Whoomp!
A bright hot force knocked Molly unconscious as what few splinters remained of the once beautiful chest fell from her hands. Catapulted out of a looking glass on Theodora Avenue, she landed hard on the quartz-and-pyrite-mottled pavement, in front of a pet store full of squawking tuttle-birds and screeching lizards. Even before her homburg came tumbling out of the continuum after her, four seekers began to circle in the sky above, signaling her location. Deaf to the injured Wonderlanders strewn about the desperate streets, blind to everything save the seekers, Ripkins and Blister stepped onto Theodora Avenue and sighted their quarry. As they approached, Ripkins shook his head, dismissive of the young bodyguard. “What could Arch want with her?”
Blister said nothing, not one to try and guess Arch’s motives the way Ripkins did. What did he care of motives so long as he got to use his gift of touch to hurt people? He noticed Molly’s homburg on the pavement and picked it up. He had never seen a Milliner’s hat in operation before, but with the instinct of one given to all things military, he flicked it and— Fwap!
It flattened into a razor-edged shield.
Ripkins scanned the scene: no one was watching. Lucky them. “Are we supposed to be impressed?” Blister scorned, returning the homburg to its original shape. Ripkins took Molly’s limp body in his arms, laid her over his shoulder, and Blister led the way through the alleys of the city. Not until the assassins had crossed back into Boarderland did they make contact with their king, who was in his palace with his ministers when the alert came and Blister’s face hovered before him.
“We have her,” the assassin said.
CHAPTER 11
A LYSS WALKED purposefully through the palace’s night-dimmed halls, through three state rooms and as many parlors, trying to convince herself that her sole aim was to become more familiar with her new home, but…
Can’t I even admit it to myself?
She was looking for Dodge. To seek him with her imagination’s eye had felt like spying. Now, if and when she found him, she would feign surprise and say that she was simply exploring the palace, familiarizing herself with its well-appointed rooms, glittering floors, tumbled stone staircases that resembled frozen waterfalls, hand-hewn balustrades, and spacious landings. She stepped out into the courtyard. The sunflowers and poppies slept under blankets of dew. Moonlight glinted off the war memorial’s obelisk for the anonymous dead. The Hereafter Plants, whose pistils resembled the faces of Genevieve, Nolan and Sir Justice Anders, cast wistful shadows across the walk. Something sniffed, moved. Just as Alyss realized who it was, standing with bowed head at Sir Justice’s grave—
A bright hot force knocked Molly unconscious as what few splinters remained of the once beautiful chest fell from her hands. Catapulted out of a looking glass on Theodora Avenue, she landed hard on the quartz-and-pyrite-mottled pavement, in front of a pet store full of squawking tuttle-birds and screeching lizards. Even before her homburg came tumbling out of the continuum after her, four seekers began to circle in the sky above, signaling her location. Deaf to the injured Wonderlanders strewn about the desperate streets, blind to everything save the seekers, Ripkins and Blister stepped onto Theodora Avenue and sighted their quarry. As they approached, Ripkins shook his head, dismissive of the young bodyguard. “What could Arch want with her?”
Blister said nothing, not one to try and guess Arch’s motives the way Ripkins did. What did he care of motives so long as he got to use his gift of touch to hurt people? He noticed Molly’s homburg on the pavement and picked it up. He had never seen a Milliner’s hat in operation before, but with the instinct of one given to all things military, he flicked it and— Fwap!
It flattened into a razor-edged shield.
Ripkins scanned the scene: no one was watching. Lucky them. “Are we supposed to be impressed?” Blister scorned, returning the homburg to its original shape. Ripkins took Molly’s limp body in his arms, laid her over his shoulder, and Blister led the way through the alleys of the city. Not until the assassins had crossed back into Boarderland did they make contact with their king, who was in his palace with his ministers when the alert came and Blister’s face hovered before him.
“We have her,” the assassin said.
CHAPTER 11
A LYSS WALKED purposefully through the palace’s night-dimmed halls, through three state rooms and as many parlors, trying to convince herself that her sole aim was to become more familiar with her new home, but…
Can’t I even admit it to myself?
She was looking for Dodge. To seek him with her imagination’s eye had felt like spying. Now, if and when she found him, she would feign surprise and say that she was simply exploring the palace, familiarizing herself with its well-appointed rooms, glittering floors, tumbled stone staircases that resembled frozen waterfalls, hand-hewn balustrades, and spacious landings. She stepped out into the courtyard. The sunflowers and poppies slept under blankets of dew. Moonlight glinted off the war memorial’s obelisk for the anonymous dead. The Hereafter Plants, whose pistils resembled the faces of Genevieve, Nolan and Sir Justice Anders, cast wistful shadows across the walk. Something sniffed, moved. Just as Alyss realized who it was, standing with bowed head at Sir Justice’s grave—