Curiouser and Curiouser: Steampunk Alice in Wonderland (Steampunk Fairy Tales)

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Curiouser and Curiouser: Steampunk Alice in Wonderland (Steampunk Fairy Tales) Page 1

by Melanie Karsak




  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1: The Pocket Watch

  Chapter 2: Chasing Rabbits

  Chapter 3: The Caterpillar

  Chapter 4: The Fine Art of Pretending to Speak Frankly

  Chapter 5: Six Impossible Things

  Chapter 6: The Countess

  Chapter 7: Little White Lies

  Chapter 8: The Queen of Hearts

  Chapter 9: Pierced Red Things

  Chapter 10: Inside a Raindrop

  Chapter 11: Fool Me Once

  Chapter 12: Beware of Airship Pirates

  Chapter 13: A Mad Tea Party

  Chapter 14: Clockwork Hearts

  Chapter 15: Fool Me Twice

  Chapter 16: A Girl’s Best Friend

  Chapter 17: What the Knave Knew

  Chapter 18: Sisters and Misters

  Chapter 19: A Raven and a Writing Desk

  Chapter 20: What the Countess Knew

  Chapter 21: Of Wickets, Flamingos, and Random Beheadings

  Chapter 22: The Mock Phoenix

  Chapter 23: Today’s Alice

  Chapter 24: Falling Stars

  Chapter 25: Epilogue

  Thank You: Don’t Forget Your FREE Coloring Book Download

  Beauty and Beastly Chapter 1: Bonjour

  Beauty and Beastly Chapter 2: LeBoeuf

  Beauty and Beastly Chapter 3: Love’s Bloom

  Curiouser and Curiouser

  Steampunk Alice in Wonderland

  Steampunk Fairy Tales

  Melanie Karsak

  Curiouser and Curiouser: Steampunk Alice in Wonderland Extras

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  Curiouser and Curiouser

  Steampunk Alice in Wonderland

  Steampunk Fairy Tales

  Clockpunk Press, 2017, 2018

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced without permission from the author. This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed are fictional. Any resemblances to the living or dead are purely coincidental.

  Published by Clockpunk Press

  Editing by Becky Stephens Editing

  Proofreading by Rare Bird Editing

  Novel Description

  To save the Hatter, Alice must work with the one man she despises so much that she might still love him.

  Alice thought she’d turned over a new leaf. No more working for Jabberwocky. No more making deals with the ruthless Queen of Hearts. No more hanging around The Mushroom with tinkers, tarts, scoundrels, and thieves in London's criminal underbelly. But she’d been bonkers to dream.

  Hatter’s reckless behavior leads Alice back to the one person she never wanted to see again, Caterpillar. Pulled into Caterpillar's mad schemes, Alice must steal a very big diamond from a very royal lady. The heist is no problem for this Bandersnatch. But protecting her heart from the man she once loved? Impossible.

  Sometimes love is mad.

  Dedication

  for Semra

  Chapter 1: The Pocket Watch

  “Curious.” I strained to look out the window of the carriage at the crowd thronging toward Hyde Park. A man on a Daedalus steam-powered buggy motored past. The well-dressed ladies in the back seat, their parasols shading them from the late afternoon sun, laughed wildly as they sped by. “Where are they all going?”

  “The Crystal Palace,” Lord Dodgson pronounced grandly. “The Great Exhibition opened this week. I was planning to have a look myself,” he said, snapping the paper he was trying to read in an effort to straighten it, a motion he’d made ten times already since we’d left Hungerford Market. It was starting to get on my nerves.

  “Her Majesty already opened the exhibit?” I asked, trying to hide the disappointment in my voice.

  Lord Dodgson laughed. “Don’t you keep up on the local gossip, Alice? The whole town is talking about the Crystal Palace’s opening. A whole building made of glass and filled with mechanical inventions and wonders from the world afar…what a sight. I heard the opening was grand. Crowded but grand.”

  I frowned. I’d thought the opening was next week. The park was located close to Lord Dodgson’s London home. I’d hoped to catch a glimpse of Queen Victoria but had missed my chance once again.

  Half hanging out the carriage window, I strained to get a look at the festivities. The revelers had cleared a path and stood to watch as a man led a clockwork horse, its steel and copper body glinting in the sunlight, into the park. I could just make out tents sitting in Hyde Park’s green space. “Then I guess that means the airship races have started,” I said. In fact, the Great Exhibition’s opening had been timed to the British Airship Qualifying races.

  “I didn’t fancy you a fan of the aether sports,” Lord Dodgson said.

  “I’m not. But I have a friend who adores them.”

  Adores, of course, was the wrong word. I tried to calm the uneasy feeling that rocked my stomach. It was Friday. If the races had opened on Monday, then Henry might already be in trouble. Had I seen him that morning? Had he gone to the shop? I tried to think back but couldn’t remember. Last race season he’d gambled away everything he owned down to the clothes on his back. Even his favorite top hat had gone to some bloody airship pirate. Race season always equaled trouble for my dear friend who couldn’t help but try to hedge his bets. His reasons for trying were honorable. His methods, however, were suspect.

  “I’m not for any of that nonsense either,” Lord Dodgson proclaimed. “Racing around the sky like we were meant to have wings. No, no. My carriage will do just fine. It gets us where we need to go, doesn’t it, Alice?”

  “Yes, Your Grace.”

  Lord Dodgson laughed. “When you use formal address, you sound trite.”

  I grinned. “What an odd thing to say. Shouldn’t one try to adopt manners?”

  “Perhaps. But perhaps not when they are completely contradictory to that person’s general nature.”

  “But aren’t manners completely contradictory to all of mankind’s nature? If, in essence, we are little more than creatures who are brutish and sinful, then manners are merely a mask for the base matter that lives within us all. And if that’s the case, we’d be wise to drop them entirely, if we wanted to be more honest. Or should we all lie and adopt the best of manners, thus go around being false? At least we’d all be equally false.”

  Lord Dodgson laughed again then removed his monocle and looked at me. “Alice Lewis, you might be the brightest girl I’ve ever met.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment, mister,” I replied with a wink.

  “Now, there’s the scruffy guttersnipe I hired,” he said then snapped his paper once more. “Is there another way to take that comment as anything but a compliment?”

  “At least five. Possibly more.”

  “Alice,” he said, shaking his head. He looked back at his reading.

  Well, it was true. Did he mean to imply he’d met only a few women of intelligence, or that most women were unintelligent, or that he thought he would meet wittier girls in the future, or when he said I might be bright did that mean he was uncertain, and how did he define bright anyway? Was he referring to my hair? Or maybe my eyes? Or did he just mean he found me intelligent? Thinking about it gave me a headache, and I was already a mess of nerves worrying that Henry had already gambled away every shilling he had. Come to think of it, Bess said he hadn’t been by for dinner last night.
r />   The carriage rolled to a stop outside Lord Dodgson’s home. I smoothed my white apron and grabbed the packages sitting on the seat beside me.

  “Your Grace,” the footman said, opening the door.

  Lord Dodgson sighed heavily, folded his paper under his arm, and grabbed his cane. His bad knee would be aching after his walk through the market, but I guessed he wouldn’t complain. He’d had too much fun shopping for his niece’s birthday. The parcels I juggled were proof of that. I don’t think there was an item left at the market suitable for a girl around the age of six. What would other six-year-old girls receive for their birthday now that His Grace had purchased the lot? Of course, when I was six, I’d been at the workhouse laboring on a machine until I’d found different employment in the city. It’s amazing how quickly little fingers can learn to do very evil deeds. But young Charlotte Dodgson, the lord’s niece, would never have to worry about learning how to pick a pocket. A better life was reserved for her, and I didn’t begrudge her for it.

  “Your Grace,” the footman called, his voice full of alarm.

  A moment later, Lord Dodgson cried out in pain.

  I emerged from the carriage to see that he’d slipped on the cobblestone, landing on his bad knee.

  I dropped the packages, cringing when I heard the telltale clatter of broken glass, then rushed to help him up.

  “Steady him,” I told the footman. “Easy, Your Grace. We’ve got you.”

  “Son of a bitch,” Lord Dodgson muttered.

  “Manners, Your Grace,” I said as I gently lifted him.

  Despite himself, Lord Dodgson laughed. “Ow,” he said, then laughed again. “Ow…oh, Alice.”

  Steadying him, the footman and I helped our master stand up.

  A moment later, I heard feet rushing quickly down the cobblestone toward us. The sound of it set my nerves on edge, and my old instincts kicked in. The runner didn’t slow as the footsteps approached. I moved to grab the knife hidden out of sight under my apron, but my hands were all tied up with Lord Dodgson. If I let go, he would fall.

  “Watch yourself, boy. What? Hey,” the footman called.

  A boy with a mop of striking white hair, wearing an expensive but oversized waistcoat, slipped between us and was gone again in a flash.

  “My pocket watch! My grandfather’s pocket watch,” Lord Dodgson cried, clutching his vest where he always kept his pocket watch. “Stop that boy. He stole my pocket watch. Alice!”

  I glanced up the street to see the boy dangle the pocket watch teasingly before us.

  “Rabbit,” I hissed.

  “Your Grace…I need to—”

  “Go, Alice. Go.”

  The footman held tightly onto Lord Dodgson so I could let go. I turned and faced the boy. Rabbit, the little albino street rat, was grinning at me. Sneaky little pickpocket. What was he doing in my part of town? He’d grabbed the watch so deftly. Not bad. Some people said he was almost as good as I used to be.

  Almost.

  Chapter 2: Chasing Rabbits

  “Rabbit,” I called.

  The boy grinned, stuffed the pocket watch inside his coat, then turned and raced off.

  “Dammit,” I whispered then dashed after him.

  My legs pumping hard, I pounded down the cobblestone street behind him. The boy dodged across the road, startling a horse who nearly threw his rider. If I lost Rabbit in the crowd, I’d end up having to search the entire city for him. Rabbit rushed toward the park. He moved quickly between the finely dressed gentlemen and ladies making their way toward the Crystal Palace for the exhibition.

  From somewhere in the distance, I heard the boom of a cannon. An airship race was starting. I frowned again. Henry better be at his shop. He’d promised me and Bess he was done with gambling. And he’d said he meant it. But making promises is easy when temptation is out of sight. And he’d made that promise when it wasn't racing season.

  I rushed through the crowd. Rabbit was fast. If it weren’t for the startled proclamations of “I say” or the tiny shrieks of fine ladies as Rabbit pushed past, I’d hardly know which way he’d gone.

  The walkway emptied out into the wide, green expanse of Hyde Park. The magnificent Crystal Palace, an ornate building made of glass and wrought iron, constructed just for the Great Exhibition, shimmered like a gem in the sunlight. I’d seen it under construction but hadn’t been that way since. I could see why it had earned its name. The beveled glass panes shimmered with tints of blue, pink, and yellow under the warm sunlight. Inside, I saw a dizzying display of oddities. Between me and the palace, the green space was filled with tents, vendors, revelers, and race aficionados.

  I glanced upward. The first of the airships, its brightly painted balloon holding the wooden gondola aloft, was speeding overhead.

  Ahead of me, I heard a shriek followed by the sound of glass shattering. I turned the corner to find a display of jars of orange marmalade shattered on the ground. The strong scent of orange peel perfumed the air. An angry-faced merchant shouted in the direction of Rabbit, shaking her fist.

  I raced after him.

  Rabbit rushed through another vendor tent, this one selling cupboards displaying finely painted china. I followed. The vendor was too busy yelling at Rabbit to curse me.

  “Two bulls passing through,” I said with a laugh at the shocked merchant who stared at us.

  I turned the corner to nearly trip over one of what looked like a hundred rocking chairs in time to see Rabbit race away from the vendors toward the food stalls and makeshift taverns.

  The crowd oohed and ahhed as the airships passed overhead. I heard the airship captains barking orders to their crews as the ships jockeyed for position.

  I chased Rabbit down tavern row. We were in the thick of my old world, my old life. Tarts lingered, half-dressed, outside sumptuously decorated tents. The strong scents of drink and opium smoke perfumed the air. The crowd became rough and rowdy. The fine ladies wouldn’t be found anywhere near here. Their gentleman, of course, darted into the opium tents, makeshift brothels, and wagering places. Typical.

  I turned the last corner and lost sight of Rabbit. But it didn’t matter. At the end of the row was a massive tent. The fabric door wagged. A guard stood at the door. I was in the right place. A mushroom was painted on the tent door.

  I tried to quell the terrible ache that rocked my stomach. I clenched my hands, took a deep breath, then almost turned to leave.

  “Anything the matter, Alice?” the guard finally asked.

  I turned my attention to him. “Frog? What happened to your eye?” I motioned to the eyepatch hiding one of his baby blues. Frog, as they’d called him due to his harsh voice—a blessing, actually, in that he’d survived a throat infection that had killed the rest of his family—grinned.

  “Rough job a few months back.”

  I nodded. “I’d say. Sorry to hear it. I’m after Rabbit. He stole something from me.”

  Without another word, Frog held open the flap to the tent and motioned for me to enter.

  Curious again.

  Chapter 3: The Caterpillar

  My heart beat quickly. This was the last place I wanted to be. The tent was dark, lit only by flickering candles in colorful glass lamps from the Orient. The scents of opium and tobacco, and the tang of alcohol, filled the air. Thieves made deals in shadowed corners, tarts displayed their pert breasts to willing customers, and tinkers traded their deadly creations for illicitly-won coin. Almost nothing had changed in the year since I’d left. Except now Caterpillar was at the helm of one of London’s largest crime syndicates. And therein lay my biggest problem.

  I moved toward the shimmering golden curtain at the back of the tent. Rabbit was whispering in Caterpillar’s ear. He nodded then waved the boy away. Rabbit slipped between the bodyguards and went to the back.

  Caterpillar. Of course, that wasn’t his real name. I’d known and loved him as William. But he wasn’t William anymore. Now he was a peddler of opium and flesh. He was a crime lord
, a dealer of dark deeds, and a man who’d broken my heart.

  I hated the scene, hated that I would have to go talk to him, and hated that his blue eyes were still quick and shining. His eyes were lined with dark charcoal, ears trimmed with dangling pearls. I hated that his hair still fell over his left brow in the most charming manner and that when he smirked, one eyebrow raised. I hated that it made my stomach twist. One of the tarts offered him a glass of wine and a small bowl of what looked like dried mushrooms. He took the wine but waved the fungi away.

  William drew me in. It was William who I’d loved, but it was Caterpillar who’d chosen this life over me. I needed to remember that, to keep my head on straight. I just needed the pocket watch. I’d get the pocket watch then leave.

  I approached the guards cautiously, stopping just short of the entryway.

  They looked from me to one another, unsure what to do.

  I stared at William who toked on a hookah pipe, blowing a ring of smoke in the air.

  The guards shifted uncomfortably.

  William, who’d been lounging on a chaise, sat up and looked out at me through the sheer fabric.

  He smirked then leaned forward. “Who are you?”

  His question silenced those around him. Everyone knew who I was.

  “When I woke up this morning, I was Alice.”

  He rose then moved closer. “But who are you now?”

  “That depends. Who are you? Which Alice is here depends on your answer.”

  He came to the curtain. “Well then, that makes it hard to say.”

  “I’m sure it does, given how good you are at betraying your true nature.” I was trying to keep a lid on my feelings but was failing miserably. As he drew closer, I smelled the sweet aromas of jasmine and sandalwood that always clung to him.

  “You’re one to talk. So, what does Alice from this morning want?”

 

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