5. 5 – Hatter
5 – Hatter
I keep the plain black mask on as I stride toward the door of the seemingly empty warehouse.
They won’t bother to look at my face. They get paid too well to pay any attention to the array of high-profile faces that walk through the doors of Wonder. Many patrons arrive masked as an extra layer of security.
The men waiting at the entrance only care about the ticket.
You have a ticket, you get in.
You don’t have a ticket… they’re not so nice about it.
Nodding at them, I slide my hand into my pocket, searching.
Something clenches in my stomach.
Empty.
Frowning, I check my other pocket, my search becoming more desperate as the four security guards exchange smirks. “You lost, friend?”
“I—,”
There’s nothing there.
Shit .
My body goes cold as I think back.
If I left it there – if Alyss gets hold of it—
I turn, but Bishop steps forward, his hand gripping my arm as his other hand reaches up. “Not so fast. How’d you get the location?”
Fuck, fuck—
He rips off my mask.
And he pales, backing away with his hands up as he drops the mask like it’s on fire. “Fucking hell – sorry , Hatter—,”
The others do the same, giving me a wide berth. All except for Rook. He eyes me, a smirk spreading across the asshole’s face. “Does Red know her precious golden boy’s been out on the town? Never seen you outside the club, Hatter.”
My stare is stony. “Why don’t you ask her and find out?”
His mouth snaps shut at that. He might be a nasty cunt, but he’s not a fool.
No, the only fool in this party is me.
Heart pounding, I stride past them without another word and into the deceptively silent shell of a building, passing through a dilapidated corridor with a set of double doors at the end.
I can’t go back, not now. It was hard enough to slip out the first time. And when word gets out – when Red finds out that I was gone —
I’ll be lucky if she doesn’t chain me to her fucking throne.
It wouldn’t be the first time.
My mouth dries as the doormen step forward. With my mask gone, they exchange glances before silently pulling the doors open.
The music assaults my ears, the pounding bass echoing the thumping of my heart as I stroll in.
Even at this early hour, the place is full. Packed, actually. More people than usual crowd the dancefloor, their faces lit with eerie flashes of light as the strobe lighting passes through the floor beneath them, creating jerky, unnatural-looking movements.
Monsters. That’s what they look like. A hungry, grasping group of animals swarming over each other.
Above their heads, elaborate chandeliers flicker with thousands of small amber lights. A fire hazard, but nobody in this city will close us down. The fire chief is probably around somewhere – no doubt buried in pussy and off his fucking face, Red creating the collateral she needs to keep him off our back for as long as we’re here.
Unusual, for us to be back here so soon. We were only here six months ago. We went from here to Boston, the trucks crammed with people and parts. And now back again.
But then, Red’s decisions have never made any sense to me.
Her reasons are her own.
A smoky, sweet-smelling haze hangs in the air, courtesy of the men and women draped on top of huge, vibrantly colored mushrooms. They dot the room around us, the flattened tops accessible only by the doors built into the giant stalks.
Decked in bejeweled outfits, Red’s caterpillars spread themselves out for the entertainment of the patrons watching, their bodies on display. They drag the hookah into their lungs from the pipes set out beside their cushioned areas, releasing it in various shapes that rise into the air before dissolving as they stretch their bodies into languid poses and bat their eyes in silent invite.
Some mushrooms are closed off, veiled curtains drawn around them. More curtains are closed than open at this hour, the shadows moving inside making it clear what’s happening. As I climb the nearest set of stairs to get to the upper balconies, the set of curtains closest to me opens up.
The girl emerges, an appreciative murmur flooding the crowd as a set of red and gold wings flare wide behind her, glittering in the light that flickers over them.
“And so the caterpillar turned into a butterfly. Amazing what a good fuck can do.”
At the cool words, my muscles lock. I force myself to breathe, my arms crossing as I glance to him. “Buck.”
He doesn’t return my greeting. Instead, he stares out at the butterfly, her wings now flapping slowly as her body moves in sync with the music. As if we haven’t seen hundreds of iterations of this particular show.
She throws herself from the top of the mushroom, wings stretching wide as she glides above the crowd on invisible wires.
My eyes drop down, taking in the shaking of Buck’s hands as he speaks. It’s bad. “She’s planning a new event. Something big. You know anything?”
My pulse spikes. Red’s events are never anything good. Not for us, at least. “No. She cut you off again, didn’t she? What did you do this time?”
“She doesn’t need a fucking excuse. I breathed. It was enough.” Buck’s hands grip the bars tightly, as if he might be able to hide the early signs of withdrawal kicking in. “But she’s not in the best of moods. Something to do with her precious Mad one being nowhere to be found.”
My heart stops.
His tone is dark. “She’s fucking livid. And she’s quiet. Brace yourself.”
Her shouting is easier to deal with. But her silent, damning fury… that’s far worse. My chest constricts.
“Thanks for the warning.” I duck past him, but he stops me, his hand on my arm.
“Was it worth it? The great escape?”
Longing lingers in the tone of his voice. Longing for a life outside of this place, instead of the life he manages by drinking himself to oblivion over and over again until Red notices and cuts him off.
Never for long enough to fully help him, though. Just enough to punish him.
I consider his words, flashes of blue-gray eyes slipping into my head. The curve of her spine beneath my hands, sweat-soaked skin pressing against mine.
The scent of cherries.
“Yeah,” I say quietly. “It was worth it.”
“Why’d you bother coming back?” He stares at me. “You could have run .”
“And go where?” I turn away. “You know what happens if you break a contract. They’d find me.”
He’s tried more than once. Begged for death, rather than be forced to stay. But Red prefers to torture him.
Leaving Buck to his shaking, I head straight for the Palace. Better to get it over with.
Red’s personal area overlooks the main dancefloor, an elaborate balcony filled with her current chosen court for the night. I pass film stars, musicians, and several members of the highest law court in the country as I duck through and approach her.
The most influential members here, I won’t recognise at all. Those with true power always prefer the shadows.
But all of them fund Red’s ventures. They invest their money into Wonder, and in return, Red gives them what they want.
Whatever they want.
Flip the pretty, glittering world of Wonder over, and something much darker, crueler, lies beneath.
Red holds up a palm as I approach her. Her latest devoted toy, Knave, gives me a filthy look from where he hovers behind the throne she’s seated in.
Stopping, I push my hands behind my back and wait.
Eventually, she sighs. “Hatter, Hatter. What am I to do with you?”
Her hands grip the carved golden armrests. “I trusted you. You wanted a longer leash, and I was kind enough to give it to you. And in return, you try to leave me?”
“I came back,” I say steadily. I meet her glittering green gaze, note the savagery behind it. “I was assessing potential attendees for the club. That’s all.”
The lie tastes sour as it leaves my mouth.
Only the best for our investors. The prettiest, the most handsome. The most fragile, the most broken. The most scarred. Red receives a wish list of traits, and her Pack hunts them down and gives them a mysterious invite to the most elusive club in existence.
They’ve never failed to bring a target in.
“That’s not your job.” Red’s eyes flash. “Is it?”
“No. It’s mine.” Knave smirks at me, but it slides off his face as Red twists to glare at him. He bows his head, keeping it there until she slowly turns back around.
“You’ve disappointed me,” she says quietly. Her eyes shimmer with emotion, feigned or otherwise.
You can never truly tell. Although something tells me her upset is real. For whatever reason, Red keeps a tighter grip on me than any of her other toys, much to Knave’s disgust.
She waves a hand decked with long, scarlet nails. “Wait for me in bed. I’ll decide what to do with you later.”
I sweep into a bow, even as my stomach plummets, nausea swooping. Knave looks as though he’d like to slit my throat. “Fine.”
Her eyes narrow, but she says nothing else as I leave. Knave is already crouching to drip his poison into her ear – not that she needs it.
Some of the regulars smile at me in invitation, others assessing me as I pass, but I keep my eyes straight ahead.
One of Red’s minions stays close behind. He gives me a hard stare when I glance over my shoulder. “Straight there.”
A tighter leash, in exchange for my stolen time.
I cut through the dancefloor, slipping into the dilapidated area behind the main club with him still behind me. Red doesn’t bother with anything fancy behind the scenes, aside from in her own area.
The guard trails me as I walk past the makeshift beds and pallets, thrown together in the dust and the dirt. We sleep where we can, when we can, and never for long enough. Only a few bodies are sleeping, despite it being close to dawn. Buck is propped up against the wall, a sleeping bag half-dragged over him. His eyes flicker to my guard, but he says nothing. Just pulls the bag up, as if it might cover the tremors that wrack his body as he closes his eyes.
We pass the costume rails, dozens of them lining the corridor further down. Extra sets of wings are stacked up on a table, one of the costumers holding up a broken, ripped pair. The gauzy blue material is spattered with dark red stains.
I pause beside the shower stalls. “I’ll be five minutes.”
“Use hers.”
My skin crawls at the thought. He follows me up to the entrance to Red’s sleeping area, taking up a stance beside the door as I push the curtain aside and duck through.
The glitz and glamor missing from the back areas is more than present here. Red’s love of luxury is everywhere, from the emerald silk sheets to the mountains of jewelry carelessly scattered across her dressing table. Jeweled curtains surround us, the filthy floor covered with rich oriental rugs. Moroccan-style lanterns sit at intervals, illuminating the space with a warm glow.
All I feel is cold, as I stare at it all.
I give the emperor bed a wide berth, heading into the separate area she uses for bathing. The wide shower, meticulously assembled at every location by the building team, spurts out drops before the hot spray begins to trickle down. Reluctantly, I shuck off my clothes and step under the spray.
Slowly, I wash any hint of Alyss Lidell away. Replace the scent of cherries with coconut and shea butter, Red’s preferred scents.
Alyss Lidell doesn’t belong in this space. But thoughts of her linger in my head as I wash my hair, as I step out and clean my teeth.
Other thoughts threaten too. Thoughts of betrayal, and memories, and grief.
My hands tighten against the sink when she speaks. “You seem to have an issue following instructions lately, Hatter.”
“My apologies.” I turn, pushing those thoughts away. Red leans against the door, lips pursed.
Irritation flits across her face when I don’t walk to her. My feet stay rooted to the spot.
Her lips twist, turning her expression from contemplative into a scowl. “Get on your knees.”
The floor here is cold. I wait as she disappears, returning with something in her hands.
“Somebody needs a reminder of who they belong to,” Red says softly. My back stiffens as she approaches. “Who do you belong to, Hatter?”
I keep my mouth closed.
Red’s nails rake down my cheek. “ Answer me .”
My voice is a rasp. “Not you.”
A slap this time, directly over the marks. Her empty hand twists into my hair, yanking my face up. “Who do you belong to?”
I say it again.
Again.
She’s panting when she finishes. My face feels wet, my cheek stinging. “Always so fucking honest. Do you truly hate me that much, Hatter?”
I lift my eyes to hers, letting her see every bit of the hate I hold for her. “I fucking despise you.”
No matter what she does or says, I’ll never tell her what she wants to hear.
I do not belong to her.
Red’s lips thin as she holds the collar up. “Perhaps this will serve as a reminder that your words mean nothing, then.”
Property of Red.
It’s engraved into the black metal that she places around my neck.
I stare straight ahead as Red presses her lips to my bleeding cheek. To my shoulder, before she pulls back with a sigh. Her eyes travel across my face. “Why do you have to tempt me so?”
“Perhaps you should get rid of me then,” I say quietly. “Since I’m not giving you what you want.”
Red traces the slices her nails made in my face; her expression almost thoughtful. “No. You’ll give in one day. I’m a patient person.”
She pats my cheek. “Enough games for tonight. I’m tired.”
She doesn’t touch me again. But the tension in my body doesn’t relax until she’s sleeping next to me beneath those emerald sheets.
I stare up at the ceiling.
If I gave in, gave her what she wanted – handed over my heart, my body, she would soon get bored. And perhaps I would be free of this twisted obsession.
Red is used to getting what she wants.
She wants me.
But I will never, ever want her.
It takes a long time for my eyes to close.