"They're all cosplayers?" Edith asks, and I mean, that's as good a guess as any. "Those wings look so real. They must've cost a fortune." Swiping soap from my eyes, I glance over at her through the wavy plastic of the shower curtain and see her picking at the hole on the knee of her jeans. "Where did you guys come from? It … looked like you fell through the mirror."
"We … there's a secret door in the fireplace mantle," I say, which is so fucking stupid and lame that I can't believe I even said it aloud. But Edith's in shock, and she's never really been into fantasy—unless you count Vampire Diaries—so her mind isn't quite as open as my own.
She believes it as soon as I say it because it's the safe thing to believe, that somehow there's a useless door secretly hidden in the fireplace.
"We had some paint for our, uh, costumes," I continue, hating myself for lying and knowing I don't have a lot of other good options. If I were to tell her what really happened, she wouldn't believe me anyway. "I spilled it everywhere when I came in the door."
"How do you get in the door anyway?" she asks, her voice sounding tinny and far away. Yep, she's definitely in shock.
"The attic," I say, because she's never been up there in her life. Too scared of spiders.
"You were in the attic?" Edith continues, and I realize I'm about to get these questions and more from my dad, mom, and probably the police. I need to come up with a story about Brandon's murder and quick.
"I climbed the trellis in the back, snuck in my room, and went to the attic." I bite my tongue and shake my head. Such a stupid lie, but if she buys it, fine. "Just don't tell Dad about that. Let me tell my own story, okay?"
"Why were you cosplaying when you knew we'd be worried about you?" she whispers, and I feel my entire stupid story fall to pieces. I don't know what to do or say; there is no rule book for this shit. For the first time since I fell down the Rabbit-Hole, I feel my age. Eighteen-years young and shaking under the hot water blasting from the shower head.
"Edith, just … believe what I'm saying and let it go, okay? I don't ask a lot out of you. But, just this once, please."
There's a long period of silence as I finish washing and then turn off the water, wrapping the fluffy pink towel around myself.
There's a knock on the door before it bursts inward, and I see Tee and Dee waiting in the hallway.
"We have a problem," he says, just before I hear my name shouted from downstairs.
It's my dad.
"Allison!" he screams, his voice so raw and shattered that I feel like I've just been dipped in a vat of broken glass.
I rush out of the bathroom, slamming the door in Edith's face. I don't mean to be rude, but I need a minute to get a handle on this situation. Grabbing the twins by their hands, I drag them to my room and lock us in.
"Is there a way to put your wings back?" I ask, looking between the two of them. "Reactivate the curse? Just for a little while," I correct when I see dual expressions of disappointment on both their faces.
"If you can control your magic, you can do anything," Tee says, and then before I can even ask, adds, "even here in Topside." He looks at me with such a genuine expression on his face that I feel weak in the knees again. The King brought about that emotion with passion, and Tee … brings it out in affection. Without further explanation, he reaches out and cups the side of my face, bringing my lips to his for a kiss.
“We belong to you. There's nothing you can't see if you don't want to.” Dee's words sound loudly inside my tired skull, and I put a palm up to Tee's chest the way I did to his brother's the first night we made love. Closing my eyes, I let myself flow into him, catching on the edge of a memory and pushing it away. If I get sucked down that Rabbit-Hole—pun intended—I won't have enough time to get the twins into proper shape to meet my dad.
Oh God.
It finally hits me.
The Mad Hatter is in the living room with my father.
I'm sure this'll turn out great.
Dad, meet my vampire boyfriend. He has a pet bat that's bigger than your SUV.
I shove those emotions aside, putting my hands on Tee's shoulders and kissing him with this theatrical reverence, rising up onto my toes. My towel falls off and he curls his arms around my naked body. We've been here, done this before. I'm more than happy to let him hold me, even if I get silver goo on my freshly washed skin.
With our tongues dancing together, I reach into Tee with my power and find the curse, that ugly black heart stamped onto his soul, sizzling and burning him with every thump of his pulse. One day, I'll crush it completely, dragging it kicking and screaming out of him and toss it right back at the witch-bitch who cast it in the first place. For now, I nudge it with my magic and feel it tugging on Tee's soul.
His lips break from mine, and with a groan, he collapses to his knees, taking me with him. His wings fold inward with a burst of black light and the sound of metal on metal.
"Allison!" I can hear my dad screaming from the top of the stairs now.
Fuck.
"Dee," I whisper as he squats next to me, his lips twisted in a soft smile.
"You've got this, Allison-who-isn't-Alice." When he leans in to kiss me, I realize that he tastes different than his brother. Tee tastes like rainwater and sunshine breaking through storm clouds. Dee tastes like blackberry honey and mint. I tangle my fingers in his hair and do the same to him as I did to his brother, feeling like a traitor all the while. But there's no way in fuck I can convince my dad these wings are fake the same way I did my sister, especially not if the cops get involved.
Dee's wings light up with that same eerie black light before collapsing inward like a telescope.
It's at that moment that my father kicks in my door, tearing off the locks, and finds me kneeling, naked, and kissing a boy covered in silver goo.
How the fuck am I going to explain this one?
Henry George Liddell stands in my doorway with his brown eyes wide, and his dark hair tousled and messy. He looks like he hasn't slept in days, and his glasses are crooked and sitting on the tip of his pointed nose. Edith and I both look like little Mom clones, while Fred was always a spitting image of dad.
Right now, however, he just looks like a demon risen from the depths of hell.
"Allison," he breathes as I gather up my towel and rise to my feet.
I have to admit, I'm terrified.
There are only three times in my life that I've been more scared than I am right now.
The night I was almost raped.
The night Fred was killed.
The day my mother was sentenced in prison.
"Dad," I choke out as he puts his arm against the doorjamb and leans so heavily into it that he looks like he might collapse altogether. His eyes take me in like I'm the second coming of Jesus before he flicks them to Dee, and then Tee, and then back to me again.
"Allison," he repeats, stumbling into the room … and giving me a hug?
I haven't had a hug from my dad in months. Honestly, I was starting to wonder if he even gave two fucks about me at all anymore.
"I can't believe you're here," he whispers, and I feel hot, salty tears falling on my bare shoulder. It's weird, to hug my dad wearing nothing but a towel, and yet I can't seem to find it in myself to move away from him.
Edith watches from over his shoulders, arms folded across her chest, eyes watching me and Dad like this scene is as shocking—or even more shocking—than the five of us tumbling out of the Looking-Glass.
Dad pulls back and then levels this look on Tee and Dee that I haven't seen since the trial against Liam and his friends, the one where they were acquitted of Fred's murder.
"What the hell is going on?" he demands, wrinkling his nose up at the sight of the two nineteen-year olds covered in goo. If he only knew I'd just screwed a twenty-eight year old king against the wall of his castle. Of … what could easily be my castle.
I don't really feel like a queen though, standing in front of my much taller father dressed only in
a pink towel and a cloak of shame. Not for the kissing or the sex or anything like that, but because I already know that in my heart, I've abandoned my family.
I want to go back to Underland. And Lord willing and the creek don't rise, I will.
"Give me a minute to get dressed," I start slowly, pitching my voice like I'm talking to a scared and cornered dog. Dad looks like he might either piss himself, or attack. Not really sure which would be worse. "I'll come down and—"
"Get out," he tells Tee and Dee, and I could almost swear there's smoke leaking from his nose. The boys exchange a look and then check with me. I give the briefest of nods and they remove themselves to the hallway with my father. He, on the other hand, sends Edith into my room. "I'll be waiting," Henry tells me, reluctantly closing the door. Well, mostly closing the door.
"What were you doing in here?" Edith asks me, looking at the towel and then my face like she's never seen me before.
But … that's an excellent question.
I'm sure my dad will have a similar one.
Moving over to my dresser, I pull a drawer out and just … stare. It's been so long since I've worn my favorite jeans that I'm practically salivating. Ignoring Edith's penetrating stare, I drop my towel, yank on some cotton panties, and then slip into my jeans and a loose tank. I grab the Queenmaker and the Vorpal Blade next—I told Edith they were cosplay props and had her hide them in my nightstand drawer while I showered. But I need to hurry: if I leave my dad out there long enough, he might start shit with the boys.
Even though I know I’m going to catch crap for this, a girl can’t be too careful. I strap the thigh sheath on as well as the gun holster, even as Edith stares at me like I’m a crazy person. Sorry, not sorry for trying to protect myself though. Besides, I have that mushroom flesh tucked in a side pocket that’s strapped next to the Vorpal Blade. It’s so small, and it’s already attached to the thigh holster anyway, that I sometimes forget that it’s there.
I slip my feet into fuzzy kitty slippers and can't help but think of the Cheshire Cat.
As much as I would hate to explain men popping out of mirrors to my dad, I'd like to see him. All of them. Fuck, I just want to know that Castle Heart is still standing.
"Come on, Edy," I mumble, moving past her and stepping into the most awkward moment of my life.
"Can we have … coffee downstairs?" I ask as I flick my gaze from my dad and over to Dee. His features, his smile, his eyes, they somehow seem more familiar to me than my own father's.
"Coffee …" Dad starts, like he's not even sure what that word means. "Right, right, coffee." He's looking at me like he's about ten seconds away from bursting into tears. And after all this horrid apathy he's been showering us with since Mom's sentencing? I don't even know what to make of it. "I should call your mother."
He turns away from me, shaking his head, and starts down the stairs. As he descends, he keeps casting glances over his shoulder, as if he's checking to make sure I'm really there.
The Mad Hatter and the March Hare—who must've shifted because he's sans ears—are sitting on the sofa side by side, watching us all descend like they're taking in their favorite scene from a play. They look bemused, interested, but not off their asses scared shitless like they could be.
They don't know the wrath of a parent.
Dad moves into the kitchen, but I notice that he scoots the coffee pot over so he can stare at me through the doorway while he makes up our mugs.
"What do you want us to say or do?" Tee whispers.
"Because you know we're with you, through and through," Dee adds, and their stupid rhyming makes me smile.
Edy is watching us from across the room, but I don't think she can hear us. At least, I hope not.
"No clue," I whisper, because my mind is still churning and trying to figure out a way to explain what just happened to my dad.
"Let me do the talking," Tee says as Dad reappears with three steaming mugs. One's for me, one's for Edy, and one's for himself. No way in shit he's going to make any coffee for the four weird men I brought home with me.
"If he'll let you," I mumble as my dad sits in his favorite chair. I can see that his hands are shaking, and I figure he's probably in shock. Can't really blame him, now can I? He lost one son to murder already. With a sigh, I take a sip of my coffee and notice the old family portrait of my parents with Fred and … my older sister Rhoda. She only lived for five days outside of the hospital, and passed away years before I was born, so I forget about her sometimes. But my parents lost a child to SIDS. That's two of their four babies gone.
How the fuck could I have forgotten that?
A cold chill creeps down my spine, but I ignore it. Rhoda has nothing to do with any of this.
"Allison," my dad says, and the way his voice falls so softly, I know he's more than just angry, he's happy that I'm home. "Where have you been?"
Where have I been?
Well, let's see.
I fell down the Rabbit-Hole, watched a bandersnatch and a jabberwock fight a jubjub bird, played croquet with a king, learned to wield a sword, and used a mirror to travel between worlds. I've been in Underland. But I can't exactly tell him that.
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," I start, and my dad's hand tightens around the handle on his mug. He lifts his brown eyes to mine, accusation glaring and hot bright, like a spotlight searing my skin and turning my flesh to ash.
"Allison, don't do this to me. If you have something to tell me, you can say it." He swallows hard and glances away sharply. "You're eighteen years old. You're an adult now." Dad seriously chokes on those words, like he can't believe he's even having to say them. "If there's something you've done, or somewhere you want to go, I can't stop you." He lifts his head to look at me, an emotional plea hanging on his gaze.
"I didn't kill Brandon," I say, because I can feel that accusation tainting the air in the living room. It's making it hard to breathe. "But I did follow the murderer; I chased him. And I ended up … somewhere I never could've imagined in my wildest dreams."
My dad opens his mouth to say something, pausing when a knock sounds at the door.
"Eureka police," a voice booms, and I feel my heart plummet to my feet.
"Police?" Dee asks, blinking a few times, like he's trying to put together what that means with reality.
"Well, damn," Raiden says, rising to his feet as my dad moves over to the door to answer it. There's a bit of mumbled conversation as my heart thunders in my chest and makes it hard to hear anything above the screaming of my rapid pulse.
Dad steps back to let the police enter, and I drop my mug on the carpet that Tee and Dee never got a chance to finish cleaning.
The Mocking Turtle and the Gryphon are standing on my fucking doorstep.
For a moment there, I question myself. They look like M.T. and the Gryphon, but they’re missing all of their, how might you say, idiosyncrasies. The sharp lips, the toothless gums, the wings. But as I watch, they shift right back into place.
They're wearing uniforms, but their faces are unmistakable now.
"Allison!" Tee shouts, grabbing and throwing me out of the way as something explodes from the mirror in a wild, screaming mess.
It's a giant fucking cat, as big as a lion, with black and white striped fur, and eyes the color of rain clouds.
Chesh.
Dee barely has time to pull me out of the way before he crashes into one of the policemen, knocking Mom's side table to the floor and cracking both the legs in half. Edith starts to scream, but my dad, ever the cool and calm one in the family, manages to stand up and set his coffee aside. He doesn’t spill a single goddamn drop.
"Alice, the Vorpal Blade!" a voice calls from behind me, just seconds before a shot goes off. I swing around to find the March Hare with a pair of twin revolvers pointed up at the ceiling.
At the Anti-Alice.
She drops from the ceiling in a flutter of skirts and comes up swinging, ignoring the blood dribbling down the front
of her face from a set of gunshot wounds through her forehead. March's aim is dead-on. Unfortunately, I think the Anti-Alice might be dead, too.
I leap back and drag the Vorpal Blade from my thigh sheath, throwing it up just in time to counteract the scythe she's swinging my way.
Her blade hits mine with a horrible fucking crack, and I realize with a burst of white-hot fear that that sound … is my arm breaking. Shock takes over, and I don't feel a damn thing. I also can't seem to keep my feet, falling on my ass and using my left hand to push the Vorpal Blade forward and defend myself. My right arm flops uselessly at my side, broken by the impact of the Anti-Alice's swing.
Holy. Shit.
And I thought I was ready after training with the Duke? I might be ten times stronger than I was when I fell through the Rabbit-Hole into Underland, I might be a hundred times stronger, but it's not enough. Not by a long shot.
"You're the Alice!" Dee screams at me from across the room, shoving Edy behind himself as he holds up his knife and just barely manages to avoid being cut in half by his opponent. The Gryphon is swinging that same sword I saw him use on the King, but without Dee’s wings, the angel doesn't have much of a chance of standing up to him. "Use your magic."
The smell of rot and bone taints the air around me, making my nose burn and my throat close up tight. The Anti-Alice has eyes like dark pools, the endless depths of forgotten wells. I feel like I could tumble right down them, and my body would never be found. Besides, I can’t use my magic against her, right? Isn’t that the whole point.
But then I remember how I threw the Vorpal Blade at her. I don’t need to actually touch her with my powers; I just need to manipulate physical objects.
The Anti-Alice presses in hard, draining every ounce of physical energy that I have as I try to hold her back. With a sudden jerk, she pulls away and then swings again. I throw the Vorpal Blade up, but not with the intention of deflecting her blade, but with every ounce of power I have. It vibrates every molecule in my body, turns my soul into a restless mess.
Allison and the Torrid Tea Party: A Dark Reverse Harem Romance (Harem of Hearts Book 2) Page 33