The Collectors' Society 01 (30 page)

I’m halfway up the stairs when Finn catches up with me. “Wait. Where are you going?”

I’m mute, terrified I might break down. Too many nameless emotions—or emotions I can’t let myself name—take hold.

For a moment, I think he’s going to let me have it. Rip into me for secrets and
why didn’t you tell mes
and
how could yous
and all of those other things people feel they have a right to demand of others. But he surprises me by lacing his fingers through mine and taking us to the nearest elevator. Once the doors slide shut, he presses the stop button and we hang, suspended in the shaft between floors.

He turns to face me. There isn’t hurt there, nor anger.
He’s concerned
.

I don’t apologize for holding onto my past. And he doesn’t ask me to. Instead, he says, “If you think you’re going to Wonderland by yourself, you’ve sorely mistaken.”

“Do you know what will happen if I get caught?”
Do you know what will happen if you get caught with me?
My voice is low and controlled, even though my insides quake at such imaginings. “If the Queen of Hearts is the one to find me, I will lose my head and it will be either impaled in front of her castle for all to see or sealed within a glass box for her to exhibit in her trophy room.”

His eyes widen; his face pales.

“If it’s the Red Queen, well, I’ll probably keep my head upon immediate capture, but she’ll crucify me and place me on display, to die slowly. Once I began to rot, she’ll ensure all of my limbs are torn from my torso and fed to bandersnatches during arena games.”

“Jesus.” It’s a whisper.

“And if I’m caught by the White Queen, she will personally drain me of all my blood and replace my insides with stuffing so I can join her doll room. If you thought Sara’s were creepy, I assure you they are nothing compared to what she has collected.”

He’s horrified. Good.

“And those are merely what the Queens would do. Shall I tell you about some of the other monarchs? No? Then, I cannot ask that any of you join me on this retrieval. I cannot guarantee your safety, Finn. I refuse to take that risk.”

He lifts a shaky hand to run through his hair. And then, “You don’t have to ask. I’m coming.”

“Did you not just hear what I had to say?” I jab him with a finger. “Did you not just hear what could be
your
fate?”

“I heard,” he tells me. “Believe me, I heard. It doesn’t make a difference, though.”

The muscle in my chest spasms. These words of Finn’s are resolute. Sincere. Filled with determination.

He steps closer, his hands settling possessively on my waist. I ask, “It doesn’t?”

He shakes his head slowly. There is no fear in his eyes.

“It should.”

A slow, rolling shrug that’s indifferent rocks his shoulders. “Sorry to disappoint.”

“I may not be able to protect you,” I whisper.

“The nice thing about partners,” he says just as softly, “is that two are always stronger than one.”

“The book isn’t how Wonderland really is. The people there, the animals, the sights . . . None are silly and cartoonish, Finn. Wonderland has its mysteries and beauty, but there’s a lot of darkness there, too.”

Another shrug. “There’s darkness everywhere. Every day, in every Timeline, people are robbed. Belittled. Attacked. Raped. Abused. Murdered. But you can’t let it dictate every move in your life. Sometimes, you have to take a chance. Sometimes, you have to step over the ledge and fall, even though you don’t know what’s underneath you.”

I’m terrified. “I can’t talk you out of this, can I?”

When he shakes his head this time, a hint of a smile emerges.

“Why?” bursts out of me.

His head ducks down, his lips just centimeters away from mine. All I smell is the warm, beautiful scent of man and soap and mint. Everything goes fuzzy yet laser sharp, and my heart is back in that caucus race.

Fingers wrap around my golden strands. He tells me, he whispers, he melts me with, “I finally found you.”

My mouth finds his.

He lifts me up, and my legs wrap around his waist. My back is against the wall of the elevator, my hands in his hair. We kiss and touch and then, when the need within becomes too strong, join our bodies together here in a small box that is used to take our colleagues from one floor to another. We are never good with appropriate time and places, it seems.

Something in me clenches and sighs and fears and covets as we move together, and when we explode in unison, right on cue, I concede the truth.

After all that I’ve gone through, after all I’ve lost, I’ve finally found my true north star.

I
T’S NOT ONLY FINN who will accompany me to Wonderland. So will Mary and Victor. I vehemently argue against this need, but, much like their friend, they cannot be dissuaded. Van Brunt insists that, if Wonderland is as dangerous as I make it out to be, we need Victor’s expertise for emergencies. Rationally, I know he’s nearly as skilled as his brother at fighting, and chances are we will need his medical skills at some point, but I still wish he’d reconsider.

When I argue Mary’s placement on the team, she takes my vehemence in stride. “I’m damn good at what I do,” is all she’ll really say, and as I’ve seen her at training fumble with just about every weapon there is, I can’t imagine what it is. But I am overruled. The Collectors’ Society is a team, I’m reminded. And the betterment of all trumps that of an individual. In many regards, I can respect that, as it’s dictated my moves for years now.

We spend the rest of the day in Van Brunt’s office going over details. The A.D. is having rations packed for us, alongside heavy bottles of water that will slow us down, but there is no other option. We cannot risk otherwise. Over and over, I remind everyone that there can be no slip-ups. No water drank, no food, no tea, no anything. No water from rivers, no rain on tongues.

I draw out a rough map that is not to scale. “Our entry point will be here.” I tap my finger against a dot on the paper. “We’ll need to first go to an ex-associate’s house for supplies,” I tap on a building a short distance away, “and then journey to confer with my Grand Advisor.”

Mary peers over the map. “Where is he or she?”

I’m honest. “I don’t know. Hopefully, my former associate will be able to point us in the direction.”

“Is your advisor the one who has the catalyst?” Van Brunt asks.

I shake my head. “No. But he will be able to point us in the direction of the person that does.”

“Will this person be reluctant to give the catalyst up?” Victor asks.

“No. The difficulty lies in a meeting that does not reach any of the Courts’ ears.”

“Maybe you ought to tell us about this prophecy,” Victor murmurs. “Why would so many people’s lives be forfeit with your presence?”

For many long seconds, I debate the wisdom behind a revelation. My natural inclination has me leaning toward avoiding the question, but recently sparked feelings of camaraderie damn me. And this is a small group, a group of people I’ve come to at least consider the option of trusting, so I find myself finally opening up. “Although Wonderland is much like England in the sense that it is a country, it has several sections that have been divided up and are ruled by kings and queens. Unlike England, however, these monarchs are not from dynastic lines but rather chosen by Wonderland itself to be rulers.”

“You mean, like a democracy?” This is from Finn. “Where rulers are voted into office?”

My back aches, it’s so stiff from sitting on the edge of my chair. “No. Wonderland—the land itself—chooses its monarchs. Nobody knows how it’s done, or what the qualifiers are behind choices. If you are selected, a crown appears on your head. And it will be your crown until the day you die.”

Victor snaps his fingers. “I remember a scene in your story that has a crown appearing!”

“There are currently four ruling Courts in Wonderland. The Hearts, The Reds, The Whites, and the Diamond. Normally, when monarchs are crowned, they are done so in pairs. Occasionally, a few days may lapse between a King and Queen being crowned, sometimes even as long as a month, but they typically begin their rule as a pair.” I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. “For some reason, after I was crowned, no King materialized—not even during the years I had returned home as a child. Wonderlanders are a deeply superstitious lot, and this did not sit well with some despite everything I did for the country. History has always shown that there are pairs, so that there will be balance in a house. My Court, though, was seen as imbalanced. Even those who are insane fear imbalance in Wonderland.”

Mary slams a hand down on the table. “Is this because you were a woman? Because there wasn’t a man to help you?” Another pound sounds against the table, rattling the map. “What a lot of misogynistic pigs!”

This only endears her to me.

“Go on,” Finn urges quietly, and when our eyes meet, all I see is support and compassion.

So I take another deep breath and once more let it out slowly. “Other ruling Courts were unsettled by this. While those living in my domain came to see me as fair over the years, and a champion to their causes, tradition is a difficult beast to slay. Dissension was fostered by some of the monarchs who found me an aberration. A non-native and a solo ruler?” My smile is bleak. “It was not to be borne. We squabbled for years, but in the end, it didn’t matter. A prophecy was discovered, claiming if the ruling Courts in Wonderland were left at an odd number and the deck shuffled, apocalyptic disasters the like had never been seen before would befall the populations. War broke out numerous times, citizens were suffering. People were dying. Diseases never seen before were emerging, often eradicating entire villages.” I lace my hands together in my lap so tightly the skin turns hot white. “Summits were held . . .”

I have to stop. The memories are still too raw.

I’m out of my chair and across the room, wishing I could open one of the windows. Outside, beyond the glass, life in New York City continues to move on, blissfully unaware of the atrocities of my past. And yet, in this room, it’s weighing me down just as heavily as it always had, and I’m editing it for ears who I hope never hear the full truth.

I really am damned, aren’t I?

“You are a selfish girl who thinks she can take whatever it is she wants without consequence.”

I slapped her. Hard. “How dare you say such things when you are the one sending innocents to their deaths!”

“Your greed, your lust, will be the downfall of every last one of us, little bird,” the White Queen sneered.

But the thing is, the more I thought about it, the more I reluctantly admitted she was right. All of the differences I had made, all of the advancements in health care, education, and women’s rights meant nothing if I allowed the prophecy to consume us. I refused to tell her that, though. At least on that day, because we both knew her selfishness and greed could rival my own.

“I suppose in the end, all you need to know is that I willingly chose to leave.” My voice cracks, and I hate myself for it. “Part of the summit accords has me promising not to return in lieu of the ultimate of punishments.”

“Couldn’t you abdicate?” Victor asks.

I do not turn away from the window. “I am the Queen of Diamonds, and I will be until the day I die. Hopefully then a new Queen and King will be selected, and the land will right itself in balance. Better yet, another Court might emerge in the Diamonds’ ashes. Perhaps the Clubs or Black. Four Courts are needed. Eight monarchs.”

“But you are here, Ms. Reeve,” Van Brunt says. I’m startled by his quiet foray into the conversation. “You are still alive. Does that not affect Wonderland’s balance?”

I shrug. “Some of the Grand Advisors to the thrones felt that six monarchs in three houses were better for the land than seven monarchs in four houses.” A wry yet bitter smile twists my lips. “I tried to argue that six plus three equaled nine yet seven plus four equaled eleven. Broken down, eleven has two ones; added together, they make two, which is an even number. Nine could not be broken down. It would always be odd. My logic was abhorrent to them, though. It only proved my alien status.”

Such logic is apparently abhorrent to those sitting with me now, as they all look at me as if I’m raving.

“If you were addicted, how did you leave?”

Finn’s question is enough to finally draw me back to the table. “An exceedingly rare poison my advisor obtained for me.” I allow a small, bittersweet smile. “A poison that granted me lucidity the likes I hadn’t experienced for years.”

This captures Mary’s attention. “You allowed yourself to willingly be poisoned?”

I tell her gravely, “I would have done that and more to save the lives of my people. Besides—it allows me to not fall back into a trap in which my inhibitions are lowered and my emotions heightened to the point that violence means little to me.” I pause. “Although, I must admit, I still feel those bits of madness every so often. It’s why I’m handy in a fight.”

“Then I guess it’s a good thing,” she says evenly, “you have a person good with potions and poisons joining you on your team, hmm? I would like to get my hands on this concoction—or any others we might encounter during our trip.”