The Collectors' Society 01 (34 page)

My stomach sinks. “How did he die?”

“Public execution, Your Majesty. Every single person she caught at the protest lost their head that day.”

Mary gasps, a hand raised to her mouth. “What kind of monster does that?”

“She had the Caterpillar’s head cured so it can permanently be displayed at the entrance of the Heart castle.” The Hatter’s eyes turn glassy.

Fury mixed with agony burns throughout me. “She dared to execute a Grand Advisor? What did the other Courts say about this atrocity?”

“The Red and White Courts immediately and vociferously
condemned her actions,” the Hatter quickly says. “Once he was captured, there was . . .” He trails off, glancing at the people in the room.

“Whatever you have to say to me can be said in front of them.” My voice is hard—yet achingly brittle. “They are trusted companions.”

He nods, swallowing again. “A recovery was attempted, but the Queen moved much faster than any of us expected.”

“How fast?” I ask. Typical executions go through a trial first, especially in that court. The Queen of Hearts never passes up a chance for a spectacle.

“Less than six hours,” he whispers. “No trial was held. Afterward, she gleefully reminded us queens make no bargains.”

Good God.

Finn catches my elbow before my knees completely buckle. I ask, my voice embarrassingly soft, “And the head?”

The Hatter scratches his bare stomach so hard that pink streaks rise up. “A plan was brought up to attempt a recovery, but shortly after that, another Grand Advisor went missing. And then council members. Your Majesty, it is with a heavy heart that I be the first to inform you that Wonderland is at war.”

“Which advisor?”

Suddenly, the Hare bursts into the room, his arms loaded with clothes.

It hadn’t mattered. My leaving hadn’t meant a single thing. War still broke out. People are starving.

I ask, praying my voice stays steady, “All of the Courts?”

“All of the Courts are engaged,” the Hatter slurs. “Multiple fronts, with each locked in battle against the others.”

It takes every last bit of courage to ask, “Are there any other deaths of consequence I need to be informed of?”

But the Hatter knows exactly what I mean. “Hundreds upon hundreds of innocents, but none of the major players have perished.”

I want to cry, I’m so relieved.

“There is a war going on,” Victor says suddenly, “and you two pricks are hosting parties and orgies? Unbelievable.”

Both the Hatter and the Hare startled at the vehemence. The Hare sputters, “We are lovers, good sir, not fighters!”

Finn steps into my line of sight. He wraps his hands around my arms, anchoring me in a sea of desolation. “Does this change our plans?”

“Yes,” I whisper to him. “It changes everything.”

W
E CHANGE INTO THE Wonderlandian clothes the Hare has brought. He did well—all of the pieces are nondescript and do not bely my royal status one bit. The grays and purples of our linen dresses, pants, and shirts do not tie us to any one Court. While the pieces are far more formal than standard everyday wear of the Twenty-First Century, there is a whimsy to the fabrics and cuts that makes them uniquely Wonderlandian. Hems are uneven, stitches change course, shape, and size, and the textures alter from top to bottom.

I cannot help but think about the Caterpillar.

For years, he served as my most trusted advisor. I had met him as a child, when his disdain for me was at its peak. “Who are you?” he would ask me time and time again, scoffing at my attempts at philosophy and deepness until I could answer him succinctly.

Alice was the answer. The Queen of Diamonds. So simple and yet so meaningful all at once.

I never asked for him to be my Grand Advisor. He simply appeared one day telling me it would be so. From that point on, we would spend hours together as he lectured me on what it took to be a queen. I disappointed him frequently. I frustrated him even more. He begrudgingly loved me and yet found me lacking in every department. Our arguments were legendary, his condemnations even more so.

He died championing me. And I spent months lost, no longer assured of who I was.

“Are you okay?”

Concern reflects in Finn’s blue-gray eyes. Concern I’ve finally accepted has a right to be there. “Yes,” I tell him quietly.

“Liar.” It’s just as quietly voiced.

I am lying. And it’s strange, but I’m glad he knows I am.

He touches my face gently, and I’m lost to the sensation. Our mouths drift closer to one another and then—

Sirens sound. Loud, wailing screams that have the Hatter and the Hare terrified.

“What’s going on?” Mary demands.

“Card soldiers,” they cry in unison. “A raid!”

Both Victor and Finn swear under their breaths as they grab weapons out of my trunks.

“Your Majesty, you must hide,” the Hatter nearly wails. “If they catch you—”

I grab a nearby sword. “They will not catch me. Now tell me, and be quick of it. Where is the White King?”

The Hatter’s eyes flick back and forth between me and Finn. “His Majesty is on the front lines. You know he would not leave his men and women to fight and risk their lives if he did not offer the same.”

The situation just got a thousand, no, a billion times worse. “Which direction?”

The Hatter is horrified. “He will have me thrown in jail if I sent you to the heart of battle!”

“Which. Direction?”

It’s the Hare who answers. “He is in the West.”

I take a deep breath. “And the White Queen?”

Both the Hatter and the Hare rapidly shake their heads. “She is to the East,” the Hatter says. “All of the courts have split.”

My eyes widen. “
Split?!
”

“There are six fronts now. His Majesty’s army is in the West.”

I can barely wrap my mind around any of this. But at least I have this small bit of luck on my side—I will not encounter the White Queen. “I need horses. Now.”

“I cannot,” the Hatter whispers. “I will not risk your life.”

“Four,” I tell him firmly. “And fast.”

“But, Your Majesty—”

“Now.”

His nod is reluctant, but he finally darts toward the door. All the torches are extinguished and the doorknob ensures my lock is once more in place. We hurry through the corridors until we come to a door upon the ceiling. The Hatter pops it open just in time for our worlds to turn upside down.

People are screaming. The Land that Time Forgot is in chaos. Card Soldiers are everywhere, their spears and swords hacking at innocent bodies. Quick glances at their weapons tell me they are Hearts.

My blood boils. My hand is on my sword when Finn grabs me. “We can’t fight them all.”

“Yes,” I say darkly, “we can.”

“No, we can’t.” He grabs my face, forces me to look at him. “I am just as horrified as you about what is happening here. But you need to think long range. There are people after this Timeline’s catalyst. War isn’t going to mean shit if the catalyst is destroyed, because there will be nobody left to fight.”

He’s right, I know he’s right, but as I take in the blood and tears and fear surrounding us, guilt swarms me. “How can we just walk away from this injustice?”

His answer is lost as the crowd pushes at us, people trying to escapes the dozens of card soldiers flowing in.
I will avenge these people
, I desperately vow to myself.
I will avenge the Caterpillar, too
.

The mass of terrified people in the club grows and surges. New card soldiers appear, ones that are of a different suit. Incredibly, as if on cue, a third suit appears. As swords clash, the terrified screaming crowd becomes casualties in the battle between three armies. The crush becomes catastrophic, with bodies being trampled by revelers desperate to flee. Before I know it, my hand is ripped from Finn’s. The crowd engulfs me, carrying me in the opposite direction, and I’m yelling his name but I can no longer see his head in the crowd. Somebody close by shrieks out in agony; a severed head arcs high above me.

Pandemonium is too mild a word for what is going on.

Somehow, I get pushed toward and out a side door. People spill onto the cobblestone street, fleeing in every direction. For a moment, I have no idea what to do. And that, naturally, is when a hand grabs hold of me.

My sword slashes through the space between us only to nearly topple me over when I see who has a grip on me. It’s Victor.

“Where is Finn?” I’m frantic as I search the crowded streets. “Mary?”

“I don’t know, but I think we need to get the bloody hell out of here. People are dying in there!”

“But—”

“But they can track us. Hurry!” He tugs on my arm once more. “We must get you to safety!”

We’re off and running. The entire city is in an uproar. Citizens are shrieking and weeping as they desperately try to lock their doors against the card soldiers. Houses are lit on fire. We keep running until my lungs burn and my feet ache. Victor tries door after door in an attempt to get us off the streets, but all are locked. Finally, he finds a broken-into storefront and shoves me inside. We duck down behind a counter, our hands firmly gripping our weapons.

Terror threatens to consume me. Somewhere, out there right now, are Finn and Mary. If they were to be captured . . .

I cannot even bear to think of the possibility. If the Queens were to discover Finn and Mary’s importance to me, what was done to the Caterpillar would be child’s play compared to the fate they’d face.

I tug out my phone from my backpack and flip on my GSP—no, GPS. GPS. What in the bloody hell do those letters stand for, anyway? No matter.
Work
, I silently beg the small, glowing machine in my hand.
Find me Finn. Let Finn find me.

Sweat pours off of me despite the chill in the air. I’m thirsty, painfully so. My breathing is labored, my muscles so tight I fear my limbs might snap off. But just when I think we might be in the clear, glass shatters within the shop.

My breath stills in my chest. Victor’s does too, I think.

Footsteps crunch across the littered floor, bringing someone or thing much closer to us. Whoever it is is certain to find us if they cross the counter’s threshold—and from here, we have nowhere else to go, as there is just wall in front of us.

I lift up my hand and show Victor three fingers. It is far better to go out swinging than be picked off like apples from a tree. He nods, and I drop one finger. Our grips tighten around our weapons—me with my sword, he with his gun. Another finger drops. He nods once more, determination filling his face. My third finger drops.

We spring up from our location.

I don’t recognize the card soldier standing less than a meter way, and he doesn’t recognize me, thankfully. He’s young, though, and already hardened. His eyes are beady and pink, his hair wild and black. A pike, caked with dried blood and dirt, is jabbed toward us. It takes everything in me to not show weakness and flinch. “Drop your weapons. Put your hands up.”

“I have a better idea,” Victor says. He cocks the safety of his gun and points the barrel directly at the man’s chest. “You drop your weapon, and we’ll let you live.”

Hints of maniacal laughter overtake the card soldier, but he’s good, because he’s able to wrestle it under control nearly immediately. But I know better. Whether or not we drop our weapons, we’re both good as dead. He’s a pike soldier. He’s impervious to pain and will fight until his head is cut clean from his body.

But then a miracle occurs. I spy the small emblem carved into the tip of the pike.

Before Victor can do anything stupid, I toss my sword against the counter. “You may collect our weapons on the condition you take us to your commanding encampment immediately.”

Small, dark eyes narrow in on me. “And if I don’t?”

I simply say, “Gangan.”

There is no hesitation. The card soldier shifts his pike until it stands next to him. “As you insist.”

Victor is nearly apoplectic. “What in the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?”

We don’t have the time to argue like he wishes, though. Not when Finn and Mary are still out there in the midst of a Wonderlandian war. “Give him your guns, Victor.”

The good doctor is resolute, though. “I most certainly will not.”

“You will,” I tell him. “And I promise you, before daybreak, you will get them back.”

“What about Mary? Finn?”

Twin twinges of fear and hope course through me. “This is our best shot at finding them. Is your GSP turned on?”

Victor stares at me for what feels like a century before his eyes flick back over to the card soldier, now standing at perfect attention. There are dents covering the youth’s armor, there is more blood than either of us would like to see, and his grim face borders on madness.

But then, amazingly, Victor unholsters both guns. “I’m keeping the clips,” he mutters. “And it’s GPS. Yes, it’s turned on.”

“Fair enough.” I turn back toward the card soldier. “How long until we reach the encampment?”

“If we are unimpeded and can circumnavigate much of the fighting, we can be there within two hours.”

A loud blast sounds nearby, rattling the walls around us. Two hours . . . Two hours is a long time to not know where Finn and Mary are. I glance back down at the phone in my hand; no red dots flashes back at me. This may be my only chance at finding them.