“Curious.” Rising slowly, I wiped the snow off my butt, moving toward the lyrics. Frosty said Christmas wasn’t allowed here anymore. But I knew the song coiling around my eardrum. With every step, the familiar jingle grew louder, like it was just over the brush. The tune of “Santa Claus is Coming to Town” drew me closer. I curved down a path that had not been there a moment before. Coming around the corner, I stopped, a sharp inhale clogging my throat, my gaze taking in the scene before me.
A long, wobbly table, able to seat at least twelve, stretched out under a tilting gingerbread pergola. Holly and dull multicolored lights wrapped and dangled from the structure. A huge, old crystal chandelier hung from the middle, which could break from the corroded chain and drop at any moment. Half the bulbs from the strings of lights and chandelier were out, but the small garden still glowed with festivity. Enormous crumbling candy canes and rotting gumdrops lined the path to the table. The table was covered with decorated cookies and cakes, steaming kettles of some kind of liquid, and chipped Christmas plates and cups. The sweet smells of sugar cookies and hot cocoa filled my nose, my stomach rumbling. But it was who sat at the table that held my attention far more than the decorations or food.
The two in the middle, about three feet tall, a boy and girl, were dressed more like the Elf on the Shelf than my “sexy elf” costume. They poured cups of chocolate on their cookies, liquid spilling all over the table and dripping onto the white snow. They looked like twins, with brown hair and eyes, pointed ears, and rosy cheeks. They were singing the holiday jingle off tune like they were drunk and bumped into each other as if they thought it would keep them on beat. This splashed more liquid out of their cups. Across from them sat a child-sized, white hare who looked more like a person than a true rabbit. Half-dozing, it was dressed in a hideous Christmas sweater. Slurring along with the song, it lazily took one bite of a cookie and chucked the rest of it over his shoulder before going for another. On top of the table was a round, cartoon-looking penguin, about toddler size, waddling back and forth on the top of the table, kicking dishes and sweets off, singing and drumming his flippers against his sides.
The fact a singing penguin, elves, and a rabbit still weren’t the most eye-catching thing at the table probably should have worried me. But they all became background when my gaze landed on the man sitting in a wingback chair at the head of the table, not participating in the merriment.
Holy tinsel and jingle my bells…
Living in New York, I saw my fair share of male models and actors. Even my ex-boss/lover had been asked to do some work in films. But nothing—I mean nothing—could describe the man before me. Mere words could not contain his presence, his features, his existence. He was smoking hot, but it was more than that. I could tangibly feel his aura wrap around me; the multiple layers drenched in mystery and brutal sex appeal were heavy and nudged at me to unwrap the tiers and dive inside.
Broad and extremely fit, I could tell he was tall even though he was sitting down. At least six-four, he had jet-black hair, sexy scruff along his jaw, olive complexion, and sharp electric blue eyes that glistened as though they were plugged in like Christmas lights. He appeared to be in his early thirties and was dressed in a long velvet maroon coat, a buttoned-down white shirt that hugged his chest, black pants, and a top hat. He looked as if he just stepped off a period movie set, though he seemed to defy the classic outfit. Something seemed wild and rugged about him. Feral. A wild animal trapped in a cage.
A finger at his temple, he leaned on his elbow, an ankle crossed over his other leg, staring off, his brows furrowed. He seemed mindless to the commotion happening around him. Lost in thought, a severe expression cut across his face, making him very intimidating. Scary.
But.
Damn.
He was fuckin’ sexy, and I couldn’t deny a strange pull to him, no matter how unapproachable he seemed.
I took a step, the need to touch him, to see if he was real, overtaking me.
Stop! I halted and chided myself. Think for once, Alice. You have no idea what you are walking into. Who they are.
“Switch! Switch!” the girl elf sang out. Only her twin reacted, jumping out of the chair and hopping into the empty one next to him, while she took his. The penguin continued to waddle around, humming “Little Drummer Boy,” kicking more items off the table. The hare didn’t move, drinking straight from a teakettle, his eyes half-lidded, a hiccup twitching his body.
This was all so freaking bizarre.
“You are all being rude.” A deep, rough voice purred from the man, and instantly my thighs clenched, like he pushed a button. His eyes lifted to his friends, but I felt fear vibrate up my spine, like the beast was only stopped by a piece of eroding chain. “We have a guest.”
Slowly his gaze slid to me, penetrating me through the darkness and brush. I felt his regard dig into my soul, tugging me forward, moving me from the shadows.
“We have company.” The penguin hopped up and down on the table, flapping its wings. “Hurry, hurry, make room,” he chirped at the others. The hare didn’t even look up, swaying in his seat as the elf twins jumped up, running around the table, ramming into each other, both falling back onto the ground. They bounded up as if they were on springs and continued to run around the table like their butts were on fire.
“Make room! Make room,” they wailed, acting like the table was packed with people when almost every seat was available. “Everyone get up! Make room!” They continued to scurry around the table frantically, not doing anything. Either these two were drunk as hell or were several cards short of a deck.
The penguin ignored them and jumped down off the table, waddling over to me, his flipper waving me forward. The closer I got, I noticed deep scars cut across his blubber. In normal circumstances, I’d assume he had been attacked by a shark. Unless Christmas had changed, there were no holiday shark icons I knew about, though I wouldn’t put it past this strange land.
“Come! Come! We haven’t had a holiday visitor in such a long time. Did you bring gifts?” The penguin’s black eyes peered up at me as he danced around, swaying slightly, like he was tipsy as well. He was trying to bring me closer to the table. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted the man jerk in response as I moved into the light, his eyes widening briefly.
“No.” I shook my head in answer to the penguin’s question.
“You come to a party empty-handed?”
“I didn’t know I was coming to a party.”
“But how can it be a Christmas party without gifts? To know or not know will not excuse your rudeness.”
“I-I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for what?”
“For not bringing a present.”
“But if you didn’t know about the party, how would you know to bring a gift?” The penguin rubbed his head. “You speak nonsense.”
“Yeah, I’m the one speaking nonsense,” I muttered under my breath and followed the animal.
“I’m sure we can find a spot for you. Please come join us.” Penguin shuffled back to the table, shaking his head at the empty seats, pulling out a chair then shoving it back in. He did this several more times moving down the table. The elves had bounded into new seats, pouring drinks on their cookies and sucking off the liquid, looking as if they completely forgot about me.
“Here. Here. Squeeze in!” Penguin tugged out the high wingback chair on the opposite end of the man.
“Thank you.” I sat down, nodding at the penguin.
Like rays burning into my skin, I could feel eyes on me from across the table. Deliberately, I lifted my lashes, gazing at him. It felt like a punch to my chest, ripping the air from my lungs. He was sexier than I first thought, the kind of man you couldn’t believe actually existed. But nothing about him was welcoming.
“Oh my, oh my!” Penguin flopped about. “You are so pretty, Ms. You see, sir? Isn’t she dazzling?” He gushed, talking faster than I could keep up with. “Wow, we haven’t had such a beautiful guest in a very
long time. How long has it been, sir?”
“Penguin, shut up,” the man snarled, dragging my eyes back to him. The solemn expression had flipped. Anger and abhorrence radiated off him, his hand gripping the chair until his knuckles were white. His ruthless focus felt like a drill, spiraling into me, cutting away the air in my lungs. He stared at me like he wanted nothing more than to leap over the table and put an end to me. Quiet and still, I sensed the beast scratching underneath. Nothing I had run into so far frightened me as he did. He was dangerously beautiful. His appearance was the bait to lure you in while he drove a dagger into your back. All the mysterious layers I detected earlier collapsed onto each other, becoming one.
Animosity.
I sucked in, swallowing his loathing.
He tilted his head. “Who are you?”
“Alice.” I swallowed, his timbre rumbling under my skin.
“Where do you come from, Alice?” He spoke every word precisely, making it feel more of a threat than a question.
“Not from around here.”
His lips pinched, his eyes flashing. “Are you a spy?”
“A spy?” I spurted a dry laugh. “No… certainly not. But if I were, would I tell you?”
“No.” His lids narrowed, and he sat back in his chair, watching me for several heavy seconds. The table was silent, waiting for their master to speak. “Either you are a very cunning player of the Queen or the dimmest girl alive.” His gaze ran up and down my outfit, pausing at my low-cut costume. “I am thinking the latter.”
“Excuse me?” Indignation blistered up my spine, standing me up.
“Come on, Sir Scrooge. It’s a party!” Penguin waddled back toward me, as though he were trying to protect me. “We haven’t had one in so long.”
“Scrooge?” I clasped my hand over my mouth. “Seriously?”
“We are gravely serious,” the boy elf piped up, giggling hysterically. As I got closer, I saw scars similar to the penguin’s over his face and hands. A name tag sewn on his green shirt declared his name was Dum-Puck. I coughed into my hand, trying not to laugh. Unfortunate name. “We are very grim and grave about parties. Cheers!” He lifted his cookie, smashing it into his sister’s, the cookies crumbling into soggy bits on the table. Her name tag said Dee-Puck, and being this close, I saw half her face was disfigured also.
My gaze wandered over to the hare slumped in the chair sound asleep. His arms dangled at his sides, his legs kicking as if he were dreaming. It was then I realized his back foot was missing. An unnatural stump ended at a joint, like it had been cut off. Did someone have a lucky rabbit’s foot? Shit. This place was no joyous Christmasland.
“Please. Sit.” Penguin motioned me back into the chair. “Are you hungry? Would you prefer a hot beverage? Cake?” Penguin motioned to the table.
“No.” The word cut through the air as the man called Scrooge jumped up on the table, forcing a wheeze from my throat. I pushed back in my chair, my heart thumping in my chest. He prowled across the table like a tiger on the hunt, his glower set on me. “We do not waste our supplies on adversaries.” He stopped at the edge of the table, forcing my head to crane back to peer up at him. He slowly crouched down, his supremacy and power shoving into me, pinning me to the chair.
Scrooge reached out, and his fingers clutched my chin, driving my attention up to his face. The moment his skin brushed mine, sparks shredded my nerves, jerking my body like it had been electrocuted. He flinched, biting down on his lip, but gripped my chin harder. The shock and twinge of his touch melted me with pure heat and pleasure, heavy air puffing through my lungs. His chest rose and fell in rapid bursts before he yanked his hand away, his chin rising as if I offended him.
Holy tinsel. What the hell was that?
“Who are you?” he growled.
“I told you. Alice,” I whispered.
“I know that part.” His lip rose in disgust. “But. Who. Are. You?”
“Why does everyone here keep asking me that?” I sat up, hitting the arms of the chair. “Alice. I’m Alice Liddell. That’s who I am.”
“It’s your name. Not who you are.” He moved to within an inch from my face. His sudden movement and nearness clasped my lungs together, my back going rigid. His icy blue eyes searched mine, heat from his mouth bashed against my skin, sending shivers down my spine. Violence hummed on the surface. “Who are you, Ms. Liddell?”
I swallowed, my gaze dropping to his mouth, then backed up. “I’m not your enemy. I-I’m not even from here.”
He stared at me for another few beats, tension sprouting and weaving through us. Hostility and ferocity purred like a sleeping lion. At any moment it could wake and attack.
A wicked smile twitched his lips, and he abruptly stood all the way up, his arms open. “Why didn’t you say so?” His mood changing enough for me to feel extremely unsettled. “Why, Mr. Penguin, have you not offered our guest refreshments?” He whirled to the others with a mechanical laugh. Crap. Another person here who was crazy as shit. “Is this a holiday party or not?” He held out his arms like a circus ringmaster.
“Yes!” the twins yelled, jumping up on top their seats, crashing the cakes in their hands together, while the hare continued to snore. “A very Merry un-Christmas to you!”
Penguin poured a steaming brown liquid in my cup. I hesitated, but he pushed the cup until it was at my lips. I took a gulp and started to choke, my eyes and throat burning. The liquor in it was almost solely whiskey, the moonshine kind of whiskey. With only a small splash of cinnamon and honey, the alcohol spun my head.
“Switch! Switch!” The elves leaped out of their seats. They were the only ones participating in the game. They raced about as if they were playing musical chairs before going back to the same seat, repeatedly singing, “It’s a very Merry un-Christmas to you. To me? No, to you!”
I was in a madhouse. The cheer from the elves did not quell my nerves. My gaze went again to Scrooge, his back to me as he strolled back across the table. He stepped down into his chair, then took a seat. He tossed his legs up on the table, his eyes never leaving me, watching me like I was a bug. His expression went back to stone, like the amusement a moment ago was a ruse. Everything about him made me feel as if I were walking across a fault line, the earth cracking and breaking under my feet.
In my world, Scrooge was a cruel, old, crotchety tight-ass. Here? Well, I could definitely say this man had a tight ass. Literally. And he dressed like a Dickens novel. I especially loved the top hat. But everything else about him was virile and raw and nothing like the character portrayed in movies at home. But something told me nothing in this land was as we imagined it at home.
“Eat! Eat!” Penguin shoved a plate of decorated Christmas cookies, fudge, pudding, and cakes into my face. I stared down at the plate, my gaze darting to Scrooge and Penguin. In the sea of baked goods, I saw a tiny vial, the words “Drink Me” written on a tag attached to it.
“Is something wrong?” Penguin asked, his forehead wrinkling.
“Did you put that there?” I pointed at the item.
“Put what? The Yule log?” Penguin looked where I indicated. Did he not see it? “I made it myself. I know it’s not as good as Hare’s, but whose is?” The penguin motioned to the rabbit, whose legs kicking absently as he sucked on one of his long white ears like a pacifier. “No one bakes as good as he does. He used to be the top baker in all the land.”
“Penguin!” Scrooge barked, closing the bird’s bill with a snap. “Shut your beak. Have you not learned?”
“He thinks I talk too much,” Penguin whispered to me.
“You do,” Scrooge grumbled, taking a deep guzzle from his teacup.
“Please take a treat, before he becomes surly and stingy and ends our party.” Penguin shoved the platter in my face.
“You mean he’s not now?” My eyebrows lifted.
“Oh no, Ms. Alice. This is a good mood. You have no idea.” Penguin looked around us as if he were waiting for someone to pop out, then leaned
closer to me. “We are taking a stand.”
“Against?”
“Penguin! Shut up.” Scrooge sat up, scowling.
“The one who took joy from this land,” Penguin spit out quickly. “The blood-red Queen.”
“Penguin, be quiet.” Scrooge stood to his full height, his chest puffing out.
I had been hearing a lot about this Queen. Everyone seemed to fear and hate her. “Frosty told me something about Christmas no longer being allowed here—”
“Frosty?” Scrooge jerked to me, dread and fury swirled in the one word like a snowstorm.
“Oh no. Oh no.” Penguin waddled away, his flippers fretfully whirling about.
“You have seen the snowman?” Scrooge’s tense demeanor snapped my attention back to him, his eyes tearing into my flesh.
“Y-y-yes.” Anxiety crawled over me as I stood up in defense. “Why?”
“Where?” Scrooge strode to me like a bull, making me stumble back, his nearness cramming conflicting emotions through me, the heat of his body skating over my skin. “When?”
“Right before the maze. Right before I found you here.”
“Shit.” Scrooge’s jaw twitched, a nerve dancing. He pinched the bridge of his nose before he twisted around. “Hare! Wake up.”
Sluggishly, Hare’s lids lifted, then drooped again. He muttered under his breath, folding his ears over his eyes.
“Now! They will be here soon,” Scrooge yelled, making the twins yelp, jump off their chairs, and start frantically darting around the table chanting, “Claus is coming to town,” but this time it sounded haunting instead of cheerful.
The fluffy, beautiful white hare, adorable in his hideous Christmas sweater, opened his eyes, looking around, a frown hinting on his mouth. “Well, fuuuuck.”
Chapter 5
Like I was being swirled in a snow globe, commotion moved around me, pulling my nerves into frayed strings. Scrooge swept his arm over the table, sending plates, food, and beverages crashing into the brush in an attempt to hide the evidence. The penguin unplugged the twinkle lights, leaving the chandelier glowing over the small garden. The elves did nothing but scurry pointlessly around, knocking into each other.
DESCENDING INTO MADNESS Page 3