Chapter 39
Chapter Thirty-Nine
ALICE
I’m pretty sure some people are put on this earth just to drive you absolutely mad, and if we weren’t running for our lives, I’d be certain that person, for me, is Hook.
I thought my sister and mother could drive me to distraction, but him …
he’s in a league of his own. I could so easily put a pillow over his head the next time he sleeps.
We’re sprinting out the back door of the inn, and thank god I still have my trainers on and not some ridiculous shoes the Queen might have demanded I wear.
She’d have no trouble catching me then—I’d be face-first in the grass with a broken leg.
Grace is the graceful one in heels, not me.
And even in trainers, this dress is a nightmare.
I bunch it up as best I can, holding it tight to keep pace with Hook.
“Come on, love, keep up,” he calls over his shoulder.
“You want to try running in a dress?” I snap back, out of breath.
The back of the inn opens onto a sprawling, bizarre field.
The grass beneath our feet is an electric green, dotted with massive flowers the size of our heads, the colours too bright—red, purple, and blue petals practically glowing under a sky that can’t decide if it’s dusk or dawn.
Every time I glance up, the colours shift, the clouds caught in a constant, impossible sunset.
Ahead, the path twists and turns in ways that make no sense.
It looks like a straightforward trail, but the more I stare, the more it warps, looping back on itself, twisting into figure-eights and spirals, like the ground itself is playing tricks on us.
To the left, a stream bubbles alongside the path, but the water flows in jerky bursts, as if fighting against gravity.
Large, round stepping stones float on its surface, each one hovering just inches above the water before splashing down, only to rise again.
And, of course, that’s the way Hook’s leading us.
I come to a halt at the water’s edge as he leaps onto one of the floating stones, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I say, eyeing the stones with a mix of dread and disbelief.
“You’d rather take the other path?” He nods toward the field on our right, where the grass glints ominously, like it’s made of razor-sharp glass blades. “Or would you prefer to head back to the inn and greet the Queen’s guards?”
I grit my teeth, glancing between the unsteady floating stones and the deadly grass. “If I fall in,” I warn, fixing him with a hard look, “you’re giving me your clothes. Be a gentleman for once.”
His smirk widens as he takes another step forward, turning to face me with that infuriating confidence. “Oh, darling, I’d happily see you in my clothes. But I wouldn’t hold my breath waiting for it.”
“You’re insufferable.”
“So I’ve been told.”
Ignoring his remark, I leap from the bank and land on the first stone.
It bobs under my foot but holds just long enough for me to balance—until it doesn’t.
The shock of my landing keeps it steady for a second, and then it starts to dip.
I have to spring to the next one before it sinks into the water.
Each stone is the same, supporting me for mere seconds before dropping.
I barely keep my footing, and I can feel Hook’s gaze on me, no doubt amused.
We make it across to the other side, and I glance back, expecting to see the stones. They’re gone, swallowed up by the water, leaving no trace of our path.
“Where did they—?”
“Doesn’t matter,” he says, his voice sharp. He nods back to where we came from, to the path. In the distance, a line of figures appears—armoured bodies, their metal glinting ominously in the sunlight.
“Guards,” I mutter, heart racing. "Shit."
“Yep. Come on.”
We sprint into the woods, and immediately, it’s like stepping into a different world—one laced with a dark, magical beauty.
The air here feels thick, almost alive, and everything around us is cast in deep, enchanting shades of purple.
The trees themselves are massive, their twisted trunks dark and glistening as if coated in some faint, iridescent sheen.
From the bark of a few, thick rivulets of dark purple sap leak, winding down like slow-moving blood.
Strange objects hang from the branches above, swaying softly despite the stillness in the air.
Tiny glass bottles, glowing faintly, dangle from silver threads, their lights casting eerie reflections across the trees.
Odd shapes, like shrunken lanterns and silver charms, twist on invisible wires, spinning lazily.
As we pass beneath them, the faint glimmer of glittering dust drifts down, catching in my hair and on my skin.
The silence is unnerving—no birds, no rustling leaves, just an endless, heavy quiet that makes each of our footsteps seem louder than they should be. The ground is covered in thick, spongy moss, a midnight shade of purple, and every step we take feels like sinking into a strange, yielding softness.
Hook glances back at me, his face half-lit by the glow of the hanging charms. “Afraid, love?” His voice sounds almost too loud in the silence, but he doesn’t seem to care.
I try to ignore the eerie beauty around us, but the forest feels like it’s watching, its dark, glittering branches stretching out like hands, reaching to pull us deeper.
“No, I…” I lower my voice, but even that feels too loud, shattering the heavy silence. “It’s so quiet.”
We’ve walked quite a way when I glance over my shoulder, but all I can see are endless trees and shadows. The stream we crossed is gone, swallowed by the woods, and there’s no sign of the field or the guards. That’s all right. Probably.
The further we venture, the thicker the air becomes, feeling ancient and damp, biting into my skin.
I tug the small jacket tighter around my shoulders, grateful for even that small bit of warmth.
Each step seems to pull us deeper into a darkness that’s dense, almost tangible, a far cry from the daylight outside.
The dim glow of the hanging charms fades, replaced by an unsettling dimness, the shadows stretching longer, twisting around us like silent watchers.
Hook strides ahead, entirely unbothered, while I have to hike my dress higher to keep from tripping over roots tangled with glittering moss.
He glances back, and for a moment, I almost mistake his look for concern—but there’s more in his eyes than just that.
If he weren’t such a jerk, he’d actually be…
attractive. Not that I’m swooning over him.
I mean, his dark hair and piercing eyes do absolutely nothing for me. Nothing at all.
I wonder if there’s a Mrs Hook waiting somewhere in Neverland, which only makes me think of Chris and what he must be doing.
I don’t even know what day it is anymore.
Did I miss Gran’s funeral? I feel the thought should weigh on my heart, the pain of not getting to say goodbye, but I realise I’d said goodbye to her a long time ago.
The thought of her makes my chest ache, though, but not for the loss—more a sense of relief.
She wasn’t living anymore, just existing.
My gran, the beautiful, strange, mysterious woman, had died long before her body gave in.
If she’d known the indignity her illness would bring, she’d have told me to smother her.
She’d have hated to see her own light dim that way, and I hated watching it, too.
My mother and Grace never understood. Just like Dad.
In our family, everything’s always been divided in two.
Grace had my mother and our aunt; I got my gran and our dad.
“Are you crying?” Hook’s voice snaps me out of my thoughts, and I look up to see him watching me with a mixture of curiosity and amusement.
I swipe at my face, noticing the back of my hand coming away wet. I hadn’t even realised I was crying. “No,” I mutter, shrugging it off. “Must be some rain.”
Hook stares at me for a long moment, and for a second, I think he might actually say something. There must be a million thoughts spinning around in that maddening head of his, but whatever he’s about to say, he doesn’t. He just nods and turns, carrying on ahead, leaving me to follow.
“This place doesn’t feel right,” I murmur, my voice almost too quiet for the dense silence around us.
“It feels…” I trail off, shuddering as a strange sensation creeps along my skin, like something crawling, unseen.
The air’s so chilled that each breath we take turns into delicate wisps that vanish almost instantly. "Wrong."
“It’s Wonderland, Princess. Nothing about it is right.”
“I told you to stop—” But my words die on my lips as something flickers in my peripheral vision—a faint movement in the trees. I freeze, watching the shadows shift, unable to shake the sense that something’s watching us.
Before I can figure it out, Hook slows as well, his usual smirk fading as he scans the surroundings. We both pause, a deep chill seeping into my bones, and that’s when I notice it—the trees have formed a perfect circle around us, their branches twisted together like the walls of some dark lair.
“Hook…” I whisper, every nerve in my body suddenly taut.
His eyes narrow, and he turns, but then he goes utterly still.
Silken threads stretch from branch to branch, forming a web that surrounds us on all sides, and as I watch, horrified, I see them—dozens of enormous spiders descending silently from above.
Their bodies are dark and gleaming, their many legs moving with eerie precision, and each thread shimmers faintly in the dim light, casting a ghostly glow as they close in, cutting off the path we came from.
“Lovely,” Hook mutters, drawing his dagger, his voice low and edged with something dark as he glances my way. “Looks like we’re here for dinner, Princess.”