Allison's Adventures in Underland

by C. M. Stunich

  “Let's go,” Tee says, unwilling to follow his brother across the narrow dock until I do. When I refocus my attention on him, he looks nervous as hell, one hand resting on his knife, his eyes narrowed with careful focus.

  “Why?” I ask caustically, flipping some of my long blonde hair over one shoulder. “Is the jabberwocky going to get us?” It's supposed to be a joke—because the White Rabbit had said the gun I'd chosen could take one down—but when Tee looks at me, he doesn't seem to find it particularly funny.

  “Do you have matches to light the Queenmaker?” he asks me, and I have no clue what he's talking about. Tee steps in close, so close that I can feel his warm breath on my lips when I tilt my head back to look up at him. I'm tall—five foot ten, actually—but Tee still towers over me. I figure he must be at least six foot two. At least.

  His hand reaches down and grabs mine, placing it over the pocket on my white and blue dress.

  “The gun,” he whispers, “because if a jabberwocky does come, you're going to be the only one that can stop it.” I suck in a small breath, and that cool mountain air scent fills my lungs, cutting off the almost rancid stink of raw fish and salt. A saltwater river? I'm not sure such a thing exists back home. “Let's go before we get our throats slit.”

  He takes my hand in his, but I jerk it right back, marching ahead of him and starting across the slippery surface of the dock. There are no handrails on either side leading out to the deck of The Pool and the building itself. One wrong move and I'll go plunging into the navy blue depths.

  I don't think too hard about it, trusting in the thick soles of my combat boots, and reach the other side without incident. As I get closer to the building, I can hear the ruckus inside, even with the roar of the raging river all around me.

  I pause just long enough that Tee moves around me and pushes the door in, holding it open with his back and waiting for me to go inside.

  The smells of booze and smoke and sex waft out—honestly, it doesn't smell that different from one of Edith's high school parties. Crude laughter mixes with the clinking of glasses as I step inside and find Dee already at the counter, leaning his elbows against the polished wood surface and making eyes at the pretty young bartender.

  As I come up behind him, I catch a snippet of their conversation.

  “Ain't nobody rentin' out boats at this time o' the night. Not for the king, not for anyone. Besides, Dee, you're not in Heart territory right now and you know it. I can get you a room for the night, but not a ride. Not until morning.”

  The bartender glances up past Dee, pauses on Tee and then … focuses on me and stays there, like she's seen a ghost. I swear, I can see her skin pebbling with goose bumps. She looks like a pirate in her black tricorne hat, a white pleasant blouse partially unbuttoned and showing generous swaths of ebony cleavage. Her hair is long, much longer than mine, and hangs nearly to her ass, a warm caramel brown color that matches her eyes.

  “Who's the girl?” she asks, but there's a tenseness in her shoulders that wasn't there a moment ago. I feel like she somehow knows who I am. Hell, maybe she's more aware of who I am than … well, than I am.

  The Alice.

  What the hell is an Alice anyway?

  “This,” Dee says, standing up straight and tossing a sapphire glance in my direction, “this is our new mistress.”

  I sigh, but I don't bother to correct him. What's the point? I have no idea what the rules are here. For all I know, denying that fact could get me killed. As Tee stated, Underland doesn't much seem like the original Wonderland from Lewis Carroll's books. Whereas Alice's world was a dream … mine could easily be a nightmare. It smells awful enough to be one anyway.

  “Mistress, huh?” the bartender says and then she nods her chin at me. “What do you want to drink, Mistress?”

  “Oh, uh …” I start, but I don't have any money here. I mean, unless they take US dollars which is probably a serious fucking no. Then again, the twins do have cell phones … that can't call out of Underland. Ugh.

  “A cup of Earl Grey ought to do the trick,” Dee says and Tee makes a noise under his breath.

  “No tea tonight,” he tells his brother, but Dee just grins and raises his dark brows, tufts of black and blue hair sticking out from beneath his top hat. “Dee …” Tee growls in warning, but his brother's already ignoring him, turning back to the bartender.

  “Give us a pot of Earl Grey and we'll share,” he says, slapping his palm on the counter and then reaching down to pop a silver heart shaped button on his leather belt. He digs a few coins out from inside and sets them on the counter.

  I can't imagine why Tee gives two fucks if his brother orders a pot of tea, but his fists are clenched at his sides and he looks furious.

  “Comin' right up,” the bartender—or should I say barkeep—drawls, her eyes following me as I turn in a slow circle and take in the crowd.

  Men and women dressed in fantastical costumes, like the twins with their striped shirts and peaked caps, decorate the tables sipping from chipped white teacups and laughing raucously. The background music is slow and sensual and vaguely reminds me of Marilyn Manson. I try to figure out where it's coming from and find my gaze drawn to a stage in the far corner, a man clutching an old-fashioned microphone, voice crooning into the speakers. He has a full band with him—drums, a bass, even an electric guitar. Well, at least it sounds like an electric guitar. On closer inspection, it has the same glass covering as Tee's phone, the same cogs and wheels inside, ticking away as the musician strums her fingers over the strings.

  In front of the stage, couples and groups dance in slow, swaying motions. I've been to enough parties—not a lot, but enough—to know that they're either drunk or high or both. Some of them look like they're about to strip down and have an orgy right there in the middle of the dance floor.

  “Thank you, Lory,” Dee says, taking the pot of tea and a stack of cups on a silver tray. He holds it up above his head with a single hand and winks at his twin, moving over to an empty table against the wall, just below an open window.

  I can both hear and smell the river from here, but even that salty reek is better than the scent of unwashed bodies and sex that fills this place.

  “Is this a bar … or a brothel?” I ask as I look around and see a disproportionate number of men to women. In fact, the longer I look, the more I notice a pattern: one woman with multiple men. Several of the groups both sitting and dancing follow that pattern and I cock an eyebrow.

  “A brothel?” Dee asks, frowning as he pours three steaming cups of tea and passes them out to his brother and me. “What would you need a brothel for? You've already expressed your vehement disinterest in both me and my brother. Even if this were a working-house, you'd be hard-pressed to find a man as beautiful as either of us.”

  “I meant …” I start, but Dee seems fairly serious and his brother is staring into the cup in front of him like it holds all the answers. I can see something shining in his eyes as he bites his lower lip and looks away, reaching out to push back the teacup.

  Dee rolls his eyes but doesn't comment on the move.

  “So this isn't a whorehouse with … women?” I ask, looking back at the mix in the bar. Or wait, was this a bar? It smells like alcohol, but on closer inspection, I notice that everyone's drinking tea, just like us. So it's a teahouse then?

  “There are no whorehouses with women in them,” Tee says quietly, looking up from the smooth surface of the table, polished by dozens of elbows and hands wearing away at the wood rather than because anyone had sanded or slapped a coat of poly on recently.

  “Why not?” I ask, but like, I'm literally thrilled to hear that. Skeptical, to be certain, but thrilled. Coming from a world of sex trafficking and forced prostitution, sitting here in this weird one with salt rivers and a smelly teahouse doesn't seem quite so bad, now does it? Even if the twins did try to get me to suck them off …

  “Because of the Riving,” Tee whispers, looking up and blinking his long-la
shed eyes at me. With the easy sweep of dark liner around them, his eyes seem even brighter, like two amethysts wedged into a superbly handsome face.

  “Ry-ving,” I say slowly, digging through my mental dictionary. I read a lot, so the word seems familiar. Doesn't that mean to tear or rend? To split open? The Riving? Ugh. That can't be anything good, can it?

  Dee scoots my cup of tea closer and then lifts his with a grin.

  “Drink up,” he says, pausing to take off his cap and setting it aside on the end of the table.

  “Magic surged through Wonderland, killed half of all the women and turned half of the ones that were left into men,” Tee says, as if this is something that happened a long time ago, just simple fact. He doesn't even seem all that bothered by it.

  Magic.

  Wonderland.

  “Going off of your calendar,” Dee continues, sipping his tea and shivering with pleasure. I pick up my own cup and do the same, feeling this warm surge in my belly that surprises me. The tea is good and musky, the hint of bergamot oil sitting on the back of my tongue lending for a pleasant sort of aftertaste. But … my throat gets tight and as soon as I swallow, my mouth feels dry, like I've just eaten a really good pot brownie with my friends and the THC is starting to kick in. “The Riving happened in … 1865. Isn't that right, Tee?”

  Deciding for the moment that I'll just roll with it—because how can I question magic after I just fell down a hole into a pile of old bones and met a boy with rabbit ears?—I ask, “Why would the women turn into men?”

  “Women have a much higher affinity for magic than men, so when the Riving happened, their bodies absorbed most of it,” Tee continues, and for the first time since I've met him, he actually looks pleased, like reciting historical lessons is definitely his fucking thing. “Many of the ones that were strong enough to survive had their magic essentially burned away, leaving a weaker shell of their former selves. Thus, they became men.”

  I blink a few times and then sip my tea because I don't quite know what to say to that. In a strange sort of way, it actually makes some sense.

  After a few more sips, I'm starting to feel … tingly all over, that needlelike feeling in my arms and legs, like my limbs are asleep but absurdly more pleasant. I find myself swaying with the music as Dee hails Lory and she brings a plate of cakes over to the table. They're frosted with bright colors, dotted with little black currants that spell out EAT ME.

  As soon as I read that, I snatch it up and start to giggle.

  “If I eat this, will I get as big as a fucking house?” I ask, swaying side to side in my seat and trying to blink through the colored haze that's just slid over my vision. “The same as if I gave you a blow job and swallowed, huh?”

  I take a bite and find that it tastes like pineapple and custard, nice and bright and fresh.

  “This,” Dee whispers back, leaning in close to me, his breath smelling like cherry tarts. He wraps his hands around one of mine as I lift the small cake to my lips again, pausing me mid-motion. “Is a different sort of cake.” His face is just as dreamy and far away as my own as he leans forward and flicks his tongue against the corner of my mouth, licking off a bit of yellow frosting. “Dance with me?”

  “Oh, for fuck's sake …” Tee growls from across the table, still sitting stiff as a board, arms crossed over his white and black striped shirt, his tea and the plate of cakes completely untouched.

  “It's been ages since I've danced,” Dee slurs, taking the cake from my fingers and slowly, sensually sucking fingertip by fingertip into his hot, wet mouth, cleaning off all the frosting. I can't even move, frozen there but blinking furiously, my heart thundering in my chest. I can feel my nipples pebbling beneath my dress, my thighs clenching together as a warming sensation surges through my core. “Ages and ages.”

  Dee pulls me up from my seat and drags me to the dance floor, both of us stumbling and giggling as we go. When we get close to the stage, he pulls me into his arms and hugs me like close, like we're not complete and total strangers, but friends … lovers.

  I want to fuck him so bad right now, I think as I close my eyes and lean my head on his shoulder, breathing in that sharp, fresh scent of his, like snow and ice on a sunny winter day, a snowboard beneath my feet and goggles on my face. He smells like … family vacations when my brother was still alive, like happiness, like winter. Mmm.

  The world around me spins and tilts, but when I start to lose my balance, Dee is there to catch me and hold me up.

  “Alice,” he whispers, his mouth against my ear, his breath warm, “you're going to change the whole world, aren't you?” Dee drops a kiss to my neck and I sigh, my knees giving out, my body slumping to the floor.

  And then I pass out.

  A loud knock at the door wakes me from the best sleep I've had in years, the type of sleep I had when Fred was still alive, when mom wasn't in jail, when the worst part of my day was having to deal with Edith's bullshit.

  “Leave me alone, Edy,” I growl as I drag a musty smelling pillow over the back of my head and clamp down hard on both sides, trying to block out the noise. The knocking only seems to get louder.

  “Open the fuck up, you idiots! Ship leaves in ten and Dodo wants full payment now.”

  I blink my way through a foggy haze and into the darkness beneath my pillow, sitting up with a sharp gasp in my crumpled blue and white dress and tights. Dee is lying passed out next to me, his blue and black hair rumpled and tangled, his shirt missing.

  As I stare down at him, I hear a door open behind me and glance back to find Tee in a towel, cursing under his breath as he moves over to another door, dripping water across the floor, steam rising from his skin like mist. He unlocks a good half-dozen bolts and chains and then tears the door open to reveal Lory, in her tricorne hat, skintight brown pants, and boots.

  “The Long Tale leaves in eight minutes, and I need your fare now.” Lory holds out her hand, gold bangles dancing across her chocolate skin.

  “You said ten,” Tee growls, turning and noticing for the first time that I'm awake. His eyes meet mine for a moment, but I have trouble holding them because … wow. His body is glorious, all wet and speckled with beads of moisture like that. I sure would like to lick … Whoa. What the fuck?! As I turn around and lean back into the pillows, I can feel my head swimming and I groan.

  Was I … drugged last night?!

  I look down at Dee and then snap my attention back to his brother, watching as he digs through the leather pouch on his belt and produces a handful of coins. He passes them over to Lory and she nods sharply.

  “You said ten,” he repeats and Lory just grins, her white teeth bright in the shadowy room.

  “It was ten, but you took too long answering the door. Now it's six. Hurry up.” She glances over at me, lying on the double bed next to Dee, and winks. “See ya onboard in five.”

  Lory turns on her heel and leaves the room as I struggle to collect my thoughts.

  “What the fuck happened last night?” I ask Tee as he heads toward the bathroom and pauses, the tattoos on his back making my breath catch. The feathers look so real, like I could reach out and touch them, feel the soft down against my fingertips … And those chains? I have to blink a few times to convince my tired eyes they're not shining in the weak morning light from outside. It streams in the dirty window and highlights dust motes, floating in the air like faeries.

  “You had a tea party,” he says with a roll of his eyes, stepping into the bathroom and slamming the door closed. I grit my teeth because, like, rude much? Throwing my feet over the edge of the bed, I see that somebody removed my boots last night.

  Lucky them that they didn't remove anything else.

  I pad over to the heavy wood of the bathroom door, trying not to take too close of a look at the decrepit room. I slam my fist a few times on the door and then cross my arms over my chest, running my tongue over my dry lower lip. My mouth feels chapped, and my head is swimming like I drank a dozen tequila shots in a row and
passed out. And don't even get me started on how I feel about sleeping in bloody clothes.

  'A week or maybe two depending.'

  If I have to be in Underland for that long, then I'm in serious need of fresh clothes. One night soaked in Brandon's blood was more than enough.

  “I don't know what a fucking tea party is—” I start to scream and then Tee's ripping the door open just as the knot on his towel comes undone and the black fabric falls to the floor at his feet. He's rock-hard and quivering—both him and his dick.

  “You don't have tea Topside?” he asks me, and I wonder for a second why they call it Topside. But then, Underland … and I did fall down a hole to get here … I shake my head to clear it and take a deep breath, trying to stay calm and not look at Whichever-Tweedle's cock is currently pointing at my face.

  “Not tea that makes me …” I pause as snippets of last night flicker to mind, of Dee sucking on my fingers, of slow dancing, of … well, I don't really remember anything after that, actually. “Tea is just, like, boiled plant water back home—sometimes with cream and sugar.”

  I exhale roughly as Tee sighs and bends down to gather his towel, covering up his bits before he rises to his feet. I notice he's lined the floor with more towels, like he's afraid of touching too many things in the grubby bathroom.

  Don't blame him.

  Not one hundred percent sure I'd have showered in there at all.

  “You don't boost your tea,” he says slowly, like it's just dawned on him. He swears under his breath and then flicks a raging glare toward his brother as a groan sounds from behind me. “If I'd known that, I never would've … well, shit, I would've warned you.”

  “Boost our tea?” I raise both blonde brows. “It was drugged.”

  Tee sighs, his purple-streaked black hair stuck up all over the place, wet and spiky and kind of … like, adorable. If he were a boy back at school, I'd have hit on him for sure—even with that personality of his. Hell, who am I kidding? It probably would've drawn me to him.