“I fail to see how that’s any of your concern, either,” Alice said.
She was half hoping this gambit would work. If she gave enough trouble then maybe this little band of soldiers—for it was clear now they were some kind of organized guard—would simply escort Alice and Hatcher around the periphery of the village and then glare at their backs as they departed.
“If you do not wish to explain your name and purpose then you are free to return the way you came, but you are not permitted to pass through the Village of the Pure.”
“Village of the Pure?”
“That is the name of this place. Only the pure of heart, without sin, may live here. And only those who express their purpose may pass through.”
Alice noticed the other four men had placed their hands on their daggers, responding to some hidden signal.
Hatcher touched Alice’s shoulder, stopping her from replying. She didn’t know why she felt the need to suddenly dig in her heels, especially when they’d agreed upon caution. Perhaps it was only that she was tired of being told what she could and could not do, and because the memory of the hospital was fresher than it had been in some time.
“My name is Hatcher. This is my wife, Alice, and she told you true. We are simple travelers passing through the mountains.”
Alice knew that Hatcher had only called her “wife” because it was easier than explaining their relationship to this strange folk, but the sound of him saying it made her feel slightly squishy inside. She’d never really thought about marriage, though they lived as a man and wife did.
“And where are you bound?” the lead soldier asked.
Hatcher shrugged. “We left our home in the City and we are seeking a new one.”
Alice knew immediately this was the wrong thing for Hatcher to say. The man went rigid.
“The City? You are from the City?”
Hatcher gave Alice a rueful glance. “Yes.”
“You will come with us now,” he said.
They all drew their daggers and surrounded Alice and Hatcher.
Alice had every confidence that Hatcher could manage these boys and their sharp toys, because that was what Hatcher did. But they would still have to cross through the village, and there would surely be more soldiers, or at the very least angry villagers. So she submitted for the moment, and Hatcher read her face and did the same. The men kept in formation around Alice and Hatcher as they approached the village.
I’m not going to let them throw us on that chair, though. I’ll burn down their village before I let that happen.
She was surprised by her ferocity, just as she’d been surprised by the way she spoke to the soldier. Alice had discovered, since she left the hospital, that she was perfectly willing to defend herself, but that didn’t mean she had any taste for bloodshed. That was where she and Hatcher differed. But she found that it did not trouble her to accept the death of all the people below if they threatened her or Hatcher.
It’s because of the girl, Alice thought. That small, young girl, screaming in terror as she was tortured to death. And they all watched. They were all complicit.
As they approached the village Alice saw several of the villagers out and about at their business—feeding chickens, hanging laundry, chopping firewood. When Alice and Hatcher passed by in the custody of the soldiers each person stopped to watch. Alice felt them staring at her.
“Where are you taking us?” Alice asked.
“Be silent,” the man beside Alice said, and jabbed in her direction with the dagger.
The blade didn’t touch her—it was only a threat—but Alice felt Hatcher tense beside her, coiled to spring.
“I’m not hurt,” Alice murmured, and he subsided, though she felt his tension. If these men threatened her again then there would be no mercy.
The soldiers marched Alice and Hatcher up to a cottage in the center of town, just across the square from the platform that held the terrible chair.
The mercy seat, that’s what the woman in my dream called it. That’s what the screaming stranger at our fire called it. Though I don’t know what kind of mercy that was supposed to be.
The soldier knocked on the door of the cottage. The woman from Alice’s dream answered.
She was even more skeletal up close, the skin pulled tight over her bones. Alice had the strong impression that the woman was being consumed from within by some fever.
“Yes, Matthew?” the woman said, addressing the lead soldier. She gave Alice and Hatcher a cool, disinterested look.
“They’re from the City, ma’am,” Matthew said.
The woman’s gaze sharpened. “I wish to speak to them alone. Stand guard outside the door.”
The men in front of Alice and Hatcher parted. There was only one place for them to go—into the cottage. Alice dearly wished to dart away, to surprise them into chasing her, to surprise herself by escaping. But then she remembered her baby, and the agreement that she and Hatcher had made to not take any unnecessary risks. Besides, there was little chance that they would be able to escape—at least for the moment.
The interior of the cottage was cool and dark, but there was an underlying odor that made Alice gag. It was something both sweet and rotten at the same time, like fruit that had been too long in the sun.
The woman lit a candle, which cast strange and flickering shadows all around the cottage. Alice wondered why she didn’t open the shutters and let in the sunshine. She gave Alice and Hatcher a long look, but before she could speak Alice did.
“Who are you, and why are we being treated in this unacceptable manner?”
The woman was clearly surprised. Alice had used her mother’s voice—the one that said she was rich and powerful and accustomed to being obeyed. She hadn’t realized that her mother’s voice was still inside her, or that it would come so easily to her tongue.
“Well?” Alice demanded.
The woman visibly gathered her dignity and her authority around her. “My name is Wilhelmina Ray, and I am the mistress of the Village of the Pure.”
“And what is that to us?” Alice asked, her tone dripping with contempt. “We had no intention of stopping in your village, but those men threatened us and claimed we could not pass through without revealing our names and business.”
“No one may sully the Village of the Pure, even a traveler,” Wilhelmina Ray said. “Any who may be impure must be brought before me so that I may determine their worthiness.”
“And what is it that made us impure, precisely?” Alice asked.
Wilhelmina Ray raised her eyebrows. “Why, you are from the City, of course. And there is no greater source of wickedness in all the world.”
Alice remembered all the terrible things that happened to her in the City. But she also remembered all the terrible things that had happened outside of the City, and thought that wickedness was wherever people were, not the sole property of one geographic location.
“We escaped the City because it was wicked,” Alice said. “We are seeking a home where we can settle. We mean you and your people no harm.”
“That is a very admirable thing,” Wilhelmina Ray said. “To escape the net of sin. Yes, a very admirable thing. But you’ll forgive me if I say that I will be the judge of your intent.”
“No,” Alice said.
“No what?”
“No, I will not forgive you. Your behavior has been abominable and so has your people’s. Even the meanest peasant shows more generosity to travelers.”
Alice didn’t know what had taken hold of her again. She only knew that she did not wish to submit to Wilhelmina Ray’s will. She thought, too, that she could smell the lingering stench of burned flesh in the air. Everything about Wilhelmina Ray revolted Alice.
“You have quite a sharp tongue for a woman who is at my mercy,” Wilhelmina Ray said. “I notice your husband has not spoke
n in all this while. Perhaps he has more sense than you.”
There it was again—a word that implied marriage. Alice wondered what Hatcher thought of it.
Don’t allow yourself to be distracted like a lovestruck girl. What would Cheshire say if he saw you?
(He’d tell you to use your magic.)
Alice didn’t want to reveal her power unless she must. And Olivia had warned against it. Perhaps Alice could still get them out with her bravado, though a part of her longed to use magic, to show this terrible woman what magic could do.
Hatcher gave Wilhelmina Ray a bland stare. “My wife and I are partners in all things. I assure you, the only reason I don’t speak is because it isn’t necessary.”
“You, too, believe our behavior unjust?”
Hatcher shrugged. “Whether it is just or not is not for me to decide. But it certainly is rude.”
Alice rather thought that Hatcher could have passed as a New City toff at that moment, no matter how ragged his clothing. It made her realize how adept he could be at pretending, if he chose to do it.
But then she looked closer, and saw the very faint lines of strain around his eyes. He was holding himself back at the highest cost, his feral nature hanging by the thinnest thread.
He’s wanted blood ever since those watchers started following us, Alice thought. She was half inclined to let him have his head, but there was still a chance that they would be able to escape without bloodshed.
Though that chance is dwindling by the second. Wilhelmina Ray doesn’t realize how close she is to dying at this very moment.
“Whatever you think of my hospitality the fact remains that we won’t have impure souls in our village. Now, you will submit to me while I determine the quality of your soul.”
She grasped Alice’s chin before Alice realized her intent. Wilhelmina Ray’s fingers were sharp and hard, talons digging into Alice’s flesh. She forced Alice to stare into her strange purple eyes.
The air crackled. Electricity arced between them. Alice thought, Let go of me NOW.
Wilhelmina Ray cried out and released Alice’s chin. She backed away, staring at her fingers. They were scorched and smoking where she had touched Alice.
“You’re a witch,” Wilhelmina Ray spat.
“And so are you,” Alice said. “What will your villagers think if I tell them that it’s you who calls the lightning down on them?”
Wilhelmina Ray shook her head. “That is not me. That is the judgment of the gods.”
Then she paused, staring at Alice.
“How did you know about the lightning?”
Alice laughed, a long reckless thing. “You said it yourself. I’m a witch. And as I said before—so are you.”
Though I’m not really a witch, I’m a Magician, but I suppose it all comes to the same thing in the end.
“I’m no witch,” Wilhelmina Ray said. “I am only an instrument. I do the gods’ will. I use my ability only to keep the village safe, never for selfish purposes.”
“Is that what you called it when you burned that little girl? Keeping the village safe?”
Yes, Alice realized. It’s because of the girl.
This strange recklessness, this uncharacteristic lack of caution—it was all because of the girl. It was because Alice felt the girl’s anguish burning in her own belly. It was because Alice knew that she could have been that girl, that in some ways she was that girl—a girl punished simply for being herself.
“Little girl? Do you mean Jane Blackwood?”
“I don’t know what her name was but she was just a little thing. She couldn’t have been more than thirteen and you all watched while she screamed.”
“That ‘little thing,’ as you call her, was no innocent. Her own mother caught her using spells to complete her chores. And what was the girl doing while the broom swept on without her? Lying about daydreaming, no doubt thinking of her master, the devil. We don’t need that kind of child in this village.”
“Her mother told you?” Alice said. “Knowing that would happen?”
Just like me. My mother gave me to that hospital because I didn’t suit her anymore, because I’d become nothing but a problem. She knew what might happen to me there and she left me there anyway.
My mother left me. I wasn’t important enough not to give up.
Then she thought, I’ll never let you go, my child. I’ll never do that to you.
“Of course her mother told me,” Wilhelmina Ray said. “She knows her duty to this village.”
“I think you are a wicked person,” Alice said. “And I think the gods will judge you, and find you wanting. Let’s go, Hatcher.”
Alice turned toward the door. She felt Hatcher’s presence behind her, could sense the heavy straining of his will, the effort it took for him to remain human in the face of such provocation.
Wilhelmina Ray grabbed Alice’s arm, hard, and Alice cried out.
That was when Hatcher broke.
Alice saw him out of the corner of her eye. He was a man and then he was a wolf, all in an instant, and he growled at Wilhelmina Ray, ready to strike.
“Witch!” Wilhelmina Ray cried. “WITCH! WITCH! A witch and her familiar!”
She pushed past Alice and threw open the front door, running out into the crowd of soldiers that stood guard. Several more men had arrived while Alice and Hatcher were inside her house. Wilhelmina Ray dashed into the middle of the group and then pointed an accusing finger at her own house.
“Another witch for the mercy seat! Take her! Take her!”
“Now we’ve done it,” Alice said to Hatcher, but he was already gone.
Hatcher leapt into the crowd of soldiers, biting, clawing, rending. Blood sprayed and men cried out, swinging wildly with their daggers to try to stop Hatcher. One man aimed for Hatcher, throwing his blade, but Hatcher was too quick and the dagger was buried in the neck of his fellow soldier.
“Witch! Witch! Seize her! Seize her! Bring her to the mercy seat!”
Two of the men separated themselves from the melee and ran toward Alice.
Alice calmly stepped out of the cottage doorway and stared at the men who reached for her. They both paused, their hands hovering inches away.
“Don’t touch me,” she said. “If you do, you’ll burn.”
The air all around Alice felt scorched, the shimmering heat over a fire. She knew in that moment that she could do anything.
This power is a dangerous thing. I could kill them all the way I killed that boy in the house of horrors. I could crack open the ground and make their village fall into it. I could set every man ablaze from the inside and make them burn, make them burn the way that beautiful little child burned in the mercy seat last night.
More people were coming now, running at the sound of the screaming and shouting, and more men tried to catch Hatcher, to stop him, but he was an instrument of death now, his mind nothing but tooth and claw and warm, wet blood. Anyone who approached him paid for it.
The men who had come for Alice fell away from her, their eyes filled with terror. She hadn’t done anything in particular except tell them not to touch her. She hadn’t done anything overtly magical. But the magic was there nonetheless, like an aura all around her, and only a fool would have tried for her then.
“Witch! Witch!” Wilhelmina Ray shouted.
She sounded like a crow, cawing and cawing the same tune over again.
Most of the villagers had gathered in a frightened half circle around Hatcher and the soldiers. Several women were weeping, clinging to each other.
For a moment Alice thought, What have we done? And then she remembered that these weeping women had stood around Jane Blackwood last night and cried out their pleasure while the girl burned. One of those women might even be Jane’s mother, the mother who’d betrayed her, the mother who’d given her daughter to t
he mistress of the village without a qualm.
They all deserve what they get. All of them.
Hatcher stood alone now, his muzzle drenched in blood, and all around him were broken men who’d tried to stop him.
He growled low in his throat, his teeth bared, at Wilhelmina Ray.
Wilhelmina Ray stood alone too, and the villagers watched her with frightened eyes. It seemed that none of them dared approach the mistress of the village. Wilhelmina Ray’s accusing finger pointed at Alice, but she’d stopped screaming. Her strange purple eyes were lit with the same fire that Alice felt all around her.
Above the square, dark clouds circled. There was a rumble of thunder. Alice realized that Wilhelmina Ray was going to call the lightning down, strike at Alice and Hatcher and prove to the village that they were impure souls.
“We won’t be having any of that,” Alice said.
She swept her hand out, almost carelessly, and Wilhelmina Ray flew into the mercy seat. The chains wrapped around her arms.
“No!” Wilhelmina Ray shouted. “I am pure! I am the instrument of the gods!”
A tremendous crack of thunder shook the mountain. Alice heard rocks sliding from the cliffs above.
“I think it’s about time you had a taste of your own mercy,” Alice said.
Lightning sizzled out of the sky and struck the mercy seat. Wilhelmina Ray screamed.
The villagers all gathered around the platform as if they’d been called there. After a moment Alice heard their voices rise in chorus.
“Guilty, guilty, guilty.”
“I am not guilty!” Wilhelmina Ray screamed. “I cannot be guilty!”
“Guilty, guilty, guilty,” the villagers repeated.
There was another bolt of lightning, and another scream.
Hatcher came to stand beside Alice. None of the villagers took any notice of them now.
“I think you should change back into your clothes,” Alice said. “And you dropped the pack in there, as well.”
He nuzzled her leg before trotting back inside the cottage.
Looking Glass Page 24