Chess chuckled, his hand re-forming, though there was something off about the laughter. It lightened, pitching higher, shriller. The smile that stretched his face nearly reached his ears. His teeth sharpened, the whites of his eyes fading to black.
Fear slithered through Alice as she struggled to get free from the goop ensnaring her.
“What’s wrong, princess, don’t like my new look?” Chess’s lips moved, but a woman’s voice passed through them. “That’s what he calls you, isn’t it? No.” He tapped a long, sharp, black finger against his lower lip. “No, that’s not it. Milady? Milady, that’s right. Now then, milady, let’s have a chat, mm?”
“Who are you?” Alice asked, her voice much steadier than she felt. This wasn’t Chess, and the voice? The voice was familiar, tapping at some small part of Alice’s brain that knew it, but couldn’t place where from. “What have you done to my friend?”
“Don’t worry, he’s fine. I simply borrowed his likeness to test out my newest creation. And because I knew you’d follow him, just as you did last time.” Fake-Chess lifted his hand, his pale fingers darkening, the skin loosening before dripping like melted wax.
The roiling in Alice’s stomach intensified. She withdrew as much as her trapped foot would allow.
“Marvelous, isn’t it? Fear, refined to its purest, most potent form, easily manipulated if you know what you’re doing, and so many uses. Like reviving and controlling your little friend.” Fake-Chess turned those dark eyes on her. “I’m curious to see if I can control one such as you.”
Alice struck before she could even think about it, fear launching her fist forward. It connected with Fake-Chess’s cheek, but instead of striking flesh, tissues, and bone beneath, his face gave, folding around her fist, cold and wet. Her breath caught as a chill raced up her arm.
“I see you need to be taught some manners,” Fake-Chess said, the words muffled by his lips being squished together.
Alice tried to pull away, but her hand was stuck. The fluid flesh of Fake-Chess’s cheek began to climb up her wrist and slurp down her arm. With a shout, she twisted to get at her backpack and the Figment Blades tucked inside. The strap slid down her arm, and she swung it around, only for fingers to curl around her wrist and yank the bag from her grip.
“Uh-uh-uh.” Fake-Chess grinned and tossed the bag aside. “Can’t have that.”
The goop continued to swallow more of Alice’s arm, and now the fingers around her wrist blackened and spread.
“No,” she gasped. “No! Get away from me!” She pushed and pulled, but her arms were trapped. The gunk on her foot spread up her leg. It covered her body, pouring over her clothes, against her skin, cold and wet. “No!”
It reached her face, and she screamed, the sound soon muffled as it closed over her mouth. She pressed her lips together against the slithering sensation, twisting and pulling, but it was no use. It crawled over her face.
She shut her eyes.
Nine
MISSING
Addison pressed his fingers to his temples hard enough to feel his pulse behind his eyes. It did nothing to ease the ache building at the center of his skull, sweeping outward, slowly but surely eating away at his thoughts.
It won’t hurt anymore if you just give in.
“No.”
Fighting it will only make things worse for you. You know this.
“Fighting is all I can do.”
It will be unbearable.
“I am accustomed to pain.”
A knock at the door banished the hissing between his ears as his head snapped up. The pounding intensified with the jerky movement, and he groaned faintly. “Yes?”
The door opened, and Anastasia filled the entryway. Her expression pinched, she looked less than pleased about something. Then again, she often was.
“Alice’s little friend is in the bar. She says something is wrong and wants to talk to you about it.”
Addison felt the frown pull at his brow. “Courtney?” He pushed to stand, coming around his desk. “She’s alone?”
“As far as I can tell.” Anastasia led the way down the hall and into the bar, the rope of her red hair swinging past her hips.
As promised, Courtney paced near the entrance, clutching something to her chest as she stomped back and forth, those ridiculous shoes of hers clicking against the floor.
“Courtney,” Addison called as he approached.
She glanced up, her eyes wide and rimmed. Her pale face still lacked the sweeps of color and glitter she usually wore.
“What’s the matt—”
“Is Alice here?” She stumbled over the words, speaking them almost too quickly to be understood.
“No, she’s—” He glanced to the Tweedlanovs, who both sat at the bar, for confirmation. The two of them shrugged simultaneously, then turned twin looks of concern to Courtney. He faced her as well. “Should she be?”
“Oh my god, I knew it, I knew it!” Courtney pressed a hand over her mouth with a hiccup as more tears followed the faintly slick trails along her flushed cheeks. She then shook that same hand as she drew a shaky breath. “There was something wrong, I don’t—I was waiting for her in my car, and she went off to the other side of the lot, and I should’ve followed her, but I thought she was talking to someone, I don’t know. And she took forever, so I started to drive around, and she screamed, and I tried to hurry, but I was too late!”
Those words shot through Addison with the pinpoint accuracy of an arrow through the heart. They stole his breath just as easily. “Wait, slow down, what happened?”
Courtney wiped her nose and sniffled as she shook her head. “I—I—I don’t know,” she squeaked. “I don’t know! This thing! There was this—this black thing with her, then everything just went white, it exploded with this light, and when it went away, she was gone!”
Twin shouts of disbelieving shock rose from the Tweedles as they practically leaped from their seats, approaching Courtney. She hugged whatever was in her arms tighter against her chest.
That’s when Addison noticed it was Alice’s pack. He reached for it despite himself.
The twins quieted.
Courtney tightened her hold for the briefest moment, then relinquished the bag. “This was left on the ground.”
Addison held the bag carefully, like it might crumble in his grasp. Little figurines dangled on keychains hung from the zippers, tiny dolls with huge eyes, ridiculous hair, and little skirts. He’d teased Alice about them once, asking if she was too old for toys.
“Addison.” Anastasia’s voice cut through the memory.
He looked up to her, then to the sobbing Courtney, who still stood in front of him, her face buried in her hands. Alice was missing.
“Ah.” With a thick swallow, he set a hand to Courtney’s shoulder and guided her toward the bar. “Did anyone else see what happened?”
She shook her head.
“Was the black thing a Nightmare? Like what chased you the other night?”
“N-no. This was like … I can’t really describe it. Just black stuff!”
Anastasia turned to the back of the bar area, glasses tinkling faintly before she faced forward again and set a large jar against the counter with a clack. “Did it look like this?”
Inside the glass, what could only be described as some sort of living mud rolled about along the bottom of the jar. It flowed in over itself, unending, even as it flopped about and glopped up along the side.
“Yes!” Courtney aimed a finger tipped with a pink nail at the jar. “That’s that Slithe stuff, right?”
“Da. This was covering the room where your friend was this morning, likely left over from the same method he used to abduct Madeline.” Anastasia’s voice dropped just so, and her gaze wandered around the room before finding his again. She was putting on airs, but she was worried. They all were. About Maddi, and now Alice.
You knew this could happen. You would have been strong enough to prevent it if you’d given in.
&nb
sp; “Silence!” Addison shut his eyes tight, pinching at the bridge of his nose. “Just … leave me alone.”
Fingers squeezed his shoulder.
“Addison?” Anastasia’s voice pressed gently.
He shook his head, drawing a slow breath. “I’m fine. Leave it be.”
“Ahem.”
Addison blinked open his eyes and turned, same as everyone else, to find Xelon standing just outside the hallway to the back. She looked so strange in human clothes, a pair of jeans that were just the right side of ill-fitting and a brown Thanksgiving sweater with a cartoon turkey stitched into the front. Her white hair fell across and around her shoulders.
“Once my armor is repaired, the princess and I will be ready to depart for…” Xelon’s pale eyes flickered between them, lingering over Addison’s left shoulder—doubtlessly on a crying Courtney. “What’s wrong?”
Addison started to answer, but the words stuck in his throat. A sudden tautness between his lungs stole his breath and the ability to speak. Alice is missing, he was going to say, the weight of those words heavy enough to pull at him from the inside. His hold on her bag tightened, same as Courtney’s had. Clearing his throat, he tried again. “Alice is missing.”
* * *
After two more explanations of what Courtney had witnessed, once for Xelon, then again for the princess, a plan had been devised, and now the princess stood in the center of the bar, the Eye in hand. Dressed once more in flowing silks and glistening cloth, she looked every bit like her mother. Addison hadn’t seen the White Queen in decades, but the memory tugged at his heart, all the same.
“Open my eyes.” The princess finished the Verse, and the Eye burst to life with light. She tilted her head back, and the jewel rose from where it rested against her palms before fixing itself at the center of her forehead.
As before, light tumbled down her body. It coated her limbs and filled them from the inside out, casting her in radiance. And, also as before, she approached the mirror set behind the bar and pressed her hand to it. The surface rippled as if it were water pricked by stone, the image wavering, the few remaining unbroken bottles and shelves fading.
Addison waited for the image to solidify into a location, but it continued to swell, the waves cresting and falling. And then they stilled. Silence filled the room. Heads swiveled as people glanced around and at each other.
“I don’t understand.” The princess’s voice with its dual-toned echo breached the quiet.
“What is it, Your Highness?” Xelon lifted a hand as if to touch the princess but refrained.
“I can’t see her.” Odabeth tilted her head this way, then that, angled it back and forth like she was trying to peer around or through some unseen obstruction. Her hair swam about her head as if caught underwater. “I can’t see anything.”
“Concentrate, Your Majesty,” Anastasia encouraged. Her eyes moved between the empty mirror and the glowing Odabeth.
“I’m trying.” Her words were strained. Her bright fingers flexed against the glass.
The image bubbled. Something flickered briefly into existence. Odabeth bowed her head, her shoulders hunching. The image returned, more defined this time. Black erupted from the center, shards of darkness, jagged and sharp. The ground was ash and wasteland, cracked and broken. Thunderous clouds stained the sky, their mass cut by flashes of red lightning.
Ice rolled through Addison, familiarity chilling him through to the bone. Fear followed, just as cold and twice as sharp.
“Bozhe moi,” Anastasia whispered.
“What?” Courtney asked. “What is it?”
Home …
“The Nox.” Addison tore his gaze away as the pounding in his head intensified. “But that’s impossible, she can’t be there.”
“That is what I see,” the princess gasped, her voice tense.
“Princess.” Xelon did take hold of her shoulders this time. “You need to release the vision.”
“Wait,” Anastasia called. “It’s changing.”
Addison lifted his eyes to the mirror. As Anastasia said, the view of the Nox was shifting, swirling into a whirlpool of black and silver.
Odabeth whimpered.
“This is too much,” Xelon cautioned.
“Just a moment longer,” Addison said.
“Strewth, it’s hurting her!”
Odabeth lifted a glowing hand for silence just as everything settled. A cliff rose against the pink sky above, tinged with blue and red as the day ended. The edge curved outward, then dropped into a wide chasm, and in the distance the same roiling, thunderous skies of the Nox winked crimson. Across it all, a sort of gray haze settled in the air, like peering through smoke. But even with such a landmark, Addison could not place this location.
“Does anyone know where this is?” he asked.
“It is unfamiliar to me,” the Duchess murmured.
The twins shook their heads, as did Xelon.
“N-not there,” Odabeth panted. “Not here. No … nowhere…” The mirror shifted again, darkening. Then a face flashed against the glass, razor sharp, framed in jagged lines, red flickering in its eyes. “Auhn!” With the princess’s cry, the image shattered. So did the mirror, with a sound like thunder. Shards showered the bar as everyone took cover, Xelon throwing herself over Odabeth.
As the roar faded, an echo of laughter chased after it. His ears ringing, the throbbing behind his eyes worsened, Hatta struggled to his feet. “I-is everyone all right?”
“The hell was that?” Courtney complained as Dee helped her to stand.
Dem picked himself up.
So did Anastasia, muttering in Russian the entire time. “That was impossible. Impossible.”
But it wasn’t, was it?
Addison pressed a hand over his eyes. “Mmph.”
It was her …
“No…”
“Princess?” Xelon croaked. “O-Odabeth?” Panic danced at the edge of her voice.
Addison made his way over to the knight and her lady, Anastasia close behind. Lying in Xelon’s arms, the princess had reverted to her natural form, the light of the Eye no longer filling her. The eye itself lay on the ground, a short distance away. Anastasia went to fetch it while Addison pressed fingers to Odabeth’s pulse. It leaped beneath his touch, weak but steady.
“I think it just took a lot out of her, is all,” he murmured.
“She will need to rest.” Anastasia took up the chain attached to the Eye and draped it around Odabeth’s neck. “I will prepare a rejuvenation potion to help combat her fatigue.”
With thanks, and help from Anastasia, Xelon managed to regain her feet, Odabeth cradled in her arms. The two then headed for the back.
Addison slid onto the nearest barstool, nearly slumping against the counter, eyes on the splintered remains of the mirror. That voice. It couldn’t have been her.
But what if it is?
She was still dormant. She had to be; the Eye was here.
You know that voice. It calls to us. We should answer.
Digging his fingers into his temples, Addison pushed to his feet and went around to the other side of the bar, crunching over glass along the way. He grabbed the nearest bottle of amber liquid, not sure what it was and not really caring, so long as it was hard, unscrewed the top, and tipped the neck to his lips. One, two, three, four strong pulls later, the burn in the back of his throat and the thick buzzing behind his eyes were signs that he might regret this decision later, but for now at least he’d have his head back, for a time.
He hadn’t expected the old urges to rise so quickly or so sharply, not after burying that part of himself so deep for so long. And without Madeline, they would continue to grow, until he couldn’t distinguish the part of his mind that was lying from the rest of him. He took another couple of pulls, then set the bottle on the counter, taking deep breaths. Lifting his gaze, he found the twins and Courtney all staring at him, their expressions equal parts concerned and impressed.
“What now?�
� Courtney asked quietly.
“Now.” Addison retrieved three glasses, poured a finger of what he now realized was whiskey into each, then shoved them toward the other three. They each took a glass and knocked it back, wincing. “Now we find her.”
“No one knows where that was.” Dee gestured at the remains of the mirror.
“How do we find someone in a place no one has ever been?” Dem asked.
“Or find a way to find said place?” Dee asked.
True, no one here had recognized that location, but there was one individual who knew Wonderland better than most, and half as much as all. He’d be up to the task, if the old man was sober. If not, well, he’d better be up to it anyway. Addison pulled his phone from his back pocket. “I know a guy.”
Ten
DOWN IS UP
Alice jolted, her eyes flying open. Her heart thundered in her ears. Her chest heaved, gasping for breath, she couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t … she …
Something was wrong. That inkling skittered along her nerves, and she wrapped her arms around herself even as the urgency of the feeling faded. Like trying to hold on to a dream just after waking, she couldn’t remember what was wrong, exactly, only that it was. Whatever it was. And it was starting to make her head hurt.
“Ugh, where am I?” Blinking, she glanced around. She stood at the edge of a chasm with vast emptiness before her and the broken Wonderland sky above. At least, it looked like the Wonderland sky. Purple clouds bloated with blue moonlight coasted across the fissure as Dust fell like fine rain. In the distance, the darkness of the Nox waited.
“What am I doing here?”
Was she on a mission? Her hands fell to the pommels of the daggers at her hips, more for comfort than anything. No, she was searching for someone.
“You can’t stay here,” a familiar voice said from somewhere behind her.
A Dream So Dark Page 9