Malice In Wonderland

  'Course, any songs within me were forgotten as soon as I remembered the threat embodied by Melchior O'Neil. My father was a tyrant and delusional, yes; but worse still, he had the entire Netherworld at his disposal. That included ANC officials in the Netherworld, people who were armed and very dangerous. I just had to hope that all Netherworld creatures who lived on Earth were on the side of The Resistance.

  "But Caressa is still an ally?" I continued, needing to know exactly how she fit into this picture.

  "Very much so. She feeds us information whenever she can, but I'm sure her hands are going to be tied now. We can't rely on Caressa from here on out, Dulcie. She's in the thick of it and it could mean her life."

  I nodded, realizing Christina was right. At the same time, I also bemoaned the fact that we’d basically just lost our most powerful ally. "And Gabriel?" I continued, remembering Knight's friend who helped me while I was in the Netherworld.

  Christina shook her head. "We're on our own," she said simply as she depressed the accelerator and maneuvered over the rocky terrain, coughing up a billowing cloud of dust behind us and obscuring the Denali.

  "How many are in The Resistance?" I asked, my mind racing with myriad questions.

  "A few hundred," she responded immediately, braking to ten miles per hour as she took an especially sharp turn.

  "And how many support my father in the Netherworld?"

  She cocked her head to the side as she thought about it. "We're about neck and neck."

  I narrowed my eyes. "I thought the population in the Netherworld was much larger than the population of Netherworld creatures here?"

  "It is, but I'm just talking Netherworldians who might be considered a threat. Most of the creatures in the Netherworld don't fight. Most of them are just too scared to resist your father, but that doesn't mean they don't want to see him overthrown." She paused for a second or two before facing me and I didn't miss her description of my father being "overthrown," as if he were a king. For all intents and purposes, he had basically appointed himself sovereign. "That's not to say that your father isn't a threat. For as many that don't support him, an equal number do and then some."

  "You're preaching to the choir," I said, sighing. "I know exactly how dangerous my father is."

  I didn't say anything more, but watched her downshift as we crested the top of an incredibly steep hill. It was so steep, I couldn't even see the road beneath us as we started down the other side. "So what was Plan B?" I asked, remembering Christina telling Knight we were moving forward with our second plan.

  She took a deep breath and concentrated on driving, never taking her eyes from the road. "The portals to the Netherworld are all being closed and guards are on duty to prohibit anyone from coming or going."

  "And the secret portals?" There were two types of portals that connected the Netherworld to Earth—public portals, which basically acted like airports; and the not so public portals which Melchior used to traffic his illegal potions.

  "All portals," she said simply.

  "So if there are Melchior supporters here?" I started but she quickly interrupted me.

  "They stay here; and likewise, anyone supporting us in the Netherworld stays there."

  "So what about spies and moles? I'm sure Melchior has his special touch points?"

  "Melchior has plenty of touch points here, as you're well aware. In answer to that, we've had to do a lot of profiling of all Netherworld creatures here on Earth. Those deemed a threat to The Resistance were incarcerated."

  "So all the Horatios and Barons of the world?"

  "Are either locked up or ... dead," she said with a smile. Baron was the Titan I’d referred to earlier—the one Knight shot through the forehead. "Anyone who isn't loyal to our movement must be taken into custody," she finished.

  "If they aren't with you, they're against you?"

  "Something like that."

  We reached the base of the steep hill and she took a right onto another unmarked road, this one overgrown with weeds. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were planning on killing me and leaving my body where no one would ever find it," I said with a slight laugh as I glanced outside the window.

  Christina cocked a brow in my direction. "Good thing for you that you know better."

  I laughed, trying to relax into my chair as I digested all the information I'd just learned. I suddenly felt exhausted down to my core, probably because I hadn't slept well in the last month. I wasn't about to start feeling sorry for myself though. Instead, I focused on how impressed I was—impressed with Christina and The Resistance in general. I’d imagined this Resistance was kind of a grass roots type of organization. But truth be told, they were more advanced and well organized than I’d previously given them credit for. "So what happens next?"

  Christina put the car in park and I glanced forward, realizing we were facing the side of a mountain. She smiled, reaching for a garage door opener which was attached to the visor in front of her. She depressed the largest button and the mountain simply opened in half, two doors separating as if it were a garage made to look like a mountainside. When the doors opened, they revealed another dirt road. It led into what appeared to be a compound. The barbed wire fencing and nondescript, white buildings were the first clue.

  "What is this?" I asked, looking around myself as I wondered how all of this could have existed, yet I never had any idea about it.

  "Welcome to Compound Three," Christina answered with a smile as she moved forward again."It's one of four training bases and prisons." She glanced behind us and saluted to Knight, apparently motioning him forward. Then she faced me again. "Remember how I told you we had lots of people in custody?"

  "Here?" I asked, unable to suppress my surprise.

  "Yep," she answered, motioning to the Denali behind us with her hand. "This will be Horatio and Quillan's last stop as well."

  And on that point, I felt my good humor deflate. Of course, Christina didn't know Quill as anything besides Melchior's right-hand man, but I knew he was so much more than that. I could only wonder if, given the option of joining The Resistance against Melchior, what choice Quill would make. Figuring that was a subject for a later day, I decided to shelve it—right next to the Knight-is-being-an-asshole conversation that was still simmering on the back burner.

  I glanced around myself, intent on studying my surroundings in order to distract my thoughts. Razor-sharp wire topped the fences around the compound and I found myself facing three square, asphalt yards. A group of ten or so people jogged by us, led by a werewolf who was yelling orders. Inside the three yards, people were either sparring in hand-to-hand combat, or if they were inclined, magical combat. The second yard revealed people lifting weights; and the last had some sort of obstacle course. Seeing them, I felt like I just enlisted in boot camp.

  "You guys sure have been busy," I said in surprised awe, bringing my eyes back to Christina.

  She nodded and crossed her arms against her chest, wearing the expression of someone proud. "Yep, you could definitely say that."

  TWO

  After a tour of Compound Three, I was even more impressed with The Resistance. They were following the lead of the US military and training civilians who, I imagined, could rival any soldiers found in the Netherworld. 'Course, I didn't know much about the military, but I could say The Resistance seemed as though they knew what they were doing, based on their incredible sense of organization, dedication, and perseverance, as well as their infallible sense of discipline. It probably didn't hurt that The Resistance had also recruited a major general from the Air Force (who happened to be a goblin), a lieutenant colonel from the Army (an orc), and a captain from the Marines (an elf) to lead their soldiers. And that was just at this camp.

  As far as Compound Three's prisoners were concerned, there were easily fifty or more Melchior O'Neil supporters already in custody, enjoying life behind bars. As I made my way through the prison, Christina heading the tour, I recognized the majority of the prison
ers. They were all thugs who were somehow involved in the illegal potions trade. When we finished viewing the relatively small prison (there were only about twenty or so cells), I followed Christina into the front room again. Knight led Horatio and Quill into a nearby cell, which was already occupied by a gnome. He was busily making obscene gestures at Christina and me. I watched Knight's gaze fall on me and he swallowed hard. Since his eyes no longer looked like lethal weapons, I could only imagine he'd lost some of his anger. Maybe he had made that phone call to Caressa after all; and now was realizing what a complete and total asshole he'd been to me.

  Not dealing with this now! I reminded myself as I immediately glanced away. Instead, I watched Quillan following Horatio into the cell. Quill's shoulders were slumped forward, and as the prison guard released the cuffs from around his wrists, and the manacles at his feet, he massaged his wrists as if the heavy metal had rubbed them raw. He looked up, and upon noticing me, immediately smiled. It was a smile that said he was happy to know I was safe and, better yet, free. It was a smile that said he didn't blame me for blowing the cover of the Draoidheil mission and, consequently, landing him behind bars. No, instead, he was proud of me. I could read it clearly in his eyes and the way he nodded at me in silent acknowledgement.

  "Christina," I started, turning toward her. If I were going to say something regarding Quill's predicament, I needed to say it now. No time like the present ...

  She stopped walking and faced me, curiosity in her eyes. I motioned to Quill and cleared my throat. "I've known Quillan for a very long time," I said as I sidestepped her, aiming for an unoccupied hallway on my right. This conversation required some privacy and I couldn't say I felt comfortable under Knight's scrutiny. Besides, that damned gnome was still making lewd gestures with his fingers while undulating his tiny hips, the little bastard.

  "And," Christina prodded as she glanced over at the gnome, lifting an unimpressed eyebrow and shaking her head before following me into the hallway.

  I stopped walking, once we were out of eavesdropping range, and took a deep breath as I faced her squarely. "And he was duped into working for my father the same as you and I were."

  I couldn't read Christina's response; apparently, she was good at concealing her emotions. Wanting to give her adequate time to process my statement, I glanced over at the handsome elf, who did his best to separate himself from his prison comrades. Now he stood in the corner of the cell with his arms crossed against his chest as he regarded us. And he wasn't the only one who was eyeing our every move. I could feel Knight's eyes on me, but I refused to look his way. Instead, I focused on Quill.

  I had always considered Quill a friend. Well, that is, up until I discovered he was working for the bad guys. But life does work in strange ways because once I'd been forced into the same predicament, I found it easier to forgive him and call him my friend again. In actuality, he was the only friend I had while working in my father's employ. And once I was forced into the same situation as Quill, I saw him in a different, and far less damning light. I guess it is true what they say about walking in someone else's shoes ...

  "This isn't him. He's a good person," I continued, glancing at Christina again.

  Her eyes were hard and unforgiving. "He's been Melchior's yes-man for as long as I've known him, Dulcie."

  I nodded and sighed, realizing this was going to be a difficult argument to win. "I know that's how it looks, but I've also worked side-by-side with him for nine years. We were close, Christina. And in nine years, you get to know someone pretty damn well."

  "And yet you never knew this side of him existed until recently," she finished, her lips a straight line.

  "That's true, but I can also tell you that Quill never would have chosen this path for himself. The only reason he did was because he had no alternative." I swallowed. "Think about it ... if my father was successful in forcing you to work for him, anyone could be forced into it. You know that as well as I do."

  She was quiet for a few seconds, but nodded, exhaling deeply. "You missed your calling. You should have been a lawyer." Then she eyed me askance.

  I smiled, hoping I was on my way to winning the argument, hoping she'd soon raise her white flag of surrender. "I don't know; I've been told I make one damned good Regulator."

  She laughed, but soon the laugh died on her lips and her expression was solemn. "So what do you propose we do?"

  I glanced over at Knight who stood a few paces behind us, his large arms folded across his chest and his expression stern. He'd been watching us the entire time and his eyes were still narrowed on me, a void of impenetrable blue. His expression was impossible to read.

  I faced Christina again. "I think we need to give Quillan the option of joining our cause."

  She laughed lightly as if I'd just made a joke, but then speared me with her eyes, making me feel all of four years old. "Have you joined our cause, then?"

  I was surprised and a little taken aback. I already assumed I was now a part of The Resistance. From the moment Christina granted me my freedom, I’d thought I was on board with her cause. "I thought that was understood?"

  "You never said yea or nay," she answered, her tone serious. I opened my mouth to say "Yea" wholeheartedly, but she beat me to it. "I hope you realize this is no light matter. If you join us, you will be doing so at risk of your life."

  I shook my head as though risking my life weren't a biggie. If the truth be told, I'd been risking my life ever since I first signed up as a Regulator, nine years ago. This was just another walk in a very familiar park. "I'm already living on borrowed time. If I don't join you, I'm a renegade. It's not as though my father would ever take me back and, furthermore, I would never go back." I took a breath. "If I don't join your cause, I'll have to start my own."

  She laughed. "Then I guess I should say, welcome aboard." Her laugh died as she turned to consider Quillan, who was leaning against the prison bars, still maintaining his distance from Horatio and the gnome. "As to Quillan, he's still a big risk, as far as I'm concerned."

  I nodded, knowing how much of a risk Quill appeared to be. But I trusted him and I would fight for him. Why? Because at the end of the day, I did consider Quillan my friend and if there was one thing I believed in wholeheartedly, it was protecting those who were close to me. It was only fair and right to give him the option to choose the correct path, to clean his slate, and start over. I would fight to allow Quill the chance he hadn't been offered fifteen years ago when he was first recruited into my father's band of thieves. And I earnestly believed that whatever decision Quill made, he would stick by it. Call me idealistic or just plain stupid, but I believed in Quillan. "All I'm asking is that we give him the option to join us. If he decides to continue to support my father, he stays right where he is—sitting behind bars."

  "And if he decides to join us?"

  I held my chin high and returned her barbed gaze. "Then we forgive and forget." I didn't hesitate, didn't even blink. "Everyone deserves a second chance, Christina. I know Quill well and I promise you, this isn't the life he envisioned for himself. He's been as much a victim as you and I have."

  She was quiet as she faced Quill again, studying him in a detached sort of way. She turned her attention away from him after another few seconds and settled her studious expression on me, the drama of whether or not to trust me playing out on her face.

  "He will be your responsibility," she said finally. "If something happens and he maintains his ties to Melchior, it's your head on the chopping block. One mistake, and you both will be taken into Resistance custody."

  I nodded, feeling relieved right down to my feet. "I'm willing to take that chance."

  "Then go," she said, motioning to the cell holding Quillan. "And while you're at it, tell him what a lucky bastard he is."

  "Thank you, Christina," I answered. I turned on the ball of my foot and hurried down the hallway. I could feel Knight's gaze on me as I made my way to Quill's cell. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Knigh
t immediately ask Christina what was going on, and his face took on a definite reddish hue when he got his answer. He grumbled something about this being "unbelievable," but I couldn't say I cared. Nope, this could just be another instance added to the long list of things Knight had done to seriously piss me off. And the time was fast approaching when I would grant my full attention to that list.

  "Dulce?" Quill asked as he neared the prison cells, wrapping his hands around them. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?" He took a breath. "Did they release you?"

  "Yes, I'm fine," I replied hurriedly as I summoned the energy to relate my news. "Quill, I was able to talk Christina into giving you a second chance."

  His eyebrows knotted as he studied me, his amber eyes beautiful in the low light. And all of a sudden, I remembered how I used to feel about Quillan—how I'd always admired him and, more so, had a strange sort of crush on him. Granted, those feelings were now dead and buried, but the glint in his eyes somehow took me back to another time, when Quill and I were in a very different situation than now, an innocent time that we could never again return to.

  "What do you mean?" he asked, his tone soft, exhausted, and, sadly, defeated.

  "You have to make a decision, Quill," I responded sternly, hoping in the depths of my soul that he would choose the right path, and take me up on my offer so he could turn his life around. More than anything, I hoped I was right about him—that deep down, he wasn't my father's yes-man. Because the truth of it was: if he did decide to continue to support my father, I could no longer be his friend. Being a victim of circumstances I could understand, but once you were offered salvation and the chance to no longer play the part of the victim, the time for empathy was over.

  "What are you talking about, Dulcie?" he asked.