Malice in Wonderland Bundle 3

by Lotus Rose

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  “MY DEAR, SWEET BROTHER! Why did the witch set your chest of candy there?”

  “To tempt me!” Dalten shouts.

  “Tempt you? What do you mean?” shouts Neva.

  “All my candy, she told me to put in that chest. She likes to set it near me, as a test to see how well I can resist.”

  “Don’t you see how cruel it is for someone to make you forsake something you enjoy so much? That’s not how love works.”

  “Oh, but it is. I love her so so much, so I would do anything for her.” He sways a bit in his stance.

  “She doesn’t deserve your love, don’t you see? Love should be returned with kindness and caring. But instead, she takes away the joy you get from your candy, and mocks you by keeping it near you!” Neva points at his lolly, points at the chest.

  His mouth swishes from side to side as he thinks. “It is my way of proving my love to her. And she is not so cruel—she provides me solace, so I can cope.” He points at the bottles next to the chest. “She provides me whiskey.”

  “The witch set those there?”

  “She did. Her gift to me. And you said she didn’t care for me...” He displays a face showing his great disappointment in her doubting his beloved.

  “Why are the chest and bottles so far from you?”

  “She told me to stand closer to the heart, to guard it.”

  Neva says, “And she set the candy and bottles away from you, why? To mock you?”

  Dalten thinks for a moment, looks confused, and shrugs. “I know not. But it doesn’t matter, for I would do—”

  “—anything for your fake beloved. She’s fake because you only love her because of magic. Did you drink from that bottle, Dalten? I see that it’s partially empty.”

  “Aye, I did, jealous joyblocking sister of mine. I chugged half of that bottle before you came.”

  “You never used to drink before, oh dear brother of mine.”

  “My beloved witchy poo started me on drinking, because she does care. She knew I needed something to replace my candy. So she gave me grown-up drink to replace childish candy.”

  Malice blurts out, “I’m sorry, but I find that atrocious! You are simply replacing one vice for another, and alcohol is the much worse of the two. Believe me, I know what it’s like to crave something, from personal experience. I used to partake of the black rose, and I loved it so—it was to me like your candy must be to you. So pleasurable, glorious, captivating, such sensations it would bring, such dark sickly-sweet pleasure.” She closes her eyes, her mind traveling back to the memories of intoxication. “Mmmmm...” she murmurs to herself.

  Dalten agrees, “Yes, my candy was all those things. But I have booze now.”

  But Malice still has her eyes closed, whilst gliding her tongue along her lips.

  “Malice,” Humpty prods gently.

  Malice opens her eyes. “Oh, yes where was I?”

  Hatter says, “You were explaining to him why he shouldn’t drink—at least, I think you were.”

  “Oh, yes,” Malice mumbles. To Dalten, she shouts, “You’re just trying to replace one vice with another, but it won’t do. Nothing can take the place of your delicious, sweet candy. I know you still have the urge for it, and you’re a fool for thinking that mere booze can even compare to the glorious sensation of your black rose, I mean candy rose. Rebuke your false love and accept candy. For, no one worthy of your love would ever force you to give it up.”

  Hatter shouts, “Or you can partake of both vices! That’s what I do!”

  Dalten is lost in thought. “Booze and candy?”

  “Yes, at the same time,” Hatter says. “It is most exhilarating!”

  Dalten shakes his head. “No! Candy is forbidden! From now on, I’m a booze hound! Now I’ve heard enough. Either turn back now, or prepare to fight—which shall it be?” He whirls the lolly axe in his hands.

  “Oh, my poor, deluded brother, we intend instead, to gain that heart and save you with no fighting whatsoever. In fact, we shall convince you to rebuke the love you feel.”

  “Come on, then!” shouts Dalten. He tosses the axe blade up in the air, twirls once, and catches the axe lolly in his hands—it’s a bit of a clumsy drunken catch, but it’s still quite a skillful, and impressive maneuver, Malice thinks.

  The Jabberwock says, “I don’t wish to fight you, and I would prefer to call you friend, but if untoward combat should occur, I must point out that your weapon seems quite fragile, being as made of candy as it is. Would it even prove effective in battle?”

  Dalten answers, “We shall endeavor to find out, together, my worthy foe. Now, stop tarrying, and come on, then.” He points the axe at the Jabberwock. He beckons with it in a “come hither” gesture.

  “One quick question!” Hatter shouts out. He raises his pointed index finger in the air. “Pardon my intrusion, but there still happens to be the unexplained matter of that sloped terrain behind you—I almost want to call it a ramp. What, praytell, if I might be so bold as to inquire, is its purpose?”

  Dalten says, “Why, my good man, I promised to my mistress witchess that I would not divulge the purpose of that ramp. But as to the purposes of ramps in general, they are often employed to transport things from a higher position to a lower one, are they not? Now enough of this piffle. Do you wish to dance? If so, accept my invitation...to my ballroom of munchkin pain!” He weaves his axe back and forth from his left side to his right, in a most menacing manner.

  “As you wish!” Hatter shouts. To the Jabberwock, he says, “I’ll go left, you go right.” And they both shout, as they take off running. Humpty fidgets as he watches them, trying to decide whether he should rush in as well.

  The Cat whizzes through the air above to get a better view of the action.

  Dalten roars and swipes his axe at the Hatter—who has to dodge to avoid being hit. Now, the giant swings at the Jabberwock, who stops in his tracks, safely out of reach of the giant.

  Malice watches on, gnawing at her bottom lip, in worry, her arms folded, feeling anxious and worried for her friends. And, though she hates to admit even to herself, she really wishes she had some black rose right now, to alleviate her anxiety. She glances at the bottles of whiskey.

  Dalten continues swinging at Hatter and the Jabberwock as they dodge. The Jabberwock hasn’t even drawn his sword—he doesn’t wish to harm Dalten.

  About five feet away on Malice’s right, Sleepy B and Neva begin whispering in each other’s ear.

  Malice is not sure whether she should feel miffed or not for being left out, but rather than try to figure that out, she walks toward the liquor bottles.

  Just one little sip, to take the edge off.

  Dalten lands a solid blow against the Jabberwock’s side—but the sound it makes is of cracking and shattering, as half of his axe breaks apart—a real axe might have cut the Jabberwock clean through. Even so, it’s enough to send the Jabberwock sailing through the air, and rolling on the ground.

  Hatter watches his friend, looking aghast. “Jabs!” he calls out, and in that moment, the giant strikes him on the side with the broken remnants of the lollipop axe. Just like the Jabberwock, Hatter is sent sailing through the air and rolling upon the floor—one difference, though, is that the Hatter’s hat is knocked off.

  Malice is standing near the chest and bottles now. “Hatty! Jabby! Are you okay?” She’s thinking that if they’re in pain, they might be soothed by a sip or two of whiskey.

  And so long as they’re at it, I should enjoy a gulp or two—or three—to calm my own nerves in this trying situation. Oh, bother! Why do I keep thinking about that sweet, golden-brown nectar, when my friends might be hurt!

  She is brought out of her reverie by the curious sight of Neva and Sleepy B calmly walking up to Dalten.

  Neva starts giggling teasingly, and the giant looks taken aback by their non-threatening approach, looking down at them with his mouth hanging open.

  Malice wonders i
f they’re smiling at him—they must be, she thinks.

  “Eh?” Dalten says.

  Still giggling, Neva says, “Silly goose! Your shoelace is untied, you silly billy. You’re lucky you didn’t fall!” She points at his right boot, which as far as Malice can tell, seems tied perfectly well.

  “It is tied!” Dalten calls down, which helps reassure Malice that her eyes aren’t deceiving her.

  “Nuh uh!” Neva says while giggling at his obvious inept goofiness. “Right Sleepy B?”

  Sleepy B nods vigorously.

  Malice takes the moment to check up on Hatter and the Jabberwock. They’re both sitting up, looking dazed. Humpty has retrieved Hatter’s hat and is putting it upon Hatter’s head.

  Sleepy B says up to the giant, “It’s true...you need to look closer. Go ahead and kneel.”

  “Eh?” Dalten says, looking confused—is he so drunk he’ll fall for whatever ruse those two have in store?

  “Lemme see,” Dalten says, and now he’s actually kneeling, while setting his shattered weapon upon the ground to his side. He peers curiously at his perfectly-well-tied boot, with a squinting sort of discernment upon his face.

  Malice is shocked and confused as she sees Neva also kneeling.

  Why is she mimicking him?

  In puzzlement, Malice watches Neva turn to her right and while holding her hands down, she interlocks her fingers. “Now!” she shouts.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  SLEEPY B TAKES A FEW running steps, places her foot into the cradle formed by the hands of Neva, who helps propel Sleepy B upward through the air. She hops onto Dalten’s shoulder—he, meanwhile, is too preoccupied with his boot, and is slow to respond as Sleepy B briefly wraps her hands around his neck for a couple of seconds.

  “Eh?” he says. He grasps toward his shoulder, but comes up empty as Sleepy B slides down his back and onto the ground.

  And so, Dalten’s hand encounters his recently vacated shoulder.

  The magic amulet now swings from his neck, looking small on his eight foot tall frame—but he doesn’t seem to notice it. “Wait till I get my lolly on you, brat.” He whirls in his crouched position, lashing out with his hands, and gets lucky as he knocks Sleepy B’s feet out from under her—Malice’s view is blocked by Dalten’s legs, but she hears Sleepy B squeal in distress.

  “Aha!” Dalten exclaims, as Sleepy B shouts, “Lemme go! You don’t love the witch anymore!”

  And Dalten turns around to reveal he is holding a squirming upside-down Sleepy B, with one hand around each of her ankles.

  Malice gasps as she sees the girl’s pink panties on full display—her chain mail dress has slid down, bunching around her waist.

  “Boys, cover your eyes!” Sleepy B shouts.

  The lads are all standing now—Hatter and Humpty, to her left, and Jabby to her right, all cover their eyes. The Cat hovers, paying no heed—Malice is sure he feels he doesn’t need to obscure his gaze, since he’s a cat.

  Sleepy B is trying to lift herself up, squirming, and swings a bunch of wildly missing punches. “Quit looking up my dress, you perv!” She gives up her squirming, her arms go limp, hanging down, as she catches her breath.

  Malice finds the whole situation distressing, but thinks it’ll be best if she stays quiet. She wishes she had some black rose to calm her nerves.

  Malice looks down at the partially empty bottle, as Neva says to Dalten, “We don’t want to hurt you, dear brother. Please, rethink why you’re doing this. Do you really love the witch as much as you used to? Hmmm?”

  “Do I?” He tilts his head as he assesses his own feelings.

  Malice returns her gaze to the bottle, stares at it, and kneels, as Sleepy B squawks, “Oi! I’m getting dizzy! And my panties are showing. At least turn me upright, you lout!”

  Malice grabs the bottle. Just one gulp would really go down well right now.

  “Sorry, lass,” says Dalten.

  Malice stands again, bottle in hand, and, now she sees Sleepy B is upright and facing Dalten, with the giant holding her in his hands around her waist. Her panties are no longer searing Malice’s eyes out (figuratively) with their utter pinkness.

  “How do you feel about the witch now, dear brother?” Neva says while Sleepy B preens her hair—she can, since her hands are free.

  “Yeah, admit it, you wishy-washy giant munchkin cad,” Sleepy B says, “you’re no longer in love with the witch. Oh, and you can remove your hands from your eyes now, lads, and thanks for preserving my modesty.”

  Malice removes the cork from the bottle. Just one sip, to take the edge off my craving.

  “I must admit,” says Dalten, “I may have gotten a bit too tail over tea kettle for the witch.”

  “Topsy turvy? I know the feeling!” Sleepy B says and giggles.

  “Hmm?” says Dalten. “Oh, I get it. But about my love for my witchy poo...though I might have gone way overboard with my love for her a few minutes ago...” Malice puts the cork back in the bottle without taking a sip, sloshes the liquid and stares at it, as Dalten continues, “I still do feel love for her, I think. And I must honor my vow to guard the heart, because we should do the biddings of our loved ones, shouldn’t we?”

  There are a few moments of silence, during which Malice is preoccupied with her own thoughts: I shouldn’t drink any of that poison. I just had a passing craving, that’s all. From now on, I shall be completely sober.

  She’s continuing to stare at the bottle as Dalten shouts, “Nuh uh, top hat guy! You stay where you are. My dampened romantic affections won’t stop me from tearing the little girl apart, which I’ll surely do if any of you take another step!”

  “I’m not little!” Sleepy B squawks.

  Malice raises her head to see Sleepy B is now facing her—she’d been turned around at some point—her face is screwed up in irritation, and her arms are crossed.

  “Wait,” says Neva. “Let’s nobody do anything rash!”

  Malice starts shivering from her stress over the situation, which leads to a sudden surge of black rose craving, to stop shaking. Almost like a reflex, she pulls the cork out again.

  Meanwhile, Neva continues, “Sleepy B, stay still, don’t spook my brother. Everyone just stay still. We shall remedy this most vexing stand off. My dear, oh-so-calm non-jittery brother, please pardon me for not remaining as still as the others, but I must speak with Malice.” At the mention of her name, Malice lifts her head from her staring at the liquor—she has decided not to drink any of it after all. She merely wishes to smell it.

  Neva turns around, looks at Malice and smiles hugely. She clasps her hands together beneath her chin and scrunches her shoulders in delight. “Oh, most excellent!” Neva proclaims. “You’ve already opened it!” She walks toward Malice, while nodding for some reason.

  “Sister of mine, what are you doing?” says Dalten.

  Neva ignores him as she walks up to the position of standing in front of Malice, and now Neva leans forward, her hand resting on Malice’s shoulder, and whispers in Malice’s ear, “The amulet isn’t strong enough to fully counteract the witch’s love spell, but I believe I have figured a way to tip the scales in our favor. Follow my lead, if you please, Queen. Are you with me?”

  Malice gives a nod. “I want Sleepy B kept safe.”

  Neva gives a single nod in return, points at a torch in a sconce on the wall. “Grab me that, won’t you please, love?”

  Dalten says, “Oi! Neva, have you forgotten we have a situation over here? Should I just smoosh this big girl and be done with it?”

  “I’d prefer you not!” protests Sleepy B.

  Neva whirls around. “Not yet, oh my potentially-little-girl murdering brother.” (“I’m not little!” Sleepy B predictably shouts.) “For I have something you’ll wish to consider.” As Malice returns with the torch, Neva says, “Ah, thank you.”

  Malice sees that Neva has produced a handkerchief from somewhere.

  “Consider what?” Dalten says.

  M
alice makes to hand the torch over, but Neva shakes her head, points instead at the whiskey. “I’ll be taking that, if you please.”

  Malice’s first instinct is to be greedy and hold onto the bottle for herself, but of course that’s ridiculous, since she wasn’t going to drink any, anyway. But she does consider it quite uncouth for Neva to start drinking now. But Malice hands the bottle over, resentfully.

  “Hey, that’s me booze!” Dalten shouts.

  Sleepy B exclaims, “I could drink some too, if I wanted, you know! I’m not so little!”

  Neva pokes the handkerchief into the bottle, with half the cloth still sticking out.

  Before Malice can question why, Neva shouts out, “You said before that you were willing to give up your candy, because the witch you loved commanded you to, but I think you’d best reconsider, because our affections can change from moment to moment, can they not, oh my lovelorn brother?”

  “Yes,” Dalten says. “I mean no, I still love the witch...at least I think I do.” His brow furrows in confusion.

  “Reconsider what she asked of you. Isn’t it cruel for her to ask you to give up your candy, which you got so much joy from? Does such a cruel and selfish person deserve your love? Are you truly willing to give up candy forever for her?”

  “Embrace the candy, giant guy!” Sleepy B says. “I mean, eat it. You know what I mean!” She scowls and crosses her arms.

  Dalten stammers, “I shall not. I mean to say, I shall instead rebuke my childish candy, because...I love her?”

  “Don’t rebuke it! Embrace it!” Sleepy B says.

  “You don’t sound so sure of yourself,” Neva says to Dalten. “Luckily, I’m here to provide you your moment of reckoning. Light the handkerchief.” She holds it out to Malice, who touches the flame to cloth, setting it ablaze.

  “What are you doing?” Dalten says.

  Neva holds the bottle above her head triumphantly. “You say you would give up candy for that bitchy witch, but I don’t believe you. I think you realize that you now love your candy more than her, and I’m here to force you to make the decision.” She pulls the lid of the chest open. Within lies a mess of blaringly bright, assorted candies. “If I throw this bottle and break it in the chest, the alcohol inside will fuel a flame that shall destroy all your precious candy!”