Read Malice in Wonderland Online
Authors: H. P. Mallory
Malice in Wonderland (11 page)
"Have you been hit?" I screamed out against the blaring din.
"Don't move!"
I'm not sure how long we stayed like that, probably mere seconds, although it felt like hours. The ringing still blared, deafening me. Finally, Knight rolled off me and got onto his hands and knees. I sat
up,
shaking my head against the dull pounding in my ears that made me think the explosion must have injured my eardrums. It sounded like I was underwater, like there was a dribbling brook nearby. I shook my head again,
then
brought my hands to my ears, cupping them to see if the sound lessened. It didn't.
Knight grabbed my hand, bringing my attention to his face. "Heal
yourself
," he yelled. I didn’t really hear him, but I could read what he was saying.
I nodded, shaking my hand until my fairy dust appeared. I threw the dust over my head, closing my eyes and imagining my ears healing themselves. When
I opened
my eyes
again
, the ringing had dissipated and I felt as good as I could hope for, given the circumstances. I glanced at Knight and noticed he hadn't changed positions.
"Are you hurt?" I asked in a tremulous voice.
"My back," he said. I stood up and walked around him, stopping in shock when I noticed the long and angry gash across his upper back. It spanned the top of his neck all the way to his middle spine. It was so deep, I could see the white bone beneath it; well, that is, through all the blood. The wound must have resulted from the shrapnel—it looked like a piece of something had split his back in a long, clean stroke. I shook my fist until I felt it fill with dust and sprinkled the glittery particles on top of him, like drops of rain. At the same time, I closed my eyes and pictured his wounds healing, weaving themselves closed as if with an invisible thread. But when I opened my eyes, his wound was just as raw as before.
"What?" I started.
He sat back on his haunches and seemed to bend forward a bit, panting as he did so. I walked around to face him, noticing how he winced with pain. He closed his eyes and appeared to be concentrating, his lips tight and his eyes clenched. I peered over his shoulder and watched the angry, red swelling of the cut slowly give way to his tan skin. The skin then seemed to stitch itself together, the seam of the gash slowly giving way to nothing but an uninterrupted canvas of perfect skin. That was when I remembered that he
could
heal himself, something he'd artfully demonstrated for me when I first met him.
"That'll have to do," he said, straining to get to his feet. I immediately took his arm and braced myself to support his weight as he used me for his crutch.
"You aren't all the way healed?"
He nodded. "I am, but I lost a lot of blood," he answered in a shallow voice. When I glanced up at him, I could see the truth of his words. Blood soaked the remnants of his shirt back and his face was paler than usual, beads of perspiration dotting h
is hairline. H
is hands were clammy against my body. Only pockets of tan skin peeped through his tattered clothing, which was utterly drenched in blood. Even the backs of his pants were also stained red.
"Will you be okay?" I asked, my voice belying my worry.
He simply chuckled deeply, rubbing my head with his knuckles, like I was a little kid. “Should I take that to mean you're actually worried about me?"
"Just answer the damn question," I muttered.
He eyed himself, as if assessing the damage, then looked at me, smiling.
“Never better.”
I shook my head and sighed. “I
should have remembered that you can heal yourself and survive fire
."
He beamed widely but he still looked exhausted.
“Forged by the fire of Hades,
Dulce
.
Keyword: fire.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I said, sighing as we both turned toward the direction of the Denali, or what was left of it. Now it looked like the burnt-out remains of some kind of enormous beast. The steel was so blackened and
bent,
it no longer resembled a car. “So what the hell just happened?” I asked, looking up at him.
Shaking his head, he attempted to stand up straight, as if summoning all his power. He separated himself from me and then took a few steps forward, stretching his arms above his head as if to check his handiwork on his back. “It was a botched assassination attempt.”
“Botched ...
assassination
attempt?”
He shrugged and bent forward, stretching his arms out in front of him. I couldn’t help noticing how his muscles bulged despite the bloody remains of his clothes.
“Botched.
The thing should have blown from the moment we stepped into the car. Somewhere, someone’s magic went wrong." Then he glanced up and smiled at me.
"Luckily, for you and me.”
“How would anyone know where to find us?” I asked and watched him pick up a piece of debris that looked like it was once a part of the door. He clutched it in his hand and motioned for me to approach him.
When I did, he draped his arm around me again and we continued forward, albeit slowly.
“Loyalists.
They make it their business to know." He kicked a piece of metal beside his foot and the metal clanked as it came into contact with another piece of the Denali. “There are spies all over the place. This is just their calling card. The hard part is going to be tracing it back, and finding out who is responsible.”
“Were they targeting you or me?"
He sighed and shook his head. “No way of knowing.
Maybe both of us.”
I nodded, realizing there was no point in asking him questions because all we could do was speculate.
“So what now?”
He shrugged and smiled down at me.
“You up for a little stroll?”
EIGHT
The so-called "s
troll" became a four-hour hike
with nothing but the moon and a blanket of stars to light our way. The dirt road seemed never ending, comprising miles of flat land on either side with only the outlines of spotty pine trees to break the monotony. It seemed the longer we walked, the colder the air became; and eventually, I could see my breath. Knight helped to keep me warm though, owing to the fact that he was using me as his crutch and consequently, enveloping half of me
in
his body heat. After we managed to cross all of BFE (or so it felt), we reached an equally desolate highway. While the highway didn't look as though it promised more civilization than the dirt road from which we'd just emerged, at least Knight now had cell phone service. And that was a godsend, as far as I was concerned.
After rejoicing over the single bar of connectivity, Knight managed to reach Christina and explain what had happened over the last several hours. I could hear her shocked exclamations, and from what I could make out, she was in the process of assembling her team for an emergency meeting. Thirty minutes after Knight hung
up,
a black Lincoln Town Car appeared. I didn't recognize the driver, but Knight did, so I figured we were in safe company. And it was about damn time! My left shoulder felt like it was crushed, after having supported Knight's massive weight for the last few hours.
Once we were seated in the cushy Town Car, Knight didn't say anything to the driver, or to me, for that matter. I wasn't sure if it was due to his exhaustion and pain or maybe he was just in an introspective mood. Not that his silence bothered me particularly. I cherished any quiet time where I could retire into the privacy of my head and get lost in my own thoughts. During the last few days, I couldn't say that I'd had any "me" time at all, so this was just what the doctor ordered.
I relaxed into the plush leather seat and closed my eyes, suddenly feeling fatigue’s claim on me. It threw me temporarily, when I thought how my adrenalin was on overdrive a mere few hours before; but now I wanted nothing more than the solace of sleep. Sleep, however, continued to elude me because there was way too much going on in my mind. My thoughts were a jumbled mix of fear, anger, and concern over what had just happened, and what sort of threat these so-called Loyalists now posed.
Why were Knight and I nearly been blown to smithereens? How could someone have known where we were? And, furthermore, who was that "someone"? If Knight and I were such easy targets, what did that mean for the rest of Christina's "A" Team? Were we just sitting ducks? Each one of us doomed to extermination in only a matter of time? Just how pervasive was my father's authority?
Being so consumed by my
t
houghts, it took me by surprise when the Town Car suddenly stopped. I opened my eyes and glanced beyond Knight to observe what looked like another military base. The eerie glow of the overhead floodlights illuminated a narrow guard station where several immense, concrete pylons outlined the entry
through
a pair of huge, wrought-iron gates. I pulled my attention away from the pylons and focused on a man in a dark grey uniform as he approached our vehicle. He was clutching a
Quig
300—
a weapon most similar to a semi-automatic machine gun.
"Where are we?" I asked.
"Compound
Two
," Knight
answered in a worn-out tone. I didn't say anything, but watched the driver roll down his window as the guard leaned over and stuck his head into the Town Car. First, he studied the driver, then Knight, and then me. Based on the whiff of dog that suddenly rose up into my nostrils, I figured the guard must have been
a were
.
"Louie," he said, addressing the driver. Then with a glance back at Knight again, he said, "Vander."
"Greetings," Knight replied drolly. "We're in something of a rush, so let's get on with it."
The guard said nothing as he reached into his pocket, withdrawing something that looked like a cigarette lighter. Knight simply nodded and rolled his window down as the guard approached. The man leaned in and held the lighter directly in front of Knight's eyes. A red, laser-like light suddenly emitted from the front of the object and the guard moved his hand very slowly from left to right, allowing the red of the light to scan both of Knight's irises. The whole thing took maybe two seconds;
then
the guard gave a nod of approval before returning the laser pen to his pocket. He then faced me.
Who's she?" he asked.
"She's with me," Knight answered evasively. The guard eyed me once again with a frown.
"She'll have to be checked just like everyone else, Vander."
Knight sighed like he didn't have the time, much less the interest, in getting me "checked." "Make it quick—we're on borrowed time."
"What's he talking about?" I asked in a concerned tone, wondering if I was to be victim number two of the cigarette laser scanner. Not that it looked painful in the least, but
anyhoo
...
"Don't work yourself up," Knight answered as he further reclined into his seat. He smirked at me as if he were extending an invitation to climb onto his lap. "It's best to remain calm. Breathe in slowly and breathe out slowly. The more your heart rate increases, the harder it is for the
Magreew
to confirm your innocence."
"The what?"
I repeated, frowning as I narrowed my eyes at him. Before I could demand an explanation, I heard the sound of my door opening. I immediately turned to find the guard standing in front of me. There was a black box in his hands. It appeared to be about two feet long by a foot wide.
"Please stand up," he said in a monotone.
"What is that?" I asked, making no motion to stand as I folded my arms against my chest and did my best to appear nonplussed.
"
Dulcie
,
it's
policy," Knight said as I glanced over at him. "Just trust me, okay?" He smiled that charming boyish smile of his, which I supposed he thought would put me at ease. It didn't work.
I didn't respond, but after considering how limited my options were, I stood up and took a step toward the guard and the black box. Apparently
accepting
my silence as acquiescence, the guard opened the box and reached into it, producing what looked like an enormous slug. The thing was puke-green and the length of my forearm. It glistened in the moonlight, slime covering every inch of it. It looked like
Slimer's
smaller cousin.
"What.
Is.
That?" I asked with undisguised revulsion.
"That's a
Magreew
," Knight responded from behind me,
making no attempt to conceal the
chuckle in his tone.
The bastard.
"This will only take two minutes," the guard said, clearly observing my disquietude. Two minutes never sounded so long.
"What will only take two minutes?" I asked. My attention was riveted on the nasty thing as it rolled its head from side to side, its banana-shaped body slithering across the guard's hand and leaving a trail of bubbly green goo that looked like baby snot.
"Extend your hand," the guard demanded. I wasn't sure if I imagined it or if he actually avoided looking at the creature. I mean, he had to be just as grossed out by it as I was. The abomination was the unabridged definition of disgusting.
"There is no way in hell I'm letting that thing anywhere near me," I said, eyeing it suspiciously. "It's repulsive."
The thing cocked its head (I think it was a head, but since both ends looked exactly the
same, it was hard to tell)
. I had to wonder if it somehow understood me.
"You can wash your hands afterwards,
Dulcie
," Knight said, still sounding amused. "It's just a little ectoplasm, so grow some balls and let's get this show on the road."
"Yeah, says the guy who only had to deal with the laser pen," I barked back. He chuckled in response as I took a deep breath in preparation for the slug’s application. "If this thing has teeth, I'm out," I said, glaring at the guard.
"No teeth," he answered evasively.
Figuring I wasn't going to advance beyond this point if I didn't submit myself to the ministrations of the slug, I said nothing more. Courageously, I thrust my hand out, palm open and facing upward. The guard brought his palm onto mine and the
Magreew
slid one of its ends (I still had no idea which end was head or tail) onto my hand. It seemed to sniff my palm—one end moving up and down as it inspected me. Then, it simply slid off the guard's hand and into mine. It was incredibly warm and strangely heavy, feeling incredibly dense in its wet heat. In fact, its weight surprised me so much that I nearly dropped it. Gripping my wrist, I held my hand up straight again as I eyed the abhorrent creature curiously. It began to roll its body slowly from side to side, which reminded me of one of those paper-thin, plastic fortune-telling fish. It stopped rolling and seemed to flatten itself against my palm, while bubbles of hot goo fizzled up from underneath it.
"Um, what's it doing?" I asked in tremulous wonder.
"It's reading you," Knight answered. "It's figuring out what your intentions are and whether you're any threat to The Resistance. It's a
sympath
."
So the odd creature did possess a high level of intelligence. Sympathetic creatures were very rare, and in the wrong hands, could become dangerous. They could read a person's character just by touching the person in question. This one must have been imported from the Netherworld as I'd never seen one before.
It continued to gyrate against my hand, becoming warmer and warmer until it actually became pretty hot. "Um, this thing is getting really warm," I said in a concerned tone.
"It's okay," the guard answered. "It's almost finished."
I glanced down at it again right before it suddenly went cold and stopped fidgeting. It simply lay still in my palm. "Yeah ... I think it just ... died?"
The guard didn't say anything as he nodded and reached for the vile thing. He rolled it back into his palm before opening the black box and depositing it inside.
"It's not dead," he answered at last. He closed the box and reached inside his pocket, wiping his hands on what looked like a hankie before offering the same one to me. I accepted it, figuring it was better than wiping the gooey remnants on my clothes. 'Course, right about now, I also considered wiping my hand right across Knight's smug face, but figured that probably wouldn't go over too well. "Thanks," I grumbled.
The guard opened my door wider for me, tacitly urging me to return to my seat. I did so and glanced over at Knight glumly. He was beaming from ear to ear.
"Now was that so bad?"
I cocked a brow and regarded him coolly. "I'd say it ranked right up there next to the botched assassination attempt."
"
Dulcie
,
Dulcie
,
Dulcie
," Knight chided as he shook his head, adding.
"Oh, I'd advise you to wash your hands once we get inside the compound. Those things don't ... smell very good."
I didn't even have the wherewithal to respond.
###
An hour later, we (as in Christina's Team) were
all assembled in what I assumed was a library. Upon further inspection, though, the books were all fake—mere facades to make it appear that the owner of the library was well read. Whoever owned it and where we were remained mysteries to
me.
I knew we'd arrived in Compound Two, but upon entering the only building in sight, I guessed we must h
ave traveled through a portal because w
e were now in a house, or so it appeared.
"We" was comprised of Knight, Christina,
Dia
, Erica, the still foul-
mooded
Drow
, and me. The
Drow
sat next to Erica while
Dia
sat on the opposite side of the room. She kept herself busy by inspecting one of her many fabulous earrings she was renowned for making. These were huge, colorful circles with feathers attached at the bottoms. Christina stood right beside her, pacing back and forth as if in obvious distress.