Darkness wrapped like a silken cocoon of decadence all around her, beckoning her to come, to follow the Piper into oblivion. Reflection was right. It was only a matter of time... why was she fighting this?
She squeezed her temples, trying in vain to drown out the sing-songy voice whispering in her head how very, very hungry it was. The moon hurt, it hurt so bad. The light of it made the ache in her bones flare to the point of torture. She wanted to cry, but if she started she’d never stop. Better to ignore it.
A field mouse dressed in a black silk bow and wearing a top hat, walked out from between the blades of grass. It stopped when it spotted her, tiny black eyes going wide, its musky scent of panic coated her nose, her tongue, and made her groan.
It adjusted its wire-framed spectacles, before swallowing hard.
The mouse was headed toward the great mouse ball. Once she might have asked to join him.
She smiled and he screamed.
Danika, in human form, paced the length of the Hatter and Alice’s quiet cabin. The two were in the back bedroom, discussing (none too quietly) what to do about their daughter.
Sighing, Danika flitted almost absentmindedly toward the delicious aroma of yeasty baked bread filtering from out of the kitchen. Her stomach growled, Alice’s food was ambrosia and had become her kryptonite.
She’d had no idea what that word meant first time Gerard’s Betty had uttered it, but the adorably geeky nerd had, with great patience, explained the mythos of a man called Superman, who Danika had to admit sounded deliciously scrumptious. Next time she met with Jericho she’d have to ask him to try on a pair of tights, apparently it was the epitome of male masculinity to wear them. At least so far as Betty was concerned, though Danika had a hard time picturing it.
Alice’s crying finally stopped.
Sniffing, Danika wiped her nose and the corners of her eyes. She hated to hear the lass cry, seemed like that was all she did anymore. Ever since Chrysalis ran away Alice had turned into a quiet, sullen woman. The vivacious beauty rarely left her home and Hatter was clearly at the end of his rope. Alice, and now Chrysalis, were the only things holding that poor man’s sanity together.
Without their strength he’d quickly devolve back into a quarter sane male bordering on permanent lunacy. Danika hadn’t wanted to come and share the news of the bloody massacre she’d come across in the woods, but she’d had no choice.
The three of them had to game plan a way to stop this soon before the fairy council took steps to end Chrysa themselves. And whatever method they devised to do it, would be ten times worse than what she hoped to concoct.
The Blue’s hatred of Danika and her boys had grown to legendary proportions, she knew Galeta was just chomping at the bits to dig the dagger in deeper. Hurting Danika through Hatter’s child would definitely do it.
Danika hadn’t shared with the couple her fears of the council yet, mainly because each time she did she felt like more of the villain than Galeta. Watching the pain filtering through Alice’s eyes, the love of a mother for her daughter, it was akin to a physical blow for Danika. Through the years Danika had grown to love the bad five and their mates as if they were her own. Ever since becoming a godmother she’d only ever developed this type of intense bond rarely.
So when they hurt, she hurt.
She’d had every intention of telling Alice and Hatter that the only way to ensure Wonderland’s safety was to put down their daughter. But the moment she’d stepped foot into their home, she knew there had to be another way. Jericho always told her to believe in him, to have more faith in her ability as a godmother, to believe in herself too.
So that’s what she’d do. She’d figure this out, the cat told her to be mad. Well, how did one do that?
By going to the source of course. Together, they must be able to come up with something.
What she wouldn’t give to feel Jericho’s arms band around her, for just a moment. She sighed, feeling pathetically wimpy.
Flitting her wings in agitation, she picked up a clockwork monkey that Hatter had acquired at one of Caterpillar’s annual bazaars. The miniature brass chimp squealed and hissed, exposing its sharp, little golden fangs at Danika when she’d tickled its belly. Then it was jumping off her palm and scampering for cover behind a potted carnivorous snapping dragon flower. It howled as the dragon lunged for it.
In all the years that Alice had lived with the Hatter they’d amassed a wonderful collection of knick-knacks from all around Kingdom. A jinni’s golden lamp filled with the sands of time sat atop a mantle full of Hatter’s clock collection.
The man was positively obsessed with time.