Chapter 19
CHAPTER 19
It was already too late by the time Shadow turned toward Alice.
Should’ve known! Should’ve been ready.
Bokki’s words, though unsettling, hadn’t been surprising. The Red King had spent a lot of time hunting Shadow, had laid a great many traps, but he’d never been successful. His persistence had always struck Shadow as half-determination, half-madness. Why wouldn’t the chance of killing Shadow once and for all rouse the king to action again?
And now the king’s automatons had Alice.
Alice, Shadow’s weakness. Shadow’s love .
Shadow forgot about Bokki and Grithis in that moment. He had no doubt they’d communicated with the Red King, that they’d somehow alerted the king when Alice and Shadow had arrived, but they weren’t important now. They were little more than messengers.
He raced into the hallway as the automatons dragged Alice through the far door. The way she screamed his name pierced Shadow to his core—she instilled those two syllables with an overwhelming amount of fear, desperation, love, and hope.
The automatons that had walked past Alice spread out in two rows of two to block the hallway. Simultaneously, they raised their guns, aiming them at Shadow.
Behind him, the door to Bokki and Grathis’s room slammed shut, and a heavy lock thumped into place.
Shadow phased as the automatons opened fire. The booming of their weapons, amplified in the tight space, was powerful enough to put thunder to shame. Shadow felt the projectiles distantly; they were brief, dull pinches on his abdomen and chest that vanished in the same instant that he materialized behind the machines.
Alice and the automatons holding her were already out of sight, but he could hear her grunts and shouts from inside the dance hall. They couldn’t have made it far. He wasted no time in debating whether he should chase them or eliminate the threats now behind him.
If the Red King got his hands on Alice, it wouldn’t matter how many automatons were still standing.
Shadow darted through the door and into the dance hall.
The immensity of the space was apparent now that most of the revelers were gone—the handful remaining appeared to be unconscious, scattered about the room lying on the floor or slumped against the wall. Garbage—mostly cups, bottles, and discarded articles of clothing—was strewn about the checkered dance floor.
And he stood in the center of the chamber, flanked by at least a dozen of his machine soldiers. The automatons dragging Alice were about halfway between Shadow and the king.
“Stop,” Shadow roared.
The king grinned. He lifted a hand and waved two fingers. The pair of automatons holding Alice stopped abruptly—and the weapons of all the rest turned toward Shadow. Neither the king’s grin nor the wild light in his eyes wavered as he drew his pistol and aimed it at Shadow.
“You’ve caused a lot of trouble,” the king said. “I don’t know who you are, don’t know what you are, but I’m not going to tolerate your shit anymore. Today, your luck runs out. Today, you finally face consequences for all you’ve done.”
Shadow curled his fingers into fists. His short hairs bristled, and his tail flicked back and forth in agitation. His fury—the same overwhelming fury that had consumed him at the stream, the same fury he’d experienced when the guard had touched Alice—flared. Everything in this chamber was a threat to Alice, was an enemy to be destroyed without hesitation or mercy. The king was foremost of those threats; he controlled the automatons, and he would be the one to command them to harm Alice. But Shadow’s rage was tempered by fear—Sithix might have been a killer, but the king was cruel beyond imagining, and he was mad .
Alice was in more danger now than ever before.
She was facing Shadow; the machines had hauled her backward out of the hallway. The same powerful, complex emotions that had shone in her eyes a few moments ago remained in place as she stared at him.
“If you could kill me, your machines would’ve fired the moment I emerged from the hall,” Shadow said, forcing his tone to remain even. He’d never once lost a game against the king. He certainly wouldn’t allow himself to lose this time—not when it was the only contest that mattered.
“You’re right,” the king replied. “You’re some kind of anomaly. A glitch . But my programmers are closing in on you, and once they find you, that’s the end. No more fighting. No more games. No more you .”
Shadow tensed. His stomach felt like it was floating near his throat and like it had sunk into his groin simultaneously, and the rapid thumping of his heart had risen to replace the beat of the music that had been playing in this room only minutes ago.
All it would take was one phase and a single swing of his knife. Two fast, easy movements, and the king would go down. Even the king couldn’t come back that quickly. Could he?
There was no way to be certain. A few days ago, he would’ve dismissed the king’s ramblings as the product of a tired, damaged mind, but now they held an undeniable ring of truth.
“Go ahead,” the king said, grin widening. “Pull your vanishing act, and we’ll fire?—”
Shadow drew in a deep breath; he could endure a large amount of punishment, and he knew, somehow, that he couldn’t experience true death—not in this body.
And even if he could die, it was worth the risk to protect Alice.
The king nonchalantly pointed at Alice. “—on her .”
The impossible, icy cold of the void spread through Shadow, consuming him from within. The automatons, as one, trained their weapons on Alice.
Her eyes widened, and she renewed her struggles against her captors for a few seconds. Her nostrils flared with a heavy exhalation before she eased. “Do what you need to do, Shadow,” she said in a calm, clear voice.
Shadow’s heart nearly shattered in that moment. She was so brave, so strong, despite the odds stacked against her, despite the very real, very immediate danger to her life. Death now would mean death in all worlds.
He remained frozen in place, torn between two choices that offered no difference in their inevitable outcomes—act and lose her or don’t act and lose her. Shadow knew the king well enough to understand that neither option would spare Alice suffering and pain.
“So, you do care for her,” the king said. “You’ve never cared for a damned thing but your games. How about we play one now? Let her go.”
The automatons on either side of Alice released her and, in perfect unison, marched back to join the others in the firing line.
Shock and confusion strained her features, and she nearly stumbled as her legs were forced suddenly to support her weight.
Shadow’s chest constricted, and his heart felt like it was being squeezed out of his ribcage. He knew better than to hope, knew there were no good intentions behind this, but it was a chance—a chance to save her, a chance for the king’s arrogance to lead to his defeat just as it had so often in the past.
Alice ran toward Shadow, and he ran toward her. Though they were separated by no more than ten paces, he phased to her; he needed to have her in his arms now because that was the only way he could get her out of here fast enough.
He materialized immediately in front of her and extended his arms to draw her into his embrace. She slammed into Shadow, throwing her arms around him. A thunderous boom echoed through the chamber in the same instant—much too loud to have been caused by her impact.
Something heavy punched into Shadow’s lower abdomen, followed by wet, slowly spreading heat.
Alice released a soft, startled grunt against his chest. Her hold on him tightened, and her fingers clutched at his clothing with desperate strength. She was stiff and still, so still, too still.
“Shadow,” she breathed before she sagged against him, legs giving out. Only his embrace kept her upright.
“You finally lose one,” the king said.
Shadow glanced at the king. The man’s pistol was raised—aimed at Alice—and a thin, ghostly wisp of smoke curled up from its barrel.
A cold hand clamped around Shadow’s heart, squeezing it until it no longer beat. His knees buckled; together, he and Alice sank to the floor. Nothing else existed as he tipped her back to examine her. Pain contorted her face. A crease formed between her eyebrows, and her skin paled but for a pair of frantic pink splashes on her cheeks. Mouth dry, Shadow lowered his gaze.
Her dress was stained crimson at her stomach, where a gaping tear in the fabric revealed a hole in her . Fresh blood flowed from the wound. Hand trembling, Shadow covered the wound with his palm and pressed down. More blood soaked through the arm of his jacket from the entry wound on her back. A million thoughts careened through his head, smashing into each other to burst in a chaotic, indecipherable jumble.
Her eyes—so big, blue, and beautiful—were glossy with confusion and pain as they stared into his. She drew in a labored breath, and more warm blood ran between his fingers.
“No, no, no,” he whispered as her fingers curled in the fabric of his coat. “It’s not real, Alice. You’re okay. It’s not real, remember?”
“But it hurts, Shadow,” she said in a small, thin voice. “How…how can it be fake if it hurts so much?”
“I can’t kill you yet,” the king called, drawing Shadow’s gaze briefly. The man’s eyes shone with malicious glee. “But I did kill her. There’s nothing in this world that can save her, not even you. And when the time comes, you won’t be able to save yourself, either.”
Shadow’s fury swelled, but it was impotent; he knew the king wasn’t lying, knew Alice wouldn’t survive this. She’d be gone, and he’d have nothing —not even a name. With the one person who saw him gone, he would be nothing. As more and more of Alice’s blood pumped around his hand, as her hold on him gradually lost strength, as her skin continued to pale, Shadow felt himself—or whatever unseen force it was that had always held him together—faltering.
She is mine. Mine. Mine! I won’t let her go.
The shadows that always shrouded him—the shadows that had protected whatever remained of him since he’d come to Wonderland so long ago, the shadows through which only Alice had been able to see—dissipated. He felt them evaporate like mist under the bright morning sun, like smoke in a steady breeze, but he didn’t care.
He didn’t want the shadows, didn’t want this place. Didn’t want anything if he didn’t have her.
“You can’t go, Alice. Not without me,” Shadow rasped.
The king’s boots thumped across the floor as he approached, and he growled, “Look at me.”
Shadow held Alice’s gaze, breaking it only to lean forward and brush his lips across her forehead. She didn’t have long, and he didn’t want to sacrifice even a single second he could’ve spent staring into her eyes.
No. This isn’t real. He hasn’t won… There’s still time!
But her blood was all over his hand, and it would always be stained, and no matter how much he’d forgotten and had yet to forget, he’d always remember Alice—and how he’d failed her. His love was tainted, and it wasn’t enough. Wasn’t enough to keep her safe. She wouldn’t come back, couldn’t come back. There was only true death in this place.
“Wake up, Shadow,” Alice whispered. She covered his hand with one of hers, her features tight. “He’s deathless here. Wake up and end him beyond . You need to wake up .” Her eyelids fluttered, and Shadow knew she was using all her strength to keep them open and speak. “I love you.”
“I said look at me,” the king shouted an instant before his boot struck Shadow on the cheek.
The force of the blow knocked Shadow aside. Alice fell from his arms, crying out in startlement and pain, and Shadow’s head hit the floor. He shook off the blows and pushed himself up.
“ You ?” The king snarled. “All this time, all these system scans, all that searching, and you were a fucking sleeper all along?”
Shadow quickly and carefully gathered Alice into his arms and covered her wounds as best he could. She curled up, burying her face against his chest, and whimpered between her ragged breaths.
Baring his teeth, Shadow finally looked up at the king, whose expression was an unsettling blend of triumph and hatred.
“Finally got you,” the king said. “There’s no running this time, you son of a bitch. I’m going to kill you in meat space just so I can really feel your blood flowing over my hands.”
The king turned his left arm so his palm was facing the ceiling and tugged up his sleeve, revealing his wrist—and a strange, black device embedded in the flesh there. He tapped the device. A bright light erupted from inside the king, expanding and intensifying to consume him entirely. When the light faded an instant later, the king was gone.
The automatons stood in place, unmoving and unresponsive.
Wake up, Shadow .
The king was going to kill him in meat space . What did that mean? What was beyond Wonderland?
Was Alice’s real body somewhere out there, slowly dying because of her wound here?
Yes. The answer had to be yes, because that meant there was a chance, that meant he could still save her. If there was no hope in this world, he would find it in another. He would take it.
“Wake up, wake up ,” he muttered as he carefully gathered Alice close.
She grasped his coat again; her grip was noticeably weaker than before.
Shadow stilled. He knew, suddenly, where he had to go, even if he was still uncertain of what he had to do. He couldn’t wake up from Wonderland until he stopped dreaming .
Shadow squeezed his eyes shut and envisioned… himself .
The air around him wavered and cooled. Mist settled on his skin, and the uneasy silence of the dance hall was replaced by the gentle creaking of old, tired trees and the muted sound of water lapping lazily against land. His back tingled, thrumming with the energy of the presence behind him. Shadow tightened his hold on Alice and opened his eyes.
The ground was damp, covered in a layer of rotting leaves. Alice looked even paler here, and the misty air gave her skin a sickly, grayish pallor—she looked close to death.
She was close to death.
Shadow settled Alice on the ground and removed his coat, vest, and shirt. “This is not a place for you to sleep, Alice. Stay with me.”
Though he’d somehow kept his voice steady, the turmoil in his mind had only intensified. His heart pounded, the sound so pervasive in his head that it might’ve been the heartbeat of the entire swamp—the heartbeat of Wonderland itself.
Not real. No. No! She’s fine, because this isn’t real. I’ll kill the king, save Alice, and the only thing that’s real is her, is us .
His hands trembled as he used his clothing—tearing the fabric as necessary—to bind her wounds. She grunted and groaned despite his care, pressing her nails into his forearm. His already broken heart crumbled further at the knowledge that he was causing her more pain, but he took a modicum of comfort in her grasp—it meant she still had fight left.
Alice opened her eyes and met his gaze. Despite the sheen in her eyes, despite the haze of pain that must undoubtedly have settled over her mind, there remained a piercing lucidity there. “Go, Shadow. Leave me.”
“No,” he begged, even though he knew he had to go. “I can’t leave you alone. This isn’t real. We’re real, but this isn’t. You’re fine, you’re?—”
She pressed her trembling fingertips over his lips, silencing him. Her skin was cool and clammy. “You need to leave me. Wake up. Wake up and…and come find me. Find me beyond.”
The presence behind Shadow seemed to intensify, and the tingling along his spine became a crackling heat that made his skin itch. He licked his lips with his dry, scratchy tongue and stood. After unclasping his knife belt, he tossed it aside and hurriedly tugged off his pants. He folded them, knelt, and slipped them under Alice’s head. Her eyelids fluttered shut.
Not real. Not real… She’s fine.
No, she’s not. She’s not fine, and the king is coming for me. Wake up!
Shadow pulled one of the remaining knives from its sheath on the discarded belt. He spread and curled his fingers, adjusting his grip on the weapon, as he rose. His mind—more outside his control than ever before—whispered a thousand what-ifs.
What if he was too late? What if Alice couldn’t hold on? What if he couldn’t wake up?
What if this was real?
“No,” he growled. He reversed his hold on the knife, cupping one hand over the butt of its grip, and positioned the tip against his chest, just beneath his ribcage.
She’s not going to die. I will not lose her .
The sensation on his back strengthened to the point of pain, pulsing along his spine in fiery lashes. He’d always avoided this place after he’d first discovered what currently awaited behind him. Perhaps, even back then, part of him had recognized that this swamp was a hint that Wonderland wasn’t right—that it wasn’t real.
Shadow plunged the blade under his ribs and forced it upward as he spun around.
The pain came only when he looked at the face of the sleeper who’d been behind him—his own face. Piercing agony set his chest ablaze. His knees wobbled, and his arms trembled, and his lungs were desperate for air, but he could not draw breath. He closed his eyes.
The entire world lurched, and the weight of Shadow’s body rapidly increased, making him feel as though he were about to sink into the ground and be swallowed by Wonderland forever.
Not real, not real, not real…
“Not real.”
The sound of his own voice startled Shadow. He opened his eyes to find himself face-to-face with his other , with his…ghost. His shadow. The ghost had blood smeared over his lips—Alice’s blood—and his hands were clasped over the grip of the knife jutting from his chest.
Shadow glanced down to see his hands in the same position over the fabric of the green hospital gown he was dressed in. He moved his hands aside; there was no wound beneath, no tear in the fabric, no blood. But the scent of blood filled his nose— her blood. He looked up as his ghost, the body he’d inhabited during his entire stay in Wonderland, swayed. The light was gone from his ghost’s eyes, and no hint of the grin he usually wore was present. The empty shell, the shadow, collapsed, barely making a sound as it hit the ground.
Shadow—he knew it wasn’t his name, especially not in this body, but he couldn’t remember what his name was supposed to be—shifted his gaze to Alice, who lay on the ground nearby his discarded ghost, unmoving but for the erratic rise and fall of her chest with her shallow, labored breaths.
He longed to lift her up, to soothe her, to kiss away her pain, but there was no time. He had to be quicker than the king.
“Not real, not real,” he repeated. His hoarse voice cut in and out, burning in his throat. This pain felt real and immediate.
“Wake up, damn you!” Shadow pinched his arm, pushing one of his claws through his skin. Warm blood oozed from the small wound. “Wake up, wake up, wake up!” He lifted a hand and slapped his cheek hard. The sharp sting was a shock, but not enough of one to accomplish his goal.
His eyes fell on Alice again as he grasped fistfuls of his hair and tugged on the strands. Despite the cool air, pinpricks of heat danced across his skin. Each of his thundering heartbeats was one closer to losing her. To losing everything . And if he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, how could he hope to help her?
Shadow’s other lay beside her, lifeless and still. What if that was the real him? What if he truly was a ghost now?
“No,” he growled. “I’m real. You aren’t!”
He dropped to his knees and closed his hands around the ghost’s throat.
“Not real. This…isn’t…real!”
He tightened his grip and released a wordless roar. The world around him rippled, and a sudden sinking sensation made it feel like he was falling despite the solid ground beneath him—falling impossibly fast, impossibly far. He was falling into an unfathomable abyss, into a lightless void; he was falling out of existence. He turned his head to seek Alice, hoping that seeing her would ground him in reality.
No. This isn’t real .
The darkness devoured Shadow; it didn’t seem to care whether it was real or not.