Alice jerked to a sitting position, tired and just this side of pissy. Sunlight poured in through the window. She glanced around—her room was the same as it’d ever been.
Just a dream. Maybe she’d call in sick. A horrible thing to do to Tabby, and it was only the second day of her grand cupcakery opening.
With a loud sigh, she got up and headed to the shower. But when she reached the bathroom door, there was no bathroom. It was the most enormous and empty walk-in closet she’d ever seen. It stretched for miles.
Not a dream. Or a dream within a dream. She thought of Hatter and her pulse sped. Where was he? Was he thinking about her?
She glanced down. She didn’t want him to see her in the same clothes, but there was nothing here. She wished she had some clothes, something sexy, something that would forever erase any memory of her great-grandmother from his mind.
And this time when she glanced up, a crushed velvet gown hung from a hanger in a shade of burgundy so deep it almost resembled blood. Velvet dresses had always made her think of fake wigs and hideous dollar-store Halloween costumes. Plus it looked several inches too long, but... She shrugged and slipped it off its rack. Beggars couldn’t afford to be picky. It was either this or wear the same thing for three days.
She wrinkled her nose at the thought, took her clothes off, and was pulling the sleeves on when she grumbled, “Give anything for a toothbrush and shower right about now.”
No sooner had the words left her mouth than her tongue tingled with the sharp nip of mint. Her body shone with a wet sheen, and the scent of flowers filled the room.
She hadn’t bathed, and yet she was clean. Man, if she could patent this back home, she’d make a killing.
The dress was a perfect fit. But she didn’t question it—it was Wonderland, and nothing seemed to follow any conventional rules of reason. Most especially when it came to the Hatter.
The dress fell to midthigh. Thankfully, she had great legs. Her stomach fluttered, and she wished she had a mirror.
A displaced shiver of air brushed against her back.
She turned and there was a mirror. Suddenly she wondered, was Wonderland responding? Was the wind right now humming and the land rolling? She strained to listen, but there was nothing but empty silence.
Her heart sank, and she shook her head. Silly Alice... hoping for what couldn’t be. Of all the Alices in the world, there was no way she’d be his perfect match. The odds were more astronomical then winning the lottery ten times straight. In all of history, she was his Alice. The thought gave her a pang, and she had to take several deep breaths before she could shrug it off.
Alice studied her reflection. The dress was tight but comfortable, though she didn’t like the sleeves. Instantly they vanished, exposing the long, lean muscle of her bare arms.
“It would look a lot better with a choker collar.” The fabric moved, sliding up her neck until it resembled the choker she’d requested.
She pointed her toes. He’d put her in heels last night. “Thigh-high boots.” The softest black suede she’d ever felt in her life suddenly hugged her legs. A stupid, wide grin covered her face from ear to ear.
This was crazy. She was crazy. Paris Hilton, eat your heart out. Free clothes—it was enough to make her head spin with dizzy possibilities.
Alice had gone through a Goth phase in a high school, much to her mother’s everlasting shame. She’d even managed to sneak an Alice-dress replica to prom. She’d poofed her black hair and touched up her face with a light tint of lip gloss and a few strokes of mascara. A large black-and-white-striped bow was the only accessory she’d worn. Rather than make her look like a Lolita, the effect had been stunning.
That’d been the night boys had finally started noticing her. Overnight, she’d turned from the nerd carrying around the worn Alice in Wonderland book to the hot nerd carrying around a worn copy of Wonderland. It’d also been the night of her first real kiss.
Clinton Issac. Tall soccer player. Gorgeous, and with the cutest dimple in his right cheek. She’d closed her eyes, puckered her lips, and the rest was a gross blur of slobber and sweaty hands trying to unclasp her bra.
Gross kiss notwithstanding, she wondered if lightning would strike twice. She bit the corner of her lip and wished.
A large, stylish bow materialized in the palm of her hand, a small blood ruby winking from its center. She slipped it on, her stomach a nervous mass of butterflies. What would the Hatter think of her now?
Two days left.
Feeling like she might puke, she walked out, not knowing what she’d see today. Now that she was here, she was ready and willing to embrace the impossible.
The hallway was just a regular hallway. She frowned, disappointed for a quick second that it all seemed so mundane. There were no empty frames on the wall, no vines appearing like slow-moving snakes. Instead, the walls were painted with fresco designs, a carnival at night, its neon lights aglow.
She narrowed her eyes and walked to the wall. It all looked so real, and when she closed her eyes, she couldn’t help imagining the happy roar of a crowd. The sway of rides. For a moment, she could almost smell the greasy whiff of corn dogs and funnel cake. Her stomach rumbled, snapping her instantly back to reality.
Food. Time for food. Lots of it. With a little sigh, she turned on her heel—and smacked head-on into an unmovable wall.
“Oww.” She rubbed her forehead.
Hatter chuckled, and the vibrations that laugh sent through her body weakened her knees. His hands slid down her arms, and his touch was like fire. Her skin prickled as every cell became hyperaware of his proximity.
“You look...”
Her stomach flopped. Did he like it? She held her breath.
Then the heat in his glance died, leaving his eyes cold and distant. “Hungry.”
The switch was almost too abrupt to follow. Hungry? She screwed her face up. “What?” After all the time she’d taken with her appearance—that was all he had to say to her? What about that initial heat, the look that said he wanted to turn out all the lights and do naughty things to her? She stifled a sigh of frustration. She wanted that heat back.
“I’ve not fed you well.” His deep voice rumbled.
She should be more than annoyed. She’d dressed up for him, tried her best to turn his head, and all he could talk about was food. In high school, that sort of passive-aggressive rejection would have sent her scurrying back to her Wonderland book, too embarrassed to try again.
She pressed her lips together. That was the old Alice. The Alice who had been convinced by friends and family that her dreams were all just that—dreams. This Alice knew better. She knew her dream was real—he was standing right in front of her. And she wasn’t giving up without a fight.
He waited, a strange wariness in his dark eyes.
“I think food is a great idea. I’m starving.”
She didn’t think he was aware of the way his body heaved a gentle sigh as the tension flowed out of his bones. She wasn’t sure how he’d expected her to react, but she was glad she hadn’t given voice to her annoyance over his less-than-desirable reaction to her attire. There would be plenty of time to be alluring later.
Besides, when he smiled like that, her heart did a crazy tilt that left her feeling almost breathless. He really was gorgeous. She let him take her hand.
He led her back down the hall, and then they were there. Wherever there was. They were still in the cottage, she supposed, as they’d never actually walked out... and yet she was now in a garden.
She glanced behind her, staring back into the hallway, and shook her head with a tiny shrug.
A sturdy white tea table sat in the middle of a large swath of sunlight, bathing the garden in a heated, buttery glow. Roses, dripping with scent and a multitude of colors, covered the garden from the ground up. Tiny yellow butterflies flapped lazy wings from petal to petal. It felt like stepping through a Monet.
She smiled and clasped her clammy hands together. “High tea?”
He shoved blunt fingers through his thick wavy hair, his posture unsure as he nodded. “If that’s okay?”
Alice was proud of herself for not hopping and skipping around like Tweedledee and Tweedledum. She sat, trying to look elegant, but she was afraid that with the way she was dressed, she looked more like the best friend in Pretty Woman. Lowbrow hoochie, though the heat returning to his eyes made her think... maybe he didn’t mind?
Dainty trays of food manifested, filling the tabletop to capacity. Tea cakes, finger sandwiches, salad, fruit, and cheese cubes as far as her eye could see.
She groaned, mouth salivating at the sight.
Two teapots appeared. Hatter grabbed the one with steam rising from its spout and poured a generous amount of the amber liquid into her cup. The heady aroma of anise and five-spice curled under her nose like a fog bank. She inhaled, taking the scent deep. Like a fine wine, it flooded her senses.
“Thank you.” She grinned, adding, “I feel like I should be wearing gloves and a bonnet or something.”
Cream lace gloves, with a string of small pearls laced at the side, appeared next to her hand. She snorted. “I have got to watch what I say here.”
He glanced at the gloves, staring at them so hard she was sure he’d say something. But he didn’t. Instead, he dropped a sugar cube into his tea and nodded toward the bowl.
“Yes, one, please.” Her voice quivered a little. The cube dropped into her cup with a soft plop, disappearing in moments. Alice slipped the fingerless gloves on, just to have something to do, and nodded. “Am I decent?”
His brows lowered. “For what?”
“For tea, of course.” She rolled her eyes, laughing.
The cup in his hand paused at chest level. “I wouldn’t know. Tea is just tea.” He shrugged and then sipped.
Embarrassed, she pressed her lips together. “Of course.” Suddenly she felt ridiculous in the gloves, in the dress, in the top hat that’d appeared from thin air atop her head. It was silly of her to get so excited. Just because this was straight out of her favorite scene from Alice in Wonderland. Just because it was the scene where she’d always felt the Hatter’s presence the strongest. She swallowed the tea but hardly tasted it. This was so stupid, so impossible.
“But...”
Alice hated that her heart fluttered. She didn’t want to care. Damn him, how many times would he make her feel like a fool?
“You look very good to me.”
Her gaze shot up, locking onto his. His compliment echoed in her ears, and she suddenly realized she was smiling. Pathetic—she was so pathetic. She hadn’t been a virgin for some time, and yet right now her stomach tickled and her knees knocked. He made her feel like she was back in high school, gazing adoringly at Clinton Issac, waiting for the day he’d finally notice her. All over one little compliment.
Her smile wilted at the edges. Clinton had been an awful disappointment. She swept her eyes over Hatter’s face. Would he be too?
“What’s your real name?” She hadn’t meant to ask him that, but it just sort of plopped out of her mouth. He looked at her, head cocked. Her eyes widened and heat rose in her cheeks. “I’m sorry, I don’t know where that—”
He held a long-fingered hand up. Her stomach dove, remembering the feel of those hands on her body last night. How those hands had dipped lower on her waist until, for a moment, she’d thought he’d grab her. Pinch, knead, do something. Fire licked her veins, and she guzzled more of the tea, eyes burning as the hot liquid scalded her throat.
He gave her a weak grin. “The longer I stay, the less I know. Hatter? Mad Hatter? T. T.” He shook his head and stared at his hands as if he could divine the truth of the universe from them. He growled and rubbed his eyes. “I... can’t remember. Too long ago.”
She was sorry she’d asked him. A frown tugged at the corners of his full lips. She wanted to smooth the anxious lines between his eyes. Instead, she plucked at the hem of her dress.
“The longer you stay? What do you mean?”
He looked up, butter knife held loosely in his hand. The smile she’d glimpsed only last night, the real one, the one that peeked out when he wasn’t afraid to relax, came out for a fleeting moment.
“I was a man once.”
She lifted a brow and gave him a knowing grin. “Oh, I think you’re still a man.”
His lips twitched. “This”—he gestured, indicating their surroundings—“this is all an illusion. Frightening fragments of time and space, magic, moment, memory. Thoughts tumbling, tumbling down.” His eyes grew distant, and she knew she was losing him to the thoughts in his head. She tapped his arm, bringing his eyes back to her with a jerk.
“Illusion? Madness? This place doesn’t seem so mad.”
Hair slipped into his eyes. Emboldened, she reached up and patted it back.
He stilled. She curled her fingers into a fist that she brought quickly back to her lap. “What I mean is”—her words faltered only a little—“I love this place.”
“Why?” The question tore from someplace deep inside him. She sensed his desperate desire to understand her, understand why she felt as she did.
“There’s magic here, and rooms that lead to nothing. Clocks that tick in perpetual motion, flowers that come alive at my touch, and...” There’s you... She looked down, distracting herself by taking a bite of the lemon-curd-laden scone. The sweet tang tingled her tongue and she moaned, a little jealous at his cook’s ability to make such delicious curd. Her stuff was good, but this was like biting into a lemon plucked fresh from a tree with a drizzle of sugar on top.
“So good,” she cooed.
She felt his gaze like a brand. “What was the last part you did not speak?”
He’d caught that. She wiggled, took a deep breath, and gathered her courage.
“I want to know you, Hatter. Is that so strange?”
“Yes.”
She licked her lips, the tip of her tongue swiping up a crumb from the corner of her mouth. His eyes homed in like a beacon and it was unnerving, exhilarating. She touched her chest, feeling suddenly very hot.
“What am I to you? You do not know me.” His voice dripped scorn, anger, and something else. Hope? Maybe.
She drummed her nails on the table. She knew he liked his poems. Pride shaded the corners of his lips when he threw out a particularly obscure one.
His hands were long, fingers strong and firm. There was strength in those hands; she’d felt them tighten at her waist. He wasn’t an idle man with hands like that. Many might be tempted to think he drank tea all day and guzzled wine all night. Mad as a Hatter, they all said, but though at times he seemed to lose touch with reality, there was a hawk’s gaze behind those eyes. A quickness that saw more in a blade of grass than many could read within the pages of a book.
And the hell of it was she didn’t know how she knew that. She just did. Alice had dreamed of him for years, talked to him, told him her most cherished and heartfelt dreams, knowing in her child’s heart that he heard her, understood her, and knew her just as well.
“I know we have two days, Hatter.” She did not wish to give him hope. She had a life she needed to get back to. Responsibilities. She had a shoppe to run, and Tabby was probably crazy with worry. Not to mention her mother and father were probably, even now, calling every cop on the island to do a thorough search for their missing daughter. They’d all think something horrible had happened to her.
Somehow, someway, she’d figure out how to save Hatter, how to get Wonderland to accept her. But she couldn’t stay permanently. If there was some way to hop between realms, that could be a definite possibility. But she had to go back eventually.
The light in his eyes dimmed and he sat back, staring out at the garden with unseeing eyes.
Her fingers shook as she reached for a small bowl of grapes. “The food is wonderful,” she said, desperate to get him to look back at her. She hated to see the sadness touch his eyes.
“Leonard will be pleased.”
Her lips quirked and she glanced around. A tiger-striped butterfly touched down on the table. Its gossamer wings moved gracefully. The animals and flowers were so normal today. She’d kind of hoped for more, maybe a butterfly with pats of butter for wings or rocking-horse flies. Of course, that had been a cartoon, and she shouldn’t have gotten her hopes up. “I’d like to tell him thanks. I know I love it when a customer tells me that.”
He nodded, tapping the other teapot on the table. “Leonard, awake. Alice wishes to thank you.”
Shock made her drop the succulent red grape an inch from her mouth as the furry head of a tiny mouse popped head out.
“Oh my gosh!” She squeaked. “A mouse. A... a—”
The food that’d settled in her stomach with the sweetness of sun-warmed honey suddenly felt like a brick. She breathed hard around the gag.
He rubbed black little eyes, large ears twitching as he looked around with a furtive sneer. “Mice!” His high-pitched squeak matched her own. “Where? A pox on them.” The teapot rocked precariously as he shook a tiny fist. His nose wrinkled at a furious pace. “Nasty, flea-ridden vermin they are! And in me garden no less.”
Huh? She looked at Hatter. What was... Didn’t the mouse know... he was the mouse?
Hatter patted Leonard’s head with the indulgent grin of a proud parent. “Leonard’s my chef and friend. Are you not, wee one?”
His voice had gone soft, gentle. The cadence left her spellbound, watching as a shaft of light suddenly filtered through a hole in a fluffy white cloud, illuminating his features. He looked like an angel.
But only the fallen would make her feel the sudden violent lust rushing hot through her veins. She swallowed hard.
“Righto, guv’nor,” Leonard chirped. “Indeed.” Black beady eyes glanced up at her.
Alice tried to see him as Hatter did. Soft brown fur, long whiskers twitching with each breath. The little eyes turned soft, filled with light as he reached his hand out to her. “Oh aye, Yer Majestic Hatter, she is a lovely one. Ain’t she?”
His hand was still open, plump pink fingers curled toward her, and she realized he wanted to shake hands. She smiled. He really was kind of cute. Alice gave him her finger and he shook it.
“I loved your food, Leonard.”
He beamed, winked at Hatter as if to say I told you so, and turned back to her.
“I’m a bit of a foodie myself,” she said.
“Are ye now?” Leonard twitched in delight. “And do ye prefer the sweet to the savory, as I do?”
“She owns a cupcakery.” She glanced up at Hatter, who’d answered for her. “The creations would make you green with envy.”
How did he know that about her? Had all the other Alices baked too? She bit her tongue at the irritating thought.
Leonard gave her a sage nod of respect. “As they should. As they should.” He raised his arms high above his head, exposing sharp teeth and a pink tongue as he gave a mighty yawn. He smacked his lips and patted his head. “Perhaps, Alice girl, we’ll swap recipes.”
“Did you make the curd too?”
For a second the sleep left his eyes, and he nodded. “Me mum’s recipe, God rest ’er soul.”
“Best I’ve ever had.”
“True enough.” The little mouse accepted the compliment with the air of one who knew they weren’t idle words, tapped the side of his nose, and then yawned again. “Had meself a frightfully long night, miss. Apologies.” He slurred the last and then sank gracefully back down into the pot.
She giggled. “What in the world could keep a mouse up all night?” She looked at Hatter, and the laughter died in her throat. He was giving her that look again.
The look that stripped away all pretense, that said he was looking at her soul. A woman could melt into that look, lose herself and never find her way back home. She gripped the edge of the table.
“Have you eaten enough, Alice?”
She shivered. She was warm, but not because of the sun. His voice, rough, scratchy, set her body on edge. Alice nodded, not able to speak.
“Come.” He pushed away from the table and held his hand out to her.
Holding his hand felt as natural now as breathing. Trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, she moved into step with him, getting inside his bubble just so that she could feel the heat from his body.
His jaw tightened, but he didn’t move away.
“Where are we going?”
He was leading them deeper into the garden; a black wrought iron fence in the distance drew closer. The garden slowly morphed from swaying flowers to towering tree trunks whose overhanging branches obscured the sky.
The moment they stepped through the gate, it was like someone had grabbed an enormous window shade and drawn it across the sky. The sunlight melted into moon glow. Stars studded the sky like thousands of glinting diamonds. The royal-blue veil of the heavens was broken only by an occasional fluffy white cloud floating past. The night smelled of heat and exotic spices. Somewhere, frogs croaked a gentle song.
She shivered. “Where are you taking me?”
He glanced at her from the corner of his eyes. Her heart thudded. “A secret,” was all he said.
It was becoming hard to remember why she needed to go home. Why staying here was a bad idea. When he looked at her like that, like she was a precious jewel and he was the dragon sworn to protect it, she forgot lots of things.
Something in her recognized that for the first time, she was truly beginning to feel alive. That the world before was the dream and this one was the truth. That she’d finally come home. Scary how good the thought was.
A small clearing opened up, revealing a placid lake that stretched a good distance in every direction. Bugs darted and zipped over calm water while small bubbles popped at the surface. Cattails swayed gently.
“It’s beautiful.”
He shook his head. “Not this.”
It was on the tip of her tongue to ask him what, but he was already leading them straight toward the water, splashing in, and giving her no choice but to follow. She braced for the cold, but it never came. It was warm, soothing. They sank in, water covering their heads. She held her breath.
Everything was black. How long would she have to hold her breath? Did he know where they were going? She looked around, searching for a cave, an opening with a pocket of air. Trying to stave off the panic, she hoped it wouldn’t be too much longer. He wouldn’t hurt her. He might want to, but he wouldn’t. She knew that, trusted that, felt it in the depths of her soul.
They sank deeper and deeper, and she was growing more and more dizzy
She tried to yank her wrist out of his hand; she needed to get back to the surface. Air was a desperate need now, her body shaking and her throat on fire. A blue glow radiated in a flash around them. He looked at her and frowned.
“Alice?” The glow added shadow to hollows, giving him a sinister appearance. “You can breathe here.” He demonstrated by inhaling deeply.
Her lungs burned. They were empty, deprived of sweet oxygen. She’d never gone more than thirty seconds at the beach without gulping for air. Black dots swam in her vision.
She wanted to trust him so badly.
He shook her shoulders, wearing a frantic look. “Do it, damn you, breathe!”
And then the matter was out of her hands. Instinct took over and she sucked, waiting for fluid to fill her lungs. Drown her.
It was thicker than air, but clean, fresh, with a hint of salty brine. She could breathe. She sucked in harder, greedy for more. And then she laughed a desperate choking sound of disbelief. “I’m breathing water.”
He closed his eyes for a brief moment. Then that hot gaze of his, the one that made her want to strip off her clothes and his, demanded she look at him.
“You must know, Alice, I would never hurt you. Never.” His knuckles grazed her cheek, and she felt that touch move like lightning through her limbs. Her nipples hardened into painfully sharp peaks.
His eyes danced with light again, a swirling pattern of movement, a chaotic rhythm that matched the frenetic beat of her heart. She held her breath again as he leaned closer, his body heat pressing against her. Lips touched hers, a feather-soft whisper at first, hesitant. Exploratory.
She curled her fingers into his jacket, and he groaned. The rumble vibrated her chest, and then he was not so soft, not so gentle. He was demanding, kissing, touching, tasting, sucking on her lip and swiping his tongue across the seam.
She parted her mouth on a loud moan and he darted in, massaging her tongue with his own. He tasted so good, like spring rain and wildflowers, and then his hands cupped her ass, making her burn and shiver as she moaned loud and long.
Alice pulled him closer, wishing she could crawl inside him, lose herself completely to the untamed sensations he yanked from her soul. Her fingers slid through the thick waves of his hair. Soft silk.
He was kissing her face, her cheeks, her jaw, her forehead, the tip of her upturned nose. Her body was alive and dizzy with joy.
She slipped her hands under his jacket, and taut muscles flexed under her touch. If she were a cat, she’d be purring. She pouted when he pulled back. His breathing was hard, but his grip on her was tender. The caress of this thumb trailed fire, raised goose bumps.
Had anyone ever looked at her like that before? She touched the corner of his mouth, a mouth that had consumed her. Passion lay buried in the man, deep and bottomless. She wanted more. She wanted all of it.
A loud croak shattered the mood. Without her even noticing, they’d stopped sinking. She was standing on the bottom of a lake and a fifty-foot frog stared at them.
“Hatter?” She gripped the collar of his jacket.
“This is what I wanted to show you.” His nose was in her hair. Alice felt hot and cold at the same time, her body tense and loose. How could having a man sniff her hair turn her on so much?
She dropped her head onto his chest, loving the sound of his heart beneath her ear.
“Would you like to see?” He sounded anxious and nervous. Sweet. She smiled.
Did he realize how hard it was for her to focus when he touched her? She looked back at the big, ugly frog and wrinkled her nose. “A warty frog?”
His eyes glinted.
“Oh, Hatter.” She couldn’t help teasing him. “Just what every girl wants to see when she’s out on a date with the hottest man alive.” She fanned her face, not noticing how he’d stilled.
He dropped his hands, almost making her stumble back from his abrupt release. She frowned as he walked toward the green-skinned beast.
Just like before, when it seemed she was finally starting to make headway, he’d gone cold and walked off. She clenched her fists, nails biting into the palms of her hands.
Damaged goods. He was totally damaged. So why did it not make her want to run away?
It went deeper than her lifelong obsession with all things Wonderland. This wasn’t a book, and he wasn’t a faceless ideal. The Hatter was in pain. For reasons she could barely understand, she didn’t just want to help him; she wanted to make him better. Wanted to see him whole again, the perfectly wonderful, madcap Hatter.
She rubbed her arms and followed. He stopped by a webbed foot. The frog didn’t budge. It just sat, staring at them with the empty-eyed stare of a predator.
She tiptoed to Hatter’s side and slipped her hand into his lax one, trusting him, though her knees knocked at having to stand so close to the thing.
His fingers were spread, loose, and for a second she worried he might reject her. Then he sighed and gave her a squeeze.
“Ancient frog beneath the waves.” His deep voice rolled through the eerie blackness. “Hiding treasures of olden days.”
The frog’s giant mouth opened, a red yawning maw of death. Its pink tongue whipped out and wrapped around their bodies, the sticky wetness making her yelp. And then it swallowed them.
Alice held tight to Hatter’s hands. She’d show him she didn’t always panic, even though in her mind, she was frantically screaming.
Thankfully, the ride didn’t last long. She landed with legs sprawled, flat on her butt.
Hatter, of course, looked as devilishly delicious as before. Not a thing out of place. His clothes were perfect, his brows were raised, and every hair on his head was exactly as before.
He was laughing, and while the sound made her legs weak and stomach flutter, she was not happy that it was at her expense. Alice held her hand out to him with what little pride she had left.
“You know, you could be a gentleman and help me up instead of staring at me like I’ve grown a third eye.” Her cheeks burned when he jerked her up.
His hands rested casually on her hips. It seemed like he found any reason to touch her now. Not that she minded; she only wished it wouldn’t always be so hot and cold with him.
She crossed her arms and huffed.
He grinned and her heart jerked. He was breathtaking when he did that.
She turned her face to the side, and then her eyes widened when she finally noticed where they were. And the moment she noticed, the cave came alive with a roar of ticktocks.
Thousands, hundreds of thousands, of clocks hung and sat in every conceivable corner of the place. They were mounted inside the rock face, beneath the thick sheet of glass she walked on. Funny ones, nautical ones, bedroom clocks, grand domed clocks with large golden chimes dangling beneath; she’d never known there were so many different types.
Each clock was set at a different time so that some rang the top of the hour while others were just starting a day’s rotation, and some even spun in reverse.
“What is this place?”
He dropped her hand and walked to the center of the room, spreading his arms wide. “My ticktock life. Six o’clock, teatime. Don’t be late. Time. My time.” He was mumbling again, his eyes glazed, lost in a different time and place, looking lovingly at each clock.
It was easy to believe he was crazy when he looked like that. His smile became a frown. He looked at her, and the madness evaporated. “I’ve lost my way, Alice. I’m no good. I’m lost in time. Pieces of myself. Do you understand?”
She’d started walking toward him before she was even aware of doing it. Like he was the spark to her fire, she needed to touch him, needed it as much as she needed her next breath. She reached, smoothing her fingers over his pinched brows, and he shuddered.
“What happened to you, Hatter?”
He took her hand, fingers tight on her wrist.
“Is it Wonderland? Has the magic made you crazy?”
He shook his head, eyes wounded, distant. She gripped the side of his face, forcing his eyes back to her and away from the madness that always pulled at him.
“I am time here. Don’t you see?”
What did that mean? “Are you saying you are time?”
He nodded.
“You?”
“Sometimes...,” he whispered, “sometimes I wish I could leave.” His voice was so low she barely heard him. As if he was afraid to speak too loud. “To be free, unhindered. To work with my hands.” He blinked, and she knew by the way his shoulders tensed up that he struggled to remember something. “But I can never leave. And you never stay.”
She dropped her hands. “But I’ve never been here before, Hatter.”
He gripped his hair with his hands and yanked, hair stuck out in different directions. “Always you. Haunting me, driving me crazy. Making me want what I cannot have.”
She denied it, shaking her head so hard the top hat slipped off. “Hatter, that wasn’t me. That was my great-grandmother. I’m not her!”
He growled and walked up to a cherrywood mantel that appeared like a specter behind him. He rubbed his fingers against a clock face with the obsessive compulsion of a man who’d done it many times before.
“All the same,” he muttered, “you all come, so beautiful. Smells—” He shuddered. “Gods, you all smell so good and I want you, but you’re all selfish, spoiled, and the land says no. And so you go and you never look back; you never remember the man lost in time. Time moves and it gets easier. I can breathe; I can forget. But then it’s time again and I’m weary, weary... weary of you all.”
She covered her mouth, a lump in her throat and hot tears behind her eyes. He didn’t want her at all. Danika was wrong—he couldn’t forget her great-grandmother or apparently any of the others. She wasn’t special to him. How could she be? They barely knew each other. She was just a face passing through.
He turned, brown eyes sparking with frosty hints of frightening anger. “And then you. You’re the worst of them. Quoting poems, telling me”—he swallowed—“things that I cannot believe. Trying to understand me. Always touching me. The heat of your body reaches to me. None of the others did that, none of the others cared. They only wanted the power or they wanted to go. You want to go too, don’t you, Alice?” He didn’t give her a chance to respond. “Why aren’t you afraid of me?”
She lifted her chin. “Because I’m not.”
“Why!” His face contorted into a mask of rage, and it was more than anger. Pain glittered in the depths of his eyes.
Alice squeezed her eyes shut, her truth burning the tip of her tongue. Did he really want to know, did she have the strength to tell him?
She gazed at him. Others might see him and see anger, fury, blinding rage. But she couldn’t. “Because...” She swallowed, opening herself up to someone in a way she’d never dreamed to do again. “When I was thirteen, I—” had brain cancer. She couldn’t say it. She desperately wanted to. Wanted to explain, but she didn’t have the strength to dip into memories that brought back nothing but pain and paralyzing fear.
“What?” he demanded. “I share my soul with you, and you give me nothing? What!” he demanded, and her heart bled.
“Oh, Hatter.” She covered her face. “I... I want to, but...”
“But,” he said with a sneer, “but, but, but! Prove to me you’re different and choose to stay, Alice. Be mine. Choose me.”
She jerked, wanting to so bad. More than he could ever know. “What if I jump back and forth, visit family. Then...”
“No.” He growled it and her eyes widened.
“It can’t be all or nothing, Hatter. I’ve got responsibilities.” She didn’t want to go. But why did he demand all or nothing? Why couldn’t he share her? Fact was she’d be more here than there, but she didn’t want her family to worry. She wasn’t like him—this wasn’t home. Why couldn’t he understand that?
“I want you more than I’ve ever wanted another. Damn you, Alice, damn you all!”
He threw his fist out. It crashed into a clock, forever silencing it beneath crushed glass. Like a frightened, wild beast, his eyes were wide—the whites large and the irises menacing. Heaving air like a bellows, lungs and chest expanding like the devil come to claim her soul.
But instead of frightening her, it only made her sad. Yes, she wanted him to see her, Alice Hu, the slightly geeky girl who loved to read, bake cupcakes, and paint her toenails. The girl who’d dreamed of someday becoming a success like the rest of her sisters.
But she couldn’t blame him. How long had Alice after Alice been thrust at him? No wonder he didn’t remember her. She couldn’t imagine having to endure this torment year after year.
“I’ve only got two days left, Hatter.” She held up two fingers. “Just two. Why fight?”
He cast his eyes down, jaw clenched, muscle tensing.
She thumped her fist against her thigh, the clocks’ ticking sounding like thunder in her ears. “Can’t we try to be friends?”
Why did she want that so bad? If it was all or nothing with him, then she couldn’t stay. She’d be leaving. So why couldn’t she just let this thing fade into nothing?
“Go away, Alice,” he whispered, and the words hurt her more than she’d thought they would. She winced. “Go back to your room. To the garden. I don’t care.” He turned his back on her. “Just go away.”
He didn’t want her. She closed her eyes, feeling disturbingly close to tears. He was a mess, a red-hot mess. Too much baggage, too much trouble. He was not the man she remembered. Maybe he never was, maybe she’d seen him through rose-colored glasses, turning him into something he could never live up to.
“I don’t know how to get back.” Her calm voice betrayed nothing of her quiet despair.
An outline of a door shimmered before her.
He leaned against the mantel, fingers running over the same spot as before. “It will take you anywhere you wish to go.”
He wanted nothing. He didn’t turn, didn’t move, not when she walked toward the door, not even when she turned the knob. She peeked around the corner, hoping he’d turn around, tell her he didn’t mean it. Hoping that the Hatter who’d kissed her senseless, would return.
He didn’t move.
She wanted to laugh, not because it was funny, but because she was bleeding and if she didn’t laugh, she’d cry. Alice opened the door and walked away.