Malice In Wonderland

  "Good job. Please extend my kudos to those involved," Christina said with a nod, apparently pleased with the information. “Any reports on attempts to break through the portals from the Netherworld side?”

  Erica shook her head. “None. The Netherworld seems to have gone quiet, like worryingly so. In the first day of the portal closures, there were attempts to break through constantly, but in the last day or so, everything has been pretty silent.” She paused and glanced down at her fingernails, sighing. "I'm pretty sure it's something to worry about."

  Christina nodded and picking up her pencil, bobbed it against her lips as she apparently contemplated it. “We need to make our demands soon,” she said after a protracted silence. “Melchior’s up to something.”

  “What does that mean?” I demanded at last, finally feeling like I was caught up sufficiently to where I should involve myself in the conversation.

  “We’re in the process of deciding how to move forward with the Netherworld, in terms of how we want to divorce ourselves from it,” Knight answered. “We need to formally declare war on the Netherworld, but in order to do that, we have to demand Melchior step down as Head of the Netherworld.”

  "We don't want to invade without due reason," Christina added. "We want it to be known that we were forced into this position, rather than go on the offensive."

  “And it’s not something as simple as a phone call to Melchior,” Dia continued, as if reading my expression.

  “It must be a formal request that every Netherworlder can see, so they know what's coming their way,” Christina finished before facing the others again. “And I’ve decided the best way to move forward with it is with The Netherworlder Today.”

  “The what?” I asked.

  “It’s the chief newspaper of the Netherworld,” Knight responded. “Think New York Times.”

  “So, what, they’ll run an article or something?” I asked, still not completely understanding the point.

  Christina nodded. “This is something that the entire Netherworld needs to know about. If we just go to Melchior, he’ll never alert the public, because he doesn’t want them to know what's going on. He'd be too afraid that they might demand that he step down rather than wage war against us."

  "People are too afraid of him; they would never demand that," Dia said in argument with Christina.

  Christina nodded. "I know that, Dia, but Melchior is the type who won't take any risks where his supremacy is concerned. If the Netherworlder Today runs the column, it’s our safest bet to ensure that word gets out about who we are and what our demands are.”

  “If my father is some supreme dictator in the Netherworld, wouldn't he be able to censor the newspaper?” I asked, frowning because it seemed so obvious.

  “Yes, ultimately, he’s able to censor anything, but if the article runs without him seeing it first …” Christina started.

  “And how do you propose to do that?” I interrupted, my voice sounding dubious. It just seemed like a long shot, especially when their whole plan depended on this newspaper to be the sole herald of the event.

  “Sometimes it’s good to have friends in high places,” Christina answered loftily. I just smiled and shook my head, figuring my doubts were probably irrelevant. I mean, they knew what was going on way better than I did. And, yes, usually it was good to have friends in high places.

  "Your friend's life won't be on the line?" I asked.

  Christina shook her head and laughed. "If anyone gets away with anything in the Netherworld, it's the newspapers. Besides, if your father tried to go after them for running the piece, it would only better illustrate his despotism; and that's the last thing your father wants."

  "He's going to be working overtime to convince the Netherworld population that his rule is ultimately better for them," Knight added and nodded in agreement.

  "So let’s say I can make sure our article runs in The Netherworlder Today," Christina continued, still tapping the end of her pencil against her lips. "The question is: how soon do we run it?”

  “Now,” Knight answered as he leaned forward, his elbows on his thighs. “What else are we waiting for?”

  “We could wait for Melchior to make his first move; that way, we’re justified in our retaliations,” Fagan piped up, alternating his gaze between Christina and Knight. “That way it would look like he’s attacking us, rather than vice versa.”

  “Oh, geez...What does it matter anyway?” Erica asked. “It’s not like anyone in the Netherworld will stand up to Melchior regardless of whether he attacks us first.”

  “She has a point,” Dia said with a frown. “When Melchior goes silent, it’s not a good thing.”

  “I think we run the article ASAP, as in yesterday,” Knight announced before leaning back into his chair, and crossing his large arms beneath his head. Then he glanced at me and smiled. I felt my cheeks flush and immediately glanced at Christina, trying to quell the rising tide of heat within me.

  Dia glanced over at me after ogling him and fanning herself. "Good Lord, Hades did us all a big favor with that one," she whispered.

  "I'm not sure I'd call it a favor," I whispered back. Knight glanced at me and raised one eyebrow. It was pretty evident he'd either overheard our conversation or was adept at reading lips. Either way, he was annoying.

  “Okay, done,” Christina said, slapping her hands together. "The article runs tomorrow. I'll take care of the preparations today." Then she eyed her notebook, which I assumed was a list of agenda items, and crossed off the top two. “Okay, the other issue I wanted to talk about is spies. It’s becoming more and more evident that we haven’t done a good enough job at sniffing out the loyalists.” She took a breath. "The incident at Miller's Crossing is just another example that we should be doing our job better. Loyalists are an absolute threat to our cause. They need to be identified and dealt with."

  “Loyalists are the folks who support your father,” Dia whispered to me. "We call ourselves the rebels."

  “That’s an understatement,” Erica pointed out. “Loyalists have been the biggest threat any of us have come across so far. Probably next to Melchior, himself. I’ve been telling people lies just so I can see if the lies get out, and then I track them back to the source. I’ve already caught a crapload of moles that way.” Then she glanced over at me and smiled. "Good times."

  Christina nodded. “Just be very careful. Don’t give out any information to anyone who isn’t sitting around this table. Got it?”

  Everyone nodded as Knight rubbed his chin and leaned forward. “Speaking of moles,” he started, settling his gaze on me as his jaw tightened. “I think we need to keep a strict eye on Quillan.”

  I felt my heart stop as I glared at him. “Quillan gave me his word, Knight."

  “This isn’t about pinky promising,” he spat back at me, narrowing his eyes. “Quillan was Melchior’s right-hand man for how many years?”

  “That’s beside the point,” I threw back.

  “Wait, Quillan Beaurigard joined The Resistance?” Fagan asked in a tone that belied his incredulity. "Are we no longer consulted on anything anymore?" he demanded of Christina.

  She just shrugged. "It made sense to grant him absolution."

  "Um, how did it make sense?" Erica asked in a loud tone, seemingly irritated again. One thing for Nymphs--most of them were bipolar.

  "He was the closest person to Melchior; and, yes, he did work with Melchior during the entire time I did," Christina started. "So he knows how Melchior thinks."

  "But don't you think Melchior is aware that Quillan is one of us?" Erica asked with a frown as she shook her head, clearly uncomfortable with the revelation. "I mean, hello McFly!"

  "No," Christina answered. "As far as he's aware, Quillan could be rotting in one of our prisons."

  "Which is where he should be," Knight added, and I made the decision to ignore him.

  "Until word gets out," Dia said and shook her head. "It's just a matter of time before Melchior is made awa
re that Quill has joined us. And then he'll have to change his tactics 'cause he'll be more than aware that Quillan knows everything about him." She paused for a second and sighed, glancing down at her fingernails as she buffed them against her bright red blouse. "This could come back to bite us, y'all."

  "It's all the more reason for us to act now rather than later," I said sternly. "We have to beat my father at his own game and the only way we're going to do that is with timeliness. We have to take him by surprise."

  Christina nodded. "Dulcie's right."

  “This is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard!” Fagan yelled, slamming his fists against the table again. "You talk as though the elf has actually joined us! When he could be the biggest mole among us!"

  “So lemme get this right," Erica started, a frown marring her pretty face. "We’ve been working our asses off trying to separate the loyalists from the rebels and you just decide to bring Quillan on?” She continued, glaring at Christina and then me.

  Christina glared right back at both of them. “I’ve informed Dulcie that Quillan is her responsibility. And if she feels he’s worthy of our trust, then I’m going to give him the benefit of the doubt. And I refuse to hear another word on the subject.”

  “He must be kept under strict surveillance,” Knight said, leaning back against his chair as his attention rested on me again. I refused to look at him. Anger freely flowed through me, but I tempered it. There was no point in reacting because it wasn't like I could ever change Knight's mind where Quillan was concerned. The others, however, I was less sure about.

  Christina faced him. “I’ll leave that subject for you and Dulcie to figure out.” Then she turned to the team assembled around the table again. “On that note, you’re all dismissed. We’ll meet again tomorrow after the article runs, in which case, we need to prepare for Plan A immediately. You’ll receive notice of where we’ll be meeting an hour before we meet. Until then, please be very careful."

  SEVEN

  I was so angry, I couldn’t even force myself to look at Knight as we drove in the darkness. It wasn't like I was surprised though—I should've guessed he’d never give Quillan the benefit of the doubt. So, really, I wasn't even sure why I was so mad to begin with. This was just another one of Knight's shortcomings—that he couldn’t find it within himself to forgive and forget. Yeah, yeah, I know—that's the pot calling the kettle black, but so what? In this instance, I would play the role of the pot all day long since I still wasn't prepared to forgive Knight for everything that had happened between us.

  We'd already driven out of the portal from the city where we’d had our meeting with Christina and team, and were now on our way back to where we'd first come from, complete with a barren landscape against the velvet background of dark blue sky and yellow stars. I'd hoped Dia would have accompanied us, but unfortunately, we weren't going in her direction; so now it was just Knight and me.

  As I glanced out my window, I caught a shooting star sailing across the sky. The beauty of the night, however, was lost on me. I was still utterly consumed with how pissed off Knight and the whole Quillan debacle made me; or maybe, it was just leftover resentment about what nearly happened between us in the Denali. The more I thought about it, the more I realized the Denali episode was the primary culprit. I just couldn’t swallow my anger at myself. It was overflowing now, gagging me with a cornucopia of guilt and disappointment.

  Why do I always lose control of myself where Knight is concerned? How is it possible that I still find him so attractive while being so pissed off with him at the same time?

  It was like both sides of me were in constant conflict. One half kept reminding me that this was what happened in relationships—you'd get screwed over, turned inside out, and left a mere shell of your former self. But the other half of me couldn’t stop picturing Knight’s brooding gorgeousness, his smoldering eyes, and how they seemed to consume me with just a glance. And my first half wanted to murder my second half. But both halves couldn't deny how I longed for the feel of Knight's hands on my body and the taste of his lips. Not to mention how his spicy and clean scent drove me absolutely insane.

  “So are you just going to ignore me for the rest of the drive back or what?” the asshole in question asked. He glanced over at me with his eyebrows raised. I had to wonder if during his creation as a soldier of the Netherworld, his incredible good looks were just part of the package. Seduce your enemy with your handsome charm and then … whack! Finish them.

  I folded my arms across my chest with a frown. “Ignoring you is less harmful to your health than the other things going through my head.”

  “Is that so?” he asked with a hearty chuckle. His eyebrows lifted in what appeared to be genuine amusement. “Well, I’m game, hit me with your best shot, sexy.”

  “Okay, Pat Benatar,” I snapped, refusing to look at him because his smile managed to aggravate me to no end. "And don't call me sexy."

  He shook his head. "Ah, Dulcie, you are sexy, so why fight it?" Then he narrowed his eyes as if studying me. "In fact, to this day, I have yet to see another woman who can rival you in the sexiness department." He allowed his eyes to follow the lines of my body while I slowly simmered with anger. "All that fairy beauty rolled up into one delectable, little package. Sexy, sexy, sexy and then some."

  "Enough," I said, glaring daggers.

  "Hmmm, and you're even sexier when you're angry."

  "If you're trying to piss me off, you're succeeding," I responded, unable to deal with his impish grin any longer. Instead, I tried to divert my eyes to the view outside my window. It didn't amount to much more than pitch darkness, occasionally punctuated by the halo of the headlights against a tumbleweed or lonely tree.

  "Okay, okay," he said. “You win. No more sexy talk."

  I didn't say anything, but tightened my arms around myself as I continued staring outside, wondering how much longer it would take to get wherever we were going.

  "Come on then, out with it. What’s got you so pissed off?” Knight pressed.

  I glanced over at him and felt my jaw clench. “Do you really need to ask?”

  “Are you mad about the Quillan thing?” Without waiting for me to respond, he continued. “Because if you are, you can stay pissed about it. I’m never going to change my mind about him no matter what you or anyone else says. I think he’s a rat and wouldn’t trust him as far as I could throw him.”

  “Because you’re jealous as hell of him,” I spat back before even thinking about it. And, after I did think about it, I regretted it. Why? Because I didn't have the patience or the interest, really, in getting into some long-winded argument about whether or not Knight was jealous of Quillan.

  Knight remained quiet for a second as he cocked his head to the side and appeared to ponder the thought. Then he frowned. “Maybe I am."

  I was so surprised, I didn't even respond; although Knight also didn't allow me the chance.

  "I’m not so sure I’d call it jealousy though. I think it’s more because I don’t believe he deserves your forgiveness, or your kindness.” He glanced over at me then. “He’s like something that just crawled out of the slime compared to you.”

  “Getting a little dramatic there, don’t you think?” I muttered, not appreciating hearing him talk that way about someone whom I considered my friend.

  He shrugged. “Call it whatever you will, but I'm not going to change my mind.” He took a deep breath and faced me again, apparently not concerned with safe driving. "Dulcie, I know you think he's your friend and you're all about protecting those you're close to, but I think you're wearing blinders in this case."

  "Well, lucky for you, we all have a right to our own opinion," I answered snidely.

  He didn't seem fazed by my comment, though. "That's the beauty about you, Dulce—you want to give everyone the benefit of the doubt and you believe in second chances." Then he paused. "I, however, do not."

  I looked at him, my eyes blazing. "You don't believe in second chanc
es?" I repeated. He nodded, but before he could respond, I added, "Funny, but that's exactly what you're asking me to give you—a second chance."

  He shrugged, then nodded again. "Yes, I guess you could say I am. But, giving me a second chance and giving Quillan a second chance are two totally different subjects."

  "How are they any different? A second chance is a second chance regardless of whom it's for. And, let me remind you that according to you, you don't believe in second chances."

  "Where Quillan is concerned, I don't," Knight said emphatically. "I don't trust him and I don't like him. I don't like knowing he could rat us out at any second; or that he knows exactly where you are, should your father ever decide to come after you. There are too many unknowns with Quillan and you mean too much to me to ever gamble on Quillan being a decent person. That is a bet I would never take. So go ahead and be pissed off with me all you want, but at the end of the day, your safety means more to me than some insignificant ... elf."

  "Then I guess we can agree to disagree," I said, falling silent. Neither of us said anything for a few seconds, until the quiet began to make me uncomfortable. I reached over to turn the radio on, but Knight grabbed my hand, apparently not in the mood for music. I pulled my hand away.

  “So is that why you’re pissed off with me? Because of him?” he persisted, eyeing me with those undeniably beautiful baby-blues.

  “Yes,” I grumbled. “I guess so.”

  “I’m not convinced.”

  “Ugh,” I ground out, irritated that he could read me so well. I mean, yes, the whole Quillan thing still bothered me; but really, there was so much more. “There are so many things you do that piss me off, I’d have to start a list!”

  He looked at me again with a strange expression, one that didn’t appear in the least bit offended or upset. In truth, he looked amused—like he enjoyed ruffling my feathers. “How do I hate thee? Let me count the ways?” he asked with a boyish grin.