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“N-n-n-no, d-don’t do this! I-I can help you!”
“You sealed your own fate by attacking me, my furry friend.” Rounding the side of the guillotine, I note the thick rope coiled around a brass diamond holder on the opposite side to where I speared the playing cards.
“It’s not what you think! The queen, she is out for your head!” he babbles. I roll my eyes, untying the rope holding up the blade until Hare’s fate rests solely in my hand. Feels lighter than I anticipated. “When you left Wonderland, you took the crazy. It’s been seeping from the land. Only your death can secure our future,” he rabbits on. I yawn.
This heavy, foretelling shit is growing old real fast. If all that’s required of me is to die, why would the Tweedles have been sent to ’retrieve’ me? And why would the Hatter deliver a message to find him. Surely his tiny felt hat would have provided a razor blade and his mystical feathers could have instructed me to slit my wrists. Job done. Not all this hoopla.
“If it’s crazy you need,” I lower to Hare’s eye level, holding the rope taut around my hand. “All you had to do is say so.” Opening my fingers, the rope unravels, unleashing the blade in quick succession. It slices through Hare’s neck as smoothly as butter, blood spraying me from hair to chest. I quickly grab his ears before his head makes it to the ground, holding it up in front of me.
“I do have to thank you, March Hare. It becomes so easy to forget who one is in light of who others prefer them to be. I’d almost forgotten what gave me my name.” Pushing two fingers through the crimson dripping down my cheeks, I draw in a set of military lines on either side. I’m Malice. Daughter of asshole and owner of vengeance.
Tossing the head away, I stand to look over my handy work. Not bad, if I do say so myself. Pacing around the stocks and kicking the remaining body, I notice a slip of paper poking out of Hare’s waistcoat. Fishing it out, along with the pocket watch, the sheet unfolds, revealing a letter that was intended from the White Rabbit. Makes sense, since I deduced in the tunnel that Hare was wearing my tardy friend’s clothing.
Hatter,
It won’t be long now.
Rumors are spreading the caterpillar has called for Alice’s return.
You can’t trust those aligned to you when destiny comes to call. If you need a place to hide, come to the Enchanted Wood.
You know where to find me. Be careful out there.
W. Rabbit.
Turnsout this trip wasn’t for nothing after all. I got to get my murder on and found a clue. That’s the equivalent of winning in my book. Now I just need to get back on the right track. Bracing myself on a wide stance, I flex my fingers out and wriggle them.
“There is definitely a Tweedle Dick in my hand,” I say loud as my fist clamps shut around a meaty sausage. A resulting Tweed cries out as I give him a tight squeeze and yank hard for good measure.
“What the hell?!” Tweed roars, not making a move to withdraw his hardening cock from my grip. “Where the fuck are my clothes?!” His abs flex, his thighs tight with muscles and I lick my lips. Fuck, how have I been around him for three days and have only just seen him naked? New record.
Black ink trails his right arm, fingers to shoulder and down his right side. Every inch of skin is covered with roses, but the closer I look, the more I notice skulls webbed through the design with a rogue snake in the grass, slithering across his bicep. On the adjacent hip, a stopwatch on a thin chain hangs, the second hand ticking backwards. And that just leaves the only pop of color – a red heart directly over his heart.
I have no reason for the jealousy that tingles within, so I pay it no mind. I’ll let it fester under the surface until I met the queen Tweed has pledged his loyalty to, and then unleash the envy in whichever way I see fit. Tweed’s dick jolts in my hand, reminding me of my manners.
“Want some?” I scoop two fingers through the blood coating my chest and offer it out to Tweed. His nose wrinkles and he fights a gag.
“Ugh fuck no. I can only consume human blood. Care to explain how I came to be…here?” Tweed looks around for the first time, noting the guillotine, dead playing cards held up by a spear, pool of blood and headless Hare’s body by his feet. “Oh no, Malice. What have you done?"
“Defended myself via decapitation as any self-respecting woman would,” I wink, tugging on his dick for good measure. Or hell, just because I felt like it. “Enough small talk Big Balls - take me to the Enchanted Wood.”
18
“Fascinating,” Cash lowers onto his hunches to stare quizzically at me. I pay him no attention, my back against a tree trunk whilst chewing on my fingers. I told myself they were southern-fried chicken sticks and have found myself a new hobby. No matter how many I eat, they just reappear. Brings a whole new meaning to finger-licking good, but I had to do something to preoccupy my time.
Without cell phones, it took ages for the pigeon-carrier to reach the Hattery and tell Cash to get his ass over here. I wrote the note myself, specifying ‘Change of plan, heading to the Enchanted Wood. Hurry the fuck up or I’m fucking Tweed,’ and damn if I was joking.
Since he forced me to believe some clothes onto his fine, muscular frame, I haven’t been able to get the image out of my head. Double that by two Tweedles and I’m ready to get me some action. I need the twirling smile to return and ask me at what cost, so I can smack that bitch down and tell her I don’t care for her wisdom. I’m aroused, adventurous and ready to take what I want.
But what you want is an answer to the Hatter’s location, the smile appears right on cue, over Cash’s left shoulder. He doesn’t seem to notice, raising my hand to inspect the steamy chicken closer. I narrow my eyes into slits at the smile and re-imagine my fingers back to their natural state. Fine, I’ll findone clue– then I’m getting my sexy on.
Pulling myself upright, I turn to face the wood. Trees curve in an arch over the entrance, a canopy of leaves hindering the light from here on out. Not that there seems to be a reprieve from the storm clouds lingering overhead. Shooting out my hands, I beckon for a Tweedle to take either side with the full intent of skipping down the checkerboard path splayed out before us.
Tweed has the shoes for it, a sturdy pair of unlaced biker boots that his leather trousers easily slip into. On his upper half, a jacket covers a white vest that hangs loosely, the thin straps reaching low to grace his nipples. He told me to dress him, but he didn’t say how – and I’m not done tracing the linework of his tattoos with my eyes, fingers or tongue yet.
Cash is still in his usual pinstripe, transparent purple vest, braces and electric blue jeans that I enjoy seeing how much of an erection he can get before cutting off all blood supply, so I’ll leave him be for now. Speaking of which, do Vampires even have a blood supply?
Bracing myself to break into said skip, movement zips from between the trunks and rushes forward. A little book on feet skids to a halt, barring our entrance. Bursting open his pages, a map of the wood is helpfully displayed, a red dot marking ‘you are here.’ Bending low, I admire the crisp whiteness to his page, as if this is the first time one has needed to gaze upon his illustrations.
