Allison's Adventures in Underland

by C. M. Stunich

  “That's not good,” Rab says, musing for a moment as Lar takes another drag on the hookah. “The house and yard are spelled—nothing should be able to get past the fence without taking a huge hit from the wards.”

  “And yet something did,” Tee says, putting his hands on his hips.

  “Something did,” Dee repeats as he pushes up to his knees and prods one of the large white spots, digging his fingers into the mushroom's soft flesh.

  “Dee, Hearts above, do you want to get your head lopped off?” Tee snarls but his brother ignores him and yanks a piece of spongy meat out, handing it over to me.

  “The King would want his Alice delivered to him at all costs,” Dee says as I stare at the hunk of white flesh and wonder what the fuck it is he wants me to do with it. “If we'd had a little bit of this to begin with, we wouldn't be sitting up here wondering what slithered over Rab's wards and ate the POW in his yard.”

  “Prisoner of war?” I ask, but then there are probably a million other questions worth asking right now. “You think something … ate that corpse? Like a jabberwock?”

  “A jabberwock, a bandersnatch, a jubjub bird … it's hard to say,” Dee continues, gesturing with the mushroom meat in my direction. “Take this Allison-who-isn't-Alice.”

  I reach out a palm and let him drop the spongy flesh in my hand, wrinkling my nose as I bring it close to my face for a sniff. It smells like almonds and blueberries, making me wonder what's in that hookah. Seems a bit coincidental that the smoke and the mushroom meat would have the same smell.

  Dee scrambles to his feet and walks across the slick, blue surface of the cap like it's nothing, like he's done this a million times before. As far as I know, he probably has. He stoops low on the opposite side and digs up yet another handful of flesh, bringing it back and offering that to me, too.

  “Just remember,” the Caterpillar says, giving me his lazy smile, “one side will make you grow taller, and the other side will make you grow shorter.”

  I take the second hunk of mushroom flesh and tuck each one into a pocket on either side of Tee's jacket for the time being.

  “You're telling me this mushroom has the same properties as the FUCKING DRINK MEs and the EAT MEs?” I ask, although the only EAT ME item I've seen thus far is Dee himself.

  “Rather the drinks and the cakes have the same properties as the mushroom. The king has his men harvest the flesh and use it to make the cakes and tinctures—when they can't get a real curseworker in the kitchen, that is.” Dee grins at me like that explains everything and takes a seat so close to me that his arm brushes against mine and his body heat seeps into my skin.

  My head is spinning with spells and wards and curseworkers and magic mushrooms … but I just blink and refocus on Rab and Tee, both of whom still look worried over the whole missing corpse situation.

  “Normally, the king has anyone who takes a bit of mushroom flesh executed but, well, I figure he'd make an exception for you,” Dee adds, not at all worried by the prospect of decapitation. “You never know when we might find ourselves in a bit of a tizzy again, right? The next time we run into a little door, you won't even have to consider sucking that asshole over there off.”

  “Shush, Dee,” Tee growls and then squats down next to Rab. “Do you have any idea what might've taken the body from the yard? Or how?”

  “Not a clue,” Rab says as Lar hands over the hookah hose and Tee, surprisingly enough, puts it to his lips and inhales. He passes it to Dee next, and his brother takes it, doing the same. With a long sigh, I follow suit and hope like hell I'm not going to regret this later. “I just suppose we'll go back, collect our things, and head out? If the yard's been breeched, it's just a matter of time until the house is as well.” He sighs and glances in Lar's direction. “Let's get this over with, shall we? The Alice is late enough as it is.”

  “All in good time, my friend,” Lar whispers, his voice low and even as he flicks his blue eyes to mine and smiles like the cat that's got the cream. “You can't rush these sorts of things, you know.”

  He spreads his wings wide, extending them to their full width, and I blink several times in awe as the blue in the center begins to ripple and change, the colors morphing and twisting until there are moving images trapped in the black edged frame of his wings. It's like watching a TV screen but … fuck, no, it's like looking through a window. There's not a goddamn screen in the world that can blow hot rancid breath in your face, echo a sound like shattering glass that makes your ears bleed, and show you an image that's so detailed you can make out each individual feather …

  “The fuck …” I breathe and my heart starts to thunder in my chest as the image zooms out, away from the snapping beak of a bird with teeth like a shark and eyes like an insect, fractured prisms of green and gold that reflect the blue glow of the giant mushroom. Because, whatever this prophecy is about, it's taking place right here. For a moment, I have to look away to catch my breath, take in the gently swaying tree limbs and the distant chatter of night birds. It's quiet and peaceful here, but in the vision or prophecy or whatever the hell it is that's going on in Lar's wings, it's violent and messy and bloody.

  The bird lashes out at the cluster of people—i.e. us—sitting on top of the mushroom, claws raking through our bodies and spilling bright spatters of red. Its massive wings—as wide as Rab's house is long—are splayed out, flapping and thrashing the the limbs of the trees with violent gusts of wind. Its feathers are glossy black, but with a green undertone, that blends it into the surrounding landscape with flawless ease.

  It's why we didn't see it coming until it was too late.

  With a gasp, Lar curls his wings in, tucking them close to his body at the same time he rises to his feet. Rab and the twins follow and somebody's foot hits the hookah, sending it rolling down the curved surface of the mushroom and off the edge. I have to wait several seconds before I hear it hit the ground and shatter.

  “A jubjub bird,” Dee explains as he reaches out his hand for mine and yanks me to my feet. “Lar, take Allison-who-isn't-Alice down to the house and wait for us. Rab, how much time do we have?”

  “Two minutes,” Rab says, checking one of his tattoos, his skin even paler than usual. He nods with his chin in the direction of the ladder. “Start climbing, boys.”

  “May I, Sunshine?” Lar asks, but he doesn't wait for me to respond. Shit, I don't blame him. What did Rab just say? Two minutes? Two minutes until the prophecy we just saw comes true? Two minutes until a bird the size of a fucking house swarms down and starts eating people?!

  Lar picks me up and tosses me over his shoulder—a move that doesn't really float my boat but, when faced with a goddamn man-eating monster, I will choose any day. He smells like blueberries and tobacco, my face pressed into the back of his jacket, my stomach lurching as his wings spread wide behind us and … we drop off the edge of the mushroom.

  My eyes squeeze shut, but there's only a split second sensation of falling and then, it's like we're being kissed by the wind, lifted up and buoyed by clouds. When I crack my lids, I can see Lar's massive wings beating gently, these smooth, slow strokes that end with us settling easily onto the dirt road in front of the house. He sets me down on my feet inside the confines of the gate and turns to glance over his shoulder, a tightness in his jaw that seems at complete odds with his usual personality.

  “I ate a jubjub bird for dinner,” I say, blinking and shaking my head, teasing strands of rainbow and blonde hair around a finger. “I ate one of those.”

  “Yes, well, better to eat than be eaten, I always say,” Lar says with loose shrug of his shoulders, blue eyes focused on the distant glow of his forgotten lantern. The ladder's on the opposite side of the mushroom, so it's hard to say how much progress the other three men have made, but I can feel my heart in my throat, sweat beading on my palms.

  “Do we just stand here and wait?” I ask as Lar casts an amused glance in my direction.

  “What other action do you suggest we take?”
he says, just before a wild screech tears through the woods, sending the glittery-eyed bats and the colorful night birds into the sky in droves. They scatter across the round, white surface of the moon like broken glass. But that sound? Holy shit, that fucking sound. It's as violent and painful to listen to as the jabberwocky's, but worse in a way, too. It feels sharper and less sentient, the scream of a beast.

  It explodes from the trees on the side of the road nearest us, heading straight for the mushroom with another one of those raucous screeches. I can feel hot liquid on the sides of my face—why is everything in Underland so goddamn loud?!—and watch in horror as the creature's claws rake across the surface we were just sitting on.

  The blue lantern goes rolling off the edge of the cap and plummets to the ground, shattering to pieces in a rush of orange and yellow flame. As soon as the blue glass breaks and the color changes, the bird goes completely insane, hopping down from the top of the mushroom with another violent scream, attacking the burning undergrowth with a sharp black beak and pointed teeth.

  “Is that what the blue glass is for?” I ask, glancing at Lar, his white jacket slung over his shoulders. It's cut short in the back, sitting above his wings, and hangs in two long tails on either side of him. The bird's powerful flaps are so intense, they create a breeze that reaches all the way over here, stirring the fabric against Lar's legs. “Because it seems to have a thing for fire.”

  “The jubjub bird's attracted to flame, but it can't see the color blue,” he says, frowning and shaking his head. “It doesn't make any sense for it to have attacked us up there—on the cap of a blue and white. Not once has that ever happened to me, and I've been signaling Rab from that same spot for years.”

  He takes a few steps back and sinks into a lazy crouch next to me, his wings opening and closing like a butterfly at rest on a flower, those blue eyes focused on the bird as it shreds the flaming fronds until there's nothing left but ash and upturned earth. It pauses then and lifts its head, cocking it from side to side like my brother's parakeet. She died soon after Fred did, and I always thought it was from a broken heart. I know I felt like I might from mine.

  The jubjub turns and looks in the direction opposite us, and I see a small spark of orange flame in the darkness of the trees. Rab steps out, looking shirtless and deadly in his tattoos and don't-give-a-fuck smirk, moving forward with his gun outstretched, the fuse burning steadily down to nothing. He even holds it one-handed, like a boss.

  The gun goes off at the same moment the bird screeches, lobbing a metal ball about the same size as the one the Queenmaker fired off the edge of the boat. It hits the jubjub in its full, red breast, the mark there disturbingly similar to that of a black widow spider. Flames rush up on impact, rocking the forest with a wave of heat and a tremor.

  I expect that to be enough to kill the bird.

  Fuck am I dead wrong.

  Batting its massive wings, the bird rises up several feet off the ground, twists its head in a circle like an owl except … you know, it keeps going. All the way. Three hundred and sixty degrees. As soon as its head comes full circle, it rears back and hocks a ball of red phlegm in Rab's direction. He barely manages to dodge out of the way, the red liquid spattering the ground and trees like blood … blood that sizzles and burns and leaves holes in the bark.

  Jesus fucking Christ!

  I take a few unconscious steps back and watch with wide eyes as Rab scrambles to his feet and faces the bird, flames still dancing on its chest that it barely seems to notice. It drops its head low in a hiss, a long tongue uncurling from its mouth before it shoots a stream of white at Rab, tangling him up in what seriously looks like a dude's cum.

  “Spider silk,” Lar says, standing up, his shoulder-length hair blowing in a breeze that doesn't quite seem to touch me. His wings glow and I watch as his pale blue eyes light up, the sapphire earrings danging from his lobes dancing in the same wind. “Fuck, Rab, what on earth are you doing?”

  Rab thrashes around in the silk as the jubjub bird makes a pleased trilling sound and tucks its wings close, hopping toward the man as I stare in abject horror. I mean, he did shoot my classmate, but I don't really want to see the guy eaten by a giant fucking spider-bird with shark teeth, do I?

  The twins come around from behind a tree, using the jubjub's moment of distraction to make their way over us, hopping the fence and landing on the path beside me.

  “Mistress,” Dee breathes, panting and looking at me with wide, sapphire eyes. “We need your permission to—” He cuts off, his head whipping around at the sound of a different roar, one that doesn't quite make my ears bleed but rattles the windows in Rab's house. Looking back toward the lump of silk, I find a … another fucking unidentifiable thing tearing its way out of the silk.

  With another snarl, the creature bursts out of the webbing and takes off, tackling the much larger jubjub bird and knocking it onto its back with a screech. The second beast, whatever the fuck it is, has a thick, white fur coat with black spots … much like the rug on Rab's living room floor. It has a long muzzle, thick paws, and a fluffed tail, like a dog or a wolf, with long rabbit-like ears and bloodred eyes.

  Rab is nowhere to be seen … but the wolf-rabbit-cat monster looks an awful lot like him.

  Shifter.

  The word rings in my head as my mouth drops open and I watch the two creatures duking it out.

  “Go Rab!” Dee says with a whistle, like he's mighty impressed. “He's kicking ass. Won't last forever though. Bandersnatch are not a match for jubjubs, no way, no how.” Dee turns back to me, but I'm so focused on Rab and what he's become that I can barely hear what he's saying. “Hey, Allison-who-isn't-Alice,” he croons, swiping a hand in front of my face. “Tee and I need your permission to—”

  Once again, Dee's words are cut short.

  But this time?

  It's not the jubjub or the … the bandersnatch … it's a fucking jabberwock.

  The now familiar screech makes my poor ears ring as blood drips down my face and onto the shoulders of Tee's jacket. The ground beneath our feet begins to shake and I can hear both twins cursing under their breath. Without waiting to see the jabberwock in person, I turn and head into the house, flinging the front door open and flying up the stairs to the guest room. The Queenmaker is just where I left it, tucked away in the leather satchel, and the twins are right behind me.

  “Don't be scared, Allison,” Tee breathes, sliding into the room, panting with adrenaline. He blinks in surprise as I turn around, hefting the gun in my hands.

  “Rab must have more fuses and ammo around here, right?”

  Dee snaps his fingers and turns to his brother.

  “She's right—the Kingmaker uses the same fuses and the same musket balls. Do you have the key to the weapons room?”

  “No,” Tee says, short and sharp, but then he's turning away and flying down the steps, calling for us to follow after him. Dee and I scramble to keep up and come around the corner at the bottom of the stairs just in time to see Tee lift up his boot and kick the goddamn door in. The wood of the door stays intact, but the hinges rip from the doorframe and the whole thing just lists to one side. I follow him in there and find … a fucking army's worth of weapons. There are guns of every shape and size, swords, axes, knives, even obscure things like nunchucks and garrotes.

  For a moment, I just stand there gaping.

  But then the sound of the jabberwock's scream echoes outside the house and I cringe.

  “Can't we just grab a different gun?” I ask as Tee starts yanking drawers out and digging frantically through them. “There seem to be a lot of, uh, choices in here.”

  “Not like a Queenmaker,” Dee says as he joins in the search, scattering items across the floor and not giving two shits about the mess he's making. “You saw what the Kingmaker did to the jubjub—fucking nothing. And with a jabberwock involved? We need to shoot that motherfucker and run.”

  “Here,” Tee says after a moment, turning and taking the Queenmaker
from my hands. With that same smooth motion in his arm that Dee used on The Long Tale, Tee opens the gun and inserts a big, metal ball and a fuse. Closing it up, he passes it to me and then hands over a matchbook from inside the drawer. “Don't bother aiming for its face—just shoot at the bulkiest part of its body.”

  “Me?” I ask as Tee wraps his hands around mine and sends a shiver of warmth through me. His amethyst eyes lock on my face.

  “This gun is designed to work with the user's natural store of magic. And it's called a Queenmaker for a reason—it's not for the clumsy hands of men. Now go.” Tee turns me around by grabbing my upper arms and spinning me toward the door and Dee reaches out for my hand, curling his fingers around my wrist.

  The twins drag me back outside where Lar is looking up … up … up at a fucking …

  “It's a goddamn dragon!” I scream, my hands trembling as I look up and find a dragon with scales as black as night but burnished with gold when it moves, the wicked muscular length of its tail swishing across the ground and crushing mushrooms and ferns in its wake. It stalks toward the jubjub bird like a cat on padded paws, curling its lips back from its white-white teeth.

  “It's a jabberwock,” Dee corrects from beside me. But the creature I'm looking at doesn't much look like the drawing in Alice's Adventures in Wonderland. I mean, it has massive webbed wings, feet with claws, and a large scaled body, but that's where the resemblance ends. It, too, has that feral, wild look of a cat or dog or some strange combination of the two. Opening its jaws wide, it lets out a scream that drives me and the three men around me to our knees. Gold eyes flashing, it takes off across the clearing and heads straight for the jubjub bird and the bandersnatch … who I guess is fucking Rab?!

  Without thinking too hard about it, I yank the match from behind my ear and strike it against the Queenmaker, lighting the fuse and gritting my teeth against the explosion that I know is coming. Shit, I hope I don't kill Rab in the process, I think as my pulse races and my heart thunders so loud that I can hear it echoing around my skull.