“Ms. Liddell, I’m Doctor Blatherskite.” Even his voice is deep and smooth, and I turn my head to the side to study him better. There’s something about him that seems off, but I can’t place what it is.
The door closes behind him, and he sits down cross-legged on the floor in front of Alice. No other nurses or assistants come inside with him. I raise my brow. I’ve never seen anyone so relaxed around Alice in the visions, nor have I seen anyone sit down to be on her level.
Alice giggles, that uneasy grin now directed at him.
“Hatter . . . White . . . Cheshire . . . Alex . . .,” she tells him.
“I’m very interested in your condition, the hallucinations your file mentions.”
Her eye twitches. The next time she repeats the names, her voice is strong and sure.
“Hatter. White. Cheshire. Alex.”
“Exactly,” the doctor answers, nodding his head. “I believe you’ve seen these people, these creatures. I don’t think they’re hallucinations at all.” Alice stops rocking and focuses completely on him. “What would you say if I asked you to take me there?”
Alice shakes her head violently.
“Im, Imposs . . .”
She can’t get the word out, but it seems the doctor and I both understand her. It’s impossible to get to Wonderland.
The doctor grins. He lifts his hand to stroke down her face. She leans into the touch, starved for physical contact, the little girl who has lived her life in an asylum.
“Is it, Alice?” he asks tenderly.
The scene changes so hard, I stumble and slam my eyes shut to fight the nausea in my stomach. When I open them again, it’s to see the vibrant colors of Wonderland again. Immediately, I realize I’m not alone, and it’s far from quiet. Creatures fill the garden I stand in, the bushes and topiaries carved into grotesque creations. One looks like Alice holding up a severed head. Another just looks like some sort of terrifying beast.
The creatures and people form a ring where grunts of pain and screams of agony come from. In front of me, Alice sits on a high throne, clothed in a blood-red dress. Her hair is perfectly styled, a brilliant red crown on her head. Her skin is so pale, she would look like a ghost if it wasn’t for her pure black eyes. Gone is the little girl. In her place, sits a monster.
Alice smiles at a particularly loud scream from the circle, her hand reaching out towards a man beside her. I take a step back when I study him closer. He would have been handsome once. If it wasn’t for the roses growing where half of his face used to be, I’m sure he still would be.
“Isn’t it glorious, Knave?” Alice asks him.
“Yes, my Queen,” the Knave answers without hesitation, almost robotically. Alice chuckles and runs her hand across the man’s shoulder. I can’t be sure, but I think I see his remaining eye twitch at the touch.
On Alice’s other side stands White, his hands behind his back in a relaxed position. I wrinkle my brow at the sight. He appears relaxed, but when I look closer, the muscles in his neck are tense, as if he’s fighting to hold himself back . . . or something else holds him in check.
Alice glances at him and grins at the sight, pleased with whatever she sees there. When another scream comes from the ring, I turn and push my way through the crowd, a sneaking suspicion of what I’ll find. When I get a good view of the ring, I fight the vomit in my throat.
Doe is strapped down in the center in her bird form. She still has half of her feathers, and I can see the beauty they once were before Alice took them. The creatures take turns ripping feathers from her hide and each time she screams in absolute agony, as if she dies with each one taken. Tears spring to my eyes as she begs for mercy, as she fights against the bonds that hold her.
I turn back to White, still at attention next to Alice. She leans over and strokes a finger down his ear. Violence whispers in my veins at the touch, and I move closer towards them.
“Isn’t this the perfect torture?” she asks him, her nail scraping against the fur. “Watching while your friend is in agony, while there isn’t a thing you can do to stop it.” He doesn’t respond, and she wraps her hand around his ear so hard he flinches. “I asked you a question,” she snarls. White stubbornly stays silent, fighting whatever compulsion she has on him to remain so. “Alright, White. If you won’t talk, I’ll make you scream.”
She yanks so hard on his ear, it rips free. I scream at the same moment that White’s bellows fill the arena. He drops to the ground, his hand clamped around the stump left behind. I rush forward and attempt to put myself between the Red Queen and White. But this is the past, not the present. Alice’s foot goes right through me as she kicks White down into the circle of creatures. They all grow silent as he comes to a stop beside Doe.
“Have at him,” Alice commands.
I stumble away, my hand clutching my chest at the sounds that fill the air. The blood. I can’t get all the blood out of my mind. I can’t breathe, and as White’s bellows fills the air, I retch.
The scene swirls away, and I’m afraid to look and see the vision this time. But I need to know all the facts, so I reluctantly turn and take in the opulent room I stand in. It’s furnished in luxury, velvet curtains hanging from the window, indulgent bedding covering a four-poster bed. The walls and floor are stone.
Alice sits in front of a mirror, staring at her reflection. She tugs a lock of her hair over the scar that still peeks from the strands, a bald spot she fights to cover. Her gown is more casual, resembling a night dress more than anything else I’ve seen her wear. It’s sheer and shows off her curves beneath it.
A man steps up from nowhere and gently runs his hands along her shoulders. My eyes open in shock as I recognize that same movie-star face, that same voice as he leans down to Alice’s ear.
“You look beautiful, my Queen,” the doctor from the Asylum whispers to her.
He leans down and presses a kiss to her cheek. Alice revels in the kiss, closing her eyes as if to savor it. When he pulls away, she stands and wraps her arms around his neck, before standing on her tiptoes and kissing his lips furiously. The man backs them up towards the bed until they sprawl across it together, Alice straddling his waist. I watch as they begin to glow, energy swirling around them as they become more intimate.
Alice breaks away and begins to kiss down the man’s naked chest, and for the first time I notice a tattoo etched into his skin. It looks like some sort of dragon creature that wraps around his body, the head on his pectoral. It’s not something I recognize, and I save it to my memory for later.
“Take from me,” the man groans as Alice runs her tongue along the tattoo. “Feed your power.”
Alice moans as the glow brightens and begins to flow towards her body. She strokes a hand down the doctor’s face, adoration clear on hers.
“My precious Jabberwocky,” she whispers, right before she bites him on the neck.
I’m thrown backwards out of the vision.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
I come to, gasping for air, and sit up from where I’m lying on the floor. My skin is coated with sweat, and I glance over to Clara sitting behind me, where she had been holding me in her lap. When the hell did I end up on the floor? I feel the back of my head and wince when I feel the goose egg there.
“Sorry,” Clara mumbles. “You jerked pretty violently at one point, and I couldn’t catch you before you fell.”
Her eyes flick over to Cheshire who stands at the window, making it clear she’s peeved that he didn’t help.
March is sitting at the table, pouring tea from one teacup to another, back and forth. My head spins as I try to push myself up, and I clench my forehead in an attempt to stop the feeling.
“Deep breaths,” Clara urges me, rubbing my back in comfort. “Find something to ground yourself and focus on it.”
The first thing my eyes land on is Cheshire’s tail, slowly flicking back and forth. I watch the blue and grey fur move, focusing on it until the fuzziness begins to ebb. Cheshire doesn’t comm
ent when he realizes what I’m fixated on, and I’m thankful for that. I fully expect him to be an asshole about it.
Finally, my heart rate slows down enough that I can gather my wits. I run my hand through my hair, realizing it’s loose and around my shoulders in a mess.
“What did you see?” Clara asks gently. She’s watching me closely, as if she expects me to panic at any moment. I should be, but I have a mission, and if anything can keep me from freaking out, it’s a puzzle.
I’m staring at the wall, trying to find the words to describe the visions, when a Bandersnatch shriek pierces the air. I cringe, a slight pain in my ear letting me know just how close they are.
“I need some time to think,” I respond to Clara’s question.
She nods and squeezes my hand before standing. She helps me to my own feet. My legs feel like jelly, and it takes me a moment to steady myself.
“Cheshire, we should go before the Red Queen arrives,” Clara tells him, dusting off her hands.
“She’s coming?” I can’t help the alarm in my voice. I’m not prepared to face her yet.
“We figure she has some sort of enchantment on March’s cabin,” Clara explains. “If anyone but him enters, it sounds an alarm. We didn’t know that when I came here, and we almost died for it.”
“We have to go back on the porch, and we need to be fast,” Cheshire mumbles, dropping the curtain he’d been looking out back into place. He nods at March as he passes him, heading towards the door.
“Thank you, March,” Clara tells him. I repeat the sentiment.
March snorts and takes a sip of tea.
“‘Don’t lose your heads’, she said. ‘Or else you’ll wind up dead’.” March repeats the words back to himself and then flows into a fit of giggles.
When we step outside, the Bandersnatch shrieks can be heard even closer. None of us speak as Cheshire offers us claw-tipped hands again. Neither I nor Clara mention it, and when I place my hand in his, he’s so gentle, that not a single claw nicks my skin.
We reappear back on the Hatter’s porch moments before the final Bandersnatch shriek fades. As soon as we’re solid, the Hatter wraps Clara up in a desperate hug and drags her away. Cheshire drops my hand like I burn him.
“I was going mad without you,” he growls and buries his head in her hair.
“We weren’t gone that long,” she tells him, hugging him just as tightly to her.
“You were much too long, it felt too wrong,” he sings.
I look away from the couple to give them their privacy. It’s a moment I feel bad witnessing, like it’s their time and theirs alone. When I turn, my eyes land on Cheshire. He’s watching Hatter and Clara with a longing so deep, it makes me ache for him. When he realizes I’m looking at him from my place on the porch, he blinks his normal mask back into place, indifference now front and center. He steps away and lounges across the chair he’d taken up residence in before we’d left.
“What’s wrong, Fire Crotch?” he asks.
I don’t even give him a dignified response. I flip out one of the small knives the Hatter had supplied me, and I fling it in his direction. My aim is off because I don’t take the time to line up my sight. Rule number one of my classes, always take the time to aim if possible, or it could cost you your life. But I don’t plan on harming Cheshire. It flies for his stomach but just before it can strike, he plucks it from the air as if it’s nothing but a bug, and he begins flicking it through his fingers. He grins.
“You’re right on time for tea,” Hatter announces, opening the door to go inside.
Cheshire scowls at the mention of tea.
“Are the Tweedles still here?” he asks.
Hatter nods, and Cheshire frowns in response.
“Come on, Jupiter. It’s time for your first tea party,” Clara says, grabbing my hand and pulling me inside the house. I immediately blink my eyes at the interior. It’s off-kilter, as if it somehow leans to the side and is perfectly level at the same time. “You get used to it.” Clara tugs me to the left and through double doors.
“Do you have any paper and a pen?” I ask, taking in the other creatures already sitting at the table. There’s a man with gorgeous moose antlers sitting beside a woman with a deer-like face. Both nod their heads at me in acknowledgment before whispering to each other. The table is mostly full, and I stare in shock at some of the weirder ones, like a man with a fish face, and something that looks like a mixture between a giant beetle and a lizard. I can’t tell if it's male or female, but it chortles to me as I pass.
“I have a notebook at my seat,” Clara answers. She notices me staring at the creatures. “It’s difficult at first, but you grow accustomed to it. Hatter and I welcome everyone at our table, before he leads them to the Hereafter.”
“Can you tell me more about that once I complete my part of the prophecy?”
“Of course. It’ll be nice to have someone to talk to about everything.” Clara glances at the Hatter. “I still have so many things I need to talk out. Maybe you can answer some of my questions about White, as well.”
I don’t answer her. I’m not sure if there’s anything I can tell her about White, not that I’d feel comfortable discussing. There’s a lot I feel is just between the two of us, but it’s nice to have a friend who understands what’s going on and that I can talk to.
The stories got Hatter’s table correct. It’s filled completely with mismatched dishes loaded up with sweet breads, cupcakes, and odd foods that I have no name for. There are tea pots filled with various colored teas. Everything ranges from new to old, even the chairs following the mismatched theme, but the table seems sturdy enough.
We make our way to the very end of the set table, Clara gesturing to a seat right beside her, as she takes one of the head throne-like chairs. Hatter takes the one next to her and immediately wraps her hand in his.
“Feast!” Hatter tells everyone, and table fills with the sounds of slurping and eating.
I pay no mind. Clara passes me a journal, and I immediately open it and begin to scribble. I need to see everything I know listed out on paper.
The doctor from the asylum is a Jabberwocky.
He’s providing Alice with energy for her powers somehow, and she absorbs it.
The cord around Doe’s neck muffled her magic.
White knew Alice was being tortured in an Asylum and left her there.
I’m staring at the last fact, lost in my thoughts, when Cheshire plops down in the seat next to me. He starts pouring himself some tea. When he offers it to me, I shake my head, remembering White’s warning.
“Oh! Jupiter, the blue teapot is safe for you to drink,” Clara mentions. “And these pies are safe. Don’t touch anything else unless you want to get drunk.” She glares at Cheshire as he takes a sip of the tea he tried to offer me–in a black pot no less—and he grins.
“The Tweedles,” he tells me, pointing towards two people who enter the tea room.
I freeze when I see them, my eyes going so wide, I must look like I’ve seen a ghost. They each move in synchronization so comfortable with each other that they move as one unit. The one on the left is obviously a male, his wide chest covered with dragon scale armor that glimmers under the dim lighting. His face is handsome but off-putting, the strong jaw giving way to harsh curling horns that wrap around his head where his ears should be. The one on the right is a female, her hourglass body wrapped in similar armor to what I assume is her brother. Her lips are painted a blood red, but I can’t see her eyes. Where they should be, a plate comes down that forms into the matching set of horns on her head. Their skirts glimmer with movement as they come into the room, and I squint my eyes to see what it is.
“They’re beetles,” Cheshire answers for me. “The fuckers are weird about their beetles.”
I wrinkle my nose at him even as I can’t take my eyes from the pair who take their seats in the middle of the table. All the creatures around them shift uncomfortably.
“Don’t worr
y,” Clara tells me. “We have a deal. They can’t harm you.”
“Would they if there wasn’t a deal?”
She nods. “Yeah, they would. I’ve seen them in action. Don’t mess with them, and don’t turn your back on them.”
“Hey, Tweedle Dumb Fucks!” Cheshire shouts down the table.
Clara sighs and shakes her head. The female of the pair tilts her head towards the other. The male looks angry, his face scrunched up, but the female’s hand on his shoulder keeps him seated.
“Tweedledee and Tweedledum?” I ask, because who else can they be? They’re so far from what I expected that I can’t even comprehend them. Clara nods. “What are they?”
“Pains in the ass,” Cheshire answers. “Good in a fight, though.”
“Think of them like Djinn,” Clara says, her eyes flicking towards a mark on her wrist.
“What did you learn from the March Hare? What information did you glean from there?” Hatter interjects, shifting in his seat.
Clara places her hand on his and smiles up at him before looking at me expectantly.
I launch into a description of the visions, focusing on the Jabberwocky. I feel like that holds the answer to my mission, since my goal is to take away the Queen’s immortality, or her power source essentially. Would I have to take out the Jabberwocky himself? I’m not sure.
The Hatter and Cheshire tense at the mention of the Jabberwocky.
“Are you certain?” Hatter asks.
“Describe him.” Cheshire stares at me expectantly.
“He’s good-looking, strong jaw, blond hair. He has some sort of dragon tattoo that runs around his chest. He was in the asylum and then in Wonderland.”
Cheshire swears at the same time that Hatter scoffs and begins to stir his tea. Clara looks between us, frowning.
“Is that bad?”
“It’s fucking terrible,” Cheshire says, slamming his fist on the table. The dishes rattle, and all the creatures look up. “The description doesn’t ring a bell, but the tattoo means he’s definitely a Jabberwocky.”
Late as a Rabbit (Sons of Wonderland Book 2) Page 14
