“Thank you. Truly.” He released a slow breath and relaxed against the back of the tub, his eyelids growing heavy. He let them fall shut as Naette shuffled toward the door and out of the room.
His mind started to drift, his senses swimming. The heady scent of the bath filled him with each gradually slowing breath. For once, his mind was calm. The part of himself that told him to give in to the darkness scratching at his thoughts was quiet. And he was thankful.
* * *
“You look comfortable.” The sharpness in Naette’s voice scraped across Addison’s sleep-addled brain. He didn’t even realize he’d drifted off.
He forced his eyes open and sat up slightly. “I am.” He lifted one hand to rub at his face. “How long was I asleep?”
“Long enough. How’s that bath working?” She eyed him down the length of her nose.
“Pretty good.” He slipped one hand to his side to test the wound. It was still very sensitive, but the worst of the pain had dulled. “Seems to be doing the trick.”
“Good, good,” she murmured, then clapped her hands together. “Let’s start the next phase.” Naette vanished, then reappeared across the room, grabbing a jar of something that glowed blue. She eyed it briefly, then put it back in place. She examined a few more jars before vanishing and reappearing near another shelf, searching through it similarly.
Addison stared, blinking slowly. “You’re a Tirip,” he murmured.
“I am.” She finally found whatever she was looking for, nodding before vanishing again. She appeared next to the tub to pour it in. “This ought to help.”
The water started to bubble slightly as if heated, though the temperature didn’t change. Steam rose into the air, carrying the scent of rosewood and something earthy.
“There we are.” She smiled. “Deep breaths, now.” She stoppered the jar and vanished once more, appearing across the room in order to return the jar to its place.
Addison drew in an obedient breath, then another. “I was once friends with a Tirip.” He stammered, his tongue thick and clumsy with the words. Something was wrong. “What’s … what’s happening?” Panic drummed sluggishly in his mind as he struggled to lift his arms, slapping weakly at the rim of the tub in attempt to grab it.
Naette came over and took one of his hands between hers, her touch warm. She rubbed his fingers. “No need for fear. It’s an effect of the bath.” Her voice dipped, softening. “The worse a patient’s injuries, the more energy their body expends to heal them. The bath helps speed up that process. You’re pretty banged up, so it puts you to sleep to do its work. Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on you so you don’t drown.”
Well, that was somewhat comforting. He wanted to say thank you, but all he could manage was a low groan.
Naette chuckled, patted his hand, then let it slip back into the bath. “One last thing.” She stepped over to the small window on the far side of the room. She pushed it open and drew a breath. “There. That’ll keep things from getting too steamy in here. Back soon.”
And with that, she was gone.
Addison shut his eyes and sank deeper into the bath. The tingling along his skin gradually intensified, especially around his wounds, almost to the point of discomfort. Still, it was better than literal sidesplitting agony.
Click. The latch on the window fastened.
It was a struggle, but he forced his eyes open, expecting to see Naette. Instead the Imposter stood over his bath, helmeted head angled to the side. “Enjoying ourselves?”
Water went sloshing when Addison jolted as fear sharpened to a fine point, the only thing in focus, before darkness finally crept in and consumed him.
Twenty-Four
WHAT’S IN A NAME
Addison didn’t move nor open his eyes immediately upon waking. Instead, he kept still, kept his breathing even, and tried to discern all he could with his limited senses. It was difficult, with the steady burn of the exile Verse twisting up his insides this far from the Gateway.
He was no longer in the bath, but instead sitting up, in a chair of some sort. His arms were pulled behind him, and his shoulders and wrists ached slightly. He was likely bound. He resisted the urge to test the bonds. His feet didn’t feel bound, but that didn’t mean anything.
“I know you’re not asleep,” a familiar voice called from nearby.
Leaning against the table toward the wall in Naette’s medicine room, the Imposter tapped his fingers against the tabletop. “There he is.”
Addison twisted his wrists slightly. Fibers dug into his skin, some type of rope.
“Are you comfortable?” The Imposter tilted his head to the side. “Not too tight, I trust.”
Addison swallowed, trying to think past his thumping heart and frazzled thoughts. The remnants of whatever had put him under were still clinging to the edges of his senses. He glanced around. As he’d assumed, he was trussed up in a chair, his arms behind his back. His legs were free.
So many questions raced through Addison’s mind, but only one managed to free itself. “Where is Madeline?”
“The Poet is fine. In one piece and everything. My lady has need of her, so she is well protected. For the time being.”
Grunting, Addison relaxed his shoulders even as his fingers worked furiously at his bindings, searching for a weakness in the knots. “And who is your lady?”
Silence stretched between them as they stared at one another. At least, Addison stared at the Imposter, who could have drifted off to sleep behind that helmet for all he could tell.
Finally, the Imposter drew a slow breath and straightened. “Does the name Humphrey mean something to you?”
Addison’s spine snapped straight. It’d been years since he heard that name. Even now it attempted to conjure memories he’d rather stay buried. He narrowed his eyes. “Why?”
“Ahh, so it does.” The Imposter drummed his fingers on the table. “Was he important to you?”
“Why?” Hatta asked a second time, forcing the question through clenched teeth.
In his experience, true coincidences were few and far between, and usually an act of nature. It started to rain while you were in a shop that sold umbrellas, or you got a flat outside of a tire shop. This? This was bound to be something more. The Imposter showed up, Portentia’s name was invoked for the first time in years, and now Humphrey?
“Did you do something to him?” Hatta pressed as his hands continued to work at his bindings. “Like you did with Madeline?”
“Do something to him?” The Imposter plucked a sphere from the table’s surface. He turned it over in his hands, the glossy surface shifting colors between blue and purple. “And I told you, she’s fine.”
“Why should I believe you?”
“Granted, I have attacked you, injured your allies, helped facilitate the capture of another, but I have not lied. I’m quite proud of myself for that one.”
When he reached to set the orb down, he winced. He shifted to try to conceal it, but Addison had seen it. An injury on his left side looked to be giving him trouble. And it didn’t look like he had his sword on him, nor did Addison see it sitting anywhere nearby.
“I’m sure you are.” Addison froze when he felt the bindings finally loosen. His fingers curled to keep them in place.
“Look, I’m only here for answers. Just tell me what I want to know, and I’ll be on my way.”
Addison sniffed and nodded. “Counteroffer. How about you kiss my arse, then tell me what you’ve done with my friends before I beat you to within an inch of your slimy existence.”
“Don’t you mean or you beat me to within an inch of my slimy existence?”
“No.” Hatta twisted free of the bonds and bolted up from his chair. Pain radiated from the wound at his side, but he pushed through it, driving his fist toward the Imposter’s helmeted head.
The bastard jolted before throwing his arms up to shield himself, and that was when Addison twisted with the fake and hammered into the Imposter’s injured side. H
e yowled like a wounded animal, doubling over, which put him just where Addison wanted him. Addison gripped his helmet and smashed it against the edge of the table.
The helmet shattered, pieces scattering across the floor. The Imposter slumped to the ground, groaning. Kneeling, Addison snatched at bright red hair, visible now that the helmet was gone, yanked the Imposter around, drew back his fist, and froze.
Shock played through him like icy fingers beneath his skin as his mind warred with what his eyes were telling it.
His thoughts swirled, trying to make sense of things, to understand just what he was looking at, but it kept coming back to a single word. Impossible. And yet, he knew that face as sure as he knew his own.
“H-Humphrey?” The name fractured on his tongue, his voice breaking with it.
The Imposter’s eyelids fluttered with another pained sound as he forced them open. Those impossibly blue eyes rolled around, dazed for a moment before fixing on Addison and widening.
Addison loosened his hold immediately and lowered his hand. “I—I don’t understand…”
Humphrey grimaced as he pushed himself upright. Addison reached to help, only to have his hands slapped away.
“Don’t touch me.”
“All right! All right.” He drew back, staring. Of all the possibilities for who was under that helmet, this was not a guess he would’ve made, could’ve made.
All the times he’d imagined this moment, imagined seeing the other again, what he would do, what he would say, how he would apologize for everything that happened during the war, and after. Then, when Humphrey went missing, he thought he’d never have the chance. The guilt had eaten at him almost as badly as the Madness.
And now, with the impossible opportunity before him, his words abandoned him. He drew a slow breath and gathered his chaotic thoughts. There had to be a reason for this, for Humphrey—of all people—to do all of this.
Humphrey stared at him, his expression unreadable, but those eyes. Addison could always tell what he was thinking or feeling just by looking into those eyes. What he saw cut him deeper than any blade. Humphrey had been upset with him before, angry, furious even, and hurt, but he’d never been afraid. Until now.
Lifting his hands, Addison drew back to give Humphrey some space. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
“Why not?” Humphrey swallowed. “It’s like you said, I attacked you, I attacked your friends. I’m your enemy, why wouldn’t you hurt me?”
A stab of hurt tore into Addison’s chest. “This is—I don’t … I don’t know what’s going on, why you’re doing any of this, but it—you’re … You have to know, no matter what was going on between us, I would never raise a hand to you. Not you. Not even for her.”
“That’s not an answer.” Humphrey’s eyes danced with fire. “Why won’t you hurt me?”
“Because.” Hatta’s mouth went dry. He knew the words, knew the memories behind them, knew the emotions they stirred. He thought that part of him was long dead, until Alice awakened it. Alice … He drew in a slow breath. Oh yes, he knew the words, though he hadn’t spoken them in so long, hadn’t thought he ever would again. And now they slipped free. “I love you.”
Twenty-Five
ALL IS DARKNESS
Alice gripped the rail around the inside of the basket like the oh-shit bar in her Mom’s car. She couldn’t help but think how disappointed twelve-year-old Alice would be right now. Here she was, being flown through the air by a mythical creature, which was likely as close to dragon riding as she would get, and she hated it.
Oh, it hadn’t been so bad the first time, when her adrenaline had been pumping after she’d nearly been torn to shreds by a small army of Nightmares. Now? Every slight jostle felt like she was being tossed like a salad. Her stomach did front flips, back flips, side flips, all the flips. Twice she was sick over the side of the basket. Afterward, Haruka made sure Alice drank a few gulps of water from the small canteen that had, luckily, been clipped to the back of her belt. To prevent dehydration.
Now Haruka watched her with a careful though surprisingly unbothered expression. “Going to be sick again?” she called over the sound of wind and the beat of Chou’s wings.
Alice shook her head. Slowly. “When are we landing?”
They’d been flying for hours. The sky shifted through the colors of the day around them. Alice spent most of that time hunkered in a corner of the basket, her head between her knees.
“Won’t be long,” Haruka said. “Chou will need to rest. And to eat.”
As if on cue, the basket jostled, and Alice’s stomach gave a little drop. They were going down. Alice closed her eyes and breathed through the worst of it. She jumped when Chou landed, then again when the basket hit the ground.
Haruka stood and offered Alice her hand. “Here.”
Alice took it with thanks and, with the other girl’s help, got to her feet and then climbed out of the basket. Romi stood nearby, talking in baby talk to Chou. It might be Japanese, but the funny voice and intonation was universal.
“Are you all right?” Haruka stood near Alice, though her gaze swept the surrounding area. Always alert, that one.
“I’m good.” Even though her stomach was less than happy, she’d had worse. She straightened and glanced around as well. They were in a small patch of clearing within a … puffy jungle. Seriously, the bushes and trees looked like they were made from bunches of cotton caught on branches, with silvery flowers sticking out amidst the green tufts. A nearby tinkling signaled water running over the glasslike rock that sometimes formed in Wonderland riverbeds. Running water meant maybe food, though she wasn’t much of a fisher.
“Think there’s anything edible swimming around in there?” she asked.
Haruka looked to Alice, then in the direction of the river. “Maybe. Want to have a look?”
Alice nodded as she straightened. Haruka called out to Romi as they headed for the river. She waved a hand, having finished unhooking Chou from the basket and rubbing at his neck as he went in on some grass.
They reached the edge of the river, and Alice went to her knees faster than in prayer. She leaned in and splashed water against her face, wrinkling her nose at the slightly vinegary smell.
“I don’t see any fish,” Haruka said, moving along the bank.
“That’s okay, I—”
The water surged as Alice’s reflection broke the surface and latched onto her arms.
Alice screamed and tried to yank away, but Reflection-Alice’s hold only tightened. Her skin was ruddy, the veins bulging and black along her fingers and arms. Her face was bloated, her hair a wild tangle of coils around her head.
“Don’t,” Reflection-Alice rasped as she used her hold on Alice to pull herself from the churning waters. “Don’t!”
Alice twisted and pushed, trying to break free of her reflection’s death grip. “Let me go!”
Reflection-Alice’s hands were like ice, cold and hard, unforgiving in their hold. Her nails dug into Alice’s skin, tearing it. She pulled, dragging Alice headfirst into the river.
Kicking and screaming, Alice tried to go for her sword. She twisted against her reflection’s hold, but every time she broke free, fingers clamped down in a new place, capturing her all over again.
“Don’t!” Reflection-Alice cried out.
She pulled Alice deeper into the water. Water spilled into her nose and mouth, pushing past the back of her throat. She coughed and gagged, her lungs joining the struggle. She couldn’t see. Everything was water, sand, and Reflection-Alice’s dingy skirt, wrapping around her. Choking her. The current pulled at her flailing limbs, slowing them, robbing them of their strength. A panicked throbbing set in at the base of her skull.
Her fingers curled around the hilt of her sword, and she swung. The water parted as light exploded from the blade. Reflection-Alice vanished. Alice lay against the riverbed, stones pushing into her back, stabbing at her. Droplets rained against her face and shoulders. For a split second, the ri
ver was empty, the water just gone. She whipped her head around, fear pounding in her ears.
Romi and Haruka stood on the shore, their weapons drawn, their faces lined with confusion. Then the water rushed back in, stealing Alice’s breath all over again and sending her tumbling, but the hands were gone. The skirts were gone. Her reflection was gone; she was free. She kicked, pushing toward the surface. She broke through, gasping and hacking as she crawled free. Romi and Haruka came running.
“Alice!” Haruka shouted.
“Are you all right?” Romi called.
Haruka reached her first, kneeling beside her, hands on her shoulders. “What happened?”
What happened? Alice couldn’t form words at first, too busy trying to breathe and cough up the oddly sweet water she’d swallowed. “D-did you see her?”
“Who?” Haruka looked to the river.
Alice shook her head. “Sh-she, she pulled me in. She pulled me under!” Alice pushed back from the edge of the water even farther. “I couldn’t get away!”
Haruka and Romi exchanged a glance.
“There was no one there,” Haruka murmured. “You just started screaming and jumped into the river. Then you pulled that sword, and…”
Alice blinked, rubbing at her face, chest still heaving. She followed Haruka’s gaze to where the Vorpal Blade rested against the grass, the black blade looking like a slice of nothing splitting the ground. “No. No, she … she was there! I saw her. I felt her nai—” She held out her arms to show them the scratches from nails tearing into her skin. Nothing. Not so much as a light bruising. Her arms were perfectly fine.
“Alice.” Romi squeezed her shoulder. “Nothing was there. I swear to you.”
Alice whimpered as she looked back and forth between them. She looked to the now calm river. A massive groove hollowed-out part of the opposite bank. She’d done that. With the Vorpal Blade.
“This isn’t happening.” Alice shook her head. Weird dreams? Fine. Even though she wasn’t supposed to be dreaming at all. Okay. Being able to see things most people can’t see, but those things actually exist? Led to the weirdest year of her life, but fine. Still cool. Flat-out hallucinations? Acid trip, wandering the desert hallucinations? No. Just no. Even in Wonderland. Especially in Wonderland.
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