Chapter 24
Twenty-Four
MAD HATTER
The Hatter’s entire backyard was buzzing. The fantastic machine rose among the towering trees, standing in stark contrast to the lush green wilderness surrounding it.
Hammers rang against metal, popping sparks burst from welding torches, exposed gears, soot-blackened chains, tooth edges meshing and clashing with a clanking rumble, shuddering steam sputtering from overworked valves, and black-oiled joints, bleeding dark grease.
Compelled hands moved amidst the whining hum of machinery throughout the clearing as several dozen ghostly villagers hurried about its grassy base in ceaseless motion. They would have looked like normal citizens of Wünder if not for their graying skin, their unblinking, blank gazes.
As we hid from view behind a tree, the king’s gaze darted around. “I don’t see the Hatter.”
Crouched beside him, I kept my voice hushed. “Do you think he’s commanding them?”
“What other explanation could there be? The Hatter is the one behind all these strange machines, this malady, this phenomenon.” His jaw clenching, the king stifled a groan, his hands balling into fists.
The strange otherworldly energy emanating from the machine was affecting him again, but he wouldn’t say as much.
I chewed on my bottom lip in concern. “I have to do something about that contraption. I don’t know what they’re trying to accomplish with it, but I do know we can’t possibly let them succeed.” I pushed off to leave. “You stay here.”
He caught my arm. “What? Absolutely not.”
I gave him a pointed look. “Look, this happens to be what I’m good at. I can sneak over and sabotage the machine quite easily.”
He hissed in protest. “If you think I’m letting you do this alone, you are mad.”
“I have to do this alone,” I insisted. “Your powers don’t work against the machines, remember? It’s dangerous for you. It’s a risk I have to take.”
He tried to stare me down. “You don’t get to decide who risks what.”
I gawked at him. “Look who’s talking.”
He squared his shoulders and puffed up his chest in seeming offense.
As if I couldn’t even fathom his boundless powers.
As if it were the gravest of sins to think him less than.
As if I needed reminding who exactly I was dealing with.
“I am the King of Wünder. I am the most powerful sorcerer assassin on this land.”
Despite everything, I bit my lip, unable to help the flutter in my stomach at the fiercely determined look on his devastatingly handsome face. I had to admit I was freshly warmed by the knowledge that he was willing to do anything to protect me. “You’re cute.”
Flinching, his cheeks reddened. “What?”
I stifled a chuckle. I was confident this was a particular debate I would easily win—if not by factual logic, by mere distraction—but there was no time to argue. “Fine. There’s no way for me to dissuade you from this crazy folly, is there?” I taunted.
He gave me a meaningful look.
No way in hell.
The Hatter’s ghosts seemed highly preoccupied with their tasks. They didn’t notice as we ducked behind bushes and crates to move toward the clearing and toward the great looming machine.
Upon closer inspection, I marveled at the gleaming glass panels, the polished rows of levers. More than curiosity, my heart thumped in vague recognition. I felt intimately connected to every single part of this fantastic machine.
My machine.
My work.
Mine.
But how?
I shook my head to clear it.
That was impossible.
A low grunt from behind me stirred the uneasiness in my stomach. The king was blinking hard, his teeth clenched. The closer we got to the machine, the more he struggled.
He was such a stubborn ass.
The furrow in my eyebrows deepened, though more in worry than anything.
I had to do this quickly.
I was but a few feet away from the closest control panel. Squinting to survey the toggles and switches, I reached my hand out—
“Well, well. This feels a lot like déjà vu, don’t you think?” a voice boomed from above.
The king moved instantly to shield me with his body, his hand secured on my arm. He stepped back to move us away.
Peering past the king’s figure, a pang of dread struck me as soon as I looked up and met the strange man’s gaze.
It wasn’t the Hatter.
It was someone else.
The rank insignia on his stiff, tailored suit, lined with polished brass buttons, was highly distinguishable.
The General was a thickset man. His dark hair was receding, streaked with gray. It lay flat above a broad forehead where a swollen vein throbbed visibly, and old acne scars pitted his fleshy face.
He stood at the raised platform, flanked by a couple of fully conscious villagers armed with pickaxes and bows. A cold gleam lurking in his eyes, he broke out in a wan smile. “Welcome, Dr. Carter.”
Doctor who?
At a complete loss, I blinked. Not even a tiny hint of recognition sparked in my brain. Was that my real name? Why didn’t it sound the least bit familiar?
The king didn’t like the General’s familiarity with me. “Who are you?”
The General feigned a despondent frown. “Aw, I’m a bit disappointed you haven’t told your roguish friend about me.”
Even as apprehension continued to crawl across my skin, I clutched at the king’s arm. “I think he is mistaking me for someone else.”
The General let out a bark of laughter. “Doctor, I would never forget a face. Besides, there hasn’t been a single day these past months when I haven’t thought of you. Your hair might be a little different, but I would recognize you anywhere.”
That brazen claim made the king’s eyebrow shoot up. “Allie, who is this man?”
My mouth was open, but I didn’t know what to say.
I had zero answers.
The General had more. “She works for me,” he supplied, his eyes bright. “Rather, she used to work for me.” He gave me a wink. “Dr. Carter is a world-renowned scientist where we come from.”
We?
My heart almost stopped.
Could it be true?
Whoever this man was, he was from my own world. He knew who I was, who I had been. After all this time, I was about to find out my true identity. Except the dread spreading through my insides was making me want to whirl around and run away.
Everything about the General gave off a distinct sense of chaotic danger.
That sneaking suspicion in the back of my mind was nagging at me once again.
I had always feared the possibility that the person I used to be wasn’t entirely good.
I had always felt it. That there was something inherently wrong with me, something inherently wicked.
And if I used to work with this man, the odds were that my hypothesis was entirely true.
The General’s eyes narrowed in amusement. “Come now, Doctor. You look like you don’t even remember. Have you lost your memories or something?” When he climbed down the platform, the king backed us up a few more steps to keep our distance.
Still frowning, I must have looked even more confused than I felt.
Hopping down onto the grass, the General’s eyes lit up in recognition at the blank look on my face. “Ah, this is quite an unexpected turn of events. All this time, I had thought you had willingly chosen to turn your back on our world. Now it makes more sense.”
The king’s posture remained rigid and alert beside me. He didn’t care who this man was or what was happening, what it all meant. The General was the cause of the malady afflicting Wünder and a threat to me. That was all he needed to know.
“This ends now.” The king had taken no more than one step toward the General when the first ghostly villager hit him from the side.
Then another. And another. Clumsy hands clawed at his coat, his hair, his arms, dragging him to the ground.
He growled in fury as about a dozen hands seized him at once.
Fingers dug into his shoulders. His throat. His wrists.
I rushed to help but yelped as one of them grabbed hold of me.
The General laughed. “It’s no use. My followers are loyal to me.”
“Stay back, Allie!” The king surged upward, pushing two villagers aside with enough force to send them hurtling back, crashing against the metal scaffolds.
“You’ve turned them into mindless zombies.” I forcibly struggled against the ghostly villager who had grabbed hold of me, managing to twist out of his grip and shove him away.
With an enraged roar, the king caught him by the neck, lifting him clean off the ground. His hand tightened, but then he stopped. His jaw clenched in self-control.
Cursing beneath his breath, the king flung him away instead. Panting, he returned to my side, taking my arm securely in his. He shot the General a dark glare. He didn’t get anywhere near him at all. The General’s zombies were an effective barricade.
“Give up already?” the General mocked.
Just then, there was a soft pop.
To the right of the giant platform machine, from the hollow of the ancient tree, a small, eerie figure emerged. Beneath an oversized black umbrella, he stepped into the grassy clearing, giving the canopy a sharp shake that scattered cold droplets into the air.
My jaw dropped. “Hatter?”
Glowing, beady green eyes shone beneath round horn-rimmed glasses, meeting mine. “Ah, Allie. It’s lovely to see you again, my dear.” He lowered the umbrella in his hand with deliberate care, closing it with a click. “It’s raining in the underworld.”
I almost breathed a sigh of relief.
The Hatter was back. Perhaps he could use his magic to help. With his and the king’s powers combined, they could destroy the fantastic machine. He could restore the ghost villagers’ consciousness. He could use his magical doorways to send the General away somehow, somewhere.
A cold dread struck me when a corner of the General’s mouth curled up instead. “Ah, Hatter. You’ve come back right in time to greet our guests. Won’t you make them feel welcome?”
Oh no—no, no, no, no…
My stomach sank in dismay. “Hatter, what—”