The trek back to the Hatter’s is interesting. Dee and Dum float silently behind us. They make absolutely no sound, not even the swish of fabric. I have half a mind to ask if they’re ghosts after I turn for the fifteenth time to find them much closer than I expect them to be. I’m pretty sure they know they’re making me uncomfortable, and I think it amuses them to some extent. If they’re capable of feeling emotion that is. The more I think about them, the less I actually know.

I feel weird with them at my back. I know they’re predators and turning your back on a predator never ends well. But we had made a deal sealed by the mark on my wrist. I know they can’t hurt me while it remains in place, or so the Hatter says. After the battle, and after they receive their payment, they will be even more dangerous. I’ll have to make sure to watch my back.

After a long journey through the woods, quicker than the first time since I’m wearing normal shoes, the Hatter’s house finally comes into view. Thankfully, I don’t have any more run-ins with the Beezles. In fact, all the creatures of Wonderland stay clear of the Tweedles. I can’t blame them. It it wasn’t for our deal, I would have left them far behind.

I breathe a sigh of relief at the house only to remember that the Knave is the reason that we left in the first place.

“Do we need to worry about the Knave?” I look at Hatter with worry. I don’t really want to meet him again for a little while.

“He’s gone.”

“How do you know?”

Hatter looks at me, his face half serious, half smiling.

“My house is my house, and I can feel every soul.”

I raise my eyebrows but ultimately shrug. That isn’t the weirdest thing I’ve heard in Wonderland. Not by a long shot.

Before we can push through the front door, Dormouse opens it from the inside, his face as serious as ever.

“You’re late.” His voice is bothered, but that’s all the emotion I can glean from it.

“For what?” I ask.

“Tea.”

I sigh and surprisingly, the Hatter does, too. I was really looking forward to a nice long soak in the tub. Looks like I’ll have to put that on hold again.

“The Knave left hours ago. He stuck around for a few minutes but stormed off when you didn’t immediately return,” Dormouse informs us as we all make our way towards the ballroom. “He was a right prick about it, too.”

I’m surprised the Knave didn’t just stick around, but when we open the doors, and I see how many guests there are, I realize he had left for a reason, to punish us. There are a total of ten members sitting for tea, and I gasp at the number. Hatter seems equally anguished as we make our way down the table towards our seats. He nods at them all and calls them by name as we pass. The guests nod reverently to him before their eyes flick to me. Every single one of them looks happy to see me, and it makes my heart hurt. I hadn’t been able to help them. I need to move faster. I can’t shake the feeling that something much worse is coming, and that I need to be prepared.

We take our seats, Hatter in his usual spot and me beside him. The Tweedles take a seat further away, their eyes watching the guests around them. A few of the guests eye them warily, but no one comments as the Tweedles begin pouring themselves tea.

The table, this time, is piled high with food, and I eye it suspiciously. I’m starving, but I don’t know if it’s worth the risk of getting buzzed. Hatter smiles at my hesitation as he pours us tea.

“It’s normal food.” He drops the tea pot with a clatter and threads his hands together, placing them under his chin as he watches me. The move gives him a more innocent look that doesn’t quite work because I’ve spent enough time with him. I can see the mischievous glint in his eyes and the tick in his jaw, a telltale sign that he’s anything but.

“Normal like me, or normal like you?” I ask. I’m not taking a bite until I know for certain it won’t inebriate me.

“Like you.”

I lift one of the croissants and take a test nibble. When I don’t feel the answering fuzzy sensation, I gobble it down quickly, my starvation taking precedence over manners. Hatter frowns.

“Remind me to make sure you have food more often. I forget that you need nourishment.” I hear the shame in his voice at forgetting I might be hungry. I smile at his comment as I wolf down another croissant.

“It’s okay. We’ve been a little busy.”

I notice our chairs are dragged closer together now than they usually are, so that our knees brush against each other beneath the table. I fight the urge to slide my hand up his leg and into his lap. It probably isn’t appropriate for tea time.

“So,” I begin after polishing off three more sweets from my plate. My stomach gives a satisfied gurgle as I sit back in my chair. “Tell me everything.”

He pours us both more tea when the cups are empty. This time, my tea is a pastel pink color, and it tastes like blueberries. It’s sweet but not overpowering.

“I can show you better than I can tell you,” he teases, his voice dripping with sin and sex.

I clench my thighs underneath the table but roll my eyes at him.

“You know what I mean.” I take a sip of the tea, humming low in my throat at the taste. My eyes catch on the Hatter’s bare chest before dropping down to his lap. When I realize what I just did, I jerk my eyes back up to see the laughter on his face.

“Are you sure you know what you’re talking about?” he asks. He leans forward, those old gold eyes making an appearance right before our cheeks touch. “I can show you how mad I can be. All of Wonderland would hear you scream my name,” he whispers in my ear.

My body heats up at his words and travels all the way up to my face, which I’m sure flames in response. There’s a raging inferno inside of me, and I want to let it out. But now isn’t the time even if the tension is so thick between us, I could cry. So, when he pulls back to look into my eyes, I kiss him on the tip of the nose. Surprise makes his lips part slightly and his eyes widen. I smile at the cuteness of it before I lean away and begin to take bites of the food still on my plate.

“I need to know about the Red Queen and how Alice became her.” I’m really flying in the dark here. I need more information, so I know what I’m up against.

Hatter smiles softly at me as he settles back in his own seat.

“I can show you that as well.” He stands and reaches for my hand. I slip it without hesitation into his. “I will return,” he tells the tea party guests as he pulls me behind him. I manage to swipe another croissant before he drags me away completely. Tweedledum and Tweedledee ignore us. They’re still sipping their tea, a black mixture I haven’t seen before, watching the guests with interest. There’s a hunger in Dum’s eyes, and it makes me nervous.

“They’re all friends,” I tell them before we leave the room. I swear I see disappointment on their faces.

Hatter leads me towards the front door and opens it.

“Where are we going?” I ask.

“To see an old friend.”

Hatter drags me around the house and into the trees. I say drag because the Hatter takes such long strides that I have to practically jog to keep up. I feel my body grow slick with sweat at the extra work, and I groan. How many times must I boil in this outfit before I get to take a bath?

Once inside the tree line, Hatter slows down enough that I’m able to walk comfortably beside him. We move in silence for about twenty minutes before a small, abandoned cabin comes into view. I squint at it, expecting it to be an illusion the same way the hatter’s house is, but it doesn’t change. It’s tiny, rotting wood and moss covering every inch. Nature has reclaimed it, thick vines climbing the sides and hiding a lot from view. As I stare at the ramshackle house, giggling fills the air, coming from inside. I tense when a man steps through the doorway, the laughter coming from his mouth.

The suit he’s wearing used to be luxurious and beautiful. That much I can tell. Now it hangs from him in tatters, moth eaten and dirty. He has two large, brown rabbit ears on his head, but one of them is missing half. They’re rough, like they’ve been chewed on, fur missing in patches here and there. The ear that is more intact is covered in piercings, little jewels flashing at us. I look at his face and realize his entire body mimics his ears. His skin in places is missing or rotting; I can see muscle and bone that I’m not meant to see. He looks like the zombies from TV, just add the bunny ears. I hesitate when the Hatter begins to walk towards the man.

“Hatter,” the man exclaims, a gruesome smile full of sharp, bloody teeth spreading across his face.

“March,” the Hatter replies, smiling warmly. “I’d like you to meet Clara Bee.”

The man, March, gasps loudly, his gaze jerking towards me. It’s the first time I notice his eyes are blood red, no pupils to be seen.

“It has begun?” His eyes are wide. I’m not sure if it’s fear or wonder in them. The Hatter nods. “Then come, come inside. Come inside. Hurry.” March gestures wildly at the door, retreating into the cabin, himself. It creaks as he moves across the floorboards, and I have to wonder how he doesn’t fall through the rotting wood.

“The March Hare?” I ask Hatter as we make our way up the steps. They bow under us but don’t break.

“Yes.”

“What happened to him?” I don’t even know how March is still alive with the way he looks.

The smell of mildew makes my nose wrinkle as we climb onto the porch.

“The Red Queen,” the Hatter replies.

Then we step inside the cabin, together.

When we step inside the house and my eyes find March again, I can’t suppress a gasp. He doesn’t look in any way like he did outside. His suit is pristine, his skin smooth. I see no muscle or bone, no mottled flesh. The only flaw on his body is the missing half ear. That’s still the same even if his ears are covered in fur and healthy looking. Besides that, he’s handsome, strikingly so, even though one of his eyes twitch constantly, drawing my attention every time. It seems more of a tic than an anything. I notice some of his fingers do the same thing, flicking every so often to a rhythm I can’t hear.

The house is the same as March. Outside, it looks ready to collapse, barely livable if at all. Inside, it’s normal and bright, no mildew smell or rotting wood. It’s cluttered but not dirty, warm and inviting.

March giggles when he notices me staring at his ear. I’m trying to figure out why it’s the only thing that isn’t whole, why everything else is fixed beside the missing chunk.

“It’s because it was gone before the red Queen got to me,” he says, pointing to the half ear. He accompanies the words with manic laughter, like it’s the most hilarious thing he’s ever heard. “I got that in a fight with a Bandersnatch. Well, with a different Bandersnatch.”

I raise my eyebrows at him but don’t comment. I’m not sure if I want to know any more about the Bandersnatch, not after hearing the roar when I was with White.

“Clara Bee wants to learn the history of the Red Queen.” Hatter’s voice is gentle as March offers us seats at a table. There are books stacked up under one of the legs, keeping it level.

“Of course, of course,” he replies, bustling around the kitchen. “Best get to it before the Bandersnatch head this way.” He looks at the terror that crosses my face. He giggles, trying to stifle it by putting his hand over his mouth. It doesn’t work. “The beasts like to hang around,” he offers, “Because the Red Queen set them on me.”

“Is that what happened to you?” I think of how he looked outside, like something had tore into him.

His face darkens, the smile dropping instantly. I open my mouth to apologize for asking, but he beats me to it.

“You’ll see soon enough.” His voice is rough as he grabs jars from the cabinets. He fills a kettle with water and sets it on a stove. He pours a bit from each jar into a tea cup and mixes them together. When the kettle whistles, he pours the boiling water over the ingredients, and a small cloud puffs up in the shape of a heart. He brings the cup to the table and sits it in front of me. I look at the liquid, noting the blood-red color of it.

“Is it safe?” I ask Hatter, staring at the opalescent liquid. White had warned me never to drink tea from anyone, and yet here I am, accepting more tea. I’m terrible with Wonderland rules, apparently. I haven’t followed many of them.

He nods before pulling me from my chair and into his lap.

“Take a deep breath, Clara Bee.” His arms are strong around me. “It’s going to be a rough and intense ride.”

With shaking hands, I lift the tea cup and sniff. Roses. It smells like roses and a metallic tang that reminds me of blood. I take a sip of the liquid. At first, nothing happens.

“Did it work?” I ask.

Then the world explodes.