Wonderland (Never After Wonderland #1)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

ALICE

You know what's the absolute worst thing you can do when life's kicking your arse?

Ask the universe, "What else you got?" Because trust me, that cosmic bastard will answer, and you'll regret ever opening your smart-arse mouth. But honestly? Sometimes, the universe isn’t all bad—it just likes to surprise you when you least expect it.

So here I am—Alice-freaking-Kingsleigh—standing at King's Cross Station, fresh off the train from Edinburgh. My body’s screaming for a stretch, but my mind’s too wired to care.

I’ve put off this trip home for years, always finding some excuse.

Now, I'm face-to-face with that mythical space between platforms nine and ten, and I can't help but smirk.

Little Alice used to stand right here, eyes wide with wonder, whispering, "Please be real." Now? I roll my eyes at my own nostalgia. But damn, if a part of me doesn’t still wish I could dive headfirst into that brick wall and end up somewhere—anywhere—else. Who says you can’t hang onto a bit of magic, even as an adult?

Fiction’s a hell of a drug, isn’t it? Fairy tales and fantasies—they’re like a warm blanket when reality’s kicking you in the teeth.

They let you dream, let you escape... until they spit you back out into the mess of the real world.

But even knowing that, I still can’t help but want to hang onto that little bit of wonder.

I take a deep breath, the air thick with the festive scent of pumpkin spice, apples, and cinnamon.

Tomorrow’s Halloween, and the whole place feels like it’s wrapped up in some kind of autumn magic.

A part of me just wants to ditch the heavy stuff, grab the biggest, most ridiculous chai latte, and lose myself in a café for a bit.

Or maybe sketch something. I haven’t done that in years, but right now, it feels like the right kind of whimsy.

How long’s it been since I was last here? Two years? Three? I’m not usually the daughter who avoids home, but life happens, doesn’t it? There’s always tomorrow, next week, next month. Then boom—another year’s gone, and you’re still making excuses.

The reason for this impromptu visit? Gran died last week.

She was... magical. Soft hands, warm hugs, and eyes that sparkled with mischief.

She bought me my first fantasy book and always told me the world was full of magic if you just knew where to look.

"You just have to find it, Alice," she'd say, like she had all the world’s secrets tucked away behind that twinkle in her eye. Dementia took her from us five years ago, and I think that’s why I’ve stayed away.

Seeing her... not herself? That was never part of the plan.

I hitch my backpack higher and drag my suitcase towards the subway. London’s chaos wraps around me, loud and alive, and for a moment, I feel like I’m slipping back into an old rhythm.

I pause, chewing my lip. That café is seriously calling my name.

Mum would lose her mind—"Your grandmother's dead, and you're off getting a coffee?" she’d screech—but Gran? She’d be all for it. She’d order the biggest, sweetest monstrosity on the menu and remind me to enjoy the little moments.

"Life’s too short not to," she'd say, and she'd be right.

But before I can decide, something catches my eye—a flash of white. A waistcoat. A hurried, scurrying walk. My heart skips a beat, and I freeze.

No way. No freaking way.

I’m Alice, with her wild imagination and her head forever stuck in the clouds. That’s what Mum always said. "Alice, stop dreaming. Those fantasies will get you nowhere." But here’s the thing—I’m not imagining this.

I blink, rub my eyes, and look again. There, darting across the station concourse, is a white rabbit. Or... is it?

I whirl around, heart pounding, and there he is—a man, maybe in his fifties, with white hair, wearing a waistcoat, checking his watch as he rushes past.

For a second, just a second, I’m tempted to follow him. To see where this rabbit hole might lead.

But I’m not that Alice anymore. I’m twenty-three, all grown up, with a funeral to attend and no time for whimsical detours.

Still... I can’t help but grin. Maybe, just maybe, there’s a little wonder left in this world after all.

I square my shoulders, grip the handle of my suitcase, and stride forward.

It’s time to face the wicked witch.