The smoky smell of exhaust and oil hung in the air and only seemed to grow stronger as she reached the cluttered shelves and storage cabinets on the other side. Cartons of Christmas decorations, yard tools, and old clothes and toys likely didn’t hold any potential treasures. Alice maneuvered her way to the workbench.
Pristine, organized, and untouched since her dad died, the whole area was off-limits thanks to an unspoken understanding between her and Mom. It had taken months for Mom to donate a lot of Dad’s things, and she kept more than she let on, but this? This was a frozen shrine to his memory.
Her lungs tight with a sudden difficulty breathing, Alice inched toward the tool chest. She ran her fingers over the silver surface, the metal cool to the touch. A misting of dust covered the tools spread over the breadth of the bench. Soft light caught in the steel, causing it to shine.
Alice could see her father clearly in her mind, taking each tool from its place and disappearing around to the front of the car, the hood lifted, and the radio blasting “Word Up!” by Cameo. The whir of the air compressor, the studded roar of the ratchet, six-year-old her sitting in the front seat eating a sandwich while her legs swung as she asked a million questions. He always had an answer, patiently responding while simultaneously maneuvering through the complexities of the engine. Eventually, her questions turned into complaints as she grew older: she was hot, she was tired, she didn’t understand why she had to be out in this stank garage learning how to check fluids and change out crap.
“’Cause there’s not an app for that.” He had stared at her phone and then at her until she put it away. “What’s a man’s most useful resource?”
Alice rolled her eyes so hard she saw the back of her skull. “His head,” she regurgitated. She’d only heard this a million times.
“Right.” He wiped his hands on a rag that probably added oil instead of removing it. “To know a thing, or be able to learn a thing, makes good men great. That goes double for black men, triple for black women. Knowledge is power, and this world is set against you knowing anything, so when someone’s trying to teach you something, pay attention. Take it all in, you hear?”
“It’s just changing the oil.” She gestured at the car, annoyed with yet another speech on how she had to do better, think better, fly faster, blah blah blah.
“It’s never just anything.” He held out the wrench, the silver gleaming in his dark, sludge-covered fingers. “I showed you. You do it.”
The memory faded, leaving Alice in the shadow of his presence, the quiet of the garage amplifying the sound of her choked sobs as she tried to stifle them. Her eyes burned. Her throat closed off. Her face ached like it was too small for her skull, stretched open to fit. Grief burrowed its way into her chest and dove for her stomach, pulling her insides with it. She’d give anything to have him back, lectures and all. She’d listen to a thousand of his lessons if it meant hearing his voice again. She’d tell him about Hatta, about the Black Knight, about all of this, and he’d know what to do. He always knew what to do. He always …
Fighting the scream building inside, Alice backed away from the workbench. Her feet caught in a hose coiled on the floor and she went down. The sting in her hands and legs faded under the hurt washing through her. Gathering her knees to her chest, she folded her arms around them, buried her face in the sleeves of her shirt, and let go.
She had no idea how long she sat there, sobbing into her arms, until pressure at her shoulders alerted her to another’s presence.
“Alice?” Mom whispered.
She didn’t want to look up, not yet, but the touch slid up and down her arms, then over the top of her head. She sniffed, wiping snot away, then on her jeans. Finally, she glanced up. “H-hey.”
Mom, her expression pinched with concern, clicked her tongue. “Oh, baby, what’s wrong?”
That set off another wave of tears.
“Okay, okay.” Mom settled next to Alice, wrapped her arms around her, and held just tight enough that she felt like she wouldn’t come apart entirely. “It’s okay.”
Alice cried for a few minutes more, soaking the sleeve of Mom’s blazer, which smelled of her jasmine perfume. The whole time, Mom spoke in soft sounds, hums, and whispers. The words sounded like nonsense strung together, muddled by her crying, but she didn’t care. All that mattered was the voice was there, with her.
When Alice felt like she could manage more than two words without breaking down, she lifted her head from her mom’s shoulder, sniffing all over again.
“There you go.” Mom brushed Alice’s hair back, swiped glistening trails from her own face, and released a huff. “What are you doing out here?” There was no scolding in her tone.
“I—I, um.” Alice wiped her face to give her a few seconds to think. “I—I needed a screwdriver.”
“There’s one in the kitchen drawer.” Mom fussed over Alice’s clothes.
“Oh.” Alice shrugged, and stretched her legs out. “I came to borrow one and…” She held her hands out, offering her current state as explanation.
“Well.” Mom wiped at Alice’s face again. “I bet some jambalaya will set you right.”
“Nana Suebell’s recipe?” Her great-grandmother made the best jambalaya this side of the Mississippi.
“And a fresh jug of sweet tea.” Mom smiled. “Just help me bring the groceries in.”
Alice nodded and got to her feet. Mom had already brought in a handful of bags, resting on the counter. She sent Alice for the others. There weren’t that many, and Alice managed to bring them all in, just as the microwave beeped.
Uh-oh.
“What the—I know you didn’t put my meat in this microwave. Alice!”
* * *
After a thorough lesson on why the defrost function on the microwave is as useful as a paper spoon, Mom set to making dinner with Alice assisting, meaning she chopped, peeled, and sliced whatever was needed. A haze of steam, smoke, and stir-fry thickened the air. As she went along, Mom flipped on every light in the kitchen, flooding the room with pale brightness. She liked to see while she cooked, whatever that meant. Just the overhead light would’ve gotten the job done.
Mom bopped in front of the stove as she stirred a couple of skillets, singing along to Whitney Houston’s “I’m Your Baby Tonight.” “Sang it, Whitney!”
Chuckling, Alice finished unrolling some biscuits onto a pan. She tried to relax, or at least look like she was relaxed. But every time something thumped or thudded in the house, she froze, her hand twitching toward her pack. Likely, it was one of the cats, but still. She was not about to be caught off guard again.
“How was service?” she asked, attempting conversation even as she stared at the ceiling.
“Don’t know.” Mom tossed a towel over her shoulder as she checked the Crock-Pot. “After praise and worship I went to the funeral service for that little girl.” Her pleasant expression deflated a little bit. She ran a hand over her hair, puffed out in big curls, and came over to kiss Alice’s forehead. “The family is shook up, but by the grace of God, they’ll get through this.” She went to fetch something out of the fridge, muttering about senselessness and it shouldn’t be like this.
Alice fidgeted with a spoon. “I meant to go with you.” With everything happening, Alice had forgotten about the service. They’d planned to attend together, but bastard entities of evil had a way of derailing things.
“I know, but you wouldn’t move this morning.” Mom smirked over her shoulder, an eyebrow arched. “Partied harder than you intended, huh?”
“Something like that.” If you mean facing off with the resurrected knight of darkness from a secret world of dreams, sure.
“Glad you had a good time. Now, go get washed up—oh, this is my part!” Mom reached to turn up the volume and belted out, “I wanna run to youuuuu!”
Wincing, Alice made a hasty retreat, but not before stealing a bite of red pepper from the plate on the counter.
During dinner they talked about Brionne
, the funeral service, how Alice missing praise and worship this morning meant she was definitely going next week, Sunday school included. She kept stealing what she hoped were discreet glances at the clock.
After the leftovers were put away, Alice spent the rest of the evening up in her room pretending to read a book about a black girl and some dragons. Normally, she’d be all about that Khaleesi life, but a combination of worry for Hatta and just plain old boredom—she’d been trying to get into this same book for a week now—kept her from making it past the first chapter.
Finally, ten o’clock hit. Mom’s bedtime and morning routines were damn near sacred, so she’d be knocked here in about ten minutes. Alice checked over her things one more time, then peeked out the door and down the hall just as Mom’s light cut off under her door. Talk about perfect timing.
Heart racing—she’d never done anything like this before—she swung her bag onto her back and slipped out, quiet as a cat. With every second she spent feeling her way down the stairs, her heart beat faster and faster. She swore it was gonna give her away, but she made it to the door with no problems. She eased the locks free, cracked it open, and slipped out, careful not to let the screen door bang behind her. Thankfully, Mom got one of those fancy dead bolts installed, the kind that locks itself when you twist it.
Chest heaving, Alice said a quick prayer to protect her mother, then raced down her porch stairs and toward the end of the block. If she was lucky, Mom would sleep through the night. If she wasn’t … well, at least she wouldn’t be around for it.
* * *
Maddi was waiting behind the bar when Alice reached the pub. Judging by the pile of pouches and packs on the counter, Maddi had been busy. “There you are.”
“Sorry it took so long.” She wasn’t exactly a pro at this sneaking-out thing.
Alice joined Maddi and laid out what she had brought. Between the two of them, they managed to fit the essentials into Alice’s pack, leaving the extra set of clothes for her return. She’d braided her hair on the train. It wasn’t pretty, but it would keep her hair under control and safe from the Wonderland elements.
Maddi went over the plan while Alice changed into something more hike appropriate.
“You’ve got food, a sleeping bag, a couple purge potions, precautionary. I threw in something for pain, in case your injuries start aching.”
“They’re mostly healed now.” They’d been a little achy this entire time, but Alice had been so distracted by everything going on that it had barely registered.
“I talked to the Duchess. The Tweedles are going to meet up with you along the way to Legracia. She’s going to come here and help keep an eye on Hatta and protect your mother.”
“Thank you for that. Really.” At least she would be able to focus on the task and not worry about the Black Knight hurting her family. Not worry as much, anyway. Alice laced her last boot and moved to grab her daggers from the bar. She fastened them in place, then pulled out her phone. “Speaking of my mom, I need you to do something for me. While I’m gone, if my mom texts me, I need you to answer.” Alice held out the phone.
Maddi eyed it like it was going to bite her. “What do I say?”
“Anything you think I might. Mostly stuff like ‘Okay’ or ‘Yes, ma’am. I love you.’”
“Ahh.” Maddi gingerly took the device. “Doesn’t Courtney usually do this?”
“Yeah. But she’s not being super cooperative.” Alice pulled an envelope from her bag, pushing down her rising irritation. Deal with it when you get back. “This is the log-in information for my mom’s email and a letter. I need you to send the letter to my school. I’ve written it, so you only have to type it, word for word, and send to the address in here. Then delete it from the sent folder. The school might send some sort of confirmation. Delete that, too.”
Maddi blinked wide blue, then green, then purple eyes at her. “You’ve given this a lot of thought.” She took the envelope.
“Well, I’d like to live past saving Hatta, so it’s necessary. My phone has an alarm set for 7:30 a.m. You have to send the letter then.” Mom would be up at seven, cup of coffee and breakfast, kiss Alice good-bye—only she wouldn’t be there—then into the shower to finish getting ready for work. That shower was the only time for certain she wouldn’t be checking her email.
“Mission accepted.” Maddi set the phone and the envelope on the bar. “Ready?”
“Let’s go.” They hurried down the hallway, with Alice pausing briefly to look in on Hatta. He was still sound asleep, fretting only a little. Her heart twisted with each small sound of distress. Maddi had given him another potion while she was gone.
“Move as quickly as you can, but pace yourself. You have a long journey ahead of you.” Maddi closed the broom-closet door behind them, plunging them into darkness. The drop through the Veil was nauseating and harrowing as ever, and left Alice doubled over. Without Hatta there holding her, his scent and the feel of his arms to distract her, the motion sickness hit hard.
Maddi stood in the Gateway, her lips twisted as Alice dry heaved into a silver bush. “You really do get sick.”
“What, you thought it was a myth?” She spit, curled her tongue with a ycch, and straightened.
“That he exaggerated the amount.” Maddi tilted her head to the side, her nose crinkling. “And the noise. Sounds like you dislodged something.”
“Thanks for your overwhelming concern.” If she weren’t so queasy, she’d have the energy to be embarrassed.
She breathed deep, hoping to quell the dizzying buzz between her ears. “There wouldn’t happen to be a Follyshroom or two in here, would there?” She hooked a thumb over her shoulder at the pack.
“’Fraid not.” Maddi fidgeted with the collar of her shirt, leaning out to glance around without actually setting foot through the Gateway. “They turn hours after being picked. Nothing keeps ’em fresh. Trust me, I’ve tried. You got your mirror?”
Alice shook her head. It was still at school.
“Here.” Maddi produced a small, mini-me version of the one Hatta kept in his desk. “Use mine.”
Alice fingered the silver surface before shoving it into a pouch on her belt. “Anything else?”
“Yeah.” Maddi took a few steps back as the Gateway started to curl shut. “Hurry.”
Fourteen
THE DUCHESS
With the use of the mirrors, and Maddi’s instructions, Alice was able to navigate her way toward the rendezvous point with the Tweedles. She kept her head on the swivel the entire time. Just because the last place the Black Knight showed up was the human world didn’t mean he couldn’t pop up here.
The mist of the freshly risen morning clung to the grass and plants in pearls of dew. Wonderland’s pink sky bloomed bright and streaked white, but black clouds curled on the distant horizon. Her path took her past the Bubbles, where she was able to grab some Follies to ease her stomach, and across a stretch of literal rolling hills. Seriously, the hills slowly rose from the ground, traveled a handful of miles over the course of the day, then sank back into the earth. She’d ridden one with the twins before, just taking a break for a bit and soaking up some Wonderland … well, there was no sun. The hills weren’t fast, but you could definitely tell you were moving.
Working with the somewhat rudimentary map Maddi had drawn—seriously, it was like something out of a coloring book—Alice used the landscape and a few landmarks to find her way. Like the rainbow river that changed colors as it cut through the grassland. In the river, large and small glass fish twinkled in the light. There were no towns or villages on Alice’s trail; she was crossing wilderness in a direct line, the fastest way through. She did pass what used to be an old lookout tower, white stone rising into the sky, but it was long abandoned.
After a few hours, she spotted the crossroads where she was supposed to meet the twins. A woman stood with them, dressed similarly in dark pants, boots, and a formfitting black shirt. Alice couldn’t be certain from a distance, but
she appeared armed with what looked to be sheathed long knives strapped to both thighs. A rope of red hair swung past her hips as she moved.
The Tweedles waved. So did Alice, hurrying up to meet them. “Hey,” she panted, eyes on the woman. She looked the same age as Hatta, but that didn’t mean anything. She was almost as tall as him, too, her frame lithe but round in the important places. “Didn’t keep you waiting long, did I?”
Dem shook his head. “Nyet. Maybe half an hour?” He looked to his brother for confirmation.
The woman cleared her throat, and both boys straightened a bit. Her green-eyed gaze bounced between them before landing on Alice. Dramatic makeup highlighted her cheeks, made her eyes gleam, and painted her lips the color of blood. “I apologize for their rudeness,” the woman said in a less thick Russian accent. It surprised Alice, though she guessed it shouldn’t. Hatta spent most of his time in Atlanta and sounded like he was from London. At least this lady’s accent made sense. “I am Anastasia Petrova, but you most likely know me as—”
“The Duchess.” Alice took the woman’s offered hand. Meticulously manicured nails the same red as her lipstick flashed.
“Da.”
Alice had guessed right. “I’m sorry if this is rude, but weren’t you exiled like Hatta?”
The Duchess arched a sculpted eyebrow.
Alice swallowed. “It’s just, being this far in would cause him pain—are you okay?”
The Duchess smiled, showing off pearly whites. “I am, but the terms of my banishment were not as severe as Addison’s. Neither were my charges.”
“What charges?” Alice asked.
The twins shared one of their creepy glances.
“It is not my place to say. Perhaps a conversation to be had once we are finished.” The Duchess folded her arms over her chest.
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