Chapter 57
Chapter Fifty-Seven
HOOK
The growl deepens, vibrating through the air and settling low in my chest like a warning bell. It’s the kind of sound that makes my instincts take over before my brain even catches up. My hand’s already pulling at my knife, but the blade feels useless. Too small. Too light. I need a sword.
“What is that?” Alice’s voice is light, tight with tension. She’s close—too close—but I don’t push her back the way I want to. I need her behind me, out of the way. I can’t afford to divide my attention. If I do, we’re both as good as dead.
I scan the trees, searching for those glowing eyes, following the sound of the growling. Whatever it is, I hope it decides we’re not worth the trouble and slinks back to whatever pit of hell it crawled out of.
Wishful thinking.
The growl comes again, dragging through the mist, and something shifts in the shadows ahead. For a second, I swear I see it—a hulking mass, thick and black. The mist clings to it as if it’s part of the creature itself. And yes, it’s a creature.
Alice’s fingers brush my arm. I steal a glance back at her. She’s peering past me, her eyes wide, fixed on the shadow. Her breathing is quick, but at least she’s not panicking. Not yet. Good. She needs to hold it together.
We move in sync, her steps matching mine as I push her back, guiding her out of the way without taking my eyes off the shape ahead. The thing shifts again, the growl stretching out, slow and low. Closer.
Whatever it is, it’s coming towards us.
I need us in an open space. Not that there’s anywhere to run. I’m not going back into that field, though. I’d rather face this thing here than risk what’s in there.
It steps out of the shadows, one massive paw—if you can even call it that—on the path.
Alice gasps, a sharp intake of breath. “Oh, God.”
“We need more than God.”
I square my body, putting myself just in front of her.
My hand grips the knife tightly, but my focus stays locked on the creature as it emerges.
Its body is cloaked in black, the fur-like smoke swirling and rippling as though it’s alive.
It moves with a fluid, unnatural grace, its wolfish face twisted and wrong.
Its mouth stretches too wide, the rows of jagged teeth glistening as its lips peel back in a snarl.
Every part of it is shifting—muscle and shadow blending seamlessly—making it impossible to tell where the beast ends and the mist begins.
But none of that matters. My eyes are fixed on its face. On those teeth.
“It’s a Bandersnatch,” Alice says, her voice barely above a whisper.
Of course it is.
The creature—Bandersnatch lets out another low growl, the sound like a rumble of thunder rolling through my bones. I tighten my grip on the knife. It’s pitiful against something like this, but it’s all I’ve got.
I have no bloody idea what that is. “What the hell is a Band—”
Before I can finish, the thing—the Bandersnatch—lets out a bone-shaking roar that rattles through my chest. Instinctively, I shove Alice further behind me.
If I could get her out of here, I would, but right now, I have to keep this thing focused on me.
Just me. I need it looking at me, because I’ll take this bastard down if it’s the last thing I do.
It takes the bait.
Shit.
The beast lunges forward, faster than anything its size has any right to be. I sidestep, yanking Alice with me just as its claws rake the ground where we’d been standing moments before.
“Move,” I snap, shoving her forward. “Fucking run.”
And we do. I drag Alice as we bolt into the trees.
The Bandersnatch doesn’t hesitate to follow. Bloody hell, it’s fast—too fast. It leaps and skids, snarling and snapping at us, its massive body crashing through the undergrowth as if it’s nothing but paper.
I duck behind a tree, shoving Alice into the hollow of its trunk. “Stay here,” I hiss.
Of course, she doesn’t listen.
We don’t have time to argue. The thing barrels toward us, but it doesn’t move like any normal beast. Oh no, that would be far too simple.
Instead, it twists and blends with the forest itself.
It doesn’t go around the trees—it moves through them, its body warping and reforming as if the laws of physics are beneath it.
Alice scrambles back, her eyes wide with terror. “Don’t—” I start, but she grabs a branch. A thick one, something she clearly plans to use as a makeshift weapon.
It’s not going to do a damn thing.
But it does make the creature pause.
The Bandersnatch growls again, low and guttural, its glowing eyes fixed on us. Alice and I are side by side now, breathing hard as its hot, rancid breath steams out in heavy bursts.
It begins to circle us, its hulking form rippling with each movement. The air thickens around us, cold and damp. I can feel the monster waiting, calculating, searching for the perfect moment to strike.
When it finally does, we’re both ready.
The Bandersnatch launches itself, claws outstretched, jaws gaping. Alice and I dart in opposite directions, splitting its focus. It chooses me.
The beast crashes toward me, its massive bulk careening through the mist. I duck low, slashing at its side with my knife as it leaps past. The blade barely scratches it, but the sting is enough to make it roar in fury.
It spins on its haunches, smoke-like fur swirling around it as it locks its glowing eyes on me again.
“Hook,” Alice’s sharp voice cuts through the chaos.
I turn just in time to see her hurl the branch. It strikes the Bandersnatch square in the face.
It doesn’t hurt it—not even close.
But it enrages the creature, and it shifts its attention to her.
It leaps.
I don’t think. I just move.
Throwing myself between them, I collide with the beast mid-air. Its weight slams into me, knocking me to the ground so hard that drives the air from my lungs. My knife clatters uselessly to the side as I grit my teeth, bracing against the sheer power of it.
Its claws press into my chest, pinning me to the cold, damp earth. The stench of its breath washes over my face, sharp and rancid, as its glowing eyes bore into mine. They’re filled with rage, hunger, and something far worse—something primal and unrelenting.
I force myself to meet its gaze, even as every instinct in my body screams to fight or flee. But right now, I can’t do either. My arms shake as I push against the crushing weight of it.
My knife. I need my fucking knife. As small and useless as it is, it’s all I’ve got.
“Alice,” I grit through clenched teeth, struggling beneath the beast. She’s somewhere nearby—I catch flashes of her through the corner of my vision as I fight to keep the Bandersnatch from crushing me into the mud. My chest burns, and the pressure pushes me deeper into the earth.
Then I see her. She darts forward, grabbing a rock as she moves. Before I can yell at her to stay back, she hurls it at the Bandersnatch’s head.
The rock strikes its temple with a dull thud.
The beast rears back, roaring in fury. Its weight shifts, just enough for me to move.
I twist out from beneath it, using my legs to shove the massive thing off me. My hands scramble through the dirt, desperate, until my fingers clasp around the hilt of my knife.
With a quick flick of my wrist, I drive the blade upward, slicing through smoke and bone.
The Bandersnatch howls, a sound that rips through the air and claws at my skull. Something black and wet splatters across me—hot and cold all at once—but I don’t stop. I wrench the blade free and shove myself to my feet.
“Get back,” I shout to Alice.
She doesn’t listen. Instead, she’s suddenly at my side, grabbing my arm, pulling me back. “Run,” she says, her voice sharp and urgent.
I don’t need telling twice.
We bolt for the trees, the underbrush tearing at our clothes as the roar of the Bandersnatch follows close behind. The ground is uneven, roots and stones threatening to send us sprawling at every step.
I risk a glance over my shoulder.
The thing is relentless, crashing through the forest with the force of a battering ram. Trees splinter under its massive frame, branches snapping like twigs.
“This way,” I bark, dragging Alice sharply to the left.
The trees grow thicker here, their gnarled trunks pressed so close together it feels like the forest itself is trying to swallow us.
Tangled branches form a canopy overhead, blocking out what little light there is.
The Bandersnatch slows, its bulk struggling to navigate the tighter space.
“It’s still coming,” Alice pants, her voice tight.
“God damn thing…”
Ahead, the forest thins, giving way to a small clearing. A dark shape looms in the centre—broad and weathered, half-covered by creeping vines and moss.
No, not just a shape. A building.
“There,” I shout, nodding toward it.
Alice squints, her eyes widening as we draw closer. “It’s a... teapot?”
She’s right. The building is shaped like a damn teapot. Its rounded walls slump to one side, bricks missing in places where the structure has begun to crumble. But it’s a teapot, nonetheless.
We don’t stop to question it. I shove the door open, the hinges creaking loudly, and push Alice inside ahead of me. The interior is dim, the light barely strong enough to reveal the state of the room. It’s a crumbling ruin, but someone must have lived here once.
There are overturned tables and broken chairs scattered about. A sofa sits half-sunken near a shattered fireplace, and the air reeks of damp and decay.
I press my back against the door, trying to steady my breathing. Alice sinks to the floor beside me, her chest heaving.
The Bandersnatch hasn’t slammed into the building after us—not yet. But it’s out there. Its guttural growls rumble through the air, and its heavy paws pound against the earth. We stay as still and quiet as we can, not wanting to draw its attention.
The creature is hunting us.
I tighten my grip on my blade, feeling the sticky mix of sweat and blood coating my hands. My pulse pounds in my ears, but I force my breathing to stay steady.
Alice shifts beside me, pushing herself upright just enough to glance out of the window. “I can’t see it,” she whispers.
I shove to my feet and move to the window, standing beside her. The glass is filthy and streaked with dust. I swipe a small patch clean with my hand, squinting into the clearing beyond. “I can’t see it either,” I mutter, but I know it’s out there. Waiting. Watching.
I tilt my head, listening, straining to catch the faintest sound of movement.
The forest is still.
“I think it’s leaving,” I say quietly, focusing on the sound of the Bandersnatch’s heavy footsteps fading into the distance.
Alice exhales slowly, her hand brushing against mine as we both remain frozen by the window, neither of us daring to move too soon.
“What the hell is that thing doing out here? I thought…” She shakes her head, frustration flickering across her face.
“The last time I was here, that thing was definitely not.”
“I’m guessing it’s guarding whatever’s up there.
” I nod toward the gates we’d seen across the field.
From the teapot, we have a clear view of them now—the iron gates standing tall and foreboding, their intricate filigree twisted like vines.
Beyond them, a winding stone path snakes up the hill toward a structure that gleams faintly, even in the dim, misty light.
The building at the top is magnificent and haunting all at once.
It looks like something plucked straight from the mind of a mad architect—grand and sprawling, its golden spires stretching upward as if trying to pierce the sky.
The walls are a patchwork of aged ivory stone, cracked and weathered with time, but still shimmering faintly as if imbued with their own magic.
Massive, circular windows glint in the faint light, some stained with vibrant colours that cast fractured patterns on the surrounding mist.
The roof is crowned with ornate domes, each one gilded and etched with strange symbols that seem to shift when looked at too long.
Vines creep along the lower walls, their deep green tendrils curling possessively around the foundation.
The entrance, framed by two towering columns, is imposing—a dark, yawning archway that seems to breathe menace.
“It’s like…” Alice whispers, her words trailing off as she stares at it.
“Like Wonderland vomited up a palace,” I finish.
Her lips twitch into something that’s almost a smile, but her gaze doesn’t waver. “It’s beautiful. In a terrifying, ‘I probably shouldn’t go in there’ kind of way.”
I let out a breath, my hand tightening around the hilt of my knife. “Unfortunately, love, that’s exactly where we’re going. I'll bet my life that is where the amulet is."