As I take it all in, Rab shifts and then reaches down for my hand, curving cool fingers around my wrist. His pale face is almost eerie when another lightning bolt crashes into a nearby tree and lights up his face.
“This is no ordinary storm, Sonny,” he says in that cruel, cold voice of his. “Best come inside before you end up cursed.”
“Cursed?” I ask, but I let Rab drag me toward the front door. As my boots splash through puddles, I notice another flicker of white in the shadows of the trees, high up this time, perching on a branch like a bird. Again, it's just a smile, no face. But I'm a smart girl—I know how to figure things out.
That has to be the cat, the damn Cheshire Cat.
We must've just used a servant's entrance or something because as soon as I step inside, I find myself in a kitchen with a roaring fire and a massive cauldron. A woman stands next to it, stirring carefully, and glances away sharply when I meet her eyes. Behind me, a footmen in red, white, and black livery—full on powdered wig and all—moves to shut the door, pausing at the last moment as another man in a similar outfit approaches and bows low.
He hands over a letter, his eyes flicking up briefly to find the duke staring at him with interest. I can see his throat constrict as he tries to swallow.
“An invitation from the king to play croquet,” he says, his wig soaked with water and dripping down the sides of his face. God, I hope they're going to let him in for the night at least?
“Come come,” North says, snatching the letter from between the two servants and gesturing for the rest of us to follow him out of the admittedly cozy little kitchen. It has stone floors, a fireplace as tall as I am, and smells like fresh dough and salty butter. God, I'm starving again, I think as I pause at the entrance to the dining room and look back.
Now that the duke's gone, the cook rushes over to help the dripping messenger in and I blink in fascination as she kisses one of the lips and then the other, holding one hand against either of their cheeks. Interesting.
I turn back around and find Tee waiting for me, dripping wet, his purple and black streaked hair stuck to his forehead. When I catch up, he starts walking and leads me down a series of halls with black and white checkerboard floors to a hunting lodge.
As soon as I step inside, I'm surrounded by dick.
Every man except Tee is kicking off his boots, tearing off his shirt, and shoving his sopping wet pants to the floor. Oooookay, so Lar wasn't lying about having more than three inches inside his breeches.
“Allison?” Tee asks as I stand there, trying to blink through my shock. It's not a bad sight per se, all these attractive men stripped down to nothing, their bodies lit by the dancing orange flames of the fire. This room has heads on the wall, too, just like Rab's. Except this collection is much larger, much more impressive. Now that I know what a jabberwock looks like, I spot one on North's wall right away, the decapitated head mounted in a silent scream. “You need to strip out of your clothes. That's a wild magic storm out there.”
“Huh?” I ask, turning back to look at him and seeing that he's already got his jacket off and his shirt undone. “Wild magic?”
“The same stuff that caused the Riving,” Dee says from behind me. I keep my attention on his brother, on the slow, careful way he peels the wet fabric of his shirt away from his skin, turning to lay it over the back of a red leather chaise and flashing those magnificent tattoos of his. Before I can stop myself, I reach out my hand and brush my fingers down the wet muscles in his back, watching as he shivers and hunches over, curling his hands around the chaise and holding on tight. “Oh,” Dee whispers, his voice curious but husky.
I feel like I've made some sort of social faux pas, something beyond just, you know, feeling up some random dude's back.
“Sorry,” I start as Tee glances back at me, his face tight, but his eyes so much softer than they should be. It's the first time I've seen that expression on him, and I can't for the life of me figure out what it means.
“Don't be sorry,” he says, and his voice is even huskier and thicker than his brother's, like he's having trouble catching his breath. “Dee and I belong to you—you can do whatever you want to us.”
“Although Rab doesn't belong to her and she seemed to have no trouble feeling up his ears. Would you like to touch my tail next?” North asks, moving over to a liquor cabinet on the far wall and not giving two shits that his firm ass is right fucking there in my goddamn view.
I turn back to Tee as he sits down and starts to pull off his boots.
“You should really take your clothes off before you get cursed,” he repeats and I sigh, setting my satchel aside and shrugging out of my jacket. Before I can even think to ask about replacement clothes, there's a knock at the door and at a word from North, several servants enter and start passing out clothing.
I'm given what I guess is a nightgown made of silk and trimmed with red lace. It's a lot fancier—and a lot racier—than anything I'd wear back home, but the fabric is smooth as butter against my fingertips and as soon as the woman puts it into my hands, I don't much feel like giving it back. Lifting the gown to my cheek, I resist the urge to rub it against my skin.
Behind the lounge where Tee is sitting, there's a decorative screen that I slip behind before I strip off the rest of my clothes. I can't decide if I'm doing it so that the boys can't see me … or so that I don't have to see them.
“I'm guessing Rab's ears … North's tail … Tee's back … those parts have a more sexual affiliation here than they do back home?”
There's a chorus of male chuckling from the other side of the screen, but I can't decide who exactly it is or if I even care. That answers that question. And then, of course, I feel guilty because Tee feels like he doesn't have a choice. And I know what that's like, to have someone try to take choice away from you. It isn't a pleasant feeling. Fuck, it's one of the worst.
I dry myself off as best I can with the towel the servant gave me and drape it over the top of the screen, slipping into the cool silk of the dressing gown and shivering as it caresses my body. It hangs nearly to the floor, but has a slit that goes all the way up to my hip, flashing a whole hell of a lot of white thigh when I move. If I were a different person, I might care, but I'm not a prude and I step out from behind the screen with confidence.
Thankfully, the guys are all wearing at some some clothing, although Rab seems more than content to lounge around without a shirt on.
“Oh, look,” he says as I pop into view and his red eyes shimmer in appreciation. Rab slides his palm down his chest and taps his fingers against the tattoo on his hip. “It's almost teatime.”
“Tell me more about this wild magic shit,” I start as I scoop up my clothes and trade them out for the Queenmaker and the book, handing the satchel over to one of the waiting servants. Before I let go of the strap, I glance over at Tee, wearing a loose black top and pants. “I will get this back, right?” I ask and he nods.
“They'll hang everything to dry. Once it does, it's safe to wear again,” he tells me as I flip through Alice's pages and find only a few water spots here and there. Glad I wrapped it up in Edy's dress. “A few drops are okay, but you don't want to wear clothes soaked in wild magic. A storm like this, as charged as it is, could be as bad as the Riving—especially for someone like you.”
“Someone like me?” I ask and Tee smiles slightly to soften the words.
“Someone seeped in magic of their own,” he says as North flashes me a savage grin.
“Don't want to turn into a man, do you?” North asks, taking a seat next to Lar, taking care to stay away from his wings. I raise my eyebrows.
“You're telling me that rain,” I start, pointing a finger up at the vaulted ceilings above our heads, “is capable of turning me into a dude—like dick, balls, the whole works.”
“Spend enough time out in it and yeah, it's a possibility,” Dee says as he folds his hands together behind his head, standing next to the fire and warming himself by the roar of th
e flames. I give a little shiver as I sit on the edge of the chaise with Tee and hold the book and gun in my lap.
“Sorry, but that sounds like a nightmare in the making.” I pause as something occurs to me, watching as Dee pulls a kettle off the fire and pours hot water into a blue and white porcelain teapot. Even here, in the duke's house, I get the sense that he's worse than a servant, a slave maybe. That, or maybe he's just an addict and wants tea badly enough to make it? “How is that even possible?”
“The magic that was stripped from all the women in the Riving …” Tee starts with a small sigh, his elbows on his knees, hands folded together. “It's just … in the air now.”
“Like acid rain or toxic waste or some shit?” I ask, but everyone looks at me like I'm speaking a foreign language and I sigh. “Never mind. So, what's the plan then? We stay the night here, leave in the morning again?”
“That's the thing about plans,” Lar says, flipping open a silver box on the table next to him and extracting a cigar in careful fingers. “They're like doors—they swing on hinges.”
“Meaning what?” I ask as he smiles back at me, pushing damp hair away from his forehead. “We're stuck here until the storm passes?”
“It's not so bad here,” North says, gesturing in Lar's direction and waiting as he passes over another cigar. “There are worse places to find yourself trapped.”
His gold eyes bore into mine and I hold his stare. He might be royalty here, but I'm from another world. His title doesn't mean a damn thing to me.
“How long could it last?” I ask as Tee rises to his feet.
“Hours, days, weeks,” North replies with a loose shrug. “Can't predict the weather, so why try?”
“Don't you have carriages or something we could use?” I ask, but my protests sound weak, even to my own ears. I don't sound like someone that gives a whole lot of shits about how long it takes to get to the palace, the Looking-Glass … my life.
“We have carriages, but what or whom is going to pull them is the question?” North asks, tail swishing slightly. “In a wild magic storm, a horse is as likely to be a pumpkin as it is an equine. In an emergency, we could make the trip, but why rush it? It's safer and easier to ride it out.”
“Okay,” I say with a small sigh, glancing over at Tee. There's something comforting about the amethyst color of his eyes. “Okay. We'll wait the storm out.”
In the back of my mind, I know that Edith's probably spending most of her time in the bathroom, puking and crying and begging for me to come home. Because that's what she did when Fred died. Of course, Fred was buried six feet under; he was never coming home. But I can. I can go home … I'm just not sure if I want to.
In the morning, I wake to find my clothes dry and hanging in the misshapen wardrobe in the corner. It looks like somebody took a match to it and let it melt, one side flopping lazily toward the floor. It almost looks like I could mold it with my hands, like clay. Pressing a hand to the side though, I can tell it's perfectly solid, just wonky—like everything else in this world. Off. Strange. I equate it to the Leaning Tower of Pisa, that nagging sense of something not quite quite right.
Moving over to the window, I can see that the rain hasn't let up even a little. In fact, the black grandfather clock in the corner of the room says it's past noon and yet, I can't see a damn thing beyond the sheet of water cascading over the glass panes.
Swiping my fingers across the foggy surface, I turn and survey the room with its two king beds, both of them covered with luxurious canopies, falls of black and red velvet cascading from the ceiling to the floor. The curtains even have those old-fashioned rope pulls to make them easier to open and close.
Dee's still asleep in one of them, snoring, one arm tossed up over his face. His brother's missing, but as soon as I move away from the window, I can hear the shower going in the attached bathroom. I was too tired after dinner last night to protest being stuck in the same room as the twins. Honestly, I don't even mind. It's just … the idea that it's assumed they have to stay with me, like they're dogs on a leash or something, is annoying. If I were them, I know I'd fucking hate it with a passion.
Taking advantage of Dee's snoring and Tee's showering, I turn toward the window and slip the silk dressing gown over my shoulders, letting it pool on the floor at my feet. As I'm bending over and sliding the panties over my foot, I hear the bathroom door open.
Jesus Christ.
There's a long pause there as I stumble and turn, grabbing up the pile of clothes from the chair and holding various folded pieces over my bits. Tee, though, gentleman that he is, looks away sharply and exhales, stepping back into the bathroom and closing the door quickly. I dress myself as quick as I can, back in Lory's pirate gear, and then head over to knock.
Tee opens the door, fully dressed in his usual clothes and frowning severely.
“My apologies, Allison,” he says, glancing away from me and toward the window. “I didn't realize you were up.”
“Yeah, well,” I say with a small laugh, ruffling up my blonde hair with my fingers. “I got to see yours, so it's only fair, right?” When I turn back to Tee, he's not smiling. I think it takes a lot to get him there.
A long moment of silence follows, and I realize I'm blocking the doorway. Moving to the side, I watch Tee slip into the room and grab his boots, perching on the edge of a high-backed red chair to put them on.
“Was that … I mean, is it really your plan to come with me through the Looking-Glass? I could help you get set up in my world if you wanted.” Tee pauses, his purple-black hair wet and tousled. I have the strongest urge to run my fingers through it. “I can only imagine what it's like for you here. I … lost my brother two years ago and then my mother a year later.” I chew on my lip. I could clarify that she's in prison, but why even go there? Why start a story I have no intention of finishing? “The pain is enough that the longer I stay here … the more I wonder what it'd be like if it were permanent. What if I never get back? What if I never thought of all that bullshit ever again?”
“You can't run from pain,” Tee says suddenly, fixing the laces on his right boot and standing up, that fresh, clean smell of him wafting around me and making me feel dizzy. “When you do, it chases after you.”
“So you weren't planning on skipping town?” I ask with a raised brow and Tee sighs, his purple eyes looking down into mine, his hands curling into fists at his sides.
“I don't have any pain anymore, just numbness. There's nothing left in Underland for us and there never will be. Let the four kingdoms tear each other apart, murder the whole world. I don't care. They deserve whatever they have coming to them.”
He moves around me and heads for the door, but I'm not done, following after him and into the hallway.
“What are your wing tattoos about?” I call out as he storms down the checkerboard hallway with long, confident strides, purple coat billowing out behind him. Tee doesn't bother to look back at me, but before I can start running after him, I hear Dee's sleepy voice from behind me.
“It's a curse,” he says as I glance back and find him sagging against the doorframe, eyes half-lidded, his voice thick with sleep, “from the previous king of hearts. Like a bird with clipped wings, he said.” I turn around and Dee steps back, letting me into the room with him, looking down at me with an expression of such deep melancholy, I can hear it ringing inside my chest like a chorus of bells.
“You're … angels?” I ask, because that's what Duck said—the last two angels in existence.
Dee just smiles in a way that tells me the answer is yes.
“And princes?” Another smile as he reaches out and trails his fingers over the back of my hand, giving me chills.
“Not anymore. Now we're just … yours.”
“Well, I set you free then,” I say as he sighs and takes a step back, turning away from me to pad towards the bed again in bare feet. Dee isn't wearing a shirt, so I get a nice, clear unobstructed view of his wings, the blue-black feathers disappe
aring beneath the waistband of his pants, bleeding onto the backs of his arms.
“That's not how it works,” he tells me as he climbs under the covers and leans back against the headboard, looking between the curtains toward the closed window and the pouring rain outside. “If you don't want us, the king will just take us back and use us … for whatever.” He turns his head to look at me and flashes a grin that I don't buy for shit, not after seeing the expression of sadness of his face. “Should I tell you a story? Recite a poem? We'll be here all day and despite what the duke says, his house is dreadfully boring.”
“So if I go back through the Looking-Glass, you two are … what, gifted to somebody else?”
“The king's been toying with the idea of making us high-class whores for the nobility,” Dee says, closing his eyes and sighing. “I imagine it'll be something like that.”
“You're kidding me,” I whisper, sitting next to him on the edge of the mattress.
“I wish I were,” he says, cracking one lid and smiling at me. “But it wouldn't be a particularly humorous joke, now would it? If you're looking for a laugh, I have much better quips up my sleeves.”
“What were you asking my permission for?” I ask him, scooting a little closer. “During the fight with the jubjub bird. Twice, you asked me for it. To do what?” The expression on Dee's face brightens up a bit as he looks at me, his eyes searching mine for a long, quiet moment.
“What would you think if I asked you to kiss me?” he whispers, and almost as soon as he's finished talking, I hear my heart thundering inside my chest. My pulse races so fast, I feel almost dizzy when Dee leans toward me, feathering his breath against my lips. “Have you ever heard one of those fairytales where a prince kisses a princess and wakes her from a long and troubled sleep?”
Allison's Adventures in Underland Page 13