Malice in Wonderland Bundle 2

by Lotus Rose

  “And you’re only 11, and he’s…well, I don’t know, but he’s an adult.”

  “I’m more mature than I look.” She’s tapping the side of her head with her finger. “In here.”

  Malice just stares with her mouth hanging open, for a moment. Finally, Malice says, “Well, whatever. Why would I even help you? Your father was responsible for all these fairy tale shenanigans in the first place, and you were hiding them away with your dream energy!”

  “Hey, don’t blame me for what my father did! I hate him! And I don’t want anything to do with the stupid fairy tales anymore! They’re lame and…stupid! They’re all sweet and sappy and lame…like my father tried to make me be! But no more, I say! Now, I want to hear scary, creepy stories of darkness and dread! I’m all about monsters and horrifying tales, now!”

  “Ah, so now I can see what you see in the Jabberwock. He’s definitely a dark, creepy monster, alright.”

  Sleepy B nods. “So I’m on your side, is what I’m saying. I support you as Queen of Wonderland, and I want to help you make it better, darker. Think of it, you could be the Queen of Darkness…”

  “Huh? Queen of Darkness? Look, I don’t even know what you’re on about, but if you really want to help me, you can help me get my dear companions back. Your father is treating it like some sort of game—I’m sure he’s set up all sorts of challenges I must go through. Could you maybe talk to him? Get him to call it all off? I’m sure I’d be able to focus more on your whole Jabberwock situation if I wasn’t so distracted with trying to get my friends back.”

  Sleepy B says, “That would get in the way of a good story. Maybe you don’t know, but I am a storyteller as well. I too am looking forward to hearing the story of what transpires, and all the particular details along the way. So no, I shall not interfere with that storyline. But I still want to help…”

  “Bah… What use are you, then?”

  “Because I want to help you make better stories in the future.”

  “What are you talking about?” Malice says. “I’m no storyteller.”

  “Oh, yeah you’re right.” She touches her teased hair as if still enamored and impressed by its newness. “I suppose a better way to put it, is that I want to help you participate in better storylines, and by doing that, you’ll create much better, more entertaining stories.”

  Malice pouts. “I just want my friends back.”

  The girl waves her hand dismissively. “Then you must go through Daddy’s little tasks, because he’s the Storyteller. But I am, too. I mean I have storytelling powers too.”

  Malice groans. “So you’re gonna have me jumping through hoops, too? For your entertainment?”

  Sleepy B’s mouth quirks to the side. “Well, I haven’t started yet. But you can’t avoid being in stories. You’re in Wonderland, and everything here is about adventure and hijinks. But I wanted to tell you that if you join my side, your stories will be so much cooler than before, for I shall cater to a different audience—those who enjoy tales of darkness and twisted wickedness and spooky monsters!” She forms her hands into lifted claws and twists her face into a scary expression. “Rarrr!”

  Malice draws back. “I daresay that sounds horrid. Why should I wish to be in those stories?”

  Sleepy B lowers her clawy hands with slumpy shoulders, and her scary face reverts to pouty face. “You just don’t understand. The darkness is seductive. Why, you oughta hear the bedtime stories my new storyteller partner, F-me Shoes, tells me.”

  “Wait, there’s another storyteller now?”

  “Well, she’s a storyteller with a little S. She doesn’t make the upper-case Storyteller types of stories, but she’s helped me appreciate dark stories from the bedtime stories she’s been telling. She loves creepy, twisted stories with lots of monsters, just like me. Why, if you heard her stories you’d be converted—”

  Malice interrupts, “Wait, who’s F-me Shoes? Is that the girl’s name?”

  “Oh, yes, she’s one of the fairy tale beings. She told me she was killed by being blown off a stone pedestal, but was magically revived when Alice unleashed the fairy tale beings. Her name used to be Goody Two-shoes before she got twisted. She helped me with my new look, and hairdo and wardrobe, though she herself doesn’t wear clothes.”

  That definitely doesn’t sound like the old Goody Two-Shoes, who’d been a real sweet, goody-goody girl who wore Mary Jane shoes and definitely wore clothes, dressing in a very respectable manner. But the fairy tale beings had recently been, turned into twisted versions of themselves with different backstories. That had been before they’d all been sent into the outside world through the Looking Glass. Well, Malice had assumed they all had, but now it seems there was at least one who stayed behind, with the puzzling name of F-me Shoes. “She doesn’t wear clothes?!”

  “Nope. She only wears her stiletto heels. She helped me pick out mine.” She stands on one leg and lifts her foot to show them off. That unfortunately reveals her lack of high-heel standing experience, as she wobbles and has to set her foot back down again. Sleepy B pulls a face before deciding to act like that didn’t happen. “She taught me how to tease my hair and how to do my eye makeup. She’s a real wild girl. She’s my idol.”

  “Well, I’m sure she is. But why didn’t she go through the Looking Glass?”

  Sleepy B shrugs. “Because I didn’t want her to. I wanted her to stay and tell me bedtime stories. Hey, she taught me how to do my eyes, but I’m not sure I did ’em right. Do they look good to you?” She leans in a little and pops her peepers wide open.

  Malice inspects the smoky, heavily-lined eyeliner on the girl. The effect is sultry and dramatic on the girl’s brown eyes. “I think the line is too thick.”

  “Oh, phooey. You just don’t appreciate the whole dark look thing, but you shall, once you join the dark side.”

  “Ooh, then can I have raccoon eyes too?”

  “Maybe. You just have to hear F-me Shoes’ bedtime stories.”

  “So why is her new name F-me Shoes, anyway?”

  Sleepy B shrugs. “Well, the F stands for something, but she won’t tell me what. She was inspired by me, to have a letter in her new name. Do you have any idea what F might stand for?”

  Malice thinks some, before shrugging. “Fight?”

  “I don’t think so.” Sleepy B thinks some.

  Malice says, “And the stories she tells you are scary?”

  “Ooh, very much so!” She scrunches up delightedly. “Soooo scaaaary.”

  “Don’t they give you nightmares?”

  “Oh, I can’t fall asleep anymore. After all those years of sleeping, it’s going to take years and years to catch up with all the saved up sleep, you know?”

  “Oh. But you were talking about bedtime stories?”

  “Well, I don’t actually fall asleep. I just lie in bed. It’s like a habit. I just got used to it from all those years being read stories to by…” A sad expression comes over her face as she’s lost in thought.

  “Sleepy B, do you miss your papa? Would you like me to talk to him?”

  The girl is chewing worriedly at the side of her lip. She shakes her head now to clear it. “No. I never want to see him again. I just want my prince. You’ve got to appoint the Jabberwock as my guard, um, while I look for my prince.”

  “Don’t know why I would.”

  “Well, I’d be ever so grateful, and we can do a lot for each other—help each other out. So please just think about it, okay?”

  “Okay. But can I ask you, can you still communicate with Alice, if you don’t sleep?” Back when the Storyteller and Queen of Hearts were tricking Alice into releasing the twisted fairy tale beings into Wonderland, they’d used Sleeping Beauty to communicate with Alice in her sleep.

  Sleepy B answers, “No, I can’t, because I don’t dream anymore. But I can communicate to beings within Wonderland if they are dreaming.”

  “Oh, I see.” Alice, who is Malice’s “twin”, had crossed over to the outside world
, leaving Malice behind. It is difficult to communicate between the two realms.

  Sleepy B says, “So, I’ll be keeping in touch with you in your dreams. I’m sure you’ll come around to my way of thinking.” She smiles.

  “Well, I’ll be talking to your father tomorrow.”

  She scowls. “That’s fine. Tell him I said he’s a stinker. And as for you, let the enchantment of darkness fill you with its delicious beauty. Sleepy B out.” She raises her arms dramatically and vanishes.

  Chapter 38

  In the morning, Malice chooses to meet with the Storyteller in the castle’s throne room.

  He is very unassuming—a partially bald man with glasses, wearing plain pants and coat.

  Malice on the other hand, is decked out in a poofy royal gown that would rival even the Queen of Hearts’. Malice is holding a royal scepter and dons the tiara the Storyteller himself gave her after playing in his sick game.

  The Cheshire Cat’s grinning, floating head hovers in the air next to her. He has yet to shed the habit of not revealing any part of his body below his neck.

  As the Storyteller stops in front of her, he bows slightly, but really not as much as he should, which causes a surge of murderous anger to go through her, before the kindness programming of her ticktock heart causes her to smile politely.

  “Good morning, Queen Malice.”

  She nods slightly. “Storyteller. You’re here to tell me how to get my friends back, I presume?”

  “I sure am! And I’ve got your items in my bag here.” He lifts it.

  “What items?”

  “For your first encounter. With the Hatter.”

  Malice arches a brow. “So you’ve already decided for me? I’m to go on your designed challenge or whatnot, all for your amusement?”

  “Oh, yes! It shall prove to be marvelously entertaining. A grand story it shall all make, as you go from challenge to challenge.”

  Several of Malice’s friends had been killed playing in one of the Storyteller’s sick “games”. He’d informed her she’d have to revive each of them one by one.

  She says, “And I assume these challenges shall prove quite dangerous and life threatening. What if I don’t survive?”

  “Well that would be a blow to all the hard work I’ve done in setting everything up. It would indeed be tragic, but tragedies often make great stories.” He shrugs.

  Malice huffs. She is irritated by the fact that the Storyteller values a good story more than he does her life, but that’s why he’s the Storyteller.

  But now, she thinks, as a slight grin creeps up her face, he faces some competition from Sleeping Beauty, doesn’t he? So she says, “You know, last night, I talked to your daughter.”

  A crack in his composure. “You did? Where is she? Is she okay?”

  Malice thrills at the prospect of seeing the normally all-powerful-seeming Storyteller displaying some vulnerability.

  She hears the Cat chuckling beside her—he must have noticed it as well.

  She says, “She seems to be upset you didn’t give her the prince she was promised.”

  The Storyteller stammers, “Yes, well not all stories turn out the way they were intended. It happens.”

  Malice arches a brow. “Oh, does it now? Well, she seems to think she can tell better stories than you. Maybe she could be a better storyteller for Wonderland.”

  “Oh ho!” the Cat proclaims. “Mreeeow!”

  “Oh, hush, feline,” the Storyteller says. “My daughter is still a child, and will always be a child as long as she remains in Wonderland. She doesn’t understand things in an adult manner. Only a fool would listen to such a rambunctious brat. So when you speak to her next, tell her my door is always open for her, but she doesn’t understand the complexities of being a storyteller. I can teach her, of course.” He smiles.

  Malice says, “But you can’t provide her a prince,” despite her kindness programming instantly rebelling to make her feel horrible about saying that.

  The Storyteller sighs. “Her story is not yet over. Seriously, she doesn’t know as much as she thinks she does. I have much more experience and wisdom, and you should tell her that next time you talk to her.”

  Malice shrugs. “I suppose. But I don’t know if she’s a worse storyteller than you. For example, your ‘storytelling’ has left me with four of my dearest friends dead.”

  The Storyteller tuts. “But you have the chance to revive them. Which is what I’m here to discuss. For, as of now, I am the Storyteller, not Sleeping Beauty.”

  “Sleepy B,” Malice says.

  “What’s that?”

  “She wants to be called Sleepy B now. She has a new look now…of which you would not approve.” She sniffs.

  The Storyteller groans. “I’m still the Storyteller of Wonderland. And I am here to prepare you for regaining your dear Mad Hatter. Now, are you ready to listen?!”

  Malice smirks. “So you’re not gonna make up with Sleepy B? She wants me to join her side—the dark side, she calls it.”

  The Storyteller grunts. “That little bratty child of mine, named Sleeping Beauty, thinks she knows everything, but she knows nothing about the art of storytelling. Her powers cannot surpass mine.” He mutters, “Such a rebellious child.”

  Malice decides to use the girl’s new nickname just to rub it in. “Well, Sleepy B”—he groans at that—“thinks your stories aren’t dark enough, thinks she can do much much better.”

  “She doesn’t understand things like nuance, subtlety, pacing and suspense. No, all she cares about is monsters and cheesy dark romanticism.” He rolls his eyes. “And that’s not her name.” He retreats inside his mind, mulling things, muttering to himself, “Her pacing and symbolism sucks…”

  “So what is her real name, anyway?”

  “Ebugor,” he mutters distractedly, before returning to his thoughts, but now his eyes widen a little in alarm. “Err, I mean, Abigail.”

  “Which is it?”

  “Enough! I am done talking about that ungrateful child. Now I shall prepare you for your encounter with the Mad Hatter or I shall leave this instant!”

  The Cat chuckles. “I think you touched a nerve.”

  Malice crosses her arms. “Fine, go on, then.”

  The Storyteller gives a curt nod. “Four of your teammates and one of the Queen of Hearts’ team were each killed by being bitten by a fairy tale being.”

  He’s referring to the “game” the Storyteller had set up, in which the Queen of Hearts’ team went against Malice’s. They met challenges up against twisted versions of fairy tales. In the end, Malice had won, thus becoming the ruler of Wonderland, while the Queen of Hearts had been sent to her dungeon cell. Also, most of the fairy tale beings had been sent away to the outside world, which was good, since they’d been making so much trouble.

  Malice says, “Who’s the member of the Queen of Hearts’ team that was killed?”

  “The Knight.”

  “Oh, well I suppose he deserves to be saved. He’s an okay fellow, really. What of the brothers?” The two young men known as the Brothers Grimm had been on the Queen of Hearts’ team as well.

  “They were unharmed,” the Storyteller answers.

  “So what are they doing with themselves now that all their precious fairy tale creations are gone?”

  “They’ve decided to retire from the fairy tale making business and focus on their artwork and on enjoying the stories that result from their creations leading their own lives.”

  “I see. And wasn’t there a card…” She means one of the guard cards—large cards with arms and legs and heads that usually carry a spear.

  “Yes, there was, but he died without being bitten, so he didn’t rise again.”

  The Cat says. “He died from tackling a flaming pig! It was spectacular!”

  Malice decides not to go any further into that. Her brow furrows. “So all my teammates were killed, but they’re alive again?”

  The Storyteller says, “I suppose it
depends on your definition of alive. After a time of incubation after they were killed, they were ‘reawakened’ in a state of combination with the essence of the fairy tale that bit them.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means they have become twisted by the twisted fairy tales. They are now half their original selves, and half fairy tale. Your Mad Hatter, for instance, is now half Cinderella.”

  “What?! How so?”

  He shrugs. “I don’t want to ruin the surprise. It’s called suspense.”

  “And what of Cinderella herself?”

  “She’s her usual, twisted self. Last I saw of her, she was going through the Looking Glass to fight Alice the Fairy Tale Slayer. I suppose you are Wonderland’s equivalent. Like two sides of a coin, you two are!”

  “What do you mean, ‘fairy tale slayer’?”

  “Why, my girl, that’s what the stakes are for. Here…” He rummages through his bag and pulls out a purple-painted wooden stake. “If you want to get your friends back—I mean, the way they were before—you must drive out the fairy tale part inside of them with these special fairy tale slaying stakes. You must stake them in the heart.”

  “Oh, wow,” the Cat says in delight, but Malice gasps in shock. “Won’t that harm the…uh, non-fairy-tale part of them?”

  “Oh, no, my dear girl, of course it won’t. The stakes are magical—they only slay the fairy tale portion. Then, after a brief period of recovery and a healing of all their wounds, their hearts shall start beating again, and they’ll be back to their old selves, and ta-da! You will have saved them.”

  Malice narrows her eyes. “You want me to drive a stake through their heart and you expect me to trust you when you say it won’t harm them?”

  “Why, of course my dear!”

  “Why should I?”

  “Because I’m the Storyteller, and I wouldn’t ruin the story that way. You must be able to trust what I tell you of the rules and conditions. After all, I too am bound by the Rules of Story, you know.”

  “No, I don’t know. The fairy tale beings kept mentioning that, but what is it, exactly?”