After all that I’ve gone through, after all I’ve lost, I’ve finally found my true north star.
IT’S NOT ONLY FINN who will accompany me to Wonderland. So will Mary and Victor. I vehemently argue against this need, but, much like their friend, they cannot be dissuaded. Van Brunt insists that, if Wonderland is as dangerous as I make it out to be, we need Victor’s expertise for emergencies. Rationally, I know he’s nearly as skilled as his brother at fighting, and chances are we will need his medical skills at some point, but I still wish he’d reconsider.
When I argue Mary’s placement on the team, she takes my vehemence in stride. “I’m damn good at what I do,” is all she’ll really say, and as I’ve seen her at training fumble with just about every weapon there is, I can’t imagine what it is. But I am overruled. The Collectors’ Society is a team, I’m reminded. And the betterment of all trumps that of an individual. In many regards, I can respect that, as it’s dictated my moves for years now.
We spend the rest of the day in Van Brunt’s office going over details. The A.D. is having rations packed for us, alongside heavy bottles of water that will slow us down, but there is no other option. We cannot risk otherwise. Over and over, I remind everyone that there can be no slip-ups. No water drank, no food, no tea, no anything. No water from rivers, no rain on tongues.
I draw out a rough map that is not to scale. “Our entry point will be here.” I tap my finger against a dot on the paper. “We’ll need to first go to an ex-associate’s house for supplies,” I tap on a building a short distance away, “and then journey to confer with my Grand Advisor.”
Mary peers over the map. “Where is he or she?”
I’m honest. “I don’t know. Hopefully, my former associate will be able to point us in the direction.”
“Is your advisor the one who has the catalyst?” Van Brunt asks.
I shake my head. “No. But he will be able to point us in the direction of the person that does.”
“Will this person be reluctant to give the catalyst up?” Victor asks.
“No. The difficulty lies in a meeting that does not reach any of the Courts’ ears.”
“Maybe you ought to tell us about this prophecy,” Victor murmurs. “Why would so many people’s lives be forfeit with your presence?”
For many long seconds, I debate the wisdom behind a revelation. My natural inclination has me leaning toward avoiding the question, but recently sparked feelings of camaraderie damn me. And this is a small group, a group of people I’ve come to at least consider the option of trusting, so I find myself finally opening up. “Although Wonderland is much like England in the sense that it is a country, it has several sections that have been divided up and are ruled by kings and queens. Unlike England, however, these monarchs are not from dynastic lines but rather chosen by Wonderland itself to be rulers.”
“You mean, like a democracy?” This is from Finn. “Where rulers are voted into office?”
My back aches, it’s so stiff from sitting on the edge of my chair. “No. Wonderland—the land itself—chooses its monarchs. Nobody knows how it’s done, or what the qualifiers are behind choices. If you are selected, a crown appears on your head. And it will be your crown until the day you die.”
Victor snaps his fingers. “I remember a scene in your story that has a crown appearing!”
“There are currently four ruling Courts in Wonderland. The Hearts, The Reds, The Whites, and the Diamond. Normally, when monarchs are crowned, they are done so in pairs. Occasionally, a few days may lapse between a King and Queen being crowned, sometimes even as long as a month, but they typically begin their rule as a pair.” I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. “For some reason, after I was crowned, no King materialized—not even during the years I had returned home as a child. Wonderlanders are a deeply superstitious lot, and this did not sit well with some despite everything I did for the country. History has always shown that there are pairs, so that there will be balance in a house. My Court, though, was seen as imbalanced. Even those who are insane fear imbalance in Wonderland.”
Mary slams a hand down on the table. “Is this because you were a woman? Because there wasn’t a man to help you?” Another pound sounds against the table, rattling the map. “What a lot of misogynistic pigs!”
This only endears her to me.
“Go on,” Finn urges quietly, and when our eyes meet, all I see is support and compassion.
So I take another deep breath and once more let it out slowly. “Other ruling Courts were unsettled by this. While those living in my domain came to see me as fair over the years, and a champion to their causes, tradition is a difficult beast to slay. Dissension was fostered by some of the monarchs who found me an aberration. A non-native and a solo ruler?” My smile is bleak. “It was not to be borne. We squabbled for years, but in the end, it didn’t matter. A prophecy was discovered, claiming if the ruling Courts in Wonderland were left at an odd number and the deck shuffled, apocalyptic disasters the like had never been seen before would befall the populations. War broke out numerous times, citizens were suffering. People were dying. Diseases never seen before were emerging, often eradicating entire villages.” I lace my hands together in my lap so tightly the skin turns hot white. “Summits were held . . .”
I have to stop. The memories are still too raw.
I’m out of my chair and across the room, wishing I could open one of the windows. Outside, beyond the glass, life in New York City continues to move on, blissfully unaware of the atrocities of my past. And yet, in this room, it’s weighing me down just as heavily as it always had, and I’m editing it for ears who I hope never hear the full truth.
I really am damned, aren’t I?
“You are a selfish girl who thinks she can take whatever it is she wants without consequence.”
I slapped her. Hard. “How dare you say such things when you are the one sending innocents to their deaths!”
“Your greed, your lust, will be the downfall of every last one of us, little bird,” the White Queen sneered.
But the thing is, the more I thought about it, the more I reluctantly admitted she was right. All of the differences I had made, all of the advancements in health care, education, and women’s rights meant nothing if I allowed the prophecy to consume us. I refused to tell her that, though. At least on that day, because we both knew her selfishness and greed could rival my own.
“I suppose in the end, all you need to know is that I willingly chose to leave.” My voice cracks, and I hate myself for it. “Part of the summit accords has me promising not to return in lieu of the ultimate of punishments.”
“Couldn’t you abdicate?” Victor asks.
I do not turn away from the window. “I am the Queen of Diamonds, and I will be until the day I die. Hopefully then a new Queen and King will be selected, and the land will right itself in balance. Better yet, another Court might emerge in the Diamonds’ ashes. Perhaps the Clubs or Black. Four Courts are needed. Eight monarchs.”
“But you are here, Ms. Reeve,” Van Brunt says. I’m startled by his quiet foray into the conversation. “You are still alive. Does that not affect Wonderland’s balance?”
I shrug. “Some of the Grand Advisors to the thrones felt that six monarchs in three houses were better for the land than seven monarchs in four houses.” A wry yet bitter smile twists my lips. “I tried to argue that six plus three equaled nine yet seven plus four equaled eleven. Broken down, eleven has two ones; added together, they make two, which is an even number. Nine could not be broken down. It would always be odd. My logic was abhorrent to them, though. It only proved my alien status.”
Such logic is apparently abhorrent to those sitting with me now, as they all look at me as if I’m raving.
“If you were addicted, how did you leave?”
Finn’s question is enough to finally draw me back to the table. “An exceedingly rare poison my advisor obtained for me.” I allow a small, bittersweet smile. “A poison that granted
me lucidity the likes I hadn’t experienced for years.”
This captures Mary’s attention. “You allowed yourself to willingly be poisoned?”
I tell her gravely, “I would have done that and more to save the lives of my people. Besides—it allows me to not fall back into a trap in which my inhibitions are lowered and my emotions heightened to the point that violence means little to me.” I pause. “Although, I must admit, I still feel those bits of madness every so often. It’s why I’m handy in a fight.”
“Then I guess it’s a good thing,” she says evenly, “you have a person good with potions and poisons joining you on your team, hmm? I would like to get my hands on this concoction—or any others we might encounter during our trip.”
We spend hours late into the night laying down the foundation for our trip the next day. Victorian clothes are obtained, although they will need to be switched out for Wonderlandian styles shortly after our arrival. Bags are packed. We go over detail after detail of things the team needs to know about Wonderlandian society. Manners they will encounter, and expectations others will have of them.
And then I tell them the most important thing of all. “You are never to mention my name if we are captured or detained. You are to disavow any knowledge of me—or, if necessary, claim I’ve abducted you and coerced you into doing my bidding.”
“But,” Mary begins, but there are not buts.
We are given four days’ rations. As it is, food will be tight and water doled out in small but regular intervals. None of us can carry any more than that, considering I cannot guarantee us horses or carriages to our various destinations.
It is well after one in the morning when the meeting dwindles to a close. Once Victor and Mary leave (separately while making a point to one another they weren’t heading in the same direction), Van Brunt asks Finn to stay behind for a word, so I decide to head upstairs and try to get a few hours’ sleep before we leave for my Timeline.
I’m going home.
I don’t know how to feel about it, honestly. Numb is probably the best way to describe my state of being. It’s extraordinary how I can go from such highs this morning to this current sense of static. But then memories bombard me: threats and joys and terrors and horrors and things so beautiful, so magical, that I wonder if these recollections could possibly be real.
My past is about to meet my present.
I take a shower, letting the water get so hot that visibility in the bathroom is difficult. Hot water beats down upon me until I slide down in the stall, my knees up to my chest as I loop my arms around them. It’s hard to breathe. In, out. In, out. Just like the Caterpillar taught me: If one doesn’t breathe, how are they expected to do anything else? In, out. It’ll be okay. My lungs just need to expand, just need to find the proper amount of air. In, out. In, out. I can do this. I will do this.
I have to do this.
A fissure in my chest erupts. Anger sears my veins. I am a queen, the Queen of Diamonds. I am terrified, I am elated. I am strong, I am weak. I am powerful, I am helpless. I am the bird who soars. There are people who are depending on me. I may not be able to make a difference any longer in Wonderland, but come hell or high water, I will find my crown and protect them.
The fog dissipates. The water turns cold. The door to the shower opens, and the knobs are turned to the off position and he climbs in with me, him fully clothed in contrast to my shivering, blue skin, and we sit there together, his arms around me, until I can breathe again.
AT SIX O’CLOCK IN the morning, the Institute is wide awake and bustling with activity. Van Brunt has organized a team to track Todd, Rosemary, and Jenkins, and they’re mobilizing at the same time we ready to leave. Ex Libris will be their first stop, but according to the A.D., nobody is in residence.
“I had meself a look around,” he tells Van Brunt as he straps on a shoulder holster. “There’s a tunnel out of the basement that allows them entrance and exit without detection. It leads to a story a block away. A block away! The bookshop looked like it’d been ransacked, by the way.” To me and Finn, he said, “You two make a right mess, all right.”
I ask, “The alarm system wasn’t working?”
“Not any longer.” He grins, his teeth crooked. “Don’t worry, sweet Alice. When you all are done playing around in Wonderland, we’ll have some new friends for you to come and visit with here at the Institute.”
His blatant confidence is finally refreshing rather than annoying.
We’re in the weapons room, picking out our pieces for our respective missions. I’ve warned my team to travel light—just the basics, as we can get weapons better suitable to Wonderland once I track down my ex-associate.
Van Brunt is slipping his own shoulder holster on, tightening the straps across his broad chest. “Is there anything else you need?”
Finn passes his father a sleek, black gun that looks a lot like one of his. “No.”
The head of the Society’s eyes flick over to where Victor is. The doctor is dressed smartly in his three-piece suit and long trench coat as he selects an antique-looking gun. “Does your brother have his medicine?”
What’s this? Medicine? Medicine for what? Is Victor sick? I glance over to where he is. He looks healthy—thin, pale, but healthy.
“Yes,” Finn is saying. “And Mary has a supply, just in case. I’m glad she agreed to go.”
I’m not the only one with unspoken mysteries, it seems. The Society is filled with those who clutch their truths close their chests.
Van Brunt grunts, but there is a softness there I haven’t seen before. A worry. He turns his head as he loads the chamber of his gun. “When you get back, I want you to take a few days and go see—”
“No.” Finn picks up one of his guns. “We’ve already talked about this.”
Van Brunt sighs. “I think you’re making a mistake.”
“That’s your prerogative.” Finn shrugs.
“He misses you.”
Finn’s unmoved, though. And I’m now burning with curiosity.
“Will you at least consider his request?”
“I’ve considered it,” Finn says flatly. “And my answer is still no.”
Victor wanders over to where they’re standing. “Everything okay?”
“Fine,” Finn bites out before going over to where Wendy, Mary, and the A.D. are discussing the schematics for the local mission.
“What was all of that about?” Victor asks his father.
I have no shame in continuing to listen as I sharpen my blades nearby.
Van Brunt tells him, “Tom contacted me this week.”
Who’s Tom?
“You need to back off that,” Victor says. “There’s too much water under that bridge.”
“Jim would—”
Who’s Jim?
“Jim would want Finn happy,” Victor interrupts. “Bringing up bad blood isn’t going to solve anything. Let him be. If and when Finn ever wants to address all the shite that went down, he will. And if he doesn’t, that’s his choice.”
Van Brunt sighs heavily, one hand cupping the back of his neck. “I wish your mother was here.”
“Me, too.” It’s a broken whisper, followed by quiet, steely anger. “Find those fuckers, Brom. If they were the ones to delete 1820IRV-SGC . . .”
“Then I will deal with them.”
Van Brunt’s coldly voiced words send a shiver down my spine.
“Promise me you’ll wait for us.” Victor grabs his father’s arm. Van Brunt doesn’t say anything, but the look on his face tells me he plans for no waiting.
“They were our family, too,” Victor says hotly. “Our mother. Our grandfather. We deserve to be there when these arseholes are forced to pay for their sins. Don’t you dare take this away from us.”
“I expect you will take care of yourself,” Van Brunt says in return. And then, “Ms. Reeve? A word?”
Knowing he’s been effectively dismissed, Victor goes over to where his brother is.
I don’t even pretend I haven’t been caught sticking my nose in where it doesn’t belong. “Yes?”
“Let us take a walk.”
I follow Van Brunt to the door and then out into the hallway. “How much has Finn told you about our family?”
About as much as I’ve told him of mine, I think. “That you adopted both Victor and him, and that his mother is dead.”
“My sons,” he tells me evenly, “are all I have left outside of my work with the Society. I ask you to remember that during your travels in Wonderland.”
I bristle. “If you are so concerned with them, then you ought to have conceded to my wish to walk this path alone.”
“Please do not misunderstand me, Ms. Reeve. My sons are incredibly skilled at what they do, and I have no doubt that they will be the perfect assets you will require in the catalyst acquisition. Society policy does not allow singular members to conduct retrievals, as there are too many factors and opportunities for things to go wrong. But the thing is, Ms. Reeve . . .” His lips purse together as we stroll down the nearly empty hallway. “It has come to my attention that you and Finn have become . . . How shall I put it? Close.”
“That,” I tell him smartly, “is none of your concern.” Has Finn been talking to his father about me? About us?
“Perhaps not,” he concedes, “but I’m concerned nonetheless after a discussion with the Librarian about it this morning.”
Ah. Now I understand. That woman is a bloody menace.
“I am already troubled by the dissension between Victor and Ms. Lennox. While that is nothing new, both have assured me that they will not let it come between them during this assignment. However, feelings are not always rational, and there is always a chance for heightened senses to flare up at the most inopportune times.”
My silence is stony.
“My younger son,” he tells me quietly, “does not trust easily. The truth is, I’m surprised at how quickly he has given it to you. I do not believe he has ever trusted any of his former girlfriends.”
Van Brunt has my full attention now.
“Finn’s childhood was difficult in ways yours nor mine ever could be. Those who have read his story have idealized it, glorified it, criticized it, and dissected it, and yet still do not understand the scars that such a childhood leaves behind.”
The Collectors' Society Page 23
