I’m standing in a dungeon, the air cold and damp. I shiver even though I’m not really here. Dungeons mean bad things. They always do.
Against the wall, two people are manacled to the stone. Alice stands before them. She’s wearing an intricate formal gown, red and glittering with rubies. A high collar frames her dainty neck. The red crown sits on her perfectly teased hair. I move to the side, a small whimper escaping me when I see who is chained to the wall. The White Queen’s dress is covered in blood and dirt, but her face is serene even as her eyes glitter daggers. Beside her, the Hatter is chained. He’s missing his coat and his hat, but it’s him all the same. He’s bruised and bloody, like he put up a fight. His pants are unbuttoned and pushed down at an angle, barely hiding his privates. There’s blood smeared across his skin. I cry at the implication behind it.
Alice grins wickedly at him.
“You were my friend,” the Hatter rasps, his voice full of pain.
“A friend wouldn’t have left me to rot in an asylum,” Alice hisses back.
She steps towards the White Queen, sharp teeth I have never seen before poking from her lips. The White Queen meets her stare head on, her chin held high.
“No begging your Queen for mercy?” Alice asks her, wickedness dripping from every word.
“You’re not my Queen.” The White Queen’s voice is strong when she speaks. Alice yanks the woman’s head to the side and strikes, her teeth sinking into the flesh of her neck. A garbled sound passes the White Queen’s lips. I watch as she shrivels before my eyes, her skin revealing the bones beneath. Her body sags, her eyes sinking into her skull. Her hair falls to the ground in clumps, only a few strands hanging on. Her crown doesn’t fall from her head.
Hatter screams, and Alice yanks away from the body of the White Queen. I watch the Queen’s chest rattle, barely rising. She’s still alive. Blood drips down Alice’s chin, her fangs even longer then before, and she fixes her eyes on the Hatter. I move in front of him, trying to protect him, a pointless act really. She strikes, her hand passing right through me and into the Hatter’s chest.
I scream and scream.
I come to, gasping, my heart beating frantically inside my rib cage. I realize quickly my skin is clammy from a cold sweat, the beads still dripping down my forehead. I’m sprawled across the Hatter’s lap, his arms wrapped around me, at once strong and gentle.
“Shh,” he whispers, pushing strands of hair from my face. I’m sure I look a mess right now. I certainly feel like a mess. “It’ll pass. It’ll pass.”
His voice anchors me to the present, focusing my mind until I no longer hear the Chipmunk’s shrieks, the pleas of the Prince, or the hoarse screams of the Hatter.
March sits at the table across from us, sipping tea daintily from a chipped tea cup. Every now and then, he lets out a tiny giggle as he watches us. I haven’t decided yet if he’s insane or completely broken. I’m betting heavily on the later.
When my heart rate returns to normal, and I no longer feel like I’m going to puke, I sit up in the Hatter’s lap. He steadies me as the shakes wrack my body, but otherwise, he lets me adjust at my own pace.
“What the hell was in that tea?” I ask March. My voice is still rough, either from screaming or the tea, I’m not sure.
He grins, a giggle escaping his throat. The ears on his head twitch back and forth, like they don’t really know which way to point anymore.
“Reali-Tea,” he whispers before clamping his hands over his mouth to stop a full laugh. He’s not successful. He ends up spitting all over the table as a deep-bellied hysteria overtakes him. He falls from the chair, roaring his amusement while he rolls on the floor. I stare at him, one eyebrow raised. I glance at the Hatter’s face. He wears the same amusement, like he wants to join March in the giggles on the floor, but when his eyes focus on me, he gains control over the impulse.
“How are you here?” I ask softly, turning on his lap to face him straight on.
“I am neither here nor there,” he replies. “I am everywhere.”
I grasp the sides of his face seriously, urging him to focus on me alone. March’s laughter fades into background noise as I stare deeply into his eyes.
“I saw you die.” My voice cracks on the last word. “I saw you die twice.”
He studies me intently.
“As long as Wonderland lives, so, too, do I. Remember, Clara Bee?”
“But you can feel pain?” I clarify because those images will stick with me for the rest of my life. I will have nightmares of those screams, of seeing the Hatter die again and again.
He nods his head, his cheeks warm beneath my palms. I feel the tears spring to my eyes unwillingly, the realization that he must have felt such terrible agony, that if I can’t fulfill my part in the prophecy, he could feel it again, too much. I’ve been in this world a matter of a few days— at least, I think it’s been a few days— but I already feel like I belong. I don’t want to fail them all. A single tear tracks down my face, and he stares at it in wonder.
“Don’t cry for me, Clara Bee,” he whispers softly. “I don’t think I can bear it.”
“I’m sorry.” I lift my hand to wipe away the tear, embarrassed that I’m losing it.
He catches my hand in his own before I manage the task. His eyes are filled with emotion as he leans forward and kisses the droplet away, his lips soft against my skin. It’s enough to choke me up again, but I fight against it. It feels like a losing battle.
“Never be sorry.” He looks into my eyes. “Not for me. Our world is in chaos, every one of us suffers in some way. My mind,” he taps the side of his head, “is where I suffer. Inside my thoughts, there’s chaos, insanity, fear. I cannot fight it. I cannot push it away. But inside all that chaos, there’s you, shining bright, my own star to light the way and show me the path home. Never be sorry for who you are,” he says, more serious than I have ever seen him. “Because who you are is everything to me.”
I melt. Right there in his lap in the insane March Hare’s rotting cabin, March still rolling on the floor, wheezing, fighting for breath. If I’m being honest with myself, it’s the moment I fall in love with the Mad Hatter, so crazy and tortured that he sings in riddles and rhymes and yet, he can spin such beautiful words that ring of truth and love. We might be prophesied to be together, but a prophecy didn’t make me love the Hatter. The man in a coat and a top hat did that all on his own.
On the floor, March suddenly sits up, his ears standing straight and pointing in the same direction for once.
“Shh, do you hear that? Do you hear it?” he whispers. His nose twitches.
We pause, listening. Everything is silent. And then a loud screech fills the air, the noise jarring and loud. I feel like ice picks are thrust into my ears even though the Hatter clamps his hands over them. I watch blood trickle from his ear canals when they remain unprotected. I clamp mine around his in an attempt to help. The screeching stops, but whatever it is, it’s very close.
“Bandersnatch.” March’s voice quivers. “It’s the Bandersnatch.”
Chapter 16
“Go! Go! You must go!” March yells. He giggles and then begins to sing the same words over and over again, dancing around in circles. It’s exactly the thing that makes my anxiety crank up a notch. Nothing like a raving lunatic twirling around and singing your doom when death is waiting right outside the door.
I assume the Bandersnatch are the same beasts I saw the Red Queen riding on in the tea-induced vision. No one has specifically told me what they look like, but that sound they make, it’s the same as the one I hear now. If it really is the same creatures, we need to move fast. I don’t have any desire to meet the beasts head on.
The Hatter doesn’t waste any time at all before he’s grabbing my hand and pulling me towards the back of the cabin.
“You didn’t drink your tea!” March shouts, and a teacup shatters against the wall before us, the glass shards raining down. Tea drips down the wall, leaving a red stain behi
nd. It looks just like blood. The Hatter doesn’t even react.
The screech sounds again, a little closer than before. The Hatter isn’t fast enough to cover my ears this time, and I feel wetness run down the side of my neck. I grimace, grinding my teeth against the pain.
Hatter leads me to a back door I hadn’t noticed before. It’s designed to look more like the wall, blending in so as to hide it. Hatter shoves it open and tugs me out after him. It’s a wonder my arms are still attached. I seem to get dragged around a lot in Wonderland.
I have a moment of panic that we’re walking out into the same forest as those creatures, but I don’t have time to focus on it. We step into the tree line. We pick up our pace until we’re practically sprinting through the trees. I focus, instead, on not tripping over the roots beneath our feet.
Hatter’s house isn’t far away, only a twenty-minute leisurely walk. I know it isn’t far, but it seems so much further when you’re running for your life. There is no way we can outrun the Bandersnatch. Even the March Hare couldn’t, and he had been fast.
Tree branches rip at the train of my coat behind me, tearing at my already tangled hair. The Hatter tries to keep the worst branches from hitting me in the face as he pulls me, but he can only do so much. I feel the wood making small cuts across my cheeks, but it’s the least of my worries right now. I feel my energy wane, the little sleep I’ve gotten wearing on me.
The Bandersnatch screeches draw closer, growing louder and more frequent, like hounds that have picked up our scent. For the first time, I realize there’s more than one, after all. There are too many screeches. I can barely hear past the roaring in my ears and the thumping of my heart, but their calls still pierce through the sounds. My chest squeezes, and I trip, but I never hit the ground. Hatter’s grip is like iron, and I’m on my feet again before I even realize I’m falling.
My breath saws in and out, my heart threatening to burst from my chest. My legs stumble through the underbrush, the Hatter the only reason I keep going. I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe.
I hear teeth snap behind me, the sound of jaws slamming shut on a snarl.
It’s taking too long. We aren’t going to make it. The Bandersnatch are closing in.
We are going to die.
“Hatter,” I wheeze, terror clawing at my throat. My legs are moving slower, my body beginning to shut down.
He looks back at me. His eyes lift over my shoulder, and they widen in fear. For just a moment, there’s absolute terror on his face.
“Hatter,” I repeat, and I know he can hear the horror in my voice. The acknowledgment of what is going to happen next. I can’t keep going. I’m not strong enough.
His face hardens, and he jerks my arm hard, my shoulder popping from the sudden move of him pulling me into his body. He pauses our stride barely a second to scoop me over his shoulder, his arms locking around my legs to keep me secure. The last bit of air in my lungs whooshes out of me as his muscles dig into my abdomen hard.
“Hang on, Clara Bee,” he shouts, and then we’re moving faster.
But not fast enough. Nowhere close to enough.
Thrown over his shoulder as I am, I have a prime view of what’s behind us, how close they are. I wish I couldn’t see them. Three great, hulking creatures bound through the trees, running side by side, dodging trees in their path. They don’t seem to mind the branches or the undergrowth. Instead, they seem to break through everything they barrel past, their bodies absorbing the impacts. They are pitch-black in color, resembling giant wolves you see in horror movies back home. These are like no wolves I have ever seen, though.
Much like the March Hare, they’re rotting in places. One is missing his great red eye, a gaping hole where it used to be. I can see the bone underneath, glaring white against the black fur. I clamp my hands over my ears when one lets out another screech, lifting his head into the air as if to howl. The sound is deafening this close. They snarl, blood dripping from their maws as they open their mouth wide, the skin folding back over their face to reveal the sharp teeth inside. Their teeth look a mixture between an angler fish and a saber-toothed tiger. But the Bandersnatch aren’t the most terrifying things behind us.
Riding on the back of the Bandersnatch in the middle rides a woman. Her skin is pale, her hair such a pale-blonde that it looks more white than yellow. Her dress is blood-red, the same color as the blood dripping down her chin, down her neck, and smeared around her eyes. The dress has a massive skirt that flies behind her as the Bandersnatch bounds forward. On her head, sits a blood-red crown, dripping with jewels. It catches the light from nearby glowing plant life, sending sparkles like fireflies around her. She’s wearing the most evil smile I’ve ever seen. I recognize Alice instantly.
“Hatter!” she roars, her face scrunching into a look of pure rage.
The Hatter runs harder, pushing himself as fast as he can go.
“Hatter,” I whisper, choking on the word. My hands clench in his jacket at his back. “We have to go faster.”
I can feel him panting beneath me, the run wearing on him. The extra weight he carries, it’s slowing him. I’m slowing him down.
“Leave me.” My voice wobbles. His arms tighten around my legs, to the point of pain, but I don’t comment on it. “Leave me and run.”
“Stop it!” he pants. “I won’t.”
“We’re going to die. If you leave me, you’ll escape.”
“No!” he roars. “I won’t allow it!”
I look at the Red Queen again and meet her eyes. She grins, and I remember all the pain she’s caused Wonderland, all the pain she’s caused the Hatter. I want to hurt her. I want her to pay for her sins, for her crimes. I want to be able to fight her. Realization dawns on me.
“The gun!” I exclaim, smacking the Hatter on the back. “The gun! Please tell me the gun is still in my holster!”
Cheshire had armed me with the Heart Breaker, and Hatter had slipped it back into my holster when we were trying to escape the Knave. Hatter’s shoulders tense, and his breath shudders.
“It’s in your holster still. You still have it,” he wheezes.
I run my hands up the Hatter’s back and to my hip, reaching for the holster. My fingers wrap around the grip, and I yank the gun free, the snaps popping open that kept it secure.
The Red Queen is close enough now that I can make out the color of her eyes. Pitch black, no pupils, no whites. She looks like the demon she is.
The riding is rough, but I’m able to hold the large gun in my hands, ready to point it at the bitch on the Bandersnatch. My abs cramp at the strain of lifting my body up enough to aim. I grit my teeth against the pain.
“Wait!” The Hatter’s voice is barely more than a rasp at this point, his breath sawing in and out. “A clearing.”
Just as he says it, we break through the trees, right into the clearing he mentioned. He stops right in the middle, spins and plants me on my feet at the same time. I raise the gun and point it at the Red Queen entering the clearing on the back of the Bandersnatch. For once, my hands don’t shake, my anger giving me strength I didn’t know I have. The Hatter stands behind me, his hands on my shoulders, bracing me for the recoil of the gun. I assume it’s going to be a strong one. I will probably need all the help I can get.
To the Queen’s credit, she doesn’t seem bothered at all by the gun I have trained on her. The two Bandersnatch flank her sides, spreading out. There’s more snarls behind us, and I feel the Hatter spin, putting his back against mine.
“There’s three more behind us,” he whispers. I can still hear the whistle in his breath, his body heaving from the exertion.
“What are the chances we make it out of this alive?” I ask, my voice hard.
He doesn’t reply, and I take it for the answer it is. I reach behind me with my weaker hand and grip his tight in my own. If I’m going to die, at least, I’m not alone.
“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” the Red Queen, Alice, asks, ti
lting her head unnaturally to the side. I’m angry that her voice still sounds sweet even though it’s dripping with malice.
Neither of us answer her. I stare her down, keeping the gun trained on my target.
“Has the Hatter gained another pet, hmmm?” she asks. “Did he tell you I used to be one of his pets?” I watch her, the gun aimed right at her heart. “Did he tell you how he destroyed me?”
“I see nothing but a woman who is exactly who she is. The Hatter didn’t turn you into a monster. You are a monster,” I growl.
She laughs, the sound like tinkling glass.
“You’re a cute one. Pray tell, what is your name, woman?”
I grin at her, bracing against the Mad Hatter’s back as I prepare myself. Her eyes narrow.
“I’m Clara Bee,” I reply.
I have the satisfaction of seeing her eyes widen in shock before I pull the trigger. A sound like a bomb going off echoes around the clearing, the force of the shot shoving me back hard against the Hatter. We both stumble, but he keeps us from falling, grunting under the force of the recoil. Whatever bullets are inside the chamber, three of them shoot from the barrel. I watch almost in slow motion as the bullets explode outward, sharp points spinning around them as they head for their targets. Apparently, the gun aims itself because two of the bullets go for the flanking Bandersnatch. I watch one snarl, its lips peeling back over its face and razor sharp teeth snapping as it tries to avoid the bullet. It isn’t fast enough. The bullet hits dead center, ripping through brain matter and skull and exiting the other side, before finally embedding in a tree. The tree trunk shatters, and it begins to fall backwards, away from the fight.
The other Bandersnatch dodges, but it still hits its chest. Both of the beasts go down, crumbling into furry heaps on the ground. It sends the remaining Bandersnatch into chaos. They snap their teeth, snarl, great globs of saliva dripping from their jaws, but I ignore them all. My eyes are riveted to the last bullet, the one meant for the Red Queen.
Mad as a Hatter (Sons of Wonderland Book 1) Page 11