Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Three
Sadly, the high of that touching moment had worn off by the time we got back to my car.
“I know you’re disappointed, love,” Duke said, “but Medda did warn us we’d probably suffer another defeat before we figured it all out.”
“But we wasted so much time,” I said and slammed the door of the Sun Buggy closed behind me. “We drove all this way and found the only March Hare in this, the Pacific Wonderland, and it was all for nothing. I’m almost glad my mother isn’t here to see how badly I’m screwing this up.”
“Don’t say that, darling. I know you’re frustrated, but it’s not all for nothing. Like Medda said, we’re gathering puzzle pieces. And we did get engaged,” Duke reminded me as he put on his seatbelt. “Surely that counts for something.”
Because I can multitask, I was able to glare at Duke while putting on my own seatbelt.
“What was that sourpuss look for?” he asked.
“We are not engaged,” I told him.
“I’ll ask Adam to be my best man,” he said. “Surely that lass Penny would be your maid of honor.”
“Need I remind you—and clearly I do need to remind you—that you are a fictional character who lives on a completely separate plane of existence than I do?”
“You could live with me, couldn’t you?” he asked. “In my world? Even if only part-time?”
I can’t begin to describe how tempting it was to say yes, yes, a thousand times yes.
“It’s against the rules.” I started to put my key into the ignition.
“Sod the rules, love. I need a duchess.”
Before the key went in, I stopped, looked at Duke. “The Black and Whites exist to protect the—Wait, did you say ‘duchess’?”
He grinned at me. “I did. I did say ‘duchess.’ I’ll even say it again. Duchess. You can have your own coronet. We’ll wear them around the house and nothing else.”
“Duke.”
“Listen,” he said, and the teasing in his tone had vanished. “Rainy. They’re my books. Do you understand that? My author is gone, dead. That’s sad. It is. I would’ve liked to have met the man—”
“That might have killed him on the spot.”
“True, but still…the point is…for better or worse I know what I am now. I’m not a puppet anymore. There’s no one left to pull my strings but me. I want you in my world, Rainy. If we can’t be together out here…why can’t we be together on paper?”
“This is why fictional characters aren’t allowed free will,” I said.
“I’ll still solve my cases. Only this time, with you by my side. The Duke and Duchess of Chicago? How does that sound?”
It sounded against the rules.
It sounded very, very against the rules.
But it also sounded like something I’d read.
“I’ll think about it,” I said, which I shouldn’t have said and knew I shouldn’t have said, but I said it anyway.
“You will? You mean it? What about your precious ‘Black and Whites’?”
“It does seem unfair that you don’t get a say in your own stories.”
He placed the back of his hand across my temple.
“No fever,” he said. “Are you the real Rainy March or have you been replaced with an impostor?”
Playing along, I glanced at myself in the rearview mirror.
“Looks like me,” I said. “But that’s exactly what an impostor would say…Wait.”
Sometimes that’s all it takes. A word. A glance. Two things that seemingly have nothing to do with each other and then—click. And the moment I glanced at myself in the mirror, I heard the click.
“Duke, here’s a riddle for you—”
“You know I hate riddles as much as you hate puns. They’re for children and the shiftless.”
“You’ll like this one. Remember, the answer is staring us in the face? Well, what stares you in the face every single day of your life?”
“Impending doom?”
“Your own face in the mirror.”
His eyes widened. He glanced at the side mirror, then at me.
“Another word for a mirror…” he said.
“Looking-glass, Duke. Looking-glass. The March Hare’s in Through the Looking-Glass. The sequel to Alice in Wonderland. Of course!”
“But, darling,” Duke said, “I thought you said it’s the same March Hare in both books. We ruled it out.”
“I’m ruling it back in again. It’s the only thing that makes sense. A mirror stares me in the face. ‘Mirror’ is another word for ‘looking-glass.’ And the March Hare in Through the Looking-Glass goes by a different name. Haigha, which is pronounced to rhyme with ‘mayor.’?”
“Why?”
“Who knows? Lewis Carroll was a weird guy. What do you think?”
Duke took a breath.
“You know I’ll go anywhere with you,” he said. “Lead the way. But please don’t be disappointed if we…well, if our rabbit hunt turns into a wild-goose chase.”
From my bag, I pulled out The Secret of the Old Clock, staring at the cover, Nancy Drew in blue running through the woods with a clock under her arm, like she was trying to stop time.
If only that worked. Our own clock was ticking.
The afternoon was fading into evening, and by the time we were home, it would be dark.
“I have to try,” I told Duke. “For Pops.”
“Then let’s go through the looking-glass, love.”
“We’ll need to go back into Gatsby’s library,” I said. “Since both Alice books are Code Reds. Gotta be a library around here somewhere…”
We would need a library, but when I’d scrolled through my phone, I couldn’t find any libraries still open.
And the nearest bookstore was a thirty-minute drive away.
Doing immersions in a bookstore wasn’t a good idea anyway.
You always ran the risk of an employee reshelving your book, which can make escaping much, much harder.
And if someone bought the book, when we escaped we could end up anywhere.
“We’ll have to hurry home,” I said. “Buckle up. I’m going to floor it.”
Fifteen minutes later, we’d gotten up to the speed limit.
“By floor it,” I explained to Duke, “I meant not floor it.”
“Of course.”
The sun had nearly set by the time we rolled up in front of Pilcrow House. When we opened the door, Koshka came mewing and mrrwp-ing all the way down the stairs, then bounded into my arms. For all of two seconds, before he launched off my chest and into Duke’s arms.
“Greetings, comrade,” Duke said. “We missed you too.”
“Library,” I said. “Not a moment to waste!”
Even now the sky was darkening. Midnight would be here before we knew it. Midnight was the deadline I’d set, the hour I would have to tell Duke goodbye again and forever.
“Surely there’s time for tea,” Duke said, setting Koshka down. “I’ll pop in the kitchen and see if Mrs. Turner—”
I spun on my heel and stalked back to him, took his tie in my hand, and dragged him bodily down the hallway.
“Tea can wait, Chicago. Now come on.”
This sounds violent, but when I glanced in the hallway mirror, I saw that while my mirror twin was scowling, Duke’s mirror twin was grinning, clearly enjoying the manhandling more than he probably should.
Then I let go of Duke’s tie.
“Why did you stop, darling? And why is Shakespeare wearing rabbit ears?” he asked, nodding toward the bust of the Bard where I’d placed the bunny ears Penny had given me yesterday.
“Rainy?” Duke said again.
I ignored the question, ignored everything but my own reflection in the mirror.
“Rainy? Darling?” Duke said again. He sounded worried now. “What is it?”
“I saw something in there,” I said, pointing to the glass.
“What?”
“My twin.”
“Of course you saw your twin in the mirror. Who were you expecting?”
I put my hand on the glass.
And then I…
—
… fell through the looking-glass.