Page 84 of Madness Becomes Her

Nothing.

No kitchen mice, no Hatter, nothing out of place.

I can’t help but check my room, my eyes scanning every inch as if Hatter will jump out of my dresser drawers at any second.

My heart is cinching when I hear Beau shouting my name from across the yard.

Returning, I stop dead when I see the fear in Beau’s eyes.

“What? What is it?” My voice shakes.

“Invisible monsters,” he riddles.

“Invisible, what?”

A swirl of smoke atop the table reveals Prospero, who turns and pins me with a menacing look. “Good day, Eleanor.”

“You!” I growl. “You’re the reason for everything. You tell me where Hatter is right now!”

“Start at the pink tree, turn left at the sun. When you’ve hit the mushrooms, you might’ve gone too far.” Prospero laughs, smoke billowing out of his lips before I make it to the table.

I lurch for him, my hand meaning to wrap around his throat, but he disappears in a puff of foggy smoke, a smirk on his lips.

“Now, now, now, Eleanor. Is that any way to treat someone who’s come to help you?”

“Help me?! You’re the reason for everything!”

“Am I?”

“Yes!”

“Then maybe you don’t know the entire story.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

INVISIBLE MONSTERS

“Tell me! Tell me the entire story,” I beg. “No one around here tells me a thing. I know Hatter made me leave, but you told the Red Queen where the scrolls were.”

“I did.”

“Why? Hatter said you’re his oldest friend. Were we not friends? Do you hate me?”

“I do not hate you,” he says, coming into view once more in a puff. “I have a job to do, and if the job changes, if the trajectory of what’s coming requires a change in tactics, I must abide. It’s the law of Wonderland.”

“The Red Queen has Hatter then?” I ask.

“She does.”

“Is he alright?”

Prospero inhales his pipe deeply, and I register Beau circling the table as if in thought, but I know he’s ready to leap if I need protection.

I’d hope Hatter’s oldest friend wouldn’t harm me, but in Wonderland, one never knows.

The absurdity of what my life has become is bearing down on me, feeling like a weight of delusion on my shoulders.

“Define, alright,” Prospero says.