Mad as a Hatter (Sons of Wonderland Book 1) Page 12

Her Bandersnatch isn’t quick enough either. It rears up on its hind legs, exposing it’s soft underside. The bullet enters its sternum. The other bullets tore through the others with no resistance. It doesn’t meet any this time either. The bullet passes right through the beast and slams into the Red Queen’s stomach, sending her flying from its back and to the ground in a heap of red material. A scream of rage echoes around the clearing. I don’t get a chance to breathe a sigh of relief.

  That shot would have killed anyone else. Hell, it would have killed an elephant. The Red Queen immediately springs from the ground, her hand clamped over the wound as she takes a step towards us. Blood wells around her fingers, dripping down the front of her dress.

  “You ruined my dress!” she snarls.

  I raise my eyebrow at that one. A dress with a hole seems a lot less important than a hole in her body. Maybe she needs to get her priorities straightened out. She stoops, reaching down to the whimpering Bandersnatch dying at her feet. It gives a cry of pain when the Red Queen punches her fist through its chest. Her hand comes back out, blood coating all the way to her elbow, a large heart in her hand. The beast doesn’t make another sound. She smiles gleefully at me as she licks the blood dripping from the heart. I watch in horror as the giant hole in her stomach begins to stitch itself back together, right before my eyes.

  “What do we do?” I ask Hatter frantically.

  The three Bandersnatch behind us are closing in, and the Hatter growls at them, the sound completely animal and terrifying. It doesn’t stop their advance at all.

  His eyes meet mine, resolve in them as he spins and wraps his arms around me.

  “Hell no! We are not giving up now!” I growl, raising the gun again.

  I squeeze the trigger three more times, the bullets spreading and spinning as soon as they exit the barrel. The Red Queen grins as she dodges every single one of them, her movements too fast to follow with my eyes. One bullet hits another Bandersnatch, but the other two learned from their brethren and avoid them.

  “Clara Bee,” the Hatter whispers into my neck, holding me tight. “My Clara Bee.”

  The last two Bandersnatch spring towards us, and I close my eyes, clenching a fist in the Hatter’s jacket. I draw the short sword at my hip, intending to take one down with me even if I don’t want to see it. I’m not going down without a fight. I hope it’s painless, but I know that’s a silly thing to hope for in this circumstance.

  A hiss echoes through the clearing, and I crinkle my eyebrows in confusion. When I open my eyes, blue smoke is billowing from a canister in front of us. The Red Queen shrieks in anger as four more clatter onto the ground. The Bandersnatch whimper and back away, afraid of the smoke touching them. I watch in wonder as the blue smoke completely hides us from view. The Hatter laughs with glee, picking me up and spinning me around.

  “What’s going on?” I ask just as a cloaked figure breaks through the smoke, coming right for us.

  Masculine hands reach out and grab both of ours, nearly ripping my arm from its socket again as he yanks us behind him. We go right past the last two Bandersnatch, snapping and snarling. They don’t seem to be able to see us, the smoke making them shake their heads in agitation. The sounds fade behind as we sprint through the trees. The stab in my side starts up again. My body is exhausted, but I keep pushing. We have a chance to survive. I won’t let my endurance be the reason we don’t make it.

  “Hurry,” the cloaked figure ushers, the voice definitely that of a man’s. “We only have a few more minutes before the smoke clears.”

  We stop abruptly at a large tree, the trunk at least double the size of a redwood. There are chunks carved out of the bark, and when the cloaked man begins to climb, I realize they’re hand holds, forming a ladder.

  The Hatter lifts me off the ground and places me as high on the trunk as possible, urging me to follow the cloak above me. I don’t mention that I’m scared of heights as I begin to climb. It doesn’t seem that important at the moment. Just don’t look down. Don’t look down. I repeat that in my head all the way to the top where the man reaches down and pulls me over the edge. He does the same for the Hatter. We both collapse to the floor, our breaths ragged. I’m sure my heart will never beat the same again.

  I look up as the man lowers his hood and do a double take. He’s handsome and definitely younger than me. Somewhere in his twenties I guess. His skin is blue, and I can see the tips of pointed ears peeking through long chestnut hair. His mouth is set in a grim line as he crosses his arms over his chest, making the muscles in his biceps bulge. His eyes are a brilliant turquoise. He doesn’t speak, and the Hatter doesn’t seem intimidated by him at all. Hatter begins to giggle, covering his eyes. The sounds bounces back and forth between sounding like laughter and sounding like sobs.

  The entire inside of the tree looks like a house, all hewn into the wood itself. The walls are rough where they were carved, and there are doorways. The floors are covered with pillows and rugs. The only accessory I can see is some weird material hanging from the ceiling in a corner—it looks like some sort of sack— and a hookah standing in the middle of a pile of pillows.

  From a doorway carved in the side, another man steps out. He walks with a cane, hunched over it as he shuffles inside. He’s clearly elderly, his skin the same blue as the younger man, though more weathered. His eyes are pure white, nothing inside the orbs. There’s no cloudy pupil to indicate blindness. He’s wearing nothing but some type of bright-blue loincloth, his chest covered with liver spots and odd symbols I’ve never seen before. A beard drops from his chin to his knees. It looks like moss, and there are all manner of bugs crawling through it, like he’s a living habitat.

  Then he smiles, gaping holes where teeth are missing. My skin crawls.

  “And who are you?” he rasps.

  Chapter 17

  I fight the intense urge to take a step back, knowing behind me is a fall that can kill me if I go over. I know the Hatter would prevent me from falling, but I have no desire to even imagine a possibility where he wouldn’t. Instead, I hold my ground. Goosebumps run up and down my arms as the old man hobbles into the center of the room, his pace slow and measured. The cane clacks against the wood of the floor, the blow only softening when he shuffles over a rug.

  He had asked me a question, but I don’t answer. I’m not sure if I want to. The old man’s eyes trail around the room, and I realize he could possibly be blind. I’m not sure since there is no pale iris or pupil in the milky depths, but he never focuses on anything too long. I know nothing in Wonderland is what it seems, so I don’t accept it as fact just yet. I nod to myself when the old man’s eyes stop spinning and fix, completely steady, on the Hatter. Not blind then. Or, at least, maybe not one hundred percent.

  “We thank you for your assistance,” the Hatter speaks, bowing slightly to the old man. He tips his hat to him for good measure as he threads his fingers through mine. The touch helps to calm me.

  “Hatter,” the old man replies fondly. His voice is husky, like he’s smoked a lot of cigarettes throughout his life. “You’ve dropped in at a most unfortunate time. It’s my purging.”

  “I apologize. If you have a moment to spare, the prophecy, please, won’t you share?” Hatter’s fingers twitch in mine. Not for the first time, I wonder if he can’t help the rhymes that slip from his lips. Maybe the lyrical habit is a product of his madness.

  The old man grins at the Hatter, his eyes moving from him and focusing on me. I tense.

  “Wonderland has chosen wisely.” His eyes meet mine. I have no idea how I know. There’s literally no pupils but nevertheless, I know the exact moment we’re looking directly into each other’s eyes. “Clara Bee, I presume?”

  “Yes.” My voice is raspy, and I have to clear my throat and repeat myself to actually be heard.

  The old man seems to study me, taking in every detail from my feet to the rat’s nest on my head. I’m not sure what he sees. I’m in dire need of a shower. I can’t remember the last
time I felt clean. I’m wearing the same clothes that I escaped from the Knave in, burned up in the humid Hereafter, faced off with Tweedledee and Tweedledum, sat through a tea party, drank some Reali-Tea, and ran from a pack of Bandersnatch and the Red Queen. To say I stink is an understatement. How I look has to be worse. My hair feels like it’s in tangles, knots that probably won’t come out with a saw, catching my fingers when I run my hand through them self-consciously. Do I even look human anymore? When was the last time I slept? How long ago had it been since I first landed in Wonderland?

  Whatever he sees, he makes a decision and gestures to the younger man standing off to the side. The young man immediately walks over and assists him towards the Hookah sitting in the middle of room. There’s pillows all around it. He takes a seat slowly on one side before pointing to the other cushions. The Hatter leads us over, and we sink into our seats. The pillows are incredibly soft, and I instantly feel like laying my head down and taking a nap, the exhaustion catching up with me. I force myself to open my eyes wide and focus on the old man.

  “We can talk while I prepare,” he says. The young man unhooks the pipe of the hookah and passes it to him. It’s that moment that it dawns on me. I know exactly who I’m talking to.

  “You’re the Blue Caterpillar.” My voice is a bit awed as I look at him. Then I look at the younger man. “You have a son?”

  The Caterpillar laughs.

  “No, Child. He is only an extension of me.”

  I frown. What the hell does that mean? Should I ask or let that weird bit of information go? I decide to let it go for now. I can always ask the Hatter later.

  “What do I call you?” I ask. Everyone else seems to go by only a portion of their name. White. Hatter. March. Is he Blue or Caterpillar?

  He shrugs.

  “Old. Young. Blue. Caterpillar. Absolem. It makes no difference to me. I am all.”

  He takes a drag from the hookah, holding the smoke in for a moment before breathing the blue smoke out. It curls out in front of us, forming circles and swirling before shaping into creatures. I watch in fascination as a rabbit forms in the haze. And then it begins to move, hopping around the room, glowing from within as it runs. There’s a silhouette forming next, a man with a top hat. I glance at the Hatter. He’s enraptured with the show. When I look again, there’s another silhouette that looks suspiciously like me. The two silhouettes come together in an intimate embrace before dancing around the room in each other’s arms. More shapes move, but I can’t focus on them without taking my eyes from the dancing couple. Absolem speaks again.

  “Clara, you must have many questions.”

  Behind us, the young man bustles around the room, moving things and preparing something on the stove. There’s a distinct smell of dirt and flower coming from his direction. I have so many questions to ask the man in front of us, puffing away on his hookah, but I hesitate. I have no idea where to begin.

  “Come, come, Child. Do not fear me. Ask what you wish to know.” He says this around the mouthpiece. He offers it to the Hatter, but he shakes his head. When he offers to to me next, I do the same. If the Hatter doesn’t want to do it, I definitely don’t.

  “Are you psychic?” If I’m correct, then that means the prophecy came from the Blue Caterpillar, and here I am sitting across from him. He should know all the answers.

  He chuckles.

  “I have been gifted, cursed, to see the past, the future, the present.”

  “And these things are set in stone?”

  “The future is a flowing river. It is not a wall. I see many possibilities. I see many outcomes.”

  “How do we know which one is correct?” I ask.

  “We don’t. The future changes as quickly as I see it.”

  Frustration makes me shift in my seat on the pillows.

  “Then how do we even know I’m the one in the prophecy?”

  I don’t say how much pain it will cause me if the prophecy isn’t about me after all. I had already let myself fall for the Hatter. The thought of leaving Wonderland to pave the way for another woman destined to be with the Hatter sends a bolt of agony through my chest. I don’t think I could survive the heartbreak.

  “In all the possibilities, there is one constant.” He pulls on the Hookah again. “The Prophecy. And your name never changes. Wonderland only has one possibility of survival.”

  “Only one?” That seems horribly bad odds for the future of a world. One in how many other futures? How many chances do we fail?

  “Only one.”

  “But there’s no guarantee that we can succeed?”

  “Nothing is guaranteed, Child.”

  I sigh. The Hatter smiles at me in encouragement. It’s exactly what I need. I straighten my spine, determination to do my part fueling me.

  “What exactly is the prophecy?” I’ve heard my portion, but I want to know the whole piece. There could be something we’re missing.

  Absolem smiles around the hookah. The lights in the room dim considerably, and a glow spreads out from him. Small glowing specks appear in the air, dancing around with the shapes forming in the smoke. Everything around us narrows down on Absolem; I no longer hear the young man bustling around the room. Hatter squeezes my hand as he removes his hat, his eyes focused on the smoke and light show in front of us.

  When Absolem begins to speak, his voice echoes, power dripping from every word. I suddenly realize the profoundness of what is happening. I’m hearing my possibilities, and the possible fate of Wonderland if we succeed.

  “The first of three is Clara Bee

  Who will come to set Wonderland free,

  She’ll tame the Hatter and down the Knave

  Because Clara Bee fights for the brave.

  A triad begins to destroy the Queen

  Though nothing is ever as easy as it seems,

  She must lose her heart while taking a stand

  To the first son of Wonderland.

  The second comes in the dead of night

  After saving the life of Wonderland’s White,

  She’ll befriend the creatures of the day

  And strip the Red Queen’s immortality away.

  Destined for the second son of Wonderland,

  She’ll conquer his heart and take his hand,

  The triad will be two strong

  And right the things that have been wronged.

  To complete the triangle, one must ask

  How the third son wears his mask,

  He’ll fight the hold, but best be quick

  Or he’ll lose his chance with each tick tock tick.

  The third completes the triad of three

  Bringing strength and the fall of the Red Queen,

  Stronger together as they take their stand

  To save the Sons of Wonderland.”

  As the final words of the prophecy fade away, the glow dims, and the room returns to normal. I let out the breath I had been holding, loosening my grip on the Hatter who I had been squeezing the crap out of. He doesn’t seem to care. His focus is on my face, worry on his brow. I smile to let him know I’m okay, and it relaxes him.

  “So, there will be three of us? Who are the Sons of Wonderland?” I ask. Obviously, the Hatter is one of them, but I want to confirm who the other two are. I have a good idea, though.

  “Yes. Hatter is one. White is another. Cheshire is the last.”

  I sigh.

  “Cheshire doesn’t seem the kind to let a prophecy tell him what to do.”

  “No,” Absolem agrees, but he doesn’t elaborate, and I drop it for now, focusing on my portion.

  “So, my job is to tame the Hatter,” I glance at Hatter, but he doesn’t seem bothered by the term, “And down the Knave. How do I do that?”

  Absolem chuckles, shaking his head in amusement.

  “That is up to you, Child. Only you know the answer.”

  “But you see the future. Can’t you tell me how I do it?”

  He shakes his head again.

&nbs
p; “It doesn’t work like that, Clara. I see the possibility. I see the result. I don’t always see the journey.”

  The young man shuffles over to us then, and he lifts Absolem from the cushion. His bones crack and snap as he straightens the best he can, wrapping weathered fingers around the cane. My eyes focus on the beard again, the moss, and the various insects crawling around. I suppose a caterpillar would feel a sort of kinship with other insects.

  The young man leads Absolem to the dark sack hanging from the ceiling in the corner of the room. It blends into the carved walls, the outside panels appearing wet when they reflect the light back at us. The young man begins helping him into the chamber. It sways under the movement. The oddity of the situation doesn’t even affect me anymore. The smoking Blue Caterpillar climbing into what I suspect is a cocoon? Nothing. Weird bugs in his beard? Understandable. If I ever go back home to my world, I imagine it will seem incredibly boring after all this.

  The chamber slowly begins fusing together. Absolem smiles at us, the missing teeth making it eerie.

  “But won’t you tell me how to save Wonderland?” I try one more time. I need more information. I need to know everything.

  The Hatter doesn’t speak, his eyes watching the Caterpillar slowly disappears inside the cocoon.

  “Follow your heart,” he says. “You are Clara Bee the Brave. I must purge. I will see you on the other side.” Then his face hardens, and he speaks once more before he’s sealed in completely. “Show no mercy, Child. You can’t afford to.”

  When the words register, Absolem is gone, wrapped inside a man-sized cocoon while we stare at it. I have no idea what will come out when he finishes his purging. I’m not sure I want to know. But I have a mission. I look towards the Hatter. He’s already looking at me, a small smile on his face. There is a touch of madness in it, but it only endears him to me more. My body sags, and I lounge back on the pillows.

  “You need to sleep.” Hatter moves around some of the pillows, arranging them into a bed. “Lay down. We can go home after you rest for a while.”