A Dream So Dark E-Book

L.L. McKinney

• Herausgeber: Titan Books
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2019

Beschreibung

In L. L. McKinney's A Dream So Dark, the thrilling sequel to A Blade So Black, Alice goes deeper into a dark version of Wonderland.Still reeling from her recent battle (and grounded until she graduates), Alice must abandon her friends to complete her mission: find The Heart and prevent the Red Lady's rise. But the deeper she ventures into Wonderland, the more topsy-turvy everything becomes. It's not until she's at her wits end that she realizes―Wonderland is trying to save her.There's a new player on the board; a poet capable of using Nightmares to not only influence the living but raise the dead. This Poet is looking to claim the Black Queen's power―and Alice's budding abilities―as their own.Dreams have never been so dark in Wonderland, and if there is any hope of defeating this mystery poet's magic, Alice must confront the worst in herself, in the people she loves, and in the very nature of fear itself.

Leseprobe

Contents

Cover

Praise for A Blade so Black

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Prologue ’Twas Brillig

One: Gone

Two: Hella

Three: Lost

Four: Boo-Thang

Five: Free

Six: Enough

Seven: What Had Happened Was...

Eight: Test

Nine: Missing

Ten: Down Is Up

Eleven: Pets

Twelve: The Eastern Gateway

Thirteen: Who Are You?

Fourteen: Which Way?

Fifteen: Mess

Sixteen: Here There Be Dragons

Seventeen: My Lady

Eighteen: All

Nineteen: Is

Twenty: Chaos

Twenty-One: And

Twenty-Two: Pain

Twenty-Three: Nothing To Fear

Twenty-Four: What’s In A Name

Twenty-Five: All Is Darkness

Twenty-Six: Memories

Twenty-Seven: Some Friend

Twenty-Eight: No Promises

Twenty-Nine: What Matters

Thirty: Findest

Thirty-One: Late

Thirty-Two: No Choice

Thirty-Three: Complicit

Thirty-Four: Reunited

Thirty-Five: What You Gone Do?

Thirty-Six: This

Thirty-Seven: Pardon?

Thirty-Eight: Foolish

Thirty-Nine: Continuously Curiouser

Epilogue: The Best People

Acknowledgements

Also Available from Titan Books

Praise for

“With memorable characters and page-turning thrills, A Blade So Black is the fantasy book I’ve been waiting for my whole life.Alice is Black Girl Magic personified.”—ANGIE THOMAS,#1 NEW YORK TIMES-bestselling author of THE HATE U GIVE

“I loved the ‘our world’ framing and the ‘other world’ adventure so deeply. They were at such odds, but the overall effect was just chefkiss.gif perfect.”—E.K. JOHNSTON,#1 NEW YORK TIMES-bestselling author of STAR WARS:AHSOKA and A THOUSAND NIGHTS

“Wholly original and absolutely thrilling—A Blade So Black kicks so much (looking gl)ass.”—HEIDI HEILIG, author of THE GIRL FROM EVERYWHERE

“Mixing elements of Alice in Wonderland and Buffy the Vampire Slayer . . . a delectable urban twist on beloved fairy tales.”—ENTERTAINMENT WEEKLY

“This really is Lewis Carroll by way of Buffy, and it makes for a fun, gritty urban fantasy . . . will set the new standard for teen readers.”—NPR

“A dark, thrilling fantasy-meets-contemporary story with a kickass heroine.”—BUSTLE

“Retold fairy tales have been a popular trend . . . but you’ve never read one quite like A Blade So Black.”—NERDIST

“An action-packed twist on an old classic, full of romance and otherworldly intrigue.”—THE MARY SUE

“A brash, refreshing, vitally diverse retelling of a classic . . . You need this book.”—TOR.COM

“An epic about Black Girl Magic.”—WE NEED DIVERSE BOOKS blog

“This isn’t a retelling, this is Alice in Wonderland 2.0.”—BLACKSCIFI.COM

“A Blade So Black is a novel that roars mightily in the face of all those Wonderland tales that have come before. L.L. McKinney is on her way to someplace special with this debut; get onboard now.”—LOCUS MAGAZINE

“An explosive, kickass debut . . . the Alice in Wonderland retelling the world has always needed.”—BOOKLIST, starred review

“Relentless action, spiraling stakes, and a fierce heroine . . . A heartbreaking cliffhanger will leave fans clamoring for a sequel.”—PUBLISHERS WEEKLY

“A thrilling, timely novel that ensures readers will be curiouser for a sequel.”—KIRKUS REVIEWS

“With a modern flair, a rich backstory, and just enough emotional heft, this particular looking glass will have readers eagerly falling through it.”—THE BULLETIN

“Teens will root for Alice as a strong, multidimensional black girl usually unseen in YA fiction . . . A must-purchase.”—SCHOOL LIBRARY JOURNAL

“A Blade So Black is a modernized version of a well-known story that retains enough of the original to be lauded by both fans of the classic and readers wholly new to Wonderland.”—SHELF AWARENESS

L.L.McKINNEY

TITAN BOOKS

A Dream So Dark

Print edition ISBN: 9781789093049

E-book edition ISBN: 9781789093056

Published by Titan Books

A division of Titan Publishing Group Ltd.

144 Southwark Street, London SE1 0UP

www.titanbooks.com

First edition: September 2019

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Copyright © 2019 Leatrice McKinney. All rights reserved.

Published in arrangement with Imprint, a part of Macmillan Publishing Group, LLC.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

For my little brother Carl III aka Noogie.You were and are so loved,and I’ll see you again, someday.

“It’s no use going back to yesterday,because I was a different person then.”

LEWIS CARROLL

PROLOGUE

’TWAS BRILLIG

’Twas brillig, and a mortal’s tones

Did stretch a day beyond the braced;

A princess slain, dead to her bones,

A world distraught, a knight disgraced.

Portentia, Queen of Wonderland,

A crown of grief upon her soul,

Vowed to repay the world of man,

With mother’s tears and pain untold.

Addison, keeper of the realm,

Now plagued with guilt from duties failed,

Swears to uphold his Lady’s whelms,

Unyielding faith, but conscience veiled.

And so, they two a war will wage,

The Black Queen and her trusted Knight,

For all to know a mother’s rage

And all to feel her daughter’s plight,

While sibling girls of white and red

align against their mother’s will.

They share her pain, their sister dead,

But they would not innocents kill.

The Queen’s defeat is at their hands.

They strip her of her powers black,

then bind her to the Nightmares’ lands

and split her crown and all it lacks.

Behold the Heart! Behold the Eye!

For here the Black Queen’s power sleeps.

Leave them to rest, and by and by

The world will mend the broken deep.

For if these artifacts awake,

Surely then, too, the Queen shall rise.

And all will suffer in her wake

Beneath the blood-soaked, screaming skies.

Beware the Heart! Beware the Eye!

Beware the Blade so Black!

He left it dead, and with its head

He went galumphing back.

ONE

GONE

Alice couldn’t run. She couldn’t hide. All she could do was sit there as her mother went. In.

“Must be out your got. Dayum. Mind. Just doing whatever you please.” Mom paced in front of the coffee table, her steps barely muted by the carpet. She’d kicked off her heels and abandoned one near the door while the other lay over by the fireplace. This alone was a sign Alice was well and truly screwed. “Like you run things ’round here. Like you pay bills, do you pay bills?” Mom whirled on Alice, who had pressed so far back against the couch she felt she might slip between the cushions and be lost.

“No, ma’am.” Alice’s voice sounded as small as she felt in the face of her mom’s fury.

A little muscle in Mom’s jaw jumped as she ground her teeth together. “I can’t hear you.”

“No, ma’am,” Alice managed, louder this time, the words thick with the emotions coursing through her. Fire licked at the center of her face, and a feeling like fingers around her neck closed off her throat. She just wanted to go to bed. Couldn’t she go to bed?

“Got the school calling me ’cause you decided you just wasn’t gone show up, I guess. Now I’m missing work, and for what? For what, Alison? Knowing I didn’t raise you like this, knowing this wasn’t gone fly. Then walk in here covered in lord knows—what is that mess?” Mom flapped a hand at Alice, indicating the black splattered against her clothes and skin. “And what is that smell?”

Alice stared at the stains. Yeah, that inky shit stank to high heaven, but that wasn’t why her eyes started to water. It wasn’t why her chest went all tight, like the space was suddenly too small for her lungs. She smoothed her fingers over the rusty red splotch on her shirt. A handprint hidden under all the other yuck. His handprint.

The heat behind Alice’s eyes filled the rest of her face.

“I know you not ignoring me.” Mom’s tone went razor sharp.

Alice wanted to answer, but the words tripped over her tongue and hit the back of her teeth. What escaped instead was some sort of whine.

Mom’s eyes widened slightly. Her arms unfolded from where she’d crossed them under her chest, and she shifted as if to reach out to Alice, but lifted a finger in warning instead. “No, ain’t no crocodile tears gonna fix this.”

The tears came anyway. They welled up and spilled over Alice’s cheeks as she stared at the floor while fighting to keep from all-out sobbing. The carpet’s shaggy white tufts went brown and green, the memory of the shredded football field dancing in and out of her vision. The rumbling snarl of Fiends and the shriek of clashing weapons filled her ears. Her heart knocked against the inside of her chest, its thump-thump rising to join the crash.

Voices surfed the waves of chaos.

“Side, on fire!”

“I-it’ll be okay . . . you’ll be okay.”

Lies.

You lied to him.

She flinched. She hadn’t meant to lie. She gave everything she had to try and save him! The Black Knight, he was the one that didn’t keep his end of the bargain. He was the one that let those monsters tear her friend apart! Chess was gone because of him.

Maybe, but Chess would be at home right now if you hadn’t pulled him into this.

“Alice,” Mom barked.

If it wasn’t for you, he’d still be alive.

A buzzing prickled beneath Alice’s skin, spreading over every inch of her. It pressed at her temples and filled the space behind her eyes.

You did this. You killed him.

Her vision darkened at the edges. Her jaw throbbed, the muscles so tight her teeth ached. She couldn’t cry. She couldn’t—if she did, she wouldn’t stop.

Just like Dad.

The sobs tore free. Hard, unforgiving things that clawed their way from the depths of her. They stole her breath, shook her frame, and bent her in half until something deep inside cracked open and bled familiar shades of shame, anger, and regret.

Fingers played against Alice’s shoulders before the cushion beside her dipped with sudden weight. The smell of floral perfume reached her before Mom’s arms tucked around her.

Let me go! Alice wanted to scream, but she could only cry and gasp and cough and cry some more.

“Come ’ere.” Mom drew Alice up, then guided her deeper into her embrace. “I don’t know what’s going on. You don’t tell me nothing, you just out running these streets. Is something happening at school?” She rubbed at Alice’s back, her fingers pressing steady circles between her shoulders. “Talk to me, baby.”

Talking. That wasn’t possible. The very idea of words shriveled in Alice’s mind. Whatever managed to make it to her tongue just dissolved entirely. A groan slipped free, muffled against Mom’s shoulder, but that was it.

“Okay, baby, okay.” Soft shushes and faint humming filled the silence between hiccupped sobs. Every now and then a whispered Jesus accompanied them.

Jesus had nothing to do with it, Alice wanted to say.

Eventually, the sobs died away enough for Alice to cobble together a couple words. “H-he’s gone.” She coughed like she was six years old again. Snot slipped over her lips, between them. She rubbed at her mouth. Her throat burned.

“Who’s gone?” Mom smoothed hands over Alice’s braids, then wiped at her cheeks. “Is this about your daddy?”

Alice shook her head. The action made her dizzy and left wet, slick patches on what felt like one of Mom’s really nice shirts.

“Look, whatever’s going on, you don’t have to deal with it by yourself.” The arms around Alice tightened in a squeeze. “We’ll get through it. Together, okay?”

A sudden edge of anger scissored through her thoughts. Together. What, like with Dad? There wasn’t much “togetherness” in dealing with her father’s death.

“But you gotta tell me, baby. I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me.”

That anger sharpened. Alice had tried to approach her mom after Dad died, but the woman either retreated so far into herself it was like she was looking for Narnia, or she threw herself in the opposite direction and got lost in her work. Meanwhile, Alice ended up crossing into another world and killing shit as a hobby.

And say Alice did have a sit-down with her mom or whatever, how in the hell was she supposed to explain any of this? Hatta, the pub, Wonderland? Chess . . .

Would Mom even believe her? And if she did, what then? She’d probably forbid Alice from going to Wonderland or seeing her friends. She might go off on some mess about how she believed Alice believed what she was saying, then make her “talk to someone” about it. Maybe she’d yell at her for making shit up and never trust her again.

Or maybe, just maybe, Mom would understand for once, or at least try to. A small, hopeful part of Alice latched onto that barest sliver of a silver lining. Maybe all this could be one less thing she had to carry, to hide. Maybe it would be okay. Mom wasn’t a liar, like her.

But Alice had no idea where to start.

Begin at the beginning, something whispered against her mind. A gentle touch. A calming press.

The night Dad died. The night she met Hatta. The night everything changed.

Her racing thoughts settled on the memory. It was so crisp and clear in her mind she shivered at recalling the cold press of stone against her back. The stink of the fetid puddles and heat-soaked dumpsters nearby stung her nose. She could practically taste the salt of her tears. Then a beast slithered out of the throbbing dark, followed by a monster slayer, an invisible boy bright and shining.

Begin at the beginning.

Alice took a slow, deep breath. She sniffed and swallowed and swiped at her nose “I—I . . .”

“Yeah, baby?” Mom encouraged.

Alice licked her lips. “It . . . a-after Daddy . . .”

“Take your time.”

Her throat closed up, again.

The rest of the words refused to come. They gathered at the back of her tongue, piling on top of each other like rocks after a landslide, heavy and broken. It was as if part of her still wanted, needed to keep the secret.

Something shifted in Mom’s expression. The corners of her mouth turned downward, and Alice felt the tightness in the arms still wrapped around her.

Get it together, Kingston. She had to say something.

Janet Jackson and company belted We are a part of the Rhythm Nation from Mom’s pocket. She huffed in annoyance before pulling her phone free. “It’s Courtney.”

Alice blinked, surprised. Court just left not twenty minutes ago, after getting her own cussing-out. The flutter between Alice’s lungs agreed. Something was wrong.

Mom slid her thumb across the screen. “I can tell her to call back, so we can finish talking.”

“She probably left something.” Alice hoped she didn’t sound too eager as she wiped at her still-aching face. “Or I left something in her car.”

Mom squeezed Alice, rubbing at her arm, and lifted the phone. “Yeah, honey?”

Court started screaming.

Mom jerked the phone away from her ear, her expression twisting, before telling Court to calm down and try again. Alice couldn’t make out what she was saying, but whatever it was, it didn’t sound good. The fluttering in Alice’s chest turned to full-on flailing.

A frown wrinkled Mom’s forehead. “Chester is where?”

Alice’s insides went cold.

“A what? Oh lord, hang on, baby. Here.” Mom held out the phone. “I can’t understand her.”

Alice reached for it, her fingers shaking. She didn’t want to take it. Whatever was going on had to be bad, and she was so done with bad, but Mom was already pressing it into her hand. Chewing at her lower lip, she lifted it to her ear. “Yeah, Court?”

“Alice! Ohmigod, I’m coming to get you.”

“Wait, what? Why?”

“Something happened with Chess, we need to go to the pub.”

“Som—” Alice blinked rapidly, her brain misfiring for a second. Did she hear that right? “With who?”

“Chess! Hatta called and said we had to come back, right now.” The rising panic in Courtney’s voice mirrored Alice’s. “Then someone started hollering and he hung up.”

Alice shook her head. “No . . . he’s not . . .” Her chest tightened all over again. She couldn’t catch her breath, and it left her with a feeling like water sloshing around her thoughts.

Mom leaned forward to catch Alice’s attention. “What’s going on?”

“I tried calling back,” Courtney said. “But no one’s picking up!”

For a few seconds, Alice couldn’t remember how to speak. Her mind was working so fast trying to keep up with what Courtney was saying, what Mom was saying, with her own thoughts, and it kept misfiring.

Something happened with Chess.

Hatta said to come back.

But Chess was dead.

They had to hurry.

Chess . . .

“O-okay.” Alice finally managed, one hand pressed to her mouth. She shut her eyes and tried to focus on breathing as the burn of tears made a comeback.

“I told your mom Chess was in an accident and we’re going to see him. I—I didn’t know what else to say!”

“Okay,” Alice repeated, her voice thin.

“Shit, this is so fucked up.” The sound of sniffles and whimpers carried over the phone.

“C-Court?” Alice croaked. She swallowed to ease the ache in her throat.

“I’m okay! I’m okay.” Court sniffed again and whispered something Alice couldn’t make out. “I’m okay. ETA two minutes.”

“O—” Court cut the call. “Kay.” Alice lowered the phone. Her heart buzzed in her ears as her mind continued to tumble over everything. Something was wrong with Chess. But Chess was dead. Hatta said to come. Something was wrong. Hatta said . . .

Bad. All bad.

“Alison!” Mom snapped her fingers in Alice’s face. The sound sent shards of pain dancing behind her eyes. “What’s happening?”

“U-um, Chess.” The words got stuck again. She pressed her hands over her face and groaned. Her fingers came away wet with fresh tears. “S-something—oh my god. He was in an accident? Court’s coming. We’re gonna go see him. Please, Mommy.” Her voice cracked on the plea. “Please. I—I—I know, I’m grounded, but I have to see him. It’s bad. It’s real bad, please. Please.”

Mom pinched her lips together and held Alice’s gaze, her brown eyes questioning. For a perilous stretch of seconds, the only sound was Alice’s harsh sniffles and choked breaths. Mom licked her lips and glanced to the side before sighing through her nose.

She’s gonna say no. Raw, unrelenting panic jolted through Alice and knocked an equally unforgivable idea loose. “O-or! You can take me. He’s at Grady.”

The small sound Mom made at the mention of the hospital sent Alice’s stomach plummeting. It was a low blow, and god, she felt a whole ass for doing it, but she had to get out of here.

Swallowing the sour taste at the back of her throat, she pressed on. “You can drop me off on your way back to work, and I’ll call when I’m ready.”

Another handful of seconds passed.

Mom pursed her lips and leveled a look at Alice. She opened her mouth, and the blast of Courtney’s horn made them both jump. Mom shut her eyes, pushed to her feet, and started pacing in front of the coffee table again.

Alice glanced at the clock. Both hands stood nearly straight up, putting the time at just noon. “Or you can, um . . . pick me up when you get off. Please,” she pressed. She had to sell this. Sniffing, she wiped at her nose. “Court can bring me home, whatever works, I just need to—”

Mom lifted a hand, gesturing for quiet. She paced a bit more. Her shoulders hitched when Court blew again, but Mom remained focused on Alice. “I don’t know what’s going on with you. And I hate thinking I can’t trust you.”

Alice couldn’t deny she had that coming, but it still hurt to hear it. She fought to hold her mother’s gaze.

“But you’re not leaving me much of a choice here, Baby Moon,” Mom continued.

“I know.” The words leaped free before Alice even realized they’d hit her lips, her mouth suddenly dry. “I know. I—I’m sorry. I just . . . there’s a lot—”

Another blast from Court’s horn. Mom grunted before stalking over to the door, yanking it open, and stepping partway onto the porch. “I will rip that horn out and choke you with it, lil girl!” Then she turned back to Alice, letting the screen bang closed behind her. She eyed her a bit longer before jerking her head toward the door. “Come on.”

With her heart in her throat, Alice hopped up, grabbed her bag, and hurried after her mother, who padded down the front steps. Her feet had to be freezing—pantyhose didn’t do much protecting from the cold. Alice followed close behind as they headed down the driveway, toward Court’s Camaro.

Court’s wide green eyes, red and puffy from crying, watched them approach through the passenger side window, which she rolled down after Mom twirled her finger.

“Here’s the deal.” Mom bent forward so she could meet Court’s gaze, then glanced back and forth between both girls as she spoke. “The instant you get to that hospital and find out how Chester is doing, call and let me know, and not from Courtney’s phone. Use the phone in his room, or the nurse station, or information booth, or security, or something, I don’t care. Then you can sit and visit for a little while. Just a little while.” Mom looked to Alice. “Your ass is in this house by three o’clock. Not three-oh-one.”

“Yes ma—” Alice started, but fell silent when Mom lifted her hand again.

“I’m not playing with either of you. This is it. Last damn chance. If you mess this up, you two won’t see each other outside of school until college.” She swung a manicured finger back and forth between the girls like the sword of Damocles. “I mean it. I love you, Courtney baby, but you will not be allowed in this house for the rest of the damn year.” The finger stopped at Alice. “And I’m putting bars on your window. Don’t. Test. Me.”

“Yes, ma’am,” both girls chimed together. Alice’s voice shook almost as much as she did.

Mom tucked her hand into the crook of her elbow, arms folded again. “What time I say?”

“Three o’clock,” Alice answered.

Mom peered into the car. “What time I say?”

“Three o’clock,” Court answered as she swiped at her flushed cheeks. Her whole face was bright red.

Mom stepped back and gestured for Alice to get in the car, which she scurried to do. She was fastening her seat belt as Mom practically leaned in through the window to stick them both with a healthy dose of side-eye. “What time did I say?”

“Three o’clock,” the girls said together.

With a nod, Mom threw an arm over Alice to give her one of those awkward half hugs that she did her best to return. “Drive safe.”

Court waited until Alice’s mother had backed up a few feet before pulling off. Neither girl seemed to breathe until they turned the corner, but Alice could feel her mother’s glare following them, like heat from Nana Kingston’s comb on the back of her neck. Court kept her eyes on the road, her grip on the wheel so tight the color had drained from her knuckles.

“What all did Hatta say?” Alice asked, anxiety crawling through her. She fought to keep her breathing even, but it felt like her whole body had turned against her, still trembling as she sunk farther into the seat.

“S-something happened with Chess a-and, um . . .” Court took quick, deep breaths and blinked rapidly. “And we needed to get back there right now.”

“What kind of something happens with a . . . a—a dead . . . He’s dead . . .”

“I know!” Court slammed her fist on the wheel. “That Duchess woman started screaming in Russian and Hatta hung up! I don’t—” She pursed her lips and stared ahead.

Shit. Alice glanced around. “Where’s your phone?”

Court pointed to the cubby under the center dash. Alice snatched the phone up, punched in the lock code, and hit the pub’s number.

It went straight to voice mail and Alice’s body went tight. A wave of . . . of rage washed over her. How the hell you say some shit about someone’s dead friend, hang up, then don’t answer when they call back? Alice had to force herself to relax or she might crush Court’s phone like she did hers. She waited a bit, then hit redial. It rang this time. And kept ringing.

Voice mail.

She tried again, her knee bouncing.

Voice mail.

“Damn it!”

On the fourth try, someone finally picked up.

“Looking Glass.”

Alice’s heart jumped at the sound of Hatta’s voice. There was an edge to it, an unease that plucked at the already frayed whispers of remaining strength barely holding her up. “Hey, it’s me. What’s going on?”

For a moment the line went so quiet she thought the call had dropped. She even pulled the phone away to double-check. Then Hatta said the absolute last thing she could’ve expected.

“Chess is gone. And he took Maddi with him.”

TWO

HELLA

What do you mean gone?” Court jerked the car to the side, dodging around a slower truck as she shouted the same question Alice had asked Hatta a few minutes ago.

“That’s what Addison said,” Alice murmured, her mind buzzing as it worked to fit information together. “That Chess got up and walked out into the middle of the pub.” She’d understood his words, but they didn’t make any sense.

Court glanced back and forth between Alice and the road repeatedly. Each time she snapped her head around, the crease between her brows smoothed, until it vanished and her eyes went wide. “Wait . . . he’s alive?”

The girls stared at each other, as much as Courtney could while trying to drive. Neither of them said a word. A swell of joy surfaced in the sea of Alice’s confusion. Her heart fluttered, filling her chest with this dizzying, fizzy sensation.

“He’s alive,” Alice eventually repeated, for Court as much as for herself. “He’s alive!” A smile broke over her face, and a laugh followed. “He’s alive!”

“Yes!” Court slapped the wheel. “Yeeeeeeeeeeesssss!”

Alice screamed, which melted into sobs, and those bubbled over into laughter. She doubled over and shouted into her knees, her eyes stinging, her fingers pulling at her hair. Chess was alive.

Court rubbed at her back, babbling something, Alice couldn’t hear her. Alice sat up, wiping at her face, then leaned over to wrap her arms around her best friend. Oh god. Chess was alive.

Thank you! Thank you . . .

Alice pulled back into her seat. She shook out her hands as pins and needles danced through her limbs. It felt like she’d been dunked in ice water then hung out to dry.

“H-how?” Court squeaked.

“I—I don’t know.” Alice closed her eyes and tilted her head back against the rest. “I don’t know.” It wasn’t possible. She’d watched him die. She’d felt him . . . felt when the last of him faded, and all that was left was his torn body still bleeding in her arms.

“Maybe it’s some weird Wonderland shit,” Court offered.

“Lot of that going around.” Magic was the first thing that came to Alice’s mind. Maybe he was under a spell, or possessed? That . . . massive Nightmare she fought last night had formed right on top of his body, swallowing it. Then, for a moment, the monster had had Chess’s eyes. Alice thought she might’ve imagined that part, but now? Now she wondered if maybe any of that had something to do with whatever was going on. And if that was the case, this might not be the blessing she thought it was.

“But he’s gone,” Alice said. “And he took Maddi.”

The smile melted from Courtney’s face. “Took her? Like kidnapped?”

“According to Addison. He said he’d explain in person. Easier that way or something. But they’re both gone.”

Silence descended. Uneasiness rose between them, devouring the joy they’d shared seconds ago. A headache wormed its way behind Alice’s eyes, and an ugly, black feeling filled her middle. The number of times Nightmares messed her up, Maddi had been there to make it better. Maddi was the one who got her back on her feet with her potions and salves. Maddi watched over her when she was lying in bed, beat all to shit. Alice didn’t understand what the Poet was saying half the time, but that didn’t matter. Maddi was her friend.

This couldn’t be happening.

*   *   *

The pub door banged shut, and Alice froze at the top of the steps that led down into the bar.

“Whoa,” Court murmured, voicing Alice’s own shock.

Glass littered the floor in massive shards and glittering flecks. The splintered remains of a barstool and a couple chairs were strewn about. A table had been halved, one part tossed to the side, the other nowhere to be seen. Behind the bar, some of the shelves were cracked in half. Broken bottles and shattered sections of the mirror spilled onto the counter below. Pools of amber and clear liquid peppered the floor. Some of the paraphernalia had been ripped from the walls, leaving holes in the plaster in a few places. One of the TVs lay cracked and dark against the floor. The tangy smell of booze clung to everything.

Two pairs of blue eyes looked up from where the Tweedles sat on the small step up into the area with the pool table. Blood smeared Dem’s left cheek, and he cradled that same arm, while Dee sported a freshly blacked eye, still mostly swollen shut. A matching set of bruises was already starting to purple against their pale skin.

On any given day, Dimitri and Demarcus Tweedlanov were not to be fucked with. They were a well-oiled team of monster-killing murder machines, and they’d been Dreamwalkers years longer than Alice. Seeing them like this? Clearly on the receiving end of a beatdown? It shook something inside her. They were the strong ones. They were the steady ones. And right now? They looked less like defenders of the realm and more like two boys who’d gotten their asses handed to them on a playground.

“Must’ve been a helluva fight,” Court murmured.

“Who you telling?” Alice said.

The Duchess knelt in front of them, a first aid kit opened near her feet. Her rope of red hair swept across her back as she leaned in to inspect Dee’s eye, murmuring something in Russian. Anastasia Petrova was also not to be fucked with. She trained the twins after all, same as Hatta trained Alice, and was usually a bit of a hard ass. But she spoke gently as she looked to their wounds. It was . . . interesting seeing her like this.

Alice moved down the steps, picking her way through the mess and toward the three of them. “You guys all right?”

“I’ve had worse.” Dem winced. His puffy jaw meant talking probably hurt.

“Shhh,” the Duchess hissed before applying a salve to a cut Alice noticed as she got closer. He grunted in return but remained otherwise silent.

“Your friend is good fighter, for a dead guy.” Dee looked less happy than his brother about the new scars they would no doubt be sporting, his brow furrowed despite it scrunching up his shiner.

“About that,” Alice started.

“Addison wanted to know when you arrived.” The Duchess didn’t glance away from her work on the twins. “He’s in his office.”

Alice nodded, even though the woman wasn’t looking at her, and glanced at Court. “I’ll be back, with answers hopefully. Help where you can, yeah?”

“I’ll be here.” Court moved toward the bar, setting her purple Brahmin on the counter. She still hadn’t put on any makeup today, and her face was bright red from the cold and the fight against tears.

Alice headed for the hallway, glass crunching beneath her shoes. It was impossible to avoid all of it.

Behind her the Duchess spat something in Russian followed by a low “Stop fidgeting.”

“What can I do?” Court asked.

Alice, already partway down the hall, couldn’t hear if any of them answered. As she walked, she wondered where Odabeth and Xelon were. She didn’t figure there was much the daughter of the White Queen, heir apparent to one of the dual thrones of Wonderland, and her Lady Knight could get into in midtown Atlanta. Then again, maybe royal beings from another realm liked to sightsee? She didn’t have much time to dwell on it, stopping outside the open door to Hatta’s office. She lifted a hand to knock against the frame, though paused as she took in the sight of him.

Sitting behind his desk, Hatta bent forward so his elbows rested against his knees. His head bowed, he held his face in his hands, dark green strands of hair falling between his fingers. He looked so . . . broken? So not like his usual, sarcastic, charming, brighter self.

In all this time Alice had known him, from meeting him the night her dad died, through his training her to fight Nightmares, then the two of them working together to protect the Western Gateway, she’d never seen him looking so defeated. Well, that wasn’t 100-percent true. She’d catch glimpses of him here and there, when he’d be in his office or behind the bar, and he’d get this far-away look on his face. Like he was someplace else. He used to stare in that fancy mirror of his with that expression. Before said mirror was discovered to be part of a shattered artifact of dark power and used to reforge that artifact, thanks to deception, a tiny bit of betrayal, and . . . yeah. Man, this past week had been a lot.

Across from him, the locker in the far corner hung open, and inside it, suspended in the air, was the Vorpal Blade. Sheathed, the blade so black didn’t drink up the pale office light, but darkness thrummed along the length of it, waxing and waning just so, painting the air around it with a shiver of shadow. The weapon was supposed to be one of a kind, from Hatta’s days as the original Black Knight. The new Black Knight had one, too. Hatta’s was bigger. A bit scarier, too. There was a joke in there, somewhere.

“Did it used to do that?” Alice asked.

Hatta’s head snapped up and he spun toward her, banging his knees against the desk in the process. “Shhhhhhh . . . mmph.”

She winced in sympathy. “Sorry.”

“No worries.” Standing, Hatta closed and locked the cabinet doors. The key vanished into his pocket as he did a little sidestep Alice was sure was supposed to mask a wince—he was still wrapped in bandages and pretty banged up after the fight this morning—but it didn’t work. Coming around the desk, he tilted against the front of it and released a slow breath that was damn near a groan. “What were you saying, luv?”

“The Vorpal Blade.” Alice pointed at the now closed locker. “Did it used to do that?”

“Do what?”

“That whonm-whonm thing with the light.” She flexed her fingers in the air to emphasize her attempt at describing what she’d seen. “I mean, I know it sucks up light, but this was different. Like the dark part of it was having trouble staying on? I don’t know.”

Hatta arched an eyebrow slightly, glanced at the locker, then back to her. “It’s not doing anything special.”

Alice had only ever seen the Vorpal Blade, Hatta’s Vorpal Blade, a few times, but she’d definitely have remembered if it did whatever that was. She pulled her mouth to the side. “We still keeping secrets, then?”

“About what?”

She thrust her hand toward the closed locker. “Don’t tell me it wasn’t doing something funny, Addison. I know funny acting when I see it, and that sword was acting funny.”

A shade of his usual smile pulled at his lips. “Do you, now? In any case, the Vorpal Blade isn’t behaving oddly at all. At least, not for how it should be behaving.”

That’s how it is, then? Okay. Grunting, she wrapped her arms around herself. “If you say so.”

“I do.” Hatta looked her up and down with those multicolored eyes of his. It sent warm fuzzies through her. “But that doesn’t mean you don’t.”

“I don’t what?”

“You don’t say.”

“What? No, never mind. What happened to Chess?” The fuzzies fizzled out, replaced by an ugly twisting somewhere near her center that warred with the excitement from before. Her friend was alive, even if he was . . . she wasn’t sure. “What you said on the phone didn’t make no kinda sense.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know the answer to that, milady.” Hatta’s tone was polite enough, but the way his eyes darkened, how the color fled to their very edges and the faintest spark of fire flickered to life at their center, told a completely different story. “Or why he took Madeline captive.”

Alice’s throat worked at a lump forming at the back of it. “This has to be the Black Knight, right? I mean he stabbed Chess with that sword and it did something to him. Plus, he was d-d . . . in no condition to do nothing like this. Not on his own.”

Hatta’s shoulders sagged, and a touch of the visible fury faded from his gaze. “Perhaps. Perhaps not. Come. It’s better you hear the recounting firsthand.” He moved to step past her.

Out in the bar, everyone was doing what they could to try and straighten things up. Dem held a trash can while Dee tossed in broken and empty bottles from the back of the bar. The Duchess righted tables and chairs that hadn’t been smashed, and Court swept twinkling shards into small piles along the floor. The four of them looked up and paused in their respective tasks.

“Gentlemen.” Hatta moved to take the trash can from Dem. “Glad to see you’re back on your feet.”

Dem snorted. “I keep telling you we’ve had worse.” He started to fold his arms over his chest but looked to think better of it when something popped, making him flinch. Instead, he pressed one hand to his side. “And we weren’t trying to hurt him.”

“Uspokoysya.” Dee looked from his twin to Hatta. “We’re fine.”