Page 29

J EST TURNED TO H ATTA. “We must make a run for the Crossroads. The beast will be too large to follow us through.”

Cath gaped up at him, her heart squeezing tight. “You mean for us to go outside?” She turned toward Hatta, whose face was drawn, his jaw set. “Wouldn’t it be more prudent to stay put and wait for the beast to tire? Surely it will get bored and leave if it can’t get to us.”

A window at the back of the shop shattered. The Porcupine and the Bloodhound scrambled away from the scattering glass.

Two clawed fingers pushed through the destroyed window. The remaining glass shards scraped over the scaled skin as the fingers writhed and searched for a way inside, drawing charcoal-colored blood from the wounds.

Cath shuddered and pressed herself into Jest’s arms. “It can’t get to us here… can it?”

“These walls are but wood and nails, Lady Pinkerton,” Hatta said, his voice low. “The Jabberwock may not fit through the door, but it can doubtlessly open a new one.”

Her mouth dried.

The claw disappeared from the window. The shop rocked and trembled again as the monster paced to the other side of the roof. Searching. Through a gap in a set of drapes, Cath saw a slithering tail flick past .

Fear wrapped around her, encasing her limbs in stone.

She was going to die. Here, among strangers, in the middle of the night. She would be a feast for the Jabberwock, and her parents and Mary Ann would never know what had become of her.

A sudden gust through the chimney extinguished the fire that had been blazing in the corner hearth. The air filled with the smell of smoke and embers.

Hatta, the only one still sitting, pushed himself back from the table, the legs of his imitation throne scratching against the floorboards. He grabbed his cane and pressed his hat onto his head before surveying his guests. His attention landed on Jest.

“Think of it like being at home, mate,” he said.

“Haigha and I will go out first to distract the enemy with a clear target. You and Raven helm us on the sides. Protect the others while they run for the Crossroads.” His gaze slipped down to Cath and he seemed, briefly, to find something amusing in their situation. “As always, we must protect the Queen.”

Jest flinched, his fingers digging into her arms.

A deep voice rumbled across the table. “I will bring up the rear.”

Cath turned toward the Lion, who stood regal and imposing in the dim candlelight, his orange mane haloed around him, although the look was diminished by the carousel hat clopping around his head.

His tail flicked as he scanned the other creatures, all smaller than he was.

“I will not enter the Crossroads until we all are safe.”

Hatta tipped his hat. “You are a brave soldier.”

Overhead, the Jabberwock screamed again. It was followed by the sound of splintering wood and creaking nails. The walls trembled.

“Everyone into position,” Hatta yelled. “Prepare to run for the Crossroads entrance. We must move as one.”

Jest pulled back, gripping Cath’s shoulders. His brow was drawn with fear and apology, but she stopped him before he could speak .

“It was my choice to come,” she whispered. “You couldn’t have known this would happen.”

A muscle twitched in his jaw. “I will get you home safely.”

She nodded and, despite the fear coursing through her veins, she trusted him. “Impossible is your specialty.”

His eyes softened, barely covering his distress. “So it is.”

“Are we ready?” asked Hatta. He had moved toward the door, ready to pull it open. Haigha stood opposite him, his large ears quivering.

Cath glanced around. The old lady had climbed onto the Bloodhound’s back, gripping her knitting needles like daggers.

The Squirrel had taken hold of the fishbowl, with the two Goldfish cowering beneath an overturned sugar dish that had fallen inside.

The Boa Constrictor had the snoozing Dormouse cradled in his jaw.

The Parrot and Cockatoo were ready to take flight; the Chameleon had colored himself to match the grass and wildflowers of the meadow outside; the Bumblebee was brandishing his stinger; the Porcupine had puffed up his barbed quills; and the Turtle had drawn his head into his shell.

The sight of them, who had been so merry and carefree minutes before, filled Cath with dread.

“Run fast,” Jest whispered against her ear. “Head straight to the Crossroads and try to stay near the middle of the group if you can—it will be safest.”

“Why?” she said. “My life has no more value than anyone else’s.”

Jest’s eyes darkened and she thought he would refute, but he seemed to reconsider. Finally, he said, “Just hurry, and don’t look back. I’ll be right behind you.”

Cath swallowed and nodded.

His hands fell from her shoulders. Raven swooped toward them and propped himself on Jest’s shoulder.

With the bird’s ink-black feathers and Jest’s ink-black motley, they looked like shadows come to life .

“On the count of three,” said Hatta.

More scratches across the rooftop. Another scream from the monster outside.

“One.”

Jest pressed Cath forward, urging her to stand with the others.

Though her legs were shaking, she willed them to be strong as she placed herself between the Porcupine and the Bloodhound.

The gray-haired lady met her eyes and gave a nod that was perhaps meant to be comforting, though to Cath it seemed like a look passed between soldiers being sent onto a battlefield.

“Two.”

Something cracked like splitting timber—the roof being ripped from its trusses.

At the back of the group, the Lion growled.

“Three!”

Hatta yanked open the door and he and Haigha charged forward, leaping clear of the wooden steps.

Their feet thumped onto the grass outside and they took off in opposite directions—Haigha bounding full-speed toward the Crossroads, his powerful hind legs propelling him fast over the meadow, while Hatta took off toward the nearby tree cover.

He propped his hat on the tip of his cane and extended it overhead.

The shop erupted into chaos. The animals rushed out the door in a tight pack. Cath gripped her skirt and hardly realized she’d started running until there was soft ground under her feet. Ahead, she could see Haigha waving to them from the brush, coaxing them toward the entrance of the Crossroads.

A shriek rattled the meadow, followed by the beat of thunderous wings. Cath imagined the Jabberwock launching itself off the rooftop of the traveling shop and diving toward them from the sky, but she dared not look back .

The monster’s scream was met with the caw of a raven—no, two ravens—and a thrumming, rumbling roar from the Lion, and Hatta yelling something she couldn’t make out.

Cath was already out of breath, her legs shaking so hard she thought they would collapse before she reached the brush. But they didn’t. She bounded onto the pathway only a few steps behind the Bloodhound and felt an instant sense of safety from the tree cover.

Haigha stood beside a tree trunk, ushering them through the Crossroads doorway. The door was narrow, though, and after their rush from the hat shop, they had bottlenecked to a standstill.

The Squirrel and Goldfish disappeared into the shadows. The Boa Constrictor slithered through. The Bloodhound leaped across the threshold, carrying his charge to safety.

A whimper made Cath glance back.

The Turtle had frozen, not quite to the end of the clearing, and withdrawn all of his limbs into his shell. She could hear his sobs echoing from inside.

A shadow soared over him and the grasses bent back under the beat of the monster’s wings.

Cath shrank down into the shrubs, her heart throbbing, and dared to look up at the beast that had once haunted her nightmares.

Talons long as butcher knives. Slithery, writhing neck.

Burning embers in its eyes. The creature was made of inky shadows and fire and muscles trapped beneath taut, scaly skin.

Two birds were flocking around it, circling its head, trying to keep it distracted from the creatures below. Diving, clawing, then darting out of reach.

Raven … and Jest.

Hatta was standing on the far side of the clearing, his hat still perched on his cane and eyes wild. Whatever distraction he’d first offered, he’d been forgotten now .

“Get up!” the Lion yelled, pounding on the Turtle’s shell with his paw. “You’re almost there. You must keep moving!”

“I’m… too… slow,” the Turtle cried. “I’ll never… m-make it!”

“You must try!” said the Lion.

“My lady!”

Cath glanced back. Haigha was waving to her from the doorway, his red eyes large with horror. Everyone else had gone through. “Come now, quick!”

She swallowed.

Overhead, the Jabberwock shrieked. It sounded hungry. It sounded ravenous.

It dropped down and perched again on the shop, which swayed on its rickety wheels. Even in the darkness Cath could see the destruction it had wrecked upon the roof.

Something slipped over her eyes and Cath shoved it back. She’d forgotten about the chef’s hat, the one she’d chosen from Hatta’s wall. A hat for making unconventional decisions.

She took in a deep breath and searched the ground. She grabbed a long stick.

“My lady!” Haigha screamed again, but Cath ignored him as she launched herself out of the brush, charging toward the Lion and the Turtle.

The Jabberwock cried and Cath knew it had spotted her racing across the meadow.

“No!” Hatta yelled. “Over here!”

A bird cawed.

The Lion’s eyes widened in panic as Cath planted herself behind the Turtle. She angled the stick beneath his shell and jabbed him, hard.

The Turtle yelped in pain and bucked forward, scrabbling at the ground.

“Move, move, move!” Cath yelled, poking him again and again, urging him along to a chorus of whimpers and yelps. He reached the path. His flippers treaded against the brush .

“Lady!” Haigha screamed.

The scream of the Jabberwock shredded her ears. Heart in her throat, Cath spun around, gripping the stick like a sword, just in time to see the shadow of the beast soaring toward her.

Every limb tightened and she could see its neck outstretched and its fangs bared and its tongue lolling toward her—

A blur of orange flashed in her vision, mixed with a ferocious roar and a whinny of tiny horses. The Lion threw himself in front of Catherine, one massive paw lifted as if he would bat the Jabberwock out of the sky.

The monster screamed and pulled its head back, shifting so that its massive talons were extended toward them.

Cath heard the moment of impact. Flesh and bone and soft ground and a cry of pain and beating wings and a triumphant screech—and then the Jabberwock flew upward again. Its prey was caught in its claws, the tuft of the Lion’s tail dangling in the air behind it.