Alice (19 page)

At this the butterfly frantically resumed its activity. Alice closed her hand around the jar and pushed it deep inside the pocket of her pants. It felt heavier than a jar that size ought to, like it concealed something larger than a fluttering insect.

Alice sighed. Somehow things had not quite turned out as she expected. In her mind she would find the blade that defeated the Jabberwocky, and use it to vanquish him like that girl in the story who led all the soldiers. She’d thought Hatcher would be at her side, her white knight, defending her from the Jabberwocky’s armies.

Life is not much like stories,
Alice thought. Still, her life had a giant talking rabbit in it, and she didn’t think that was very common.

She had lived. Hatcher had lived, and all of their enemies were vanquished.

And she was a Magician.

Applause broke out behind her, obscene in the silence. Alice knew who it was before she turned to face him.

Hatcher had woken, and was rubbing his head and frowning at the little man who stood a few feet from him. Alice could read the thoughts that ran across his face, and saw when he decided that chopping off Cheshire’s head wasn’t worth the trouble.

“Cheshire,” Alice said. “I suppose I ought to thank you.”

“No need for thanks, no need,” Cheshire said.

“I said I ought to thank you. I didn’t say I would.”

Cheshire was not moved in the least by her rudeness. “That was just magnificent, my dear. Magnificent. And not at all what he expected, was it? Such an interesting solution.”

There was that word again—“interesting.” Alice hated being interesting.

“Just what was your stake in all this?” Hatcher asked. He joined Alice, giving her a sideways glance that told her she would pay later for putting him to sleep.

Cheshire patted his hands together, softly now. It was as if he couldn’t stop clapping, couldn’t contain his excitement.

“Why, you’ve given me the whole City on a platter,” Cheshire said, spreading his arms wider than the grin plastered on his face. “What wonderful, wonderful children you are.”

Hatcher stared. “You mean all the territories? You’re taking them now?”

“Yes, yes,” he said, and his eyes gleamed. “The Caterpillar and the Walrus and the Rabbit all fell down, like lovely little dominoes before the flick of her hand. Mr. Carpenter is nothing, nothing but a human, and he’ll be gone soon too. Theodore is seeing to that. Oh, speaking of Theodore—he was not very happy with you about Theobald, Hatcher. But I convinced him it was all for the best. Yes, all for the best.”

“Why did you send us into the maze?” Alice asked.

“Oh, just a little test. If you could survive the creature, then I was certain you’d be up to the task ahead,” Cheshire said.

“What about the mermaid?” Alice said.

“Back swimming in her lake, as she ought to be,” Cheshire said. “Her magic does not work on me, you know. It’s how I was able to take her out and deliver her to the Caterpillar in the first place. She should have remembered that.”

Alice wanted to be angry at Cheshire, but she was too tired. He’d always been interested in something besides their success; she’d known that. And he had helped—in his own strange way. Hatcher said Cheshire didn’t deal in girls, so hopefully all those girls taken would be set free to better lives.

Still, enough was enough, and Cheshire was hardly a hero. If Alice and Hatcher died it would have made little difference to him. He would have found some way to benefit.

“I wish you would stop watching us from afar,” Alice said, putting the emphasis on the first two words.

She heard a little popping noise then, like something had broken in the space between them.

Cheshire frowned. “That was not very fun of you at all, Alice. I’ve so enjoyed your adventures.”

“Yes, but they are
my
adventures,” Alice said. “And I think we will get along just fine without your assistance from now on.”

“But so many exciting things to come! The quest for Hatcher’s daughter!” Cheshire said. He sounded a little whiny now, like a child who’d been denied sweets.

“You’ll have plenty to do,” Alice said. “You won’t have time to watch us.”

She deliberately turned her back then, and started walking away. Hatcher joined her, tucking his axe away underneath his jacket.

Cheshire laughed softly behind them.

Alice couldn’t help herself. She looked over her shoulder, and saw him fading away bit by bit, until all that remained was his wide, white smile, and then that was gone too.

Hatcher didn’t speak for a long while. Alice waited for him, feeling she shouldn’t try to explain her actions unless forced to do so.

“I suppose you thought I would distract you,” Hatcher finally said.

“No,” she answered. “I was afraid the Jabberwocky would take you.”

He considered this, and then took her hand in his, squeezing it tight. “That I can understand.”

She told him then of what happened while he slept. He asked to see the jar with the Jabberwocky inside, and Alice shook her head.

“I said I wouldn’t take it out again until I’d forgotten about it, and then he would be dead. So I think it’s like a promise, or a wish, or a magic spell. He has to stay there until I forget and remember again.”

The City slowly woke up as they walked, people emerging from their homes and blinking as if seeing the sun for the first time. When they passed the square and crossed to the path where the Jabberwocky had wreaked death, they saw survivors loading bodies on carts.

“There will be a terrible burning,” Alice said. “It will draw the attention of the ministers. They will have to help people here.”

“They don’t have to do anything, Alice, if they don’t wish it,” Hatcher said.

“
I
wish it,” Alice said. “I wish the ministers would help clean up the Old City, give money and food and shelter to those that have lost theirs.”

“You’re getting quite dangerous with those wishes,” Hatcher said. “I’d best not cross you, or you’ll wish me right out of existence.”

“No,” Alice said. “I have only one wish, but it’s a secret wish, and I cannot speak it aloud.”

I wish that you will love me forever, forever and always, until the end of time.

It was a not thing to say aloud, for a wish like that shouldn’t be forced on the other. Alice was grown-up enough to know that. If he loved her, she wanted it to be because he wished it too.

He smiled then. “I have the same wish, and I’ll keep it in my secret heart, just like you.”

They reached the place where the tunnel led out of the City and slipped into the shack. Once inside, Alice hesitated.

“Should we lock the door? Block it somehow? Keep others from leaving the City?”

Hatcher considered. “It’s Cheshire’s territory now, so it’s his problem. He’s sure to plug up the hole soon. We should get away while we still can, and good luck to anyone else who stumbles onto the tunnels.”

Yes,
Alice thought.
Let as many escape as they can, if they can find this place.

She could smell the promise of green grass and sunshine, and butterflies dancing in the wind as they entered the cave.

The footprints of the girls who’d passed before them were in the dirt, and the giant paw prints of Pipkin. Alice thought she heard their laughter far ahead. She smiled at Hatcher, and started to run, her laughter chasing theirs.

“Alice!” he called, and she heard him laugh too, and the pounding of his feet, nearly upon her. “What are you doing?”

She couldn’t stop laughing, the happiness she had never hoped for overflowing in her heart. “Following the white rabbit, of course.”