Chapter 14 - Fork in the Road
Following Chez as he escorted us away, I strode down the worn lane in the forest just beyond the Duchess’s estate where the road forked three ways. Wooden signposts nailed to a tree offered several conflicting suggestions—Hatter’s House, Wünder Bog, This Way, Not This Way.
“So which way do we go from here?” Allie studied the signposts closely as the carved letters on the rough surface slipped and changed to intermittently form gibberish.
“Well, that depends where you want to go, of course.” Chez hung upside down from a low tree branch. “It doesn’t matter which direction you go if you don’t know where you’re going.” The cat’s body seemed to disappear for a moment.
Allie rolled her eyes. “Thanks for the cryptic message, Chez.”
His yellow-moon grin reappeared first. “This path loops around back to the Duchess’s estate. The March Hare’s house is that way.” A fuzzy paw pointed a paw the opposite way. “And in that direction lives the Hatter with the tree hollow. Of course, he’s as mad as they come.”
Allie sighed. “I think I may have had just about enough of madness.”
“Well, you can’t help that,” Chez put in. “We’re all mad here. I’m mad. You’re mad. Rabb is almost always most definitely mad.”
“Sadly, no argument there.” Allie craned her neck to peer down the lane that looped back around.
I furrowed my eyebrows. Was she considering going back to the Duchess? Had she been considering the Duchess’s offer from earlier to stay? She did want to be rid of me just as much as I did her. But should I have asked her first?
I cleared my throat. “Did you…want to stay with the Duchess?”
Fidgeting in her stance, Allie bit her lip. “She really seemed quite lonely. I felt sorry for her.”
My stomach turned hollow with unease.
“But then it occurred to me you were probably lonely too, all these years alone.”
“I wasn’t alone,” I pointed out, almost defensively. “Even the Duchess has companions and servants. Tell her, Chez.”
Glancing back, Chez’s eyes widened a bit but he didn’t seem to want to contribute. “Oh, oh sure.”
“I reckon it’s not the same as true intimacy with a person,” Allie pointed out. “I suppose you’re lucky if you don’t have these feelings and were fixed to live forever. But some people need that closeness.”
“Not me,” I declared, stalking past her to turn toward the lane leading to the Hatter’s house.
“This is as far as I go.” Chez mocked a salute at us with his paw.
Allie nodded. “I’ll look forward to your next visit to the clock tower.”
I shot the cat a look. “I won’t.”
Not in the least offended, Chez shook his head. “Be careful at the Hatter’s house,” he bid. “I know he used to be a brilliant man, but since the incident with the Dormouse, he’s been a bit more unhinged than normal. Keep your wits about you.” He wiggled his whiskers, his words trailing off as his purple body disappeared with a pop. “Or else you’ll be stuck in his eternal tea party…”
“Thanks, Chez. See you on the other side.” Allie gave thin air a casual wave before turning to follow me.
I had to admit I was a bit apprehensive. The Hatter had been a brilliant man. In certain circles, he was known as the Guardian of Doors though I wasn’t exactly sure why. Even with the little I knew of him, I was certain he would have a hundred and one uses for a coeur if he ever got his hands on one. It wasn’t far-fetched to think that he might just be clever enough to figure out what Allie was.
Still, there was no other way across the River of Tears. I pushed some low tree branches out of my way. The Hatter’s quaint gray house was already peeking between the foliage as we approached. The dirt lane turned into a narrow cobblestone path.
Allie skipped in her step. “I can’t wait to meet this Hatter person. Is he hot like you?”
I almost tripped over my own feet.
Hot. Like. Me?
She met my bewildered gaze. “What? I suppose the Duchess did have a point. I mean, you know you are quite good-looking, objectively speaking. Both your stature and muscle ratio are impressive. And I’m already assured you have incredible stamina—”
A sudden shiver shot up my spine.
“I do live in the room beneath yours. I could hear you, remember?” She put her hands up. “Don’t worry, it didn’t sound bad. Like I said before, it sounded like those women were greatly pleasured—”
I whirled around to growl. “Enough!”
Stopping in her tracks, she merely blinked at me. “You know.” She shrugged. “Kudos.”
I clenched my jaw.
Why? I studied the light in her hazel eyes, the hint of a smirk on that mouth, the steadiness of her countenance. Why did I not intimidate her at all? It was infuriating.
Turning away with a huff, I mumbled, “I think you are mad.”
She threw her hands up. “Chez did say we’re all mad here.”
Scoffing, I pushed past the metal gate flanking the garden and glimpsing movement to the right, I glanced over.
Morning tea had been set up in the middle of the garden. Mismatched chairs encircled a long, ornate table adorned with a mishmash of teapots, cups, and saucers. The setting seemed almost deliberately disordered with a vibrant and eclectic assortment of tableware and curious decorations. Teacups filled with what appeared to be custard or soup, which seemed to occasionally change in color, and an array of pastries and cakes scattered across the table, their sizes and shapes defying the usual convention.
A small figure busied himself moving from one chair to the next whilst mumbling under his breath.
The Hatter was a homunculus of a man with wiry red hair, sticking all out of his oversized top hat. Dried flowers and herbs adorned his dusty overcoat, with ruffles bursting out of each sleeve. Beady green eyes glowed beneath round horn-rimmed glasses on his wrinkly face, sunken cheeks, and sharp cheekbones.
He was a vision for nightmares. Nobody would doubt his sanity. Where the line between genius and insanity blurred, he was the line.
I cleared my throat. “Mr. Hatter, we—”
The Hatter waved his hand erratically as he yelled, “Please! Please, sit. I haven’t had company in such a long while.”
Allie met my gaze warily but moved to approach the table.
Seeing Allie’s eyes light up at the spread of decadent, mouthwatering food, I almost couldn’t help a shake of my head in knowing mirth.
Allie pulled out one of the leather seats.
“Not there!” the Hatter screamed at her and she jumped in alarm. “Those seats are for ghosts,” he relayed. “You can’t see them now. But they’ll be back later. Don’t be rude. Change places!”
Wincing as she watched his reactions, Allie slid to the far end of the table and sunk into a chair. She looked relieved when he didn’t yell at her again.
“Please! Help yourself!” The Hatter gestured toward the table.
I sat in the seat beside Allie’s but didn’t bother to sample the food. “Mr. Hatter, we seek your assistance to—”
“No!” the Hatter snapped. “No business. Tea first.”
I sighed in exasperation. Oh, this was going to be torture.
“He said help yourself.” Allie gave me a shrug as she reached for several things at once.
“Excellent. Excellent.” The Hatter rubbed his hands together. “I am sure the ghosts will be delighted to have company today as well. They lead such dull lives, you know.”
Fascination evident in her eyes, Allie dipped a strawberry into her tea. “Very interesting, Mr. Hatter.” Munching on a biscuit, she leaned over to whisper to me, almost conspiratorially, “Tastes like waffles.”
One corner of my mouth couldn’t help but curl up before I could fix my face. I cleared my throat once more as I sank back against my chair, folding my arms across my chest.
“Be careful, my dear,” the Hatter piped up. “Strawberry stains on white lab coats are the worst.”
Allie’s nod was emphatic. “Aren’t they? Some days, I’d rather spill nitric acid than a berry extract in my lab.”
The Hatter’s green eyes lit up. “Ah! Wonderful! You know, I’m somewhat of a scientist myself.”
Allie’s eyes widened eagerly. “Oh, excellent! What is your field of expertise?”
The Hatter’s sudden faraway gaze averted to one side. “Time. Time is my friend—or he used to be. We quarreled just last March.”
“Fascinating,” Allie couldn’t help but murmur. She seemed entranced by the Hatter’s rambling.
“Leap years for example,” the Hatter exclaimed with a shake of his head. “They don’t make any sense.”
“I could not agree more.” Allie nodded as she poured maple syrup into her tea before dunking another biscuit in.
“There are two hundred billion trillion stars in the entire universe. When light from a distant star travels a long way, it becomes infrared—which is ironic. Shorter wavelengths are stronger, they carry more heat, but these waves are more of an indigo-violet shade. Do you like colors?” the Hatter prompted.
Allie made a face. “I used to like rainbows. I don’t anymore.”
The Hatter tapped a finger on his chin in deep thought. “Why is the afterlife like a ball of string?”
“Hmm…I’ve never heard of that analogy,” she mused out loud. “I know there’s a theory that the universe is made up of vibrating strings or even sheets of paper.” She paused to think it over. “Why is the afterlife like a ball of string?”
The Hatter turned to her in surprise. “I don’t know. Is that your theory? Can you prove it?” He leaned over the table, his tie dipping into his teacup.
Confused, Allie winced. “How might I prove it? You’re the one who proposed the notion.”
“That’s enough with the riddles, Hatter,” I snapped. “Can you help us or not?”
“Can I? That’s a good question.” He rubbed his chin. “‘Would I’ is an even better one. ‘Why should I’ even more so.”
Straightening up in my seat, I spoke to ensure he understood we would not be diverted by his stalling. “We seek a tree hollow to cross back to the desert.”
Tilting his head, the Hatter nodded. “Ah, I see, I see. I know precisely what you seek. Come. Follow me.” Standing, he beckoned us to follow him.
Deeper into his garden, the grass was more wild, overgrown. Leaves and twigs crunched underfoot. We passed an armchair turned about before an unlit outdoor fire pit.
The Hatter gave a casual wave of his hand. “You’ll have to excuse the March Hare. He hasn’t been lively since the incident with the Dormouse.”
I glanced over too late.
When Allie’s gaze fell on the rotting creature in the chair, skull with sunken eyes, and marred flesh, she jumped, grabbing my arm with a gasp. She turned her face into my chest, her eyes squeezing shut in shock.
Swallowing hard, I put my arm around her shoulders to lead her away. I frowned at her slight tremble and held her a bit closer.
The temperature kept dropping as we walked along the gardens to the back.
The Hatter pushed open another squeaky gate. It led to the forest behind his house. A thick cloud cover dimmed the crisp air. This place was nothing like Tulgey Woods or the swamp surrounding the Duchess’s estate. A thin layer of snow covered all the plants. With the low fog, I could barely see more than a few yards away.
And as soon as we stepped through the gate, the sky turned suddenly to dusk, even when in the tea gardens before, it had only just been mid-morning.
Narrowing my eyes in wariness, my gaze shifted around. “Where’s the tree hollow, Hatter?”
“Go on then. Off with you.” The Hatter shooed us with a wave of his arm.
All around us, about a dozen gray headstones, set out in a haphazard order across the grass, materialized out of the fog.
We had walked into a graveyard.
It seemed the Hatter was indeed the guardian to many doors, including perhaps one to the underworld.
The Hatter sniffed. “I only help people. Ghosts can have tea but nothing else.”
My eyebrows furrowed at his sentiment. Was he referring to Allie?
Allie blinked in surprise. “I’m not a ghost.”
The Hatter pointed a crooked finger at her. “She’s no heart. She’s a ghost.”
Oh, for god’s sake.I gritted my teeth. “I carry her heart, preserved in my chest. She’s still alive, Hatter. She’s not a ghost.”
“Prove it.”