Page 8

CHAPTER 8

Alice stayed as close to Shadow as she could without touching him; sometimes, the fog was so thick that only five or six feet of separation seemed enough for her to lose sight of him, and she didn’t want to find herself alone in this place again. It wasn’t that it was frightening—okay, so maybe it was a little creepy—but it was a sad place. She couldn’t help but again liken it to a graveyard, even though the people here were alive. She had no idea why the sleepers had never woken, had no idea who any of them were, but there were so many of them here in this misty limbo that she couldn’t help but mourn the lives they were missing out on.

It felt like she and Shadow walked forever, picking their way across narrow patches of relatively solid land that stood above the water. They were forced to cross the water in several places. Alice was left shivering after the first such crossing—the water was colder than seemed reasonable—and Shadow took to carrying her across those spots afterward, ignoring her protests.

And, despite those protests, she wrapped her arms around his neck and clung to him every time, silently appreciating his caring and thoughtfulness.

Still, it seemed like the swamp would never end, like she’d already spent a lifetime traversing it with those dark, motionless figures always nearby in the mist.

Shadow stopped when they came to another stretch of deeper water. She didn’t bother complaining as he scooped her up; it had become routine by now, and the body heat radiating through his clothes was too comforting to forego.

“It feels like we’re never going to get out of here,” she said as he trudged into the water.

He was up to his waist after a few strides. “Do you mean the swamp or the simulation ? Either way, I’m content—it gives me an excuse to hold you.”

When Alice met his gaze, he grinned and waggled his eyebrows.

She laughed and rolled her eyes. “You’re impossible.”

“I suppose it’s easier to be impossible when nothing is real, isn’t it?”

Her laughter faded, and her smile eased. “You are real, Shadow.”

His expression took on an uncharacteristically solemn cast. “I believe that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me, Alice.”

“People must not say nice things to you often, then.”

“Usually its things like get the hell out of here or I’m going to gut you when I get my hands on you . I assume they mean it all in good spirits, as most everyone says something along those lines when they encounter me.”

“I…don’t think they do, Shadow.”

His grin returned, and he moved his face into her hair, brushing his nose along her neck and behind her ear. “But you say nice things. You smell nice, too.”

Delightful shivers swept through her. Alice gasped and flinched away, her hands tightening around his jacket as her skin tingled in the places he’d touched. “Shadow!”

He chuckled huskily and held her closer. “You smell even better when I’m nice to you.”

Heat suffused her cheeks. She couldn’t believe how swiftly he’d caught scent of that . Of course, it didn’t help that she was wearing nothing beneath her dress, but still! To actually smell her desire while they were kissing? It was as embarrassing as it was arousing.

“Are we almost there?” Alice asked.

“Oddly enough, we are there. Or here, rather.”

Her brow furrowed. “What?”

She looked away from him, and her eyes widened when she realized they were no longer in the swamp, trudging through water and muck—they were back in the woods, and Shadow’s feet were planted on solid ground.

She scanned their surroundings; there was no sign of the swamp anywhere behind them, not even a wisp of fog or a single dangling strand of moss. Afternoon light streamed through the forest canopy, which granted glimpses of a pure blue sky just a shade or two darker than her dress. It was as though they’d somehow teleported while he’d been talking to her.

Alice turned her attention forward. The purple-stone path—or at least a purple-stone path—meandered past directly ahead of them, and on the other side of it, no more than ten feet away from the paving stones, stood a strange house.

The structure looked like it was made of some sort of pale gray, hardened material—stucco or clay, perhaps. Its lower portion was a wide, squat cylinder with a small round window to either side of its comically wide front door, and the tiled roof swept outward from the central point high overhead and hung at least five feet past the exterior wall to give the entire structure a decidedly mushroom-like appearance.

“How did we— Never mind,” Alice said. She should’ve known by now not to question this place. “This is him?”

“No. That’s his home . Jor’calla is a person , not a building.”

She chuckled. “I know that. I wasn’t asking if this was literally him.”

“But that’s exactly what you asked.” He shook his head. “And people call me mad.”

Alice glared at him. “You can set me down now.”

“And if I don’t want to?”

“You should.”

“Well, when you put it that way, it all makes sense,” he said without a hint of irony before gently setting Alice on her feet.

Alice brushed her hands down her skirt, tugging the hem a little lower on her thighs, and started toward Jor’calla’s house. Shadow fell into step beside her.

“So, you think he can help?” she asked as they approached the door.

Shadow shrugged nonchalantly. “Probably not. He’s a strange one. Doesn’t usually make much sense when he talks. It often seems like he’s never truly where he is.”

“I thought you said he could help us.”

“Hmm.” Shadow lifted a hand and tapped his chin with the tip of his finger. “I believe I said you’d get on well with him, as he’s one of the maddest people in Wonderland. I never mentioned anything about help specifically.”

Alice made a mental note to very carefully choose her words when asking Shadow questions in the future—and to pay extremely close attention to the way he worded his answers. She shook her head and reached forward to knock on the door. Before her knuckles made contact, Shadow grasped the latch, pushed open the door, and stepped through.

Her eyes widened. “Shadow! What are you doing?”

He paused and twisted to look back at her, brows knitted. “Visiting Jor’calla, of course. That’s why we came.”

“Yeah, but you don’t just walk into someone else’s house uninvited.”

“Perhaps you don’t.” He turned and continued inside, adding over his shoulder, “Besides, he already knows you’re here. Why waste time knocking?”

Already knows I’m here ?

Alice glanced up at the sky and sighed. “That’s not the point.” Reluctantly, she followed Shadow across the threshold.

The interior of the house was dimly lit, but once Alice’s eyes had adjusted to the gloom, she came to an abrupt halt and glanced behind her to make sure she’d actually entered a building—the inside of Jor’calla’s home looked exactly like the forest outside, with lush vegetation and huge tree trunks. But in here, it was relatively dark—the only light was provided by those little orbs floating around like tiny, faint suns.

She didn’t know if it was the result of expert paintings, holographic projectors, or simply another quirk of the simulation, and she supposed it really didn’t matter. If she had to journey through this world to find a way out, she’d have to learn to shrug off things like this no matter how disorienting they were.

Alice hurried to catch up with Shadow, who was several paces ahead. Everything was closer together in here, giving the sense of walls and a ceiling around her even if she couldn’t see them, and the air was hazy with sweet-smelling smoke that thickened as she advanced.

They followed a path between the trees and thick clumps of foliage, curving ever to the right, as though they were winding steadily toward the center of the building—but it seemed to go on and on, much farther than could’ve been possible given the size of the home from the outside.

Finally, Shadow stopped. Alice peered around him to see a door in front of him—not a door on a wall, but a door on the forest floor, standing without any apparent support. Like the door through which they’d entered, this one was oddly shaped and overly wide, as though it hadn’t been designed with humans—or humanoids—in mind.

Alice placed her hands on Shadow’s back, instinctively pressing against him. “Is it…safe?”

Shadow twisted to glance down at her; his eyes and grin were bright despite the poor lighting. “As safe as anything we’ve done so far.”

Before she could reply, he took hold of Alice’s wrist, reached forward, and opened the door.

A cloud of smoke billowed around them. Alice coughed, squeezed her eyes shut, and waved a hand in front of her face to clear the air. The smoke filled her nostrils and stung her eyes, and its sweetness was overpowering. Shadow pulled her forward.

“No, no, no!” someone cried in a thin, warbling voice. “You’re not supposed to be here, not you, not now.”

With a final, sputtering cough, Alice opened her eyes.

Though a faint haze lingered in the air, the worst of the smoke had cleared. Her eyes rounded; she was now standing inside a circular room, its walls made of the same material as the outside of the home. The light in here was stronger than in the fake forest—or was it technically a fake-fake forest?—they’d just come from, cast by electric bulbs in several lantern-shaped light fixtures along the wall.

Large pieces of fabric in various colors hung from the wall and ceiling, and an overly wide bed was positioned directly ahead, covered in what Alice could only describe as a nest of blankets and pillows. Sticks of incense—the source of the smoke—glowed orange as they slowly burned on a table positioned on the right side of the room. The lantern light, which was somehow white and gray at the same time, dulled all the colors and made the entire room seem… muted . It was reminiscent of the lighting in an old underground bunker.

That thought didn’t provide Alice any comfort.

She glanced behind her to see a closed door identical to the one Shadow had just led her through.

Her attention finally fell on the individual who’d spoken. She’d seen many aliens during her lifetime—though she’d seen few of them in person—but none of them had been quite like Jor’calla. From head to toe, he couldn’t have stood more than four and a half feet tall, but he was at least just as wide thanks to his long, spindly arms— six long, spindly arms. His legs were comparatively short and thin, and he seemed to support his hunched upper body on his knuckles. Each of his hands had two long, thin fingers and a thumb of nearly equal length.

He had large, black eyes that gleamed with reflected light from the lanterns, and long, yellow protrusions sweeping back from his head. His mouth was a set of insect-like mandibles, which seemed odd given that he had skin rather than a rigid exoskeleton. He was primarily green, but there were splashes of yellow around his mouth and along his forearms, and a deep, rich purple at his shoulders, fingertips, and around his neck, with another swatch of it bisecting his face.

To Alice, he seemed almost a cross between a spider—an oddly cute spider—and a caterpillar.

Jor’calla lifted one of his arms—Alice guessed it was at least as long as he was tall—and pointed a finger at Shadow. “Ill omen, harbinger of doom! You should not be here.”

Shadow lifted the hat off his head and dipped into a bow. “Pleasure to see you as well, Jor’calla. It’s been too long.”

Jor’calla turned and paced away—primarily using his arms to move—shaking his head; the gesture seemed more like he was simply thrashing his chin from side to side, as he seemed not to have much of a neck. “Never too long with such as you. Grinning Ghost, Slinking Shadow, Faceless One.”

Alice frowned as she glanced between the two of them. “What does he mean we shouldn’t be here?”

“Not you,” Jor’calla said, “ him .”

Shadow smiled at her as he replaced his hat. “He’s quite mad, Alice. Best not try to make sense of everything he says.”

“Why did he call you all those names?” she asked.

“Because he has a tendency to be rude, I suppose.” Shadow stepped to the center of the room—causing Jor’calla to back away farther—and sat on the floor with his legs folded beneath him. “We have some questions for you, Jor. Feel up to giving answers?”

Jor’calla retreated onto his bed, still shaking his head. “Away, away! Do not speak in steel, Wandering Void. Death has returned to Wonderland, and now it will not go.”

Shadow glanced at Alice over his shoulder. “See? Stark raving mad.”

Alice slowly approached Jor’calla, placing herself between him and Shadow. “He looks like he’s scared. What did you do, Shadow?”

Shadow crossed his arms over his chest. “I didn’t do anything , Alice, and I don’t appreciate your accusatory tone.”

“The Hatter is no more,” Jor’calla whispered hoarsely.

Shadow scoffed. “I only stabbed him a little. He’s come back from worse. No need to be so dramatic about it.”

“No, no,” Jor’calla whined. “No coming back now. No one coming back—none but the Red King. He rides with his faceless army, and his touch is forever-death. The Hatter is gone, and the Red King hunts.”

Alice stopped once her thighs hit the bed and reached toward Jor’calla. She lightly patted one of his arms. “Hey, it’s okay. We’re not here to hurt you, I promise.” She glanced pointedly at Shadow, who put on an offended pout. “We’re here to see if you could help me.”

Jor’calla looked from Shadow to Alice, his mandibles twitching. He shifted the arm that she’d touched, gently wrapping his long, spindly fingers around her wrist, and his eyes—though still impenetrably black—seemed to clear. “You…you are different, Alice Claybourne. Not like the others. You know . Do not let yourself forget, never forget. Remember how you came here—it is how we all came here, but the rest released their memories.”

“How…did you know my name? How do you know all this?”

“I hear you. I hear them . All of them, all the time.” He lifted two hands and clamped them on the sides of his head.

Alice’s eyes widened. “You can hear thoughts, can’t you? Even the ones out there, where we’re sleeping?”

Jor’calla nodded. “Never quiet, never silent. All but him . All but the ghost.”

She frowned and turned her face toward Shadow. “Why is he different?”

“He is empty . Dangerous. Chaos that walks.”

“He is also sitting right here,” Shadow said in an exasperated singsong. “We didn’t come to listen to how much you don’t like me despite my obvious charm and charisma, Jor. She wants a way out. Is there one?”

But Jor’calla was staring at Alice; if he’d heard Shadow, he made no indication. “The Red King is from beyond. He did not come like us. Wonderland is too full, too many, and death rides to collect hearts. Cull the people, cull the city… What is dead is dead. Flee, Alice, flee far and pray you never meet the king again.”

“Again?” she asked, brow creasing.

Jor’calla dropped his hands and clutched the bedding in his fists. His mandibles moved rapidly as he muttered; the words were too jumbled, too indistinct for Alice to decipher. He shook his head throughout.

He was a broken being who’d been horribly mistreated; Alice guessed many of the people in this asylum were just like him.

She leaned closer and gently placed her hands on his arms. “Jor’calla, how do we get out of here? How do we leave Wonderland?”

“ Remember ,” he replied. “Remember, and wake.”

“ How do we wake up?”

Jor’calla released a distressed, chittering sound and leapt back suddenly, pressing himself against the wall behind the bed. “He comes! He comes, he comes for me.”

“Who, Jor’calla?”

“Red Death, Red King, King of Hearts.” Trembling, Jor’calla tipped his head back. “Too much noise. Couldn’t hear…and now he has come, now he is here.”

“Finally, something that makes sense,” Shadow said.

Alice glanced back to see Shadow push himself to his feet, his lips curling into a grin.

He met her gaze. “I think I’ll have a look.”

Before she could say anything, Shadow was gone—vanished like a ghost.

Grinning Ghost.

Unease filled Alice as she stepped to the spot in which Shadow had been standing a moment before. The air was thick with foreboding and tension, which mixed with the wisps of smoke to press in around her.

“Shadow?” she called shakily.

“He has come! He is here!” Jor’calla cried out.

The door burst open and banged against the wall, startling Alice. She spun around, eyes wide, to see at least six tall, black figures march into the room. They were clad in armor and roughly human in size and shape, but the exposed metal at their joints and necks revealed their true nature—they were robots. The only color on them came from their glowing red eyes and the X’s on their chests, the latter of which were painted in dripping crimson over the place where a human’s heart would’ve been.

Several of the robots fanned out around the room, aiming their guns at Alice and Jor’calla, as four more filed inside. These four wasted no time in grabbing hold of Alice and the alien. Their fingers were impossibly strong and solid as they hauled her toward the door. Terror seized her.

Rapid flashes of memory assailed Alice—cruel hands and rough fingers, mocking laughter, searing pain, a dim corridor.

“No! No! Not again,” Alice screamed, only vaguely aware of Jor’calla’s voice in the background; he was speaking too frantically for her to understand. She thrashed against her captors’ holds, kicking and clawing, seeking any means of escape.

They held firm, unfazed by her struggles. Her shoulders burned with the exertion, one of her nails broke, and pain radiated up from her toes as they struck solid metal, but she didn’t stop as they dragged her along the spiraling trail through the interior forest.

When they emerged from Jor’calla’s home, the woods were gloomy with approaching twilight. More of the robotic soldiers stood on either side of the purple cobblestone path, lined up in neat, mirrored rows that ignored the way the path meandered and curved.

The robots holding Alice dragged her between the lines of their fellows, toward the man standing at the end of the formation. He was tall and broad-shouldered, dressed in a long, red, double-breasted leather overcoat that had polished silver armor pieces on the shoulders and arms. The belt around his waist held a holstered gun on one hip and a sheathed sword on the other. His coat’s collar was upturned, wrapping around the back of his neck and framing his cheeks. Like the robots, he had a mark over his heart, but his was a heart—or at least the shape of one, depicted in the deepest black. It matched the black hair that hung past his shoulders in waves.

The man’s dark eyes fell on Alice as she neared.

Breath heavy and ragged, she bared her teeth and stared up at the man through the mess of her hair. His lips were curled in a self-satisfied smirk, and smugness gleamed in his eyes. He exuded the air of a powerful man—but more than that, he exuded the air of a man utterly confident in his power.

“Alice”—his smirk shifted into an unsettling grin—“I’ve finally found you.”