Mad as a Hatter (Sons of Wonderland Book 1) Page 3

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I say out loud, looking around the room again. I’ve obviously been kidnapped by some sick people. That or I was bashed over the head, and I’m currently lost in some sort of twisted dream. “Hello?” I call, searching the room for cameras. I don’t see any, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t there. If I was kidnapped, these kinds of people get off on recording the action. No one answers me, so maybe I’m just dreaming. I refuse to think I might just be dead and in some sort of limbo.

  I turn my attention back to the table and see a small key, one that almost blends in with the table cloth. It’s then that I really take note of the material. I lean closer to inspect it. The smell hits me first, a rancid, rotting aroma that makes my nose hairs curl and my stomach roil. I reach out and touch the cloth lightly with my finger tip. The material is smooth, a kind of silicone sponginess. I jerk away in horror, realizing the only thing it could be.

  “What the fuck?”

  I run to one of the doors again and begin yanking on it as hard as I can. It’s futile—it doesn’t even so much as budge—but I’m growing desperate. I’m pulling so hard, my shoulders pop with each tug, threatening to snap out of socket.

  “Let me out!” I shout. “Let me the fuck out of here!”

  Realizing it’s pointless, I turn and put my back against the door, breathing hard. I’m not stupid. The similarities between what is happening and the Alice in Wonderland book my mom got for me when I was young are uncanny. Someone is playing games, and I’m not sure I’m ready to face whoever could make a tablecloth out of human skin. I assume it’s human skin. The texture is correct, the stitching on it showing where pieces had to be joined to form linen. Either way, it’s rotting, and I have no idea how I didn’t notice the smell before. Now, it fills the room, overpowering my senses.

  I wrack my brain for details I remember about the book. Maybe this is a puzzle of some sort. If I win, I’ll live. Isn’t that how the horror movies work? Eat me, Drink me. One made Alice grow, and one made her shrink, right? That means I have to drink whatever is in that tea cup to get anywhere.

  I slowly walk towards the table, covering my nose with one hand to try and block out the worst of the smell. It doesn’t really work, the rot making my eyes water the closer I get. My hands are shaking with nerves when I reach out and pluck the key from the table. Then I curl my fingers around the tea cup and lift it.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” a voice echoes behind me.

  It startles me so badly that I drop the cup, the porcelain shattering as it crashes against the table. I spin, almost tripping over my heels in the process, and meet the eyes of none other than Mr. Alastair White. I let loose a sigh of relief.

  “Mr. White,” I sigh, placing a hand on my chest to slow my heart rate. “They got you, too. I hate to say it, but I’m thankful I’m not here alone.”

  The rabbit ears still twist and flop on his head, but I have bigger problems at the moment than whatever mechanism makes the things move as if they’re real. Besides, I really don’t want to think too hard about the similarities between the fairytale and what I’m witnessing.

  “Actually, here I just go by White,” he drawls, his hands in his pockets as he studies me. He’s only wearing the green waistcoat, no shirt underneath, and slacks, the exact outfit I saw him wearing in the alley. I can see rolling tattoos across his body, swirling designs that I can’t make out. They seem to move and shift even as he stands still. It peaks my curiosity, but I push it away for now. It isn’t the time to study tattoos.

  “What do you mean by ‘here’?” I ask, deciding to focus on one thing at a time. If he goes by a certain name wherever we are, that means he comes here often, which means there’s a possibility he’s my kidnapper.

  He ignores my question, instead pointing towards the table where I dropped the tea cup.

  “It’s a good thing you didn’t drink the tea,” he says.

  I look, and my eyes widen at the giant hole eaten through the tablecloth and the wood. The tea still sizzles where it spilled, completely destroying the table. It begins to lean to the side, as crooked as the rest of the room. Holy Hell, I’d almost put that stuff in my body. I shiver thinking about it. I run my hand through my hair and look at Mr. White again. White, I correct myself, because wherever we are, he has been here before.

  “What was in the cup?” My voice is rough with nervous energy. I’m equal parts afraid and intrigued.

  “The last time the queen came through, she switched out the cup for poison. Didn’t want anyone coming in that could take her down. She didn’t count on me, though.” He looks at the table, sadness in his eyes. “I was almost too late.” He turns back towards me. “Rule Number one: Don’t drink the tea here unless you trust the person giving it to you.”

  “How do I know who to trust?” I ask, moving further away from the table. It gives me the creeps.

  “You don’t.” An ominous smile spreads across his face. “Rule number two: Trust no one.”

  “Noted.” I take his warnings seriously. I’m out of my depths here, have no idea where I am, or how long I’d been passed out. I’m going to trust the lunatic with bunny ears because he’s the only thing familiar at the moment.

  “Now come along.” White turns towards one of the doors. “We’re already much too late as it is. Nothing waits for you here.”

  As I follow White towards an ornate gold door, I get up the courage to ask.

  “And where is ‘here’?”

  I’m afraid of the answer, and when he turns and looks at me, that smile still on his face, I know I’m not going to like the answer.

  “Why, you’re in Wonderland, of course.”

  Yep. I knew I wasn’t going to like it.

  Chapter 4

  I come to a screeching halt, bracing my hand against the closest wall. Deep breaths in, deep breaths out, Clara, I chant in my mind. I’ve been in shitty situations before. So, I’m in some sort of drug induced coma or something. No big deal. I’ll just go along with White and find a way to wake myself up. I can do that.

  “Did you say Wonderland?” I ask White, because I have to be sure that’s what I heard. Just in case I’m not dreaming, and I’d somehow entered another dimension, one that had entire books written about it back at home. Always have the facts. That was my motto. “As in, the Wonderland from the fictitious story book?”

  “Probably not the one you know.” White pulls a small case from his pocket and goes to his knees in front of the door. I realize he’s picking the lock when he pulls something sharp from the case before sticking it in the keyhole. There’s a bunch of clicks as he twists the metal tool.

  “I have the key,” I tell him, holding out the metal I swiped from the table.

  He shakes his head.

  “This isn’t some sweet fairytale place. At least, not anymore. That key is useless, nothing more than a prop to give victims false hope.”

  “What happened?” I toss the key to the floor and watch him as the clicks fill the room, getting louder in increments.

  “The Red Queen. She’s killing Wonderland, slowly and brutally.”

  “I must have hit my head pretty hard,” I mumble, rubbing my eyes. “And you literally have big white bunny ears on your head right now. I’ve been seeing them before this, but they faded away. They aren’t fading now.”

  “They aren’t bunny ears.” He sounds mildly offended about the word ‘bunny’. I tuck away the information for later. “They’re Rabbit ears. And it’s because I’m the White Rabbit.” The lock gives a final loud click before the door swings open. “My ears are a part of me. The fact that you could see them in your world was an eye opener. It’s the reason I was able to figure out who you are.”

  “The White Rabbit? As in, I’m late, I’m late for a very important date? That rabbit?” I asked, dumbfounded. I ignore the knowing who I am bit. That just seems like too much at the moment. If this is a dream, I’ll have to give my imagination credit. This is l
ike nothing I have ever thought of before.

  White chuckles, but the sound is dark, a sinister vibe rolling off him in waves. I involuntarily take a step back.

  “Yeah, sure. That’s me,” he says, looking at the watch on his wrist again. I’m struck by the gears moving in it, remembering I thought it a luxury watch at home. Now I’m thinking it’s more magic than expensive. “We’d best be going. We don’t want to be in the forest when it’s dark.” He looks around the room again. “The Red Queen, no doubt, already knows you’re in Wonderland. She would have sent her Knave the moment the tea cup was touched.”

  I take a step forward, my heels clicking against the tiles, and his eyes fall to my feet.

  “Those are going to be a problem. We’re going through a dense forest.”

  I shrug.

  “I don’t really have a choice. If you had plans on kidnapping me and carting me off to Wonderland, maybe you should have warned me to wear sensible shoes.”

  He raises his eyebrows at my remark.

  “You’re taking this remarkably well.” He studies me, searching for a sign that I’m really freaking out. He won’t find one. The reason I’m such a good lawyer is because my poker face is flawless. I’m far from hysterical, though. Curiosity is getting the better of me, and if this isn’t a dream or some sort of drug side-effect, I want to find out everything I can.

  “What else am I supposed to do?” I huff. “Curl up in the fetal position and have a good cry? That’s not who I am.”

  A genuine smile spreads across his face, warm and the complete opposite from the ones I’d seen before. It changes his appearance, so he looks more wholesome instead of the danger that usually accompanies him.

  “No. Indeed, it’s not.” He glances through the doorway, and I get a view of outside for the first time. There’s trees, a lush forest even if it’s dark. Some of the plant life is glowing, much like the dream I had this morning, but besides that, I can’t really tell much else.

  “I thought you said we didn’t want to be in the forest at night?” It sure looks dark to me.

  “We don’t,” he replies, meeting my eyes briefly. “That’s how the forest looks during the day.”

  Wow, I really don’t want to know what it looks like at night then. Talk about nightmares.

  “Before we go out there,” he continues. “We need to discuss a few more rules.”

  “Why?” I ask, watching as a beautiful butterfly comes through the door. I stare in wonder at its iridescent blue and pink wings fluttering around me. As it draws closer, I notice the oddness of its body. Both sides look like a stinger, no head I can see. When two eyes blink open on the wings, my heart stops, but when it lets out a high-pitched snarl that makes my skull feel like it’s cracking, I damn near pass out.

  White smacks the thing from the air, cutting off the sound as he squashes it beneath his boot. I hold my head as he looks at me pointedly.

  “Wonderland isn’t safe. Nothing is here. Don’t let the bugs touch you,” he lectures. “Most of them drink blood.”

  I take a big breath. This just keeps getting worse and worse.

  “Got it,” I grunt. The ache in my skull finally begins to ebb, and I drop my arm to my side.

  “And don’t go near the talking flowers.”

  “I thought the talking flowers are nice?” I ask. It’s a stupid question. There aren’t skull-shattering butterflies or poison tea in the original tale. Why would I think the dumb flowers would be friendly?

  “They like their meat rare,” is the only reply I get. I feel the blood drain from my face. Fuck that. I’m not going to become dinner for the fauna.

  “Why the hell am I here?” I ask. “Why me?”

  He looks at me from the doorway where he had been watching the trees. There’s multiple emotions in his eyes, bouncing between sadness and anger.

  “Because Wonderland needs you, Clara.”

  “Surely, there are others you can bring?”

  He shakes his head. “You were prophesied to be here.”

  “I decide my own fate,” I say, a frown spreading across my face. It’s the words I had repeated to myself my whole life.

  “Of course, you do,” he mocks, grabbing my hand. “But Wonderland has other ideas.” He pulls me through the doorway behind him. “Now come on. We’re late.”

  “Where are we going?” I ask. Because why not? I want to be informed before I get eaten by something in the jungle. Or worse.

  “To see the Hatter.” There’s no emotion in his voice as he answers, just cold indifference.

  Of course, I think. The next logical step.

  Chapter 5

  Wonderland is nothing like the books. The forest is so dark, it would be pitch-black if it wasn’t for the phosphorescence that emanates from the plant life. The trees glimmer, some sort of neon-colored sap dripping down their trunks, resembling blood more than anything. Giant mushrooms rival the trees, taller and wider than the redwoods I’d seen on the nature channel. Their undersides, the soft fleshy parts of them, glow in various colors, sending a warm incandescence across the forest floor. It gives everything a relaxing feel, even if it is far from relaxing. Every now and then, I’d catch a great, gaping mouth open on the stalk of a mushroom, sharp teeth curling into a smile as black eyes watch me, waiting for me to slip up and step too close. I stay right on White’s coat tails.

  The bugs are worse than mosquitoes, constantly buzzing around us and trying to land on me. White just smacks them away but I’m equally parts terrified of touching them as I am of one biting me. The result is a sort of flailing panic as I try to keep them away from me.

  “You don’t have any bug spray?” I huff at White. How he’s able to not trip over the uneven ground is a mystery to me. Even if I wasn’t in heels, it would be treacherous. I’m certain the roots and vines move to purposely trip me. After I see one of the trees blink at me, I decide that isn’t so farfetched of an idea. The trees, apparently, like to cause trouble, and I’m the newest unsuspecting victim.

  “It wouldn’t work here,” White replies, glancing back to check on my progress. “The bitter smell of it attracts them.”

  “So, use something sweet.”

  White’s eyes widen before a look of contemplation crosses his face.

  “Not a bad idea.”

  I put my hands on my hips and look up into the glowing canopy, taking deep breaths to get my heart rate under control. I’m sweating like crazy, the tripping taking a toll on me. Note to self: never wear heels again if there’s a possibility of trekking through a dangerous forest. Just as I move to follow White, there’s a sharp pinch on my forearm. I yelp, jerking away. There’s a bug on my arm, this one with a face. Well, a mouth. I don’t see any eyes, only a round hole lined with layers upon layers of teeth. It looks like a leech with dragonfly wings. The wings glow a brilliant pink, but its body is a slimy brown.

  As I look at it in horror, blood dripping down my arm where it bit me, it growls and my instinct kicks in. I smack it from my arm, pick up the closet club-like stick I can find, and proceed to beat the ever-living hell out of it. I might let out the same battle cry I use when killing spiders that manage to find their way into my apartment. It’s the same battle cry that got my neighbor to call the cops once, thinking I was being murdered. Bless the old woman’s heart for trying to help. The embarrassment of explaining the spider situation to the attractive cops who showed up at my door hadn’t been so fun.

  I’m proud to say that once I finish beating the bug, there’s nothing left but a small patch of brown and phosphorescent pink. Don’t judge me.

  “Did it bite you?” White asks, urgency in his voice.

  “Yes. My arm.” I hold it up for him to take a look.

  He reaches into a leather pocket on his belt loop. I never realized he had the pockets, and I’m surprised to see quite a few of them. I’m intrigued by what he carries in them. It’s a bunch of little fanny packs. I smirk at the thought as White opens a vial, pulling the cork o
ff the top with his teeth. He spreads a green salve on the wound, the sensation cold. The itch that had accompanied the bite disappears. He doesn’t talk, and I decide not to ask, too afraid of the answer. I’m pretty sure I almost died, though.

  We continue on our way, terrifying screeches and shrieks filling the air. There’s a particularly intense bellow from far away, and even though I’m certain we’re not close to it, I still feel it through the ground.

  “What the hell is that?” I ask, my eyes wide.

  “Bandersnatch.” He doesn’t seem worried at all even though I damn near wet myself. “You don’t want to run into one of those. They’re the Queen’s creatures. If the bellow gets closer, cover your ears. It won’t stop the pain, but it might stop your ears from bleeding.”

  “Fantastic.” I shake my head. “There’s absolutely no way this can be real. I’m dreaming. I have to be. Granted, my dreams are never this vivid.”

  White smirks at me. “You still don’t think this is real?”

  “How can it be? There’s just no way,” I mumble.

  White studies the ground in front of him before leaning down and picking up a thin stick. He bends it back and forth before nodding his head in satisfaction. Without warning, he whips the stick across my ass, leaving behind a stinging pain. I shriek in surprise, jumping away from him.

  “What the hell was that for?”

  He’s grinning, mischief twinkling in his eyes.

  “You thought it wasn’t real.”

  “So what? How does hitting me have anything to do with that?”

  “You can’t feel pain in your dreams, right?”

  I stare at him, rubbing my ass as it dawns on me.

  “And that just hurt.” I frown at him when he nods his head.

  “Logically, this has to be real.”

  “Logically,” I parrot mockingly. “I could have just pinched myself. You didn’t have to hit me.”