Huntsman's Prey (15 page)

She shook her head. “I am not weak,” she muttered.

Reflection blew out a disgusted breath.
“I share your soul, I feel it. It clings to me like leeches, the only thing I cannot figure out is why.”

Chrysalis grabbed her head, shaking it back and forth. Her wounds were already healed from the fight she’d had with the Huntsman, but something felt wrong with her. Inside of her.

“Yes,”
reflection nodded,
“you sense it too, don’t you? The light creeping into the darkness? That light will kill us. Light obliterates dark. It will take us and consume us. You would condemn us to that because… why?”

She shook her head again, hoping to drown out the words, to deny it. To escape the truth of what she felt. “No,” she moaned.

Nostrils flared. “
Why? Answer me!
”

“I can’t. I don’t. I—”

“Yes, you do. You know. You know. You tell me now, tell me now.”
The word was a sharp command, brittle and unyielding, demanding a response and Chrysa had no choice but to give it.

“Because he’s innocent. I cannot do that to—”

“Innocent,”
reflection scoffed,
“he’s a murderer by trade. Do you know who the Red Queen is? How many heads have rolled because of those two? Never mistake who he is,”
she hissed violently and Chrysalis winced as if struck a blow.

“I vow by all that’s sacred that if you don’t do this, I will. I will find him.”

“No!” She screamed it, splashing the water again. “No.” She hugged her arms to her chest, she ached, all of her. Everything hurt. It hurt bad. She couldn’t understand why, but each breath was a terrible pain that flared through her middle and tore down her arms and legs. Made her head feel like it might explode from the pounding, pounding, pounding.

“Then you do it, you end this, Chrysalis, or I will.”

Chrysa nodded, swiping at the hair clinging to her forehead and falling into her eyes. “I’ll do it, I’ll do it, I’ll do it,” she muttered over and over and over and as she said it the pain filled her deeper and deeper, to the point of bursting, making her skin feel tight and swollen, like something was behind it and trying to press outward. The mark on her cheek throbbed, she could barely stand the feel of her hair brushing against it.

Reflection disappeared with a final smile of hate. Chrysa bent over the pool and it was her staring back at her and there were tears in her blue, blue eyes. She sniffed.

But once she moved away from the mirror, away from the only way reflection could see her, she no longer cried.

Now she was smiling, because everything was going according to plan.

~*~

There were so many dreams. Aeric was perched on the uppermost branch of a cotton candy tree that could bear his weight. The smells were intoxicating and so tempting. His hunger was a ravenous beast inside him. But it wasn’t the hunger that kept him moaning throughout the night. It was his dreams, or rather his nightmares.

Lissa was in danger. She’d been standing where he’d left her. Her furry tail waving back and forth, staring after him never noticing the malevolent shadow creeping behind her. If he’d just turned around, if he’d said good-bye one time, he’d have been able to warn her.

His heart thundered when it pounced. She screamed as dark talons ripped into her back, shredding off her silky fur. She fought, she twisted and screamed with all her might. But the darkness was too strong, it had her in a death grip and wouldn’t let go and then it was wrapping itself around her, crushing like a python’s coils. Her eyes were the last thing he saw and her words echoed in his mind like a ghostly whisper.

There are different shades of black…

And now he understood it. Because he could see it too. Her eyes were pure and deep and full of wonder. The shadow was a greasy smear of wrongness that destroyed all it touched. In a blink, she was gone.

He sat upright, panting and breathing heavily as dreams and reality converged. His head was spinning, his mouth dry and screaming for moisture.

Dreams were just dreams, or so he’d always thought. But no matter how much he tried to convince himself of that, the more his stomach churned and his instincts screamed that he had to find her.

Now.

Calling his sands, he quickly shifted and shot like the speed of thought from the tree, back to where he’d seen her last.

The vivid images of her broken and bloody body lent him an extra burst of speed. The world around him sped by in a blur of color that bled into each other. Dizzy with the rush of moving so fast, he landed in a funneling whirlwind of sand where he’d been last. When he’d gathered the pieces of himself together, he immediately looked at the ground and his heart sank to his knees.

There were patches of blue fur embedded in the ridged edges of tree bark. Large patches, not the typical bit of fluff that a feline might naturally shed, but more than that… he knelt and studied the forest floor… mixed in with the brown and green needles of pine, were dark droplets.

He picked up a handful and brought it to his nose, taking a long sniff. Immediately the scent of metal pricked his nostrils. This was blood, no doubt.

And like magic, once he’d noticed the first drop, it was easy enough to spot the trail of it leading toward a dirt path that’d not been there the day before.

The path was lined with still snoring primroses and baby’s breath.

“Wake up,” he growled at the one nearest him.

The red and white speckled rose gave a final loud snore, before yawning loudly and peering at him with angry, red eyes. “What?” It snapped in a hiss whisper of sorts. “There are babies present, keep your voice down, man.”

Clenching his jaw, because only in Wonderland would a flower dare to reprimand him, Aeric jerked his head toward the path. “Did you happen to notice a blue cat last night or this morning?”

The flower rolled its brilliant eyes. “You mean the one screaming and yammering like bloody murder ten minutes ago, aye! Bloody, damn feline nearly woke me babes.”

“Ten minutes ago?” He jerked to a standing position and only just realized the tracks did indeed look fresh. “Which way?”

The rose pointed a green petal straight ahead.

Just then the patch of baby’s breath began bellowing and crying.

“Argh!” The primrose snapped and bared its toothless mouth at him. “Away with ye, now, go, go, shoo.” It turned away from him. “Shh, children, mama’s here. Shh, now, shh…”

Her whispered words of comfort followed him down the path. Aeric continued to scan as he walked, frowning as he realized there was only one set of human tracks. What in the hell had gotten her?

She couldn’t be too far. If it was only just ten minutes, he should find her soon. Turning his stride into a jog, he followed the droplets of blood until he came to the end of the dirt path and the start of a large, flat, grassy clearing.

Just ahead sat the remains of an abandoned hunting lodge. Many of the roof’s beams were missing, and the steps leading up to the ramshackle gray structure appeared termite infested and rotted out.

But there was music coming from inside. The tinkling strains of bawdy piano playing, and there were candles aglow in the shadowy hollows of opened windows.

He wasn’t sure whether to enter, or not. A heavy wind would be capable of causing its collapse. But there was music, and laughter, and the trail of blood led to the door.

There was nothing for it, but to follow the blood. His only and best chance of capturing Chrysalis was through Lissa. He’d come to that inevitable conclusion last night.

She was right, he knew nothing of the dangers of Wonderland. Running away as he had had been more about keeping the tattered remains of his pride intact than truly needing to be on his own to draw the creature out.

Expecting the wooden step to turn to dust the moment his booted foot landed on it, he didn’t bear down with much weight. But it held fast.

Shrugging, he hopped up the next three steps and those held too. Not only did they hold, but they were solid. Which meant this was nothing more than another illusion.

The moment he stepped through the swinging doors, all movement stopped. Many faces he did not recognize, and some that he’d seen in other bars in other parts of Kingdom before, turned to stare at him.

But this place was unlike anything he’d ever seen in Kingdom. The walls and floors, panels and beams, everything was made of wood. Even the chandeliers hanging from the rafters were wood. A man stood behind the bar. He wore a white and red stripped shirt, a black felt hat, and there was a black band wrapped around both biceps. A gray handlebar mustache twitched as he gazed back at Aeric.

The patrons were similarly dressed in fashions the Huntsman had never seen. The women wore shimmering dresses of crimson and hunter green, boldest blues, and royal purples, all with plunging necklines and obscene make-up that looked better suited to a harlequin. Their hair was either hanging long and heavy down their backs, or caught up in a strange twist behind their heads.

The inside of the place defied logic and reason. It seemed to stretch for miles in every direction.

Back at the bar an obscenely large man with folds upon folds for a neck, shook his head. Causing his rolls to quiver. Something about the way the man moved, in a waddling up and down sort of motion had Aeric thinking of a walrus—that and the way his front two teeth curved out of his swollen pink lips like curled tusks. Adjusting his black frock coat, he snorted. “Who invited the mundane?”

“
Whoo
, indeed?” The owl-eyed, bespectacled man sitting beside him sniffed.

“I guess, Pillar lets in all sorts now,” Walrus curled his grotesque lips up.

The ringing of clapping hands echoed through the establishment. “Music maestro!” A deep feminine voice cried out.

All eyes turned to the woman coming down the long stairway. Unlike the other women inside, there was not much about her that looked normal, apart from her hair which was a rich, almost nutty brown color and her eyes that were a jewel green. But that was where the similarities ended.

Sprouting from her head were two curled antennae. She had a face that could never be called beautiful in any possible form. It wasn’t even plain. In fact, she had the most hideous face he’d ever seen. It reminded Aeric of mashed dough, with two slits where nostrils should be, and the barest trace of lips.

He blinked, realizing it wasn’t the dim lighting that made her skin appear pastel green, because the nearer she drew, the more obvious it became. Her arms were stubby and short, and the vivid purple and blue dress she wore dragged on and on behind her. But not like a train, or even a voluminous mass of fabric. It glided along with a sensuousness of motion that brought to mind the crawl of a caterpillar.

Aeric shuddered, and she lifted a brow, curving her lips into a wide smile.

“The Huntsman,” she said in a deep, bassy voice that sent shivers of heat down his spine. What she lacked in beauty, she made up for in presence.

“How do you know my name?” he asked the moment she was beside him.

The tinkling array of banging piano keys resumed, as did the conversation. Walrus and owl were no longer interested in him and had resumed their drinking.

Pillar tapped the bar top. “Two, Earl,” she looked at the strangely dressed bar keep, before turning back to Aeric.

“Because I have your girl. Or, your cat.” She smiled and cocked her head. “You’ve a fetish for the bizarre as well I see.”

She moistened her lips and it was all Aeric could do not to grimace in disgust. Women, no matter where they hailed from, or how they looked, all had that slice of vanity in them—that desire to be admired by others. He did not want to anger her, she had Lissa and that was enough to keep him focused on the task at hand.

“She is not my woman.” He shook his head.

She laughed, and again the shivery strains shot down his spine, forcing him to take a step back. Something about Pillar made all the fine hairs on the back of his neck stand on edge.

Two glass tumblers slid their way. She slammed her hand down just as they were set to pass her. A viscous glowing green fluid shimmered inside. Vapor curled from the tops.

“Drink,” she said, taking one and downing it in a single gulp, before handing him his.

“I do not drink in Wonderland,” he shook his head, pushing the hand she held the other drink in away.

The long, riotous curls of hair tumbled around her shoulders as she tipped her head back with laughter. “Is that so, mundane? Then I’m afraid, I cannot help you.”

His nostrils flared. “What have you done with, Lissa?”

“Me?” she tapped a manicured nail against her chest. “I’ve done nothing. I only offered sanctuary. Of course.”

The way she said of course let him know there was much, much more to the story than that. “Where is she?”

“Drink.” She held the tumbler back to him.

“No.”

She sighed. “Then I’m afraid I cannot help you. You may go.” She’d dismissed him. Just like that. Turning her back on him, she made to walk back toward the stairs.

“Wait!” he held out his hand. “Why is it so important I drink that?”

Her lips pursed as she downed the glass, as if in challenge. Inhaling deeply, her lashes fluttered and she gave him a satisfied sigh. “Truth and lies. Lies and reality. Who can truly tell? Hmm? Can you?”

She cocked her head. Her smushed in face appearing more distorted up close. His eyes narrowed.

“I can.”

“Can you?” she asked again.

“And this drink does what? Open my mind?” He fluttered his fingers. “There is nothing but distorted madness here. What is there to make sense of?”

A stubby finger ran along the luscious swells of her breasts. “You can’t depend on your eyes, when your imagination is out of focus.”

“My imagination?”

“Mmm. There is sanity in this lunacy, if there weren’t none of us would survive it. But to see, you must
see
.” She tipped the glass to him.

His mouth was so dry, his stomach empty. The throbbing in his skull worsening by the second, his need for food and drink was more than just a craving, it was a desperate desire. Making it almost impossible for him to remember why he shouldn’t do this.