Ensnared (9 page)

Hubert’s eyes narrow—curious and hate-filled.

“
Eggs
Benedict.” I point to a picture on the menu. “Poached eggs. Canadian bacon. Hollandaise sauce and an English muffin. And I’d like a side of fruit.”

He snatches the menu, then scribbles my order on his pad.

“Also, for the record,” I add, shifting my attention to the glaring netherling patrons, “I’m here to open the portals and the rabbit hole again. The wraiths misunderstood me and sealed up everything.” I shudder a little at the thought of the nightmarish phantom creatures and their ear-gutting wails. “I’m going to reverse it all. I’m here to make things better.”

“Of course,” Hubert scoffs. “Just like Red was going to make Wonderland
better
. But hers was a warped idea of improvement as well. She even took up with a human and started spouting off things better left secret.”

A strange intuition pecks at my brain. “What human?”

“His name was Dodgson. Known by most of your kind as that author fellow . . . Lewis Carroll.”

I press my spine into my chair and stare at Hubert in disbelief. “You’re trying to tell me that Queen Red knew Lewis Carroll. Personally.
Before
Alice Liddell ever found her way to Wonderland.”

Hubert’s yellow gaze darkens like dried yolks. “As I heard it, Red put on the glamour of a male professor and befriended Dodgson at some fancy university here in Oxford. They had endless philosophical discussions about a magical realm and where there might be an entrance. Red helped Dodgson come up with a mathematical formula to find the longitude and latitude of the gateway. It’s how Dodgson discovered this inn. Perchance you should question Rabid, seeing as he was a part of it all and is
your
royal advisor now.” The egg-man purses his mouth and taps his lip. “Oh, wait. He’s stuck in Wonderland, and there isn’t any way there or out, thanks to you. So I guess we’ll never know.”

He wobbles away on his praying-mantis limbs, leaving my mind reeling.

I don’t allow guilt to surface this time. I’m too intent on this new development. Hubert’s explanation supports my dad’s claim that Charles knew about the entrance to Wonderland
before
Alice fell down the rabbit hole. But why would Red plant the possibility of such a place in Charles Dodgson’s mind to begin with? Why would she
want
him to find Wonderland?

Dad’s voice breaks through my thoughts and I look up. He’s on the restaurant level. Hubert stands between him and Uncle Bernie. The egg-man jots something on his notepad, taking Dad’s order. The moment the inn’s owner totters to the kitchen, Dad slaps his brother’s back. They part ways, Uncle Bernie returning to the pit and Dad headed toward me.

Frowning, I spin my fork on the table. Soft candlelight reflects off the prongs as I try to wrap my head around the Charles Dodgson twist.

“What are you thinking about?” Dad tugs gently on one of my side braids.

“Nothing.” Until I can make sense of this information, it’s not worth sharing.

Dad drops into his chair and rubs his thumb over the dimple in his freshly shaved chin, as if debating whether to press the subject.

“You were amazing out there,” I say to distract him.

He grins and dabs sweat from his face with his napkin. “It all just came back to me. Like riding a bike.” He gestures toward the kitchen. “The egg-fellow is putting a rush on our meals. We have to leave within the hour.” He casts a side-glance to the netherling guests who are leaving.

“Okay. What’s the plan?” I slide the basket of bread to Dad.

He takes a bite of a roll. “It’s the changing of the guards this evening. Bernard is going in. He can assure us safe passage through the infinity mirrors, in case I’m rusty at pinpointing the portal. But we’ll still have to make it through the gate.” The worry lines on his forehead indicate there’s something more.

“Did Uncle Bernie tell you what happens if we get turned away?” I venture, letting the
that we’ll become mutants
go unspoken.

Dad glances down. “He didn’t have to. I remember.”

I cringe. He’s no doubt witnessed something or someone becoming a looking-glass reject. Skin prickling under my tunic, I slide my half-full glass of water his way.

Dad takes several sips. “If you’re worried about mutations, that’s only a danger where the passage connects to the tulgey wood. It’s a result of being swallowed then forcibly coughed out of a tulgey’s throat, and is only a danger to those with magic in their blood.
Humans are immune.” A troubled furrow crosses his brow as it hits him that the immunity doesn’t apply to me.

“It’s okay, Dad. “I pat his hand. “We don’t need to take that gate until we leave AnyElsewhere.”

“And then we’ll be trekking out in reverse, so you’ll be safe.”

I shouldn’t be surprised at how convoluted the rules are. Nothing about Wonderland is simple.

“Now, about the gate that bridges the human world.” He taps his fingers on the glass. “It has an eye. My family made a treaty with it, a century ago. The terms are it will let two guards in and two out at each change. Bernard and my cousin Phillip are the two knights going in. They have to smuggle you and me with them. If the gate catches them, it will strike us all dead.”

My whole body goes rigid.
Nice.
I’ve not only endangered my loved ones and all of Wonderland’s occupants, but also the uncle I’ve barely known for two hours and a second cousin I’ve never met. It seems senseless. “If the gate is so formidable, why are knights even necessary? Why should any of you put yourself in danger?”

Dad takes another gulp of water. “There were once two eyes, one that watched whoever went in, and one that kept track of who tried to get out. But the eyes fought for power instead of working together. The one on the outside managed to kill the other, not realizing it would leave a blind spot inside. That’s where we come in. We monitor the looking-glass world for anyone trying to escape.”

I raise my eyebrows. It’s such a wonder, how humans have been living alongside a magical world for years, yet most have no clue.

“One last thing,” Dad says. “My brother says that for the first time, there’s someone in AnyElsewhere wielding magic in spite of
the iron dome. It’s made changing guards complicated over the past month. They usually switch once every two weeks. But the only contact they’ve had with the knights at the Wonderland gate are messages via their mechanical passenger pigeons. The guards always pack extra supplies as a precaution, but they’re about to run out. Whoever’s wielding this magic, they’re powerful enough to shake up the landscapes and confuse things. Those kinds of theatrics aren’t very popular. The prisoners are angry and jealous. We could be going into a battle zone.”

My shoulders tense. Even though it’s not the first time I’ve stepped into otherworldly unrest, this news catches me off guard. “I thought I’d be the only one who could use magic.”

“Yeah. Me, too.” Dad drops a crescent-shaped piece of bread into his mouth and chews while unutterable fears move across his face like storm clouds.

“What if it’s Red?” I blurt.

“Using her magic? How?”

“I don’t know. But the timing has to be more than a coincidence. Maybe she’s immune to the iron since technically she’s using the zombie flower’s body.” I shut my eyes against the image. I won’t back down. I’m done running from her, from my destiny and my mistakes. One way or another, her reign of terror is about to come to an end.

Dad grabs my hand. I open my eyes to find his eyelid twitching.

“You still haven’t told me why you were in a room on the train with her name etched on a plaque.” His fingers tighten around mine. “I don’t want you stirring up trouble. She’s been dealt justice. She’s where she belongs. We’re going to go in, get Jeb, and go out the
Wonderland gate. No interactions with anyone or anything other than that. And for sure no getting sidetracked with revenge or old debts. Okay?”

The diary on my neck feels as heavy as a brick in spite of its teensy size. There’s more to this mission. We’re rescuing someone else, too. I’m not leaving AnyElsewhere without three things: Morpheus, Jeb, and the total annihilation of Red.

Dad swallows the last of the water. “Allie, give me an answer. We need to be straight with one anoth—”

A clatter of dishes stops Dad in mid-statement as Hubert sets down our steaming food along with water and a cup of coffee for Dad. The netherling glares at me before starting toward the kitchen.

“Great tableside manner,
Eggbert
,” I say, louder than I should.

Dad grimaces as our host stops mid-step and totters around, his white shell warming to red beneath his beaded bedazzlements.

“Next I see
you
”—Hubert points his tray at me—“you’ll either be in a coffin, or be banished from your kingdom for your irresponsible actions. Enjoy your last meal here as the reigning Red Queen, either way.”

He leaves Dad and me to eat in the abandoned dining room, the metallic clang of swordplay from the pit hanging between us like a razor-sharp death knell.

While Dad goes with Uncle Bernie to collect weapons and practice a few more fencing moves, I wander the halls in search of Chessie.

I’m afraid to call his name aloud, considering Hubert’s reaction to me and how so many netherling guests share his prejudice. Instead, I call to Chessie in my mind, hoping I have the ability like Morpheus does. Hoping it’s a netherling talent I can master.

A door opens and I duck into the shadows. A maid comes out, pushing a cleaning cart. Ski-shaped runners provide momentum in place of wheels, so the cart moves smoothly over the cushioned floor. A combination of ground pepper and cleaning products stings my nostrils as she passes by.

The maid’s profile reminds me of a bulldog—complete with a flat, wet muzzle that causes her to snort with each breath. Her body resembles a pig’s, aside from her lobster-claw hands. Tufts of fur speckle her greenish cheeks, elbows, and knees from beneath a short-aproned uniform.

On her cart, three transparent hooded coveralls are crumpled in a pile, revealing subtle folds and pleats that disrupt the atmosphere. It looks like Bill the Lizard is sending his simulacrum suits out for cleaning.

“It connects with the wearer’s mind and reflects their surroundings. Observers are deluded into seeing only the body parts that are bared. . . . Comes in handier than you’d think.”

Yeah, I bet it does, Hubert. If Dad and I were invisible, it would be easy to smuggle us into AnyElsewhere’s gate. And since we’re going into a war zone, we could use some camouflage.

I fall into line behind the maid, debating how to get the suits. I might have to resort to magic.

“Excuse me,” I say softly.

She turns, snarling. Embossed letters glimmer on her brassy name tag:
Duchess.
Come to think of it, she does favor the duchess sketch from my mom’s
Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland
book. I’m not sure why a duchess is cleaning rooms at an inn. Unless I got her stuck here, too. In which case it’s better not to introduce myself.

“What do you want?” Her question is more of a growl. Her teeth remind me of peppercorns, just like those of the piggish creature I met at the Feast of Beasts last year: the duchess’s son. He gave us the pepper to wake the tea party guests. The family resemblance is unmistakable.

“I could use some clean towels,” I say. While she’s distracted with the lower shelf, I’ll snag the suits from the top and run.

“These are velvet robes, not towels. Complimentary to our most valued customers. The boss keeps count of them. If any go missing, they come out of my paycheck.” She waves me away with her feather duster.

I catch the feathers and she clamps the handle, engaging in a tug-of-war.

“Your boss wouldn’t mind if you give me one,” I insist. “We’ve become fast friends.” The lie sounds as stale as it tastes on my tongue, but it doesn’t matter because a cloud of orange, glittery mist appears behind the maid’s shoulder—silent and stealthy. Before Chessie’s body even materializes, I know it’s him.

I bite back a smile. He
did
hear me.

I send a silent explanation of what I’m after and Chessie bows, grinning that wide, mischievous smile. He’s always ready to leap into the thick of things without question, just for the fun of it. No wonder Morpheus considers him a worthy sidekick.

“About the robes,” I say to the piggish maid. “I only need one. You can just tell Hubert it sprouted legs and walked away.” I give Chessie a subtle nod. With a swish of orange and gray stripes, he tunnels into the pile of folded velvet robes on the corner of her cart.

“Do I look asleep to you?” the duchess asks me.

“No. Why?”

“Because the saying goes, ‘Let sleeping dogs lie.’ Well, I’m not asleep, so I don’t intend to lie.” She jerks the feather duster from my grasp. “Now, off with you.”

The instant the “off with you” escapes her mashed-in muzzle, a
velvety robe scurries across the floor, long sleeves draped behind. The maid yelps, her orange eyes bouncing from me to the escaping robe.

“Looks like you won’t be lying after all,” I say.

She throws down her duster and gives chase. The robe floats like a magic carpet with Chessie propelling it underneath. The maid has to get on all fours to catch up.