Of course, there was no cat either.
She stood up and crossed her arms, glaring at the chair. “I’m not going to lie on the floor looking for a cat or a hole that doesn’t exist,” she told the furniture.
Nodding to herself, she turned to retreat back to her bed. This wouldn’t be a problem after her nap. The tea would take care of the cat and the hole. Neither of which exist.
Two feet from her mattress, the cat meowed. This time the sound wasn’t frightening or strange. It was the sound of a poor, miserable kitten meowing for help. A pitiful sound that said it had gotten trapped and it was cold and hungry and just needed a kind soul to rescue it. A sound to inspire all kinds of pathetic images that would twist the heartstrings of even the cruelest man.
The sound of the chair grating against the floor shocked Alice out of her daze, making her realize she’d gone to rescue the imaginary cat. Before she could get hold of herself again, she was staring down at her floor, gazing into the black hole that didn’t exist.
Something moved in the darkness. Another breeze wafted up, different this time, carrying with it the scent of sweet cakes and a proper tea that didn’t taste like it had already been through some unfortunate’s digestive tract. Alice knelt on the floor, gripping the wood carefully as she leaned in, following that wonderful smell.
There was no warning before she fell. There was no pressure behind her or from the front, nothing to suggest she’d been pushed or pulled. One moment she was leaning in, her hands firmly planted on the floor, and the next she was falling headlong through empty space.
Panic rose in a scream that never made it past her lips. Colors exploded around her, and she had the dizzying sensation of being spun like a child’s pinwheel. The vertigo that took her was so complete that it was several long minutes before she realized she’d stopped falling and was now sitting on something soft and pliable. Her hands smacked into the ground, fingers digging into a cushioned surface.
Cold sweat beaded at her temples as she stared dumbly at the ground, noting that it looked suspiciously like a mushroom. A mushroom the size of an armchair and the color of a frog-dotted pond. She ran her hand over the curved surface, poking experimentally at the strange texture. Yes, definitely a mushroom.
“Hello.”
The voice came from beside and just behind her, far too close for comfort. Alice jerked, looking around for the speaker, trying to keep her heart from leaping out of her throat. There were so many colors around her that her brain didn’t want to make sense of them at first. Skies shouldn’t be that shade of purple, and grass shouldn’t be that vibrant a green. Certainly the landscape shouldn’t be striped and spotted at various intervals, decorated like monstrous Easter eggs that had been flattened out.
There was no one around, no person she could see that might have spoken to her. That was a bad sign for a woman who wanted very much to avoid dementia. Hearing voices. There was no pain in her head, but Alice closed her eyes and put her hands to her scalp anyway, hoping to feel a bump that might account for what she was seeing. A soft, and unfortunately familiar, weight crawled into her lap, and she pressed her lips together in consternation.
“This is all your fault,” she said, opening her eyes to glare at the cat. “You dragged me into this”—she frowned at the colorful backdrop of her fantasy—”place.”
“Well that’s not strictly true,” came the same voice as before. “Your eiodolon did bring you here, but you are the summoner. It could not have dragged you here against your will.”
Alice froze. The kitten was watching her, but its mouth hadn’t moved, and somehow she felt reasonably certain the speech hadn’t come from its furry white mouth. She narrowed her eyes. “Did you just speak?”
The kitten lifted its head a little higher, as if it were encouraged to have been asked a question. “No. But I can.”
Alice closed her eyes. “You can speak.”
“Yes.” Again, the kitten sounded encouraging, as if Alice had finally started to come round.
“You didn’t speak before.”
“No.”
She opened her eyes in time to see it give her a rather reproachful look.
“But then, you didn’t talk to me before. You just shouted at me and told me I wasn’t real.”
It did sound rude, put like that. Alice crossed her arms, ready to defend herself for not speaking to a cat that did not exist, but her brain chose that moment to remind her that there was another speaker around somewhere and she still didn’t know where. Her nerves buzzed with the sudden conviction she was being watched, and she hunched down, closer to the kitten. “If you weren’t the one speaking before…then who was it?”
The cat looked up. Alice followed its gaze, her eyes caressing the thick trunk of a tree, following a large branch that stuck out over her and the kitten. Her eyes found the speaker, and she choked on a scream.
The tiger was an enormous beast, coated with vibrant orange fur and thin black stripes. Its ears were orange at the base, but then bled to black before ending in oddly delicate points. Each ear had a large white spot in the middle, as if the creature had another set of eyes. Its muzzle was orange, but the fur around its eyes was white, making its black-lined green eyes all the more penetrating and unsettling.
Her heart lodged firmly in her throat, and for a panic-stricken minute, she couldn’t breathe. Look it in the eyes. It won’t attack you if you’re looking it in the eyes.
Well, that wasn’t entirely true, was it? Jaspar had told her tigers attacked by ambush, that they were less likely to attack a victim who was looking at it. But certainly that wasn’t a guarantee…
“It’s polite to say ‘how do you do,’” the tiger told her gravely.
Her breath returned with a harsh gasp and she raised a hand to her throat before mustering a meek smile. “How do you do?”
“Very well, thank you.”
Its voice was pleasant enough, but that couldn’t make up for the unnerving quality of its stare, the overwhelming urge to run she felt just being the object of its attention. Dread curled around the base of her spine, climbed it like creeping ivy. She was going to be eaten by a talking tiger. I’m insane. The witch was right.
“Where am I?” she asked. Her voice came out surprisingly calm, and she wasn’t at all certain that was a good sign. Surely hysterics were called for now if ever? A reasonable woman would be hysterical right now.
“You’re there. Here.” The tiger tilted its head, flexing the muscles of its thick neck. Rather than stop at a sensible angle, its head continued to tilt, turning until it was upside down in a way no living creature’s head should ever do.
Insane.
Alice swallowed a whimper of dismay as delirium made her skin buzz, filling her mind with bubbles as if she’d had too much champagne. Her body didn’t want to respond to her commands anymore, and she could do nothing but sit there and stare at the tiger, wait for the inevitable moment when it would leap down and gobble her up.
A shout broke the silence, and the tiger’s head abruptly righted itself, that eerie stare sharply redirected at something in the distance. Before Alice could turn to see what had snared its attention, it leapt to its feet, powerful shoulders bunching, legs bowing in preparation for a leap.
There was a flash of dark clothes and the faint scent of expensive cologne. A man vaulted through the air toward the tree branch where the tiger had perched. A blade sang through the air, but the tiger was gone before the blow landed, and the blade bit harmlessly into the thick tree branch.
The man grunted as the miss set him off balance and gravity jerked him down with a sharp snap. He landed no more than a foot away from Alice, striking the edge of the large mushroom she was sitting on. The cap broke and spilled the man to the ground, stealing him from her sight before she could get a good look. A short distance in front of the mushroom, the tiger reappeared—but only its head. It seemed unconcerned with its state of incompleteness as it gave the figure on the ground a reproachf
ul sniff.
“Your body’s gone.” The words were out of her mouth before she could filter them, spewing more ridiculousness into a situation that hadn’t needed the help. She pressed her lips together, determined not to engage any further.
I will not be lured into interacting with a fantasy, she told herself firmly. She crossed her arms. It’s probably just that wretched tea.
The man’s head suddenly appeared over the mushroom cap and Alice gasped.
Jaspar.
She closed her eyes and shook her head. No. No, it wasn’t. She cracked one eye open, then her shoulders slumped and she opened the other. Yes. Yes, it was.
He was as handsome as always, green eyes as brilliant as any emerald and dark hair as silky and tempting to the touch as ever. The top hat he wore had fallen off, offering her a view of wild curls framing his head like a lion’s mane. Her gaze was immediately drawn to his left temple and the single silver hair that curled around his ear. A little quirk that had always amused her in the most charming way.
“I have to cut the string,” he growled. “Let me cut the string, damn you!”
Alice jerked her hand back, just realizing she’d been reaching for one of his curls. She dug her fingernails into her palm and pressed her fist against the mushroom, keeping herself from reaching for him again. Thankfully, Jaspar didn’t seem to be talking to her, his attention riveted on the great cat’s floating head.
The tiger hissed, its head bobbing as though its body were prancing away from the agitated man. Jaspar gritted his teeth and prowled after it, his eyes riveted on a spot between him and the beast, as if there were something there that only he could see.
It wasn’t until she shifted in her spot that she drew his attention. His shoulders stiffened, green eyes widening as he stared at her.
“Alice.” He dropped the blade, his hands immediately smoothing down his jacket before rising to his hair, pressing it down to calm the waves. “My apologies. Forgive me. I didn’t see you there.”
His fiddling with his clothing was so familiar that it was almost comforting. He did the same thing in reality, always fussing with his clothes, as if by smoothing them out he could somehow repair his damaged reputation, be seen as a proper gentleman and not…well, the Mad Hatter.
She tried to think of something to say, but talking with him seemed like admitting that this fantasy was somehow real. Which it wasn’t. Her brow furrowed and she bit the inside of her cheek, trying to decide the best way to handle the situation.
“I don’t understand why it won’t let me cut the string.” As he spoke, he wandered away from the mushroom, in the direction the tiger had gone.
“What string?” Alice gritted her teeth, annoyed she’d been tricked into responding.
A frown traced over his mouth. “The silver cord. The bond that holds it here.” His expression turned pained. “I told you, I need him back.”
The last sentence was spoken as a plea as he searched the air, obviously hoping the tiger—or some part of it—would reappear. The lines around his eyes deepened as he found only empty air, and he dropped his chin to his chest. “He’s gone again,” he murmured, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Gone again.” He composed himself then, brushing at his jacket and clearing his throat. “Well, he’ll come back soon enough. Shall we have tea while we wait?”
“Tea?” Alice blinked. “You want to have tea?”
The frown returned to his face as he looked up at her, his dark lashes fanning his cheeks as he blinked. “We always have tea. We—” Suddenly his eyes bulged. He looked down at her lap, at the kitten still sitting there patiently, then back at Alice.
“She is not a creation of your own making,” the kitten confirmed. “She’s real.”
“You…you…you’re a…” Jaspar floundered, as if looking for the right word.
“An eidolon,” the cat supplied. It raised a paw and began bathing itself, rubbing one white-furred cheek. “Yes.”
“Then she’s…”
“A summoner.”
Jaspar collapsed. Alice opened her mouth to shout, one hand rising, as if there were anything she could do to stop his fall from her perch on the mushroom cap. A chair appeared from nowhere, catching him just in time. His body jolted awkwardly as he hit the seat, and a tea table materialized in time to support his upper body and prevent him from falling forward to the ground.
Alice stared. The table stretched as far as the eye could see, its surface covered with teapots and cups and saucers, bowls of sugar and boats of cream. Here and there on either side of the table, animals wearing clothes sat neat as you please, taking their tea like an assembly of humans. She jerked in surprise to find she was also now seated at the tea table—directly across from a gaping Jaspar.
She pressed her hands to the table’s surface, not certain if she should feel comforted by its solidity or if that was just a sign of the strength of her delusion.
“All right,” she said carefully. “I want to know what is going on.” She looked at the cat sitting on the table dipping its paw in one of the boats of cream. Remembering its earlier chastisement, she forced her voice to remain calm and polite. “Would you mind terribly explaining to me what is going on here?”
The cat paused, but didn’t look away from the cream. “We are having tea.”
She dug her nails into the tablecloth. Calm. Polite. “And where are we?”
“We are here.”
The threads of the tablecloth groaned as Alice buried her nails a little deeper, fighting not to grab the cat by its tail and pitch it into the neatly trimmed green hedge that suddenly surrounded the area that held the tea table. Jaspar straightened in his seat, as if noticing her mercurial mood for the first time.
“It is the astral plane.” His voice was hesitant, and he cleared his throat. “You are a summoner. Should you not be familiar with the astral plane?”
“What is a summoner?” Alice directed the question at Jaspar, mostly to keep the cat from giving her an answer that would make her want to rip out its whiskers.
Jaspar’s lips parted. “I… You are a summoner.”
Something of her thoughts must have showed on her face, because he fidgeted with his clothes again, reaching up to tilt his hat just so.
“A summoner is a sort of”—he searched for the right word—”magic user, I suppose. Only instead of casting spells, you call creatures from different planes. And instead of having a familiar, you have an…eidolon.” He looked at the cat when he said that last part, and the beast nodded as if to confirm his statement.
None of what he said made any sense, but Alice squared her shoulders, determined to muddle through. “And what is an eidolon?”
Again, she aimed the question at Jaspar.
“A type of outsider—er, a creature from a plane other than your own.” Jaspar grabbed his teacup as if it were a lifeline, clutching it in white-knuckled hands. His large hands dwarfed the delicate cup. “I am not a summoner, so I don’t know all the particulars. But as I understand it, this outsider bonds with you in some way. It will come when you call it, in whatever form you desire, and it will…help you.”
Lunacy. This is all lunacy.
Alice took a deep breath, forcing herself to continue as if she weren’t having a nervous breakdown. “And is that tiger your…eidolon?”
“No,” Jaspar said slowly. “As I said, I am not a summoner.”
There was a hint of condescension in his tone now. Alice bristled. “Then what are you?” she asked testily.
It wasn’t until she’d asked the question that she realized how strange it was. What an odd question to ask someone. What are you. He was—
“I am a Caspian,” he answered.
As soon as the word left his lips, his shoulders slumped and he half fell back in his chair as if a great tension had been drained from him. Even his clothes seemed to relax, wrinkling a bit here and there as he raised a hand to rub his forehead, setting his hat off-kilter. A small smile curled his lips, and Ali
ce blushed as the sight plucked at something deep inside her. He was even more handsome when he smiled.
“It feels so good to say that to you,” he admitted. “I didn’t think I ever would. Not when you were so adamant about refusing my—”
“What’s a Caspian?” The words came out louder than she’d intended, but she really, really didn’t want the conversation to turn to marriage. Bad enough she’d lost her mind, she didn’t want to spend her delirium rehashing the same unpleasantness that reality thrust on her.
Jaspar took a sip of his tea, wrinkled his nose, and set it down. He reached for the sugar bowl as he answered her. “A Caspian is a unique breed of tiger shifter. Unlike other shifters, we have the ability to project an astral form of our beast and, if we so desire, to travel with it to the astral plane.”
“The tiger that was just here, the one that doesn’t always have all its body parts…that’s the astral form of your tiger half?” Alarm bells went off in Alice’s mind, warning her that her burgeoning understanding was not a good sign for the state of her sanity. She ignored it, too desperate to understand what was going on to think of her impending mental breakdown.
“Yes.” Jaspar took an experimental sip of his tea.
“And what is the silver cord you were going on about?”
Jaspar put down the teacup, the lines around his eyes deepening again. “The silver cord is the manifestation of the connection between us. It is what allows my tiger to remain connected to me as it wanders the astral plane.”
His hands went back to his clothing, resuming the fidgeting and once again straightening his jacket, his hat. “A year ago, I sent my tiger to the astral plane—nothing special, just an average scouting. But something went wrong. When I tried to call my tiger back, it wouldn’t come. I tried to come after it, but…” He waved a hand in the general direction the tiger had vanished in. “You saw what happened.”
“It’s gone round the bend,” she agreed.
He frowned at that, but didn’t comment. “I need to cut the silver cord. Breaking it will force my tiger’s astral form to return to its body. My body.”
Once Upon A Kiss: Seventeen Romantic Faerie Tales Page 16