would focus on ensuring this one wakens soon, and in rapture. The Lord was quite specific that she was to be in attendance at the convergence.”
“Of course.”
The light patter of boots upon stone fade until I am certain of the girl’s departure. A clang and scrape of metal against metal precedes a deep groan of rusty joints. Wheels rattle against stone as the stench of uncleanliness fills my nostrils.
My muscles are tight and sore, but I brace myself anyway.
“The sooner you transform, the better,” the man mutters. Coarse cloth brushes against my arm. “You have work to do.”
I scissor kick the man, knocking him off balance. A cart filled with medical supplies clatters to its side, its contents spilling across the floor. His body thuds onto the moss-covered stones next to the straw pile, and I quickly roll over until I am atop him. I twist until one of his arms is pinned beneath him; the other is trapped as I use my body weight to control his pathetic attempts to shake me. This jailer is older than he sounds, the oldest of the Piper’s minions I’ve seen yet. Wispy white hair tufts in uneven, thin patches across a freckled scalp. An entire map’s worth of latitude and longitude designations crease his craggy face.
Just as prior battles with child soldiers did little to faze me, neither will one with the elderly.
I shove an elbow against his throat. “I must respectfully disagree, as there will be no transformations today or any other day.”
He continues to struggle beneath me, a bloated slug desperate to wiggle back into a dank hole. Bony fingers fumble for contact with a nearby medical instrument. Such pitiable efforts are not worth even rolling my eyes over.
“How long have I been asleep?”
A head butt is attempted, but it is clumsy at best. He is no match for youth, let alone me.
The wicked grin shaping my lips only grows more pronounced. “Cat got your tongue? Shall I break bones, one at a time, until it loosens?”
Anxiety widens his irises, but he clings to silence.
Very well, then. I twist my legs to pin him more securely and then, with one fist, land a solid punch against an eye socket. His cry of pain rivals those peppering the dungeons. I do not worry over his comrades rushing to his aid, though. To these murderous fiends, what is one more wail within these walls?
“Are you one of the Piper’s original children? Did he allow you to age? Or perhaps force? I image that, at seven-hundred-plus years, your bones resemble a bird’s.” The blooming contusion on his face grows before my very eyes. I prod it a few times, eliciting another cry. “Ah, it does feel broken. Now, then. How many days have I been asleep?”
He gasps. “Three!”
Unacceptable. “Outside of myself and the one with me, were there any other captures?”
It is then he realizes I’d been listening in on his conversation for some time. My jailor has the audacity to be aggravated by my eavesdropping.
“How loyal of you, holding on to your silence. What did the fiendish little girl say? Perhaps you require ‘a much more intensive round.’”
I lift a fist.
“Wait!” Spittle clings to the wiry whiskers circling his pale lips. “There were none others captured!”
Grymsdyke escaped, as did Mary and the A.D.—with the book, from the sound of it. I do not allow myself any relief, though. Not with Finn still at risk. “What is the convergence?”
His mouth clamps shut, even as tears trace paths down the grooved lines of his ancient face.
“Naughty, naughty cat,” I murmur, “holding on to your tongue so tightly.” My fist meets bones until a satisfying crunch sounds.
His lips move. Jumbled whispers emerge.
My bloody fist lifts. He mumbles, “Meeting . . . of . . . Chosen.”
I lean in. “I already figured that part out for myself. What makes the convergence so special? Why is the codex required for such a meeting?”
The man beneath me openly weeps as he shakes his head in defiance. “They . . . will . . . kill . . . me.”
“What is worse, I wonder?” I muse viciously. “Die at their hands, or mine?”
Pupils black, not from rapture, but terror, tell me that any death I offer is the preferable of the two.
A large Spider lands upon my shoulder, thin, silken threads flying behind him. He scuttles down my arm until he’s mere inches from the man’s face. One hairy leg, wrapped tightly with silk, protrudes from his body at an awkward angle.
The sight of such an injury increases my fury tenfold.
“You!” the man burbles, staring up at my Wonderlandian assassin.
“Me,” the Arachnid hisses in return. “Allow me to take care of this brute, Your Majesty. Although, considering the sins he has committed, death may be too generous a gift.”
“Might you perhaps wish to elucidate upon the convergence?” I inquire.
All of my jailer’s anger toward Grymsdyke weakens into tears and rattling breaths. “I don’t know. Even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you.”
So be it.
The Spider’s fangs sink into the man’s broken cheek. I roll away. His distorted body flops about on the stone and moldy hay like a fish whose water has been stolen, his skin gradually darkening to purple. I watch in apathy as pustules bubble and erupt.
Soon, screams morph into gurgles, and then fade away entirely until glassy, unmoving eyes gape at the ceiling. I rise to my feet, my legs tight and my back even more so.
“I would have your report,�
� I tell my assassin. “Beginning with the moment I lost consciousness. Let us be quick, as we have Finn to locate and quarry to hunt.”
The Spider bows before me. “I barely managed to escape after you and Prince Finn collapsed. The Piper called for my immediate execution, and I have spent the last several days evading the mountain’s residents.”
Prince. Finn is more than my lover, more than my partner. He is also, by my own decree and that of the White Court, the Diamonds’ Prince of Adámas. My love for him is so strong I fashioned a way to tie him to my exiled home.
I shove a sleeve up; the bright lines from my dream no longer paint my arms. I have no doubt, though, that if I were to look at my back, I would find the proof of our love darkening my skin. Just as mine stains his.
I must find him.
Grymsdyke continues, “I overheard more than they would undoubtedly prefer. While this tomb of a residence is well fortified with both futuristic and magical wards, there are still those places one such as me may find shelter. I am a Spider, after all.” A barking cough rattles the hairs of his body. “It was imperative to the Piper, prior to his hasty departure, that you and Prince Finn be separated until you both became Chosen. I made the decision to follow you, at a discreet distance, of course. When it became clear that none could rouse you, not even with their dissonant instruments, I hunted for Prince Finn. It took me most of the night before I determined his location.”
Time abandons me. “What did you witness?”
“He was awake, Your Majesty.” The Spider’s voice is gruffer than normal. “And his eyes reminiscent of when you brought him back to the Institute—black as the Clubs’ banner.”
My assassin might as well have crawled down the length of my spine, my shiver is so strong.
“He was most unlike himself when his eyes were like that,” the Arachnid continues. “The fight had left him. It was most disconcerting. I wondered more than once if it would be a kindness to use my fangs to release him from such a fate.”
Culpability tears at my insides.
“I was quickly spotted. Although I took care of several of the childlings, I was forced to retreat. I have been unable to gain further access to his location.”
The Lost Codex Page 4
