Feral as a Cat
Sons of Wonderland Book 3
Kendra Moreno
Blurb
Weapons don’t weep…
Calypso is only trying to make it through life, raising her little brother and taking care of her ailing mom. She doesn’t have time for fairytales or pipe dreams, so when two men show up at her door talking about Wonderland, she sends them on their way.
But life has a way of taking trips down rabbit holes…
Cal gets dragged to Wonderland and told she’s the savior of their world. She’s destined to end the reign of the Red Queen, to destroy the Jabberwocky, all while dealing with the teasing grin of the Cheshire Cat.
In this epic conclusion to the trilogy, will Calypso be able to give everything to a world not her own, or will she let it die and Cheshire right along with it?
Let’s go to war…
ARC
Please do not participate in piracy.
Copyright © 2019 by Kendra Moreno
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Edited by Michelle Hoffman
Cover art by Ruxandra Tudorica with Methyss Art
Formatted by Nicole JeRee at The Swamp Goddess
Contents
Trigger Warning
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Epilogue
Riddle for glimpse of Spin off:
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by Kendra Moreno
Clockwork Butterfly
To Aunt Martina
I hope this final book would have made you proud. I miss you. I love you.
RIP Martina Knight 1968-2019
To Uncle Mark
I wish you could have been here to tease me about my books. I wish you could have chosen to stay. You are loved.
RIP Mark Salsberry 1966-2019
Trigger Warning
Feral as a Cat includes descriptions of gore, extreme violence, and sex. I always want you to read my book, but please, take care of yourself first. If you ever have any questions, never hesitate to reach out to me.
Prologue
Cheshire moves through the thick trees, his feet silent, his whole body tense and alert. He can feel the tingles that shoot up and down his arms, the awareness that he can never quite figure out where it comes from making his hair stand on end.
“Do you feel that?” he whispers, so quietly no one should be able to hear him.
“Yes,” Danica breathes beside him. “Something big is happening.”
Cheshire straightens and listens, his ears twitching with the sounds of the forest. Creatures caw around them. Something scuttles through the underbrush. In the distance, a howl pierces the air, so full of sadness that Cheshire feels his heart skip a beat.
“We’re being called,” Danica says, rolling her shoulders. Her own ears are twitching with the sounds, aware of every moving part around them.
They are being more than called. The sense of dread that spreads down Cheshire’s spine almost makes him shiver. If he was a different creature, he might have run in a different direction. Instead, he straightens his shoulders and prepares to Fade. His tail moves back and forth behind him, already sensing the growing stress, their first sign that whatever they find on the other side won’t be pleasant.
“I don’t think this is a normal calling,” Cheshire whispers, not daring to raise his voice.
“Do you think it has to do with Alice’s return?” Danica asks.
Cheshire doesn’t answer. He doesn’t need to. They both know it has everything to do with Alice’s return. She’s come back a vengeful woman, full of hatred. Cheshire had watched her rip the heart from the Hatter’s chest for making the mistake of thinking her the same little girl she’d been the first time. That little girl was gone, and no one knows what happened between then and now.
Cheshire draws his sword, his little sister doing the same beside him, as they begin to Fade. When Wonderland calls, they don’t have a choice. If the Hands of Justice and the Hope Bringer are needed, they’re pulled from whatever they are doing by the powers of the land. There’s no ignoring it.
When they reappear, Cheshire looks around quickly to take stock of the scene and nearly stumbles back when he realizes what’s going on.
“How sweet of you to join me,” Alice coos, her dark eyes zeroing on Cheshire and Danica. Danica raises her chin, ever the fighter, and draws her sword from her back. Danica’s role as the Hope Bringer is an odd one. While Cheshire is the Punisher, Danica tips the scales with kindness. Her role is always to encourage a change of heart.
“Alice, what have you become?” Danica asks, her voice strong, but there’s a twinge in there, a thread of sadness that Cheshire barely picks up on.
“I’ve become exactly who I’m meant to be,” Alice replies, a smile curling her lips. She’s covered in blood, and there’s no question of where it came from. Around them, bodies litter the ground, some obviously castle guards, others unrecognizable.
“Where are the King and Queen?” Cheshire asks, his sword resting on his shoulder as if he doesn’t have a care in the world.
“Where’s Alexander?” Danica adds, her voice a hiss that Cheshire crinkles his brow at. Danica’s role is not to get angry. Her role is to reason, to persuade. His is to get angry.
Alice’s smile grows wider, her pointed teeth peeking over her bottom lip.
“The Prince is alive,” she says. “Although, I’m afraid he’s rather lost himself. The King and Queen, well, they lost their heads.”
“Where’s Alex?” Danica asks again, and Cheshire looks at her out of the side of his eyes. He’s not sure what’s she’s doing, but he prepares himself to protect her regardless. They’re two sides of a coin,
meant to keep Wonderland in order.
Alice turns from her spot on the dais, her large blood-red dress hardly shifting at all. There’s a gleam in her pitch-black eyes, an inhumanity that hadn’t been there as a little girl. Something had happened in-between. But what?
“Knave!” Alice coos.
Behind her, the sound of footsteps are immediately heard. Both Danica and Cheshire tense as a man steps out from behind Alice. He wears the armor of the Prince, and one crystal-clear blue eye looks out at them without emotion. Beside him, Danica gasps and takes a step forward, but Cheshire reaches over and stops her.
There’s something wrong. Half of Alex’s face is ripped away, and in the mottled flesh, bright-red roses bloom. Similar blossoms grow where his heart should be, in the gaping hole left behind. Alice runs a finger down the side of Alex’s face, a touch the Prince doesn’t react to. The red roses stand out starkly against his pale skin, as red as blood, as red as Alice’s dress.
“What have you done to him?” Danica snarls, raising her sword.
Alice giggles, the sound just as innocent as it had been as a child. It makes her more of a threat, Cheshire realizing that something is terribly wrong. Alex doesn’t even spare an eye for the siblings, as if he doesn’t recognize them at all.
“I don’t think it’s Alex anymore,” Cheshire tells her, but Danica isn’t listening, her face morphing into absolute fury.
“What have you done to him?” she screams again.
“I’ve given him purpose,” Alice answers, studying her nails. “And I’m tiring of this already. Knave, get rid of them.”
Prince Alexander advances forward without a second thought, his sword raised for battle. He attacks Cheshire first, his sword curving down so fast, Cheshire barely has time to block it. Danica watches in horror as someone they called friend attacks her brother. He’s going for the kill. There’s no resistance in his eyes.
“You take him,” Cheshire snarls, shoving Alex away. He doesn’t even react besides a small stumble before righting himself. “I’ll take Alice.” Cheshire’s blood sings with punishment, Wonderland urging him to act. He storms right up to the woman, who to her credit, doesn’t even flinch as he raises his sword.
“Wake up, Alex,” Danica tells the prince, dodging his sword but not raising her own. “Wake up!”
Just as Cheshire prepares to bring his sword down across Alice’s neck, the tingles on his arms stop, and his limbs lock in place. Sweat breaks out on his skin as he fights to bring his arms down, only for them to remain infuriatingly still. Alice tilts her head to the side.
“Did you think I would not prepare for the Punisher and the Hope Bringer, Cat?” she asks, studying Cheshire’s eyes as they flick between human and feline. “Did you think it would be so easy to kill me after everything?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Cheshire snarls. “But you’ll die for the crimes you’ve committed against Wonderland.”
“We shall see,” she replies, taking a step back. She looks over Cheshire’s shoulder towards Danica and Alex.
“Wake up! Alex, wake up!” Danica stumbles back a step when Cheshire turns to look at the pure agony in her voice. She doesn’t raise her sword. She doesn’t fight back.
“What are you doing?” Cheshire snarls, taking a step forward.
“Knave,” Alice calls, and the prince turns a blue eye towards her. “End her.”
“No,” Cheshire growls, jumping from the dais and running towards Danica.
There’s a flicker of something in the Prince’s eyes, perhaps something of the man before, but whatever it is isn’t strong enough. He turns, almost in slow motion, towards Danica and raises his sword.
“Protect yourself!” Cheshire snarls as he rushes to her side. “Move! Danica, move!”
Danica looks into the eye of the Prince, tears welling in her own and slipping over her lashes.
“Alex, wake up. You have to wake up. Please.” She whispers something, something that Cheshire can’t hear even with his sharp senses, even as he hurries closer.
“Danica!” Cheshire screams, realizing he’s moving too slow, as the sword is thrust towards his little sister. “Move!”
Alice’s laughter follows him, taunting, tinkling, childish.
Cheshire hears the sword slice through flesh, hears the gasp on Danica’s lips as the blade pierces her sternum, sees the shock on her face as he presses down until the hilt is flush with her skin.
“No!” Cheshire screams, sliding to a stop beside Danica just as her sword drops to the ground, and she collapses into his arms. “What’s wrong with you?” he shouts at Alexander, his anger filling his body. The Prince stumbles back, and Cheshire looks at him in time to see a tear slide from the corner of his good eye, before the emotion is wiped clean from his face.
Danica stares at the Prince, a trickle of blood slipping from the corner of her lips. The green ringing her eyes dims, her breath wheezing from her chest, rattling as if it’s trying to escape.
“Wake up, Alex,” she breathes, her voice barely loud enough to hear. “Alex, wake up.” Her eyes stare off into the distance, unseeing, and Cheshire shakes her, a sob caught in his throat.
“Danica,” he tries to growl but it only comes out as a hoarse grunt. When the first tear falls from his eyes, anger fuels him even more. He jerks his head up to Alice and meets her amused stare.
“I’ll kill you, if It’s the last thing I do, I’ll rip your head clean from your body.”
Her laugh fills the air, her shoulders shaking with the movement.
“Good luck, Grimalkin.” She turns her eyes to the Knave where he still stands staring down at Danica. “Come along, Knave.”
Cheshire’s sees his feet hesitate for a split second, his hands clenched into fists.
“I said, come along, Knave,” Alice snarls, tapping her leg like one would call a dog.
Whatever fight the prince had in him leaves his body, and he turns like a puppet to follow his master.
Cheshire looks back down at Danica where she lies in his arms. The breaths come slower as they leave her lips, her eyes glazing over.
“Cheshire . . .,” she breathes, and her chest freezes, no more breaths left. Everything stills around them, Wonderland mourning the loss of the Hope Bringer.
Cheshire gives into to the agony and shakes her hard.
“Wake up, Danica,” he growls. “Danica, wake up.” The Hope Bringer doesn’t move again, her light slowly fading from her body as they lay in the middle of the carnage Alice left behind. Cheshire sobs, hugging her body close, begging Wonderland to spare his little sister.
But Wonderland is an odd world, and she doesn’t come when she’s called.
Danica, wake up. . . .
Chapter 1
The entryway for the Helping Hands Nursing Home always makes me feel cold. It’s the first thing you see when you walk inside, these white walls and sterile room supposed to make you feel relaxed and homey. Instead, it makes me feel out of place in my dirty blue jeans and leather jacket. I’m incredibly conscious of the fact I could be leaving little scuff marks on tile floor with my motorcycle boots, but I try my hardest not to turn and look. Last time, the prim and proper receptionist had given me the stink eye when I’d tried to clean up a fleck of mud I’d brought in. Apparently, even if I was making a mess, it’s frowned upon to actually clean it up and look like they aren’t doing their job.
I hate this place.
“We’re here to see Diana Yoshida.” I tap my fingers on the counter to get the receptionist’s attention as she taps away on her computer. I immediately stop when she glances at me with disinterest and points at the clipboard.
“Sign in.”
“I hate this place,” Atlas whispers to me as he signs us in.
We know the drill. We’ve been here too many times to count, coming to visit at least three times a week. Today, we come bearing takeout from the Tex-Mex place close to home. It had always been her favorite.
“Me, too, Attie.” The receptionist pretends like she doesn’t hear our conversation, ever the professional. Except not, I think, as she blows a large pink bubble with her gum.
“Head on back.” She doesn’t even glance at us this time as she points down the hall in the general direction we’ve walked a hundred times.
We’ve been coming to the Helping Hands Nursing Home for the better part of two years now, and it’s a constant thing hanging over our heads. Contrary to its name, the nursing home hasn’t been so helpful except for comfort. Before this one, it was the Country Oaks Nursing Home. It had been nicer but triple the price. We hadn’t been able to afford it.
We stop at a doorway partially open, and I peek inside to make sure everything is okay. A doctor leans over a clipboard as he scribbles some sort of chicken scratch across it. No matter how hard I try, I still have yet to be able to read his handwriting. At our arrival, Dr. Frank looks up and smiles. His greying, side-swept hair is perfectly placed as usual. The age lines around his eyes crinkle the tiniest amount at our arrival. Dr. Frank is still young and spry, always able to make a joke, but today, no joke meets our ears. Today, he’s serious.
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