I come to, gasping for air, and sit up from where I’m lying on the floor. My skin is coated with sweat, and I glance over to Clara sitting behind me, where she had been holding me in her lap. When the hell did I end up on the floor? I feel the back of my head and wince when I feel the goose egg there.

“Sorry,” Clara mumbles. “You jerked pretty violently at one point, and I couldn’t catch you before you fell.”

Her eyes flick over to Cheshire who stands at the window, making it clear she’s peeved that he didn’t help.

March is sitting at the table, pouring tea from one teacup to another, back and forth. My head spins as I try to push myself up, and I clench my forehead in an attempt to stop the feeling.

“Deep breaths,” Clara urges me, rubbing my back in comfort. “Find something to ground yourself and focus on it.”

The first thing my eyes land on is Cheshire’s tail, slowly flicking back and forth. I watch the blue and grey fur move, focusing on it until the fuzziness begins to ebb. Cheshire doesn’t comment when he realizes what I’m fixated on, and I’m thankful for that. I fully expect him to be an asshole about it.

Finally, my heart rate slows down enough that I can gather my wits. I run my hand through my hair, realizing it’s loose and around my shoulders in a mess.

“What did you see?” Clara asks gently. She’s watching me closely, as if she expects me to panic at any moment. I should be, but I have a mission, and if anything can keep me from freaking out, it’s a puzzle.

I’m staring at the wall, trying to find the words to describe the visions, when a Bandersnatch shriek pierces the air. I cringe, a slight pain in my ear letting me know just how close they are.

“I need some time to think,” I respond to Clara’s question.

She nods and squeezes my hand before standing. She helps me to my own feet. My legs feel like jelly, and it takes me a moment to steady myself.

“Cheshire, we should go before the Red Queen arrives,” Clara tells him, dusting off her hands.

“She’s coming?” I can’t help the alarm in my voice. I’m not prepared to face her yet.

“We figure she has some sort of enchantment on March’s cabin,” Clara explains. “If anyone but him enters, it sounds an alarm. We didn’t know that when I came here, and we almost died for it.”

“We have to go back on the porch, and we need to be fast,” Cheshire mumbles, dropping the curtain he’d been looking out back into place. He nods at March as he passes him, heading towards the door.

“Thank you, March,” Clara tells him. I repeat the sentiment.

March snorts and takes a sip of tea.

“‘Don’t lose your heads’, she said. ‘Or else you’ll wind up dead’.” March repeats the words back to himself and then flows into a fit of giggles.

When we step outside, the Bandersnatch shrieks can be heard even closer. None of us speak as Cheshire offers us claw-tipped hands again. Neither I nor Clara mention it, and when I place my hand in his, he’s so gentle, that not a single claw nicks my skin.

We reappear back on the Hatter’s porch moments before the final Bandersnatch shriek fades. As soon as we’re solid, the Hatter wraps Clara up in a desperate hug and drags her away. Cheshire drops my hand like I burn him.

“I was going mad without you,” he growls and buries his head in her hair.

“We weren’t gone that long,” she tells him, hugging him just as tightly to her.

“You were much too long, it felt too wrong,” he sings.

I look away from the couple to give them their privacy. It’s a moment I feel bad witnessing, like it’s their time and theirs alone. When I turn, my eyes land on Cheshire. He’s watching Hatter and Clara with a longing so deep, it makes me ache for him. When he realizes I’m looking at him from my place on the porch, he blinks his normal mask back into place, indifference now front and center. He steps away and lounges across the chair he’d taken up residence in before we’d left.

“What’s wrong, Fire Crotch?” he asks.

I don’t even give him a dignified response. I flip out one of the small knives the Hatter had supplied me, and I fling it in his direction. My aim is off because I don’t take the time to line up my sight. Rule number one of my classes, always take the time to aim if possible, or it could cost you your life. But I don’t plan on harming Cheshire. It flies for his stomach but just before it can strike, he plucks it from the air as if it’s nothing but a bug, and he begins flicking it through his fingers. He grins.

“You’re right on time for tea,” Hatter announces, opening the door to go inside.

Cheshire scowls at the mention of tea.

“Are the Tweedles still here?” he asks.

Hatter nods, and Cheshire frowns in response.

“Come on, Jupiter. It’s time for your first tea party,” Clara says, grabbing my hand and pulling me inside the house. I immediately blink my eyes at the interior. It’s off-kilter, as if it somehow leans to the side and is perfectly level at the same time. “You get used to it.” Clara tugs me to the left and through double doors.

“Do you have any paper and a pen?” I ask, taking in the other creatures already sitting at the table. There’s a man with gorgeous moose antlers sitting beside a woman with a deer-like face. Both nod their heads at me in acknowledgment before whispering to each other. The table is mostly full, and I stare in shock at some of the weirder ones, like a man with a fish face, and something that looks like a mixture between a giant beetle and a lizard. I can’t tell if it's male or female, but it chortles to me as I pass.

“I have a notebook at my seat,” Clara answers. She notices me staring at the creatures. “It’s difficult at first, but you grow accustomed to it. Hatter and I welcome everyone at our table, before he leads them to the Hereafter.”

“Can you tell me more about that once I complete my part of the prophecy?”

“Of course. It’ll be nice to have someone to talk to about everything.” Clara glances at the Hatter. “I still have so many things I need to talk out. Maybe you can answer some of my questions about White, as well.”

I don’t answer her. I’m not sure if there’s anything I can tell her about White, not that I’d feel comfortable discussing. There’s a lot I feel is just between the two of us, but it’s nice to have a friend who understands what’s going on and that I can talk to.

The stories got Hatter’s table correct. It’s filled completely with mismatched dishes loaded up with sweet breads, cupcakes, and odd foods that I have no name for. There are tea pots filled with various colored teas. Everything ranges from new to old, even the chairs following the mismatched theme, but the table seems sturdy enough.

We make our way to the very end of the set table, Clara gesturing to a seat right beside her, as she takes one of the head throne-like chairs. Hatter takes the one next to her and immediately wraps her hand in his.

“Feast!” Hatter tells everyone, and table fills with the sounds of slurping and eating.

I pay no mind. Clara passes me a journal, and I immediately open it and begin to scribble. I need to see everything I know listed out on paper.

1. The doctor from the asylum is a Jabberwocky.
2. He’s providing Alice with energy for her powers somehow, and she absorbs it.
3. The cord around Doe’s neck muffled her magic.
4. White knew Alice was being tortured in an Asylum and left her there.

I’m staring at the last fact, lost in my thoughts, when Cheshire plops down in the seat next to me. He starts pouring himself some tea. When he offers it to me, I shake my head, remembering White’s warning.

“Oh! Jupiter, the blue teapot is safe for you to drink,” Clara mentions. “And these pies are safe. Don’t touch anything else unless you want to get drunk.” She glares at Cheshire as he takes a sip of the tea he tried to offer me–in a black pot no less—and he grins.

“The Tweedles,” he tells me, pointing towards two people who enter the tea room.

I freeze when I see them, my eyes going so wide, I must look like I’ve seen a ghost. They each move in synchronization so comfortable with each other that they move as one unit. The one on the left is obviously a male, his wide chest covered with dragon scale armor that glimmers under the dim lighting. His face is handsome but off-putting, the strong jaw giving way to harsh curling horns that wrap around his head where his ears should be. The one on the right is a female, her hourglass body wrapped in similar armor to what I assume is her brother. Her lips are painted a blood red, but I can’t see her eyes. Where they should be, a plate comes down that forms into the matching set of horns on her head. Their skirts glimmer with movement as they come into the room, and I squint my eyes to see what it is.

“They’re beetles,” Cheshire answers for me. “The fuckers are weird about their beetles.”

I wrinkle my nose at him even as I can’t take my eyes from the pair who take their seats in the middle of the table. All the creatures around them shift uncomfortably.

“Don’t worry,” Clara tells me. “We have a deal. They can’t harm you.”

“Would they if there wasn’t a deal?”

She nods. “Yeah, they would. I’ve seen them in action. Don’t mess with them, and don’t turn your back on them.”

“Hey, Tweedle Dumb Fucks!” Cheshire shouts down the table.

Clara sighs and shakes her head. The female of the pair tilts her head towards the other. The male looks angry, his face scrunched up, but the female’s hand on his shoulder keeps him seated.

“Tweedledee and Tweedledum?” I ask, because who else can they be? They’re so far from what I expected that I can’t even comprehend them. Clara nods. “What are they?”

“Pains in the ass,” Cheshire answers. “Good in a fight, though.”

“Think of them like Djinn,” Clara says, her eyes flicking towards a mark on her wrist.

“What did you learn from the March Hare? What information did you glean from there?” Hatter interjects, shifting in his seat.

Clara places her hand on his and smiles up at him before looking at me expectantly.

I launch into a description of the visions, focusing on the Jabberwocky. I feel like that holds the answer to my mission, since my goal is to take away the Queen’s immortality, or her power source essentially. Would I have to take out the Jabberwocky himself? I’m not sure.

The Hatter and Cheshire tense at the mention of the Jabberwocky.

“Are you certain?” Hatter asks.

“Describe him.” Cheshire stares at me expectantly.

“He’s good-looking, strong jaw, blond hair. He has some sort of dragon tattoo that runs around his chest. He was in the asylum and then in Wonderland.”

Cheshire swears at the same time that Hatter scoffs and begins to stir his tea. Clara looks between us, frowning.

“Is that bad?”

“It’s fucking terrible,” Cheshire says, slamming his fist on the table. The dishes rattle, and all the creatures look up. “The description doesn’t ring a bell, but the tattoo means he’s definitely a Jabberwocky.”

“I agree. I don’t know him.” Hatter stirs his tea a little more violently.

“Is there more than one Jabberwocky?” I ask.

“There shouldn’t be any,” Hatter growls. “They were wiped out centuries ago and for good reason. They seek power, and it looks like this one found it in Alice. He’s using her to kill Wonderland, and since she desires exactly that, it’s the reason they’re succeeding.”

“No doubt he’s the reason why I can’t attack the Red Queen,” Cheshire hisses. “I haven’t been able to get close to her. Something holds my powers at bay.”

I glance at Cheshire in question, but now probably isn’t the time to ask him what his role is in Wonderland. If Hatter is the Grim Reaper, and White is the Time Keeper, Cheshire must be something of equal importance to be the third Son.

When I tell them the visions, I leave out White being at the Asylum and knowing Alice was there. For whatever reason, something whispers in my mind to leave it out until I can talk with White. My heart hurts every time I think of him in Alice’s clutches, of what she could be doing to him. Already, she’s had him far too long. And after the visions I had, I know she can do so many terrible things.

I continue telling them how we came to be in Wonderland. Clara grows pale when I mention the Dark Lands and the Chimera Storm. Apparently, she’d never heard of either one. I hated to be the bearer of bad news, but Wonderland is not the only horrifying place. When I finally bring up the cord we’d taken from Doe’s neck, Hatter tenses and sits up straighter.

“The Dodo bird?” he asks, astonished. “You freed the Dodo bird?”

I nod. “She’ll be here tomorrow, I think. She stopped to meet the Flamingo.”

Hatter claps his hands together in excitement. “That’s wonderful news! Oh, how I’ve missed Doe! And she gets to see her Flamingo.”

“Fresh eggs,” Cheshire says, licking his lips.

I curl my own up at him. “You wouldn’t.”

He grins and pops some sort of sweet tart into his mouth.

I turn back to Clara and the Hatter.

“Doe’s cord blocked whatever magic she uses to transform. Once we removed it, she was released and was free to do what she wanted. What if we could use something similar to block the magic the Jabberwocky feeds Alice? Make her unable to absorb his power?”

Hatter taps his lip and meets Cheshire’s eyes. They both seem to come to an agreement before Cheshire speaks.

“That would take an enchantment.”

I know that since Doe called the cord an enchantment to begin with, but the way they speak of it, makes it seem like it’s difficult to pull off.

“Can you not do an enchantment?”

“No. We don’t have that sort of power. Very few do.”

“Can anyone here do one?”

Every single eye in the room looks towards the Tweedles where they delicately sip their tea. Tweedledee, the female, inclines her head and smiles.

“Do you wish to make a deal, Fire Child?”