Chapter Fifteen

I woke up half expecting Royce to be spooning with me, but the bed was empty.

Strange.

Still dark. Royce was wrong about the long sleep. A clock glowed next to me on the nightstand.

7pm. The next day.

Never mind. I’d slept for over twenty-four hours. Royce knew his drugs.

Rolling over, I was supremely happy that he was right about right—I felt way better. Sore, yes, but bearable. Like I actually stretched without wanting to cut my arms off.

Also handy for turning on the lights. I reached over and flicked a lamp switch, but there was no sign of anyone.

Where were they?

“Royce? Gavin?” I called out.

Nothing. No one in the bathroom.

I didn’t want to overreact. For all I knew, Gavin was still dealing with logistics, and Royce was just downstairs getting a snack.

Then I was torn by two very different emotions—fear and excitement. I was worried something might have happened to them.

And I was also excited that this could be my chance. Without either of them watching over me, I could go out into the city, taste all the wonderful things the night had to offer me.

I nearly flushed with guilt. Their safety was more important.

Carefully, I stood up and worked the kinks out of my muscles, gingerly testing my ankles. Not bad. They were far less swollen and blotchy, and I wondered if I’d been so knocked out that I didn’t wake up when Royce iced them.

I looked around, searching for clues. Royce’s medical bag was open on the ground, a few shirts and some socks strewn around the carpet. That didn’t mean anything in and of itself. Royce wasn’t exactly orderly.

Down by the door, I spotted a white square of paper. A note? Not that Royce was the courteous type, but Gavin knew how I hated to be out of the loop. He might have left a message for me, just so I wouldn’t wake up and worry.

I picked up the paper and unfolded it.

In English, it just said one word: WONDERLAND. Oh, crap.

We were in trouble.

 

***

I put myself together as fast as I could—the prosthetic mask was actually helpful that way. It was easy to put on, and I didn’t have to bother fixing my makeup. My hair was a little messy, but it couldn’t be helped, and I threw on the same vomitacious pink Lolita nightmare of a dress. No time to rummage through the bags for my other stuff, and everything else I had was just as bad, anyway.

Gavin and Royce could have been taken by anyone—a local gang, by the Chaebol, by random thugs. It seemed unlikely that someone could get the drop on Gavin, but he’d been under a lot of pressure, and probably sleep deprived. Because of me, he was compromised, and that might have been his downfall.

If anything happened to him, I’d never forgive myself. That was one death that I might actually kill myself over, for penance. Some things you just can’t live through.

Slow down. I was getting ahead of myself, jumping to the worst conclusions. It might be nothing, it might be a joke. Plenty of other possibilities.

No need to panic. Right?

Down in the lobby, the front desk was unmanned. Just as well. I was rattled, and there was a good chance someone would notice. No reason to arouse more suspicion than I already had with my accent.

My accent.

Drat.

That might have done it. It was that kind of town—that’s why I was so curious about exploring. I wanted to know what was brewing underground.

I fled to the streets, and green light reflected on my skin. Big tubes of neon ran around the building and bright little flower shapes decorated the walls in between the glowing lines. It was supposed to look fancy, but the conflicting primary colors just made it look that much more trashy.

My kind of decorations, when I was in the mood, but there was no time to appreciate the architecture. I had to find the guys.

Adjacent to the hotel, a particularly grimy bar teemed with patrons. Seemed like a good place to start, but damn if I wasn’t dressed incorrectly. I was in no mood for smacking away lecherous men, and this outfit was a sticky flytrap for groping hands, but it couldn’t be helped.

I stood up tall and put my shoulders back, ready to do business. I knew how to manage these types of crowds, girly dress or not, and I’d find the information I needed.

As soon as I stepped inside, my nose filled with all the scents of an old Korean bar—stale beer, pungent soju, fried foods, sweat. The air conditioning wasn’t great, and all those smells mixed with the strong humidity. The loud crowd didn’t seem deterred by the heat.

Not a bad place, all in all. I could get into it. If I took over the place, I would have done a few things different with the décor, done a little scrubbing here and there. I swear, just because something is low-rent doesn’t mean it has to be dirty. If I had more time, I would have asked around, tried to get a bead on who was running games out of here, because I knew they had to be happening.

But I was on a mission.

I strode right up to the bar, ignoring all the looks and suggestive comments. I felt like a big piece of bait in a very full fishpond, but that could work to my advantage.

The bartender slid over to me like a magnet. “How can I help you?” he said in Korean. At least he still thought I was Korean. In the Lolita getup, I thought he might mistake me for being Japanese. My Japanese wasn’t great, and I didn’t feel like trying to play that game tonight. Hard enough just trying to pull off being Korean.

“First, I need a bottle of soju,” I said. No one would take me seriously if I didn’t have a drink. Plus, soju sounded excellent.

He was fairly handsome—tall, glossy black hair that swept down across his forehead, like a young boy band member. He plunked down a green bottle of soju and a small glass.

I didn’t bother with the glass and just chugged from the bottle.

Having Royce missing did have its advantages.

The bartender looked at me with a certain amount of curiosity and respect. Slurping soju from the bottle wasn’t polite, but this didn’t look like the kind of place that cared.

Liquor in my veins.

Neon in my eyes.

A questionable bar that I knew was hiding some secrets.

If our lives weren’t in danger, it could have been the beginning to an amazing night.

I swallowed the last sip of soju, banged the bottle down on the bar, and pulled the note out of my pocket. With the bartender still watching me, I wiggled the paper in the air.

“I need some information,” I said.

He raised an eyebrow. “What do you need?” he said like it wasn’t really an odd request to get around here.

I unfolded the note and slid it across the bar.

His eyes got bigger.

Jackpot.

“Where did you get that?” he said.

I folded the paper again and held it in my palm.

“What is it?” I said, smart enough to not say the name out loud.

“You don’t know?” he said. I guess if you got a piece of paper like that, you should already know what you were dealing with.

“Not a clue, buddy. I’m going to need your help.”

“Why did you come here?” he said.

“Lucky guess.”

“Just a minute,” he said, clearly nervous. He knocked over a stack of soju bottles, not bothering to pick them up before trotting into the back.

Still a little groggy, I tried to stay on high alert. If this was the wrong place to ask about the note, things were about to get really hairy. And I didn’t have Gavin to run security for me.

Gavin. Still hard to believe that someone had gotten the best of him. Unless he was grossly outnumbered, Gavin should have come out on top in nearly any fight. He’s good. He’s ruthless, but someone might have had been able to overpower him.

And if that was true, they were dangerous people indeed.

The bartender came back a minute later, flushed, twitchy. “You. You have to come with me.”

I crossed my arms. “I don’t have to do anything.” I shook the note. “Are you going to take me here?”

“Please follow me. Quietly.”

Which meant that someone was threatening him. If I didn’t follow him, he was in for a world of pain.

Fortunately for him, that’s exactly where I wanted to go.

Down the rabbit hole.

***

Down in a tunnel, not unlike the Undergrid part of Pasadena, I followed the nervous bartender through a maze of passages. But unlike the Pasadena Undergrid, this place wasn’t dim at all. Every single tunnel was a blazing crime scene of neon abuse. Wall to wall with glowing tubes and gratuitous designs—hearts, stars, flowers, words written in Hangul—the neon mess littered the passageways.

And it was totally amazing. If I had to live in a godforsaken tunnel, this wouldn’t be a bad way to go about it.

We must have walked the equivalent of several city blocks, and my ankles were not happy about that, but I couldn’t let it show. No limping. I was about walk into a den of trouble, and that wouldn’t do. Time to suck it up and hope the last dregs of the narcotics held out long enough to rescue Royce and Gavin.

We finally came to a door, but unlike the entrance to Caramel and Gideon’s lair, it was just your average wooden door. Slightly worn, not fortified.

That meant they weren’t worried about invasions. At all.

Come right in.

Caveat emptor.

I liked that audacity.

Over the door, in English it said:

WONDERLAND.

Before my skittish guide could knock on the door or signal someone on the other side, I tapped him on the shoulder.

“Can you tell me who I’m meeting? A name?”

He stared at me. “You really don’t know?”

“Do I look like I’m clued in here?”

Eyes big, hands twitching, he said, “Alice. Alice is waiting for you.”

Curiouser and curiouser.