Follow the White Rabbit (Beautiful Madness, #1) (2 page)

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P
iles
of books, dishes, and clothing covered the entirety of Lucky’s small
underground home. Her things had started the day with some semblance of order,
but as the morning progressed chaos had somehow slipped through the cracks in
the earth.

Lucky was already running late but she
was stalling, convinced she couldn’t leave for Birchelm without finding her
favorite stiletto. Yes, she had a sword at her side and a bow on her back, but
the stiletto was part of
the look
, and the Birchelm elders were paying
for the look as much as for help with their town’s growing infestation.

The blade was on her dresser, exactly
where she’d left it.

With a groan, Lucky strapped it into its
leather sheath on her upper thigh. The silver tip could easily be seen under
the hem of her shorts, but it wasn’t intended to be hidden. She wanted everyone
to know she was well armed and more trouble than she was worth.

Her truly secret weapons weren’t so
easily spotted.

Having run out of reasons to delay other
than the strange feeling growing in the pit of her stomach, Lucky pulled on her
shoes. She paused briefly before leaving her two-room for the tunnel that led
up to the surface to make the mental shift from homebody to killer.

It was the first thing she’d learned
after the Knave of Hearts had taken her under his wing—she had to leave her
true self behind and adopt a persona every time she stepped out her door. That
mental barrier might end up being the difference between a successful job and
succumbing to the guilt that accompanied it.

The timid, child of the forest that her
family had known wouldn’t have been capable of doing whatever was needed to
reach her goals, but Lucky was a warrior, and she could do whatever she set her
mind to. Now not one person would assume she was merely the plain,
seventeen-year-old daughter of one of Wonderland’s most renowned seamstress.
Though the jobs she did couldn’t be placed into one category, she was a
professional.

The hatch at the top of the stairs was
jammed and Lucky had to shove her elbow into one corner to force it open,
ripping the fabric at her elbow in the process. It was going to be one of
those
days.

As the hatch popped open and sunlight
hit Lucky’s face, the sudden smell from the garden was overwhelming. Violets
and daisies greeted her as she climbed the last few steps and locked the hatch
before kicking some dirt over it to hide the evidence of disturbance. If the garden
had been less spectacular, her home would be nearly impossible to find by those
who didn’t know where to look. Instead, it was impossible to miss. At least
Lucky could relax in the knowledge that few ever willingly came this deep into
the forest.

Some of the flowers were native to this
part of Neverwood Forest, but others had been brought over either by Lucky
herself or as gifts from grateful clients. Every single blossom had been
encouraged to grow and flourish beyond its natural size. It was spectacular.

But Lucky had chosen the location for
her home well, and few ventured out this far without a purpose. It had been a
year since she had struck out on her own, and the garden was still the only
thing that made her little hole in the ground feel like a home.

Lucky inhaled deeply, enjoying both the
smell and the feeling of her garden before taking off towards the western end
of the forest where the village of Birchelm could be found. She did her best
never to take the same route twice or else risk creating an obvious path.
Lesson number forty-eight was to never let your enemies know where you sleep.

The sun beamed down from a cloudless sky
as an eastern wind blew through the trees. It would take two hours to walk to
Birchelm—Neverwood was the largest forest in Wonderland, after all—but Lucky
was glad for the walk. She had been feeling strange for several days but
fresh-air always seemed to sweep away whatever was ailing her.

Lucky was lost in thoughts of the books
and flowers she could purchase with her next paycheck when something ran out
into her path. She came to an abrupt halt six feet in front of the small white
rabbit that had stopped on the patch of grass directly in front of her. The
animal seemed unconcerned by Lucky’s size or her assortment of weapons. Its
beady black eyes watched her intently.

Lucky willed herself forward, ignoring
the animal, but the abrupt movement made her head spin and her vision blur.
Something was very wrong. Her eyes remained locked on the rabbit’s unblinking
stare, while her body could do little more than inhale and exhale.

All at once, something clenched around
her insides like a massive fist grabbing hold of her very essence. Then she
couldn’t feel her body at all.

Slowly, the rabbit blinked, hypnotizing
Lucky with its unwavering gaze. All at once, time lurched forward—taking
Lucky’s soul with it and leaving her body to crumple onto the forest floor.

Before
she opened her eyes, Lucky knew something was wrong. The ground under her back
was hard and even, not the soft, rough soil of Neverwood. The sounds of buzzing
bugs and chirping birds had vanished, replaced with the low hum of voices. Even
the air around her had changed. It didn’t smell like any part of Wonderland,
let alone Neverwood forest.

“Are you okay?” A male voice asked,
hovering somewhere above her. Lucky opened her eyes. She was greeted by a
cloudy sky and the concerned face of an elderly gentleman who was standing over
her.

“I’m... I’m fine.”

“Here, let me help you up,” the man
responded, extending his hand. She shook her head as she brought herself up on
one knee and took in her new surroundings. The man continued to watch her, his
mouth holding on to its worried frown.

A few other people bustled around them.
Most were pretending not to stare as they shuffled by. Lucky had never seen
such a strange collection of people, which was saying something for a
Wonderlander. The crowd wore an eclectic mixture of clothing ranging from stiff
and formal to flowing plainclothes. Some were locked in conversations with
their companions, and others seemed to be talking to themselves as they passed
by the three-tiered fountain that Lucky had woken up beside.

Interlocking red bricks made up the
ground for several feet in every direction, the pattern branching out from the
fountain until the formation bled into the grass on all sides. A few benches
dotted the lawn beyond that. It appeared to be some sort of park, but there
were no flowers in sight.

“I’m fine. I’m fine,” Lucky repeated,
ignoring the offer of help. She managed to stand up on her own despite the
blood that rushed to her head. With a shrug the man walked away leaving Lucky
entirely on her own, though surrounded by people.

Unsure of what else to do Lucky sat down
on the lower lip of the fountain, entirely dumbfounded. The last thing she
remembered was—the forest. No, the rabbit. How had she gotten here? Where was
she?

She dug one of her fingernails into the
palm of her hand. She wasn’t dreaming. Now she was lost, late, and bleeding.

Sitting wouldn’t accomplish anything,
and it wouldn’t get her any answers. The only option was to get up and go. But
where?

When she needed to clear her head at
home, she would simply pick a direction. It had served her well in the past,
though she could always find her way in the forest. No. Lucky wasn’t one to
wait around for answers. Her heart felt as though it were lodged in her throat,
but this was a time to be proactive.

A weak smile played on her lips each
time she passed another person, but everyone seemed content to ignore her which
suited Lucky fine. Getting noticed is the first step to becoming a target—rule
seventeen.

The trail Lucky found herself on came to
an abrupt halt at a smooth, nearly black road that appeared to be paved with
liquid stone. Tentatively, Lucky put one foot onto its surface, but she quickly
returned it to the gravel pathway when she caught sight of the buildings on the
other side. Rows and rows of houses stood before her, each one nearly identical
to the ones beside it.

Suddenly, something barreled down the
road at an unnatural speed. The metal monstrosity was green with glass windows
and four wheels. As it passed, spitting dust into the air, Lucky couldn’t help
but take a quick step backwards.

“Excuse me!” came a sharp voice from
behind her. Lucky spun around to come face to face with a girl about her age
who was wearing a rather startled expression.

“Sorry,” Lucky said, taking a step back.
“But can you tell me where I am?”

“Uhh...” the girl flipped her long auburn
hair over her shoulder as her eyes scanned Lucky’s outfit, as a slightly amused
expression altered her features. “Fountain Valley.”

It wasn’t a part of Wonderland Lucky
recognized, and she had thought she’d been rather well acquainted with the
realm’s geography.

“In
Colorado
,” the girl
continued, clearly expecting some sign of recognition from Lucky.

Okay, that’s certainly not in Wonderland
. Lucky felt her
face grow pale, but the girl was still staring at her expectantly. “Thank you.”

With a shrug, the red haired girl spun
on her heel and walked across the street. She didn’t stay long enough to see
Lucky run off in the opposite direction.

Away from the road, away from the
houses—away from everything that her mind couldn’t make sense of.

As if on command, the sensation of
fingers around her soul returned. It only lasted an instant before she was
violently yanked back to her own reality.

Lucky’s
eyes fluttered open, struggling to focus on the swaying leaves above as her
mind reconnected with her body. She shifted her weight away from a large rock
digging into her spine but couldn’t bring herself to stand while she took in
her surroundings. Somehow, she had made her way back home. If she’d ever really
left at all.

The sun wasn’t much higher in the sky
than before she’d... what? Nothing could explain what had just happened or where
she’d just been. Was this some sort of ancient magic? An attack on her mind?
She hadn’t been gone long, and she didn’t appear to be hurt, but
something
had happened.

At the sound of a branch snapping
somewhere in the distance, Lucky rolled into a crouch, fighting back a fresh
wave of panic. She was vulnerable here. If someone
did
want to hurt her,
she wouldn’t be able to put up much of a fight as her fingers continued to
shake with nerves. Wherever she had gone, she had left the confidence and
bravado that came with being Lucky there. Now all she wanted to do was hide.

With one last look over her shoulder,
she sprinted towards home. She couldn’t be Lucky today; even her own shadow was
putting her on edge. No, before she did anything else she had to retreat and
figure out what exactly was happening to her.

Birchelm was going to have to find
another way to combat their shrieking wombat problem.

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“G
wen,”
Marc coaxed softly from the sofa.

“It should have happened by now.”

“You don’t know that. Give it time.”

“What if nothing happens? What if I’ve
already missed it?” Gwen chewed gently on her knuckle as she peered into the
long grass.

She had been leaning on the window frame
for an hour, staring out at the forest while uncertainty continued to spread
through her mind like a stain. The weight of this day had been pressing down on
her for weeks while she relentlessly studied the history books, but today could
very well be the day the tension finally crushed her.

Since Gwen had woken up that
morning—literally rolling out of her bed—she’d been almost single-minded in her
obsession, only pausing to make some quick additions to her ensemble. A special
day deserved a special outfit. She hadn’t slept much at all, and her wild red
hair looked even more unkempt than usual, but that wasn’t her concern. At
first, when she had been too sleepy to notice, her clothing had looked tired
and not at all up to Gwen’s usually eclectic standards. Some might even have
claimed that her ruffled top matched nicely with her powder-blue skirt! It
simply wouldn’t do. After sitting by the window to enjoy her first cup of tea,
she’d gone back to throw on a bright orange belt and ruby red party shoes just
to keep things interesting.

And then she waited.

And waited...

The sofa squeaked as Marc shifted his
weight. “You’re waiting on a rabbit. As in a furry little animal? And you’re
expecting it to be keeping a schedule? I can’t say I understand exactly what it
is you’re trying to accomplish, but we’ll be laughing about this later. I
promise.” He was determined to keep the mood light, and his optimism was
incessantly sincere. And annoying.

“You make it all sound so ridiculous.”
Gwen looked over her shoulder at her roommate to see if he was teasing her. She
needed him to appreciate what was at stake, to agree that seeing a white rabbit
today was the most important thing they could be worrying about right now.

She had tried to explain the intricacies
of Wonderland’s lore to him—the patterns and tipping points that determined the
fate of all her residents—but it was hard to do without coming off as a little
unsteady. She could talk endlessly about the books she’d read or the stories
she had been told, but that didn’t make her grandmother’s tales of talking
animals sound any less ridiculous. If she tried to explain how she
knew
that the legends were true, he’d think she was as well and truly mad as all her
neighbors believed her to be.

At times, Gwen felt as though Marc was
the only one who saw any value in her ramblings, and she wasn’t about to lose
him by explaining the near silent voices she heard every time she left the
house. The land and its inhabitants remembered Wonderland’s history, and
whispered secrets to Gwen—secrets Gwen didn’t always want to hear.

So she waited, safely hidden behind
stone walls that blocked the murmurs of the forest.

It was nearly time for tea when Gwen
caught a flash of white fur in her peripheral vision. She leaned toward the
window, pressing her palm to the glass. At last, he had come. It was the sign
she had been waiting for—the catalyst that would set everything else into
motion.

“He’s here,” she exclaimed in an excited
whisper. She heard the tell-tale creak of the sofa as Marc stood up to join
her.

The creature paused briefly to sit in
clear view of the window.

He was there. The white rabbit. He’d
found her.

A feeling of accomplishment pressed at
the back of Gwen’s mind.

The animal tilted its head slightly to
the left before breaking eye contact and hopping back into the underbrush.

I was right
. The thought
echoed in her mind as a wave of relief washed over her. Every night spent
pouring over ancient texts, each strange look she received from former friends...
it was all worth it if her theories were correct.

“There’s nothing out there,” Marc pointed
out as he came to stand behind her at the window. His eyebrows furrowed as he
locked his eyes on Gwen’s, searching for an explanation.

“He didn’t stay to chat, that’s all,”
Gwen teased. The euphoria she was feeling must have shown on her face because a
smile quickly burst through Marc’s concerned expression.

Gwen wrapped her arms around her best
friend’s neck and let him spin her about the room as relief coursed through
her. He couldn’t know how important this one moment truly was. Not just for
her, but for all of them. But he didn’t need to know. For now he would be happy
simply because she was, and that in itself was something worth celebrating.

When her feet found the ground once again,
Gwen continued to hold on to Marc’s shoulders as her vision slowly refocused.
The mixture of giddiness and spinning had left her quite lightheaded. She took
a step back and her ankle turned slightly.

Right away, Marc’s strong hands were at
her waist to help Gwen steady herself.

“I’m all right,” she insisted. Marc
moved one hand to run his fingers through his dark curls, but the other
lingered at Gwen’s side. She looked up at him expectantly but found him peering
down at her hopefully. It was an expression Gwen had hoped never to see again.

His brown eyes stared steadily into
hers, and his lips parted slightly. As if in slow motion his eyes began to
close as he tilted his face down to meet hers.

Gwen froze.

They had been over this. She knew she
should either step away or at the very least close her mouth and stop gawking,
but she couldn’t so much as blink. He seemed so peaceful, so happy.

All Gwen felt was nauseous.

A knock at the door shattered the
moment, causing Marc’s eyes to pop back open just quickly enough to catch the
look of horror Gwen was wearing. A flush crept up into his cheeks, and
immediately Gwen felt as though she should apologize. But for what?

“I’ll get it.” Gwen took several steps
back, stopping only when the sharp corner of an end table hit her hip.

“It’s for me.”

“Oh. I didn’t know you were expecting
anyone,” Gwen said, fumbling for words, for a way to fill the silence.

The guest rapped their hand against the
door again, obviously impatient.

“Could you start some tea? I might have
bragged a little about your concoctions.” He wouldn’t meet her gaze as he swept
out of the room, assuming that Gwen would agree to play hostess.

But of course she would. Gwen and Marc
shared their strange, crooked home, but the reality was that Gwen lived there
because of Marc’s generosity and their unlikely friendship. The two of them had
lived together for years, long before Marc’s feelings began to deepen, but it
was still technically
his
home.

She lit a fire under the gas stove in
the kitchen and set some water to boil before opening her store cupboard,
looking for something she could serve Marc’s guest.

A row of tins lined the back of the
cupboard, each labeled with a plant clipping. Most were empty as she hadn’t found
time to go into Neverwood and replenish her stores. She told herself it was
because there had been too much else she needed to attend to, but she knew it
had more to do with avoiding the shadows and voices of the forest.

She pulled down a black rose-flavored
tea that never disappointed and set it on the counter.

“Gwen, come out here please.”

“Give me a minute,” she hollered back,
determined to keep her voice steady and unaffected. She had been trying for
months to ignore Marc’s feelings because the last time they’d spoken of it had
almost ruined their friendship. The last thing they needed was to air their
awkwardness out in front of company.

“Gwen, please.” It was the second plea
that caught Gwen’s attention. Perhaps it was his way of trying to take back the
brief, awful moment they had shared, but the formal tone in his voice gave her
pause.

In the lounge, Gwen found Marc and his
guest talking in conspiratorial whispers. The woman’s long, white hair spilled
around her like an aura, hiding her face from view. Gwen didn’t need to see her
to know that this woman was not their usual clientele. She wore a long,
formfitting dress that looked far too formal for their little forest town.

“Gwen,” Marc said as his eyes met hers.
“I’d like you to meet my friend, The White Queen.”

All thoughts of Marc’s feelings and her
earlier triumph with the rabbit fled from Gwen’s mind as the woman spun to face
her.