Chapter Fourteen
The door led outside to a garden. It was empty of people, containing only a fountain, flowerbeds, and a solitary bench. Daylight bathed everything in a pale glow, the night having passed completely, which explained why I was so tired.
It had been over twenty-four hours since I’d last slept. I wasn’t counting the brief spell of unconsciousness Percy and Lola had induced by artificial means. Considering everything that had happened during those hours, it was no wonder I was running on empty.
Could I sleep here?
Something told me that wouldn’t be safe, that I’d end up back in Dahlia’s clutches if I did, with even more debts to pay.
A glint of something snagged my attention as I passed the bench.
A coin.
It looked identical to the first one.
After a quick glance around to make sure nobody was watching, I slipped it into my pocket. It would be stupid to leave it lying there.
The path through the garden led back to the main street. Last night it had been heaving.
This morning… Well, it was still heaving.
When did people here sleep? More importantly, where did they sleep?
I hadn’t seen anything that looked remotely like a hotel.
Even if there were such a thing, I doubted I could afford it.
Which left me with only one option: find somewhere safe, quiet, and preferably free.
I walked with no actual destination in mind, the crowds gradually thinning and the noise fading. Before long, neon lights gave way to rundown shacks and flickering streetlamps, and cleanliness gave way to neglect and grime.
That’s when it clicked. This was where the unfortunates lived. The area Tom Cheshire had warned me to avoid. Oops. Too late. How much worse could it get, though?
A malnourished dog slunk out from behind an overflowing dustbin, and we eyed each other warily. “I’m a friend,” I said, “and I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t bite me.”
My voice was still fucked. Thanks for that mysterious stranger. Next time you fuck someone’s throat, maybe try being a little gentler.
I held my breath when the dog sniffed the air. Only when it turned away and wandered off did I release it. Funny how not being attacked by a dog had become a blessing.
All the houses were dark and still. Were they empty? Or were the occupants simply asleep? If they were empty, I could find my way inside and grab a few precious hours of sleep before resuming my search for Warren.
I peered through the window of a house without curtains, but the glass was too grimy to make out anything more than the dark outline of furniture. Furniture suggested occupancy, so I moved on.
More houses.
A rat.
No, make that three rats.
A not-so-pleasant smell, likely coming from either the rats or the piles of rubbish littering the street. How could two places so close together be so different? It was as if all of Wonderland’s detritus had been swept into this one place and forgotten.
A shout rang out behind me.
I whipped around.
More shouts followed, accompanied by the thunder of multiple pairs of footsteps. A man burst around the bend at full tilt. He glanced over his shoulder without slowing, terror written all over his face.
What was he running from?
I didn’t have to wait long to find out.
Five men rounded the corner after him. Two carried baseball bats, one a tire iron, and the remaining two wickedly long knives.
“Hey, get your pussy ass back here,” one of them shouted.
“Yeah,” another called. Something red splattered his chest; logic dictated it must be blood. “I’ve got a bat that wants to fuck it.”
The remark prompted hoots of laughter from the others. It spurred him on to get even more graphic. “You’ll love it. Gonna bury it so deep in your guts, it’ll come out of your mouth.”
So far, they hadn’t noticed me, their attention fixed entirely on their prey. They’d have to pass me, though. And when they did, there was no way they wouldn’t notice me.
And then what?
Would their eyes slide right over me? Or would they decide I looked like an easier target? Had I been dressed normally, there might have been a chance of the first option. But dressed like a fuckboy, I had no faith whatsoever that they wouldn’t switch targets.
And I had no more desire to get intimate with a baseball bat than the man currently running away from one.
I took a step back.
Mistake.
The movement was enough to catch the attention of the nearest man—the one carrying the bat.
His gaze locked onto me.
His expression reminded me of a hawk spotting a mouse. A door handle pressed into my back. Blind panic had me reaching for it. It twisted beneath my grip, and the door swung inward. I stumbled across the threshold and slammed it shut behind me.
Darkness swallowed me.
I stood frozen, ready to throw my full weight against the door if they tried to force their way inside.
My heart hammered against my ribs as the seconds crawled past.
I wanted to swallow, but I wasn’t sure I remembered how.
Then footsteps. Coming closer.
My fingers tightened around the handle.
Silence.
A silence so long and drawn out that it made me want to scream.
Then the footsteps retreated.
I released my breath in a rush and offered a silent prayer of thanks to whatever deity had convinced them to leave.
“They won’t come in here,” a gruff voice said from behind me.
Jesus Christ! Just when I thought I wasn’t going to have a heart attack, someone had to prove me wrong.
I turned slowly, careful not to make any sudden movements, and peered into the darkness. I could make out the outline of a chair and a large shape sitting in it, but little else. “Why?”
Something moved. A hand reaching out to the side. Its purpose became obvious when a lamp flickered to life, bathing the room in warm light.
An enormous man sat in the chair, his chest twice the size of mine.
Out of the frying pan and into the fire.
“Because of me.”
“Right.” I found myself nodding. “I… er… needed somewhere safe, and the door was unlocked. You should probably… lock it.”
The man rose from the chair, towering at least a foot above me. I gave serious consideration to going back outside. Then I remembered the gang. They might still be close. At least this guy didn’t have a baseball bat. Not one I could see, anyway.
“Don’t need to,” he said. “Nobody’s coming in here.” A pause. “Except for you.”
He came toward me, and it was all I could do not to shrink back. Instead of attacking me, he held out a meaty hand. “Donovan Doyle. Those who know me well call me Dodo.”
I shook it. Mainly because I didn’t dare do anything else. “Lysander Carroll. People who know me well call me…” I paused. “Actually, they call me Lysander. I’ve never been fond of Xander and there’s not a lot else you can shorten it to.”
Donovan laughed.
Given his size, it came out as a low rumble that reminded me of a jet engine. He lumbered back toward the chair, leaning against it. “You can stay here.”
“I can?” Did I want to?
He nodded. “Sure. It’s not safe outside at the moment.”
“Yeah, I noticed. When is it safe?”
He shrugged. “Not now.”
“Right.” I forced myself to think the situation through. Nobody in Wonderland did anything for free, which meant that Donovan’s offer came with strings attached. “What payment are you expecting for letting me stay here?” I asked. “Sex?”
He stared at me, his expression unreadable. “I’d snap you in half.”
Which wasn’t a no. “Probably,” I admitted. “I just want to be clear on what’s expected of me. I’ve been burned a few times.”
He nodded slowly. “People do a lot of taking in Wonderland.”
“They do.”
He headed for a door at the back of the room. “No sex.”
“No?” It was hard to keep the relief out of my voice.
He disappeared through the doorway, leaving me standing there alone and unsure whether I was supposed to stay put or follow.
“Are you hungry, Lysander Carroll?” he called.
“Starving.”
“Come and eat, then.”
I didn’t need asking twice. I found him in a small kitchen barely large enough for him, never mind the two of us. He gestured toward a table designed for a single occupant. “Sit.”
I sat.
“It’s only soup. I hope that’s okay.”
I was hungry enough that if he’d offered me the rat off the street, I probably wouldn’t have turned it down. “Soup sounds great.”
He carried a pan across the room and ladled a thick, steaming liquid into a bowl.
It smelled meaty, which probably meant I shouldn’t completely discount the rats.
Despite my growling stomach, I hesitated before picking up the spoon.
“I really need to know what this is going to cost me,” I said. “The food. Letting me stay here.”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
Donovan shook his head. “There are still good people in Wonderland.” He crossed to the counter and returned with a huge chunk of bread, placing it beside me. “Not many,” he added. “But we exist.” He gestured toward the bowl. “Eat while it’s still warm.”
It all seemed a little too good to be true.
But what use was I going to be to Warren if I starved to death?
With that in mind, I dug in, practically inhaling the food while Donovan watched.
If it was rat soup, it was cooked well. The scraps of meat were tender and not remotely chewy.
I decided it best not to ask. It looked like beef.
Therefore, in my head, it was beef. I imagined that if I kept a journal, I might title this meal The Downfall of the Environmental Health Inspector.
“What happened to your voice?” he asked.
I paused from dipping a chunk of bread into the soup. “Nothing. Just a sore throat.”
Donovan’s knowing smirk suggested he didn’t believe that for a second. He’d probably asked to see whether I’d admit the truth. Yeah, right? Like I was going to tell a man I’d known for all of five minutes that a stranger had fucked my throat with such enthusiasm it’d left me with laryngitis.
“Can I sleep here?” I asked, keen to change the subject.
“Yes.”
I finished the soup in silence, savoring every mouthful and devouring the bread. Once I was done, Donovan led me into another room containing a single bed. “Sleep here,” he said.
“I can’t take your bed. Where will you sleep?”
“I already slept.”
That was entirely possible, given the daylight streaming through the windows. Maybe he was just an early riser. I wanted to ask. I also wanted to ask what he planned to do while I slept.
Unfortunately, exhaustion had evolved into something worse. Something heavy and all-consuming that made forming words feel like a superhuman feat.
He left the room, and I stared after him for a moment before turning my attention to the bed. The sheets didn’t look clean, but I couldn’t summon the energy to care.
Get undressed, or climb in as I was? Simple answer. I’d never tried sleeping in leather, but I was confident it wouldn’t be comfortable.
My eyes were already drooping shut as I stripped, leaving a heap of leather on the carpet-less floor.
Dirty or not, the sheets felt cool against my skin. That was my last coherent thought before sleep claimed me.