Hatter sighed. “Caterpillar has been taken.”
Sorrow filled Wally’s eyes. “I’m sorry. Truly.”
“So you’re being hunted.” Carpenter had finally spoken, and his voice surprised me—gravelly, quiet, like he rationed his words.
Hunted. Not chased. Not followed.Hunted. I swallowed hard.
“Obviously,” Hatter said. “The others will gather here soon. Is our room available?”
“Yes,” Wally said.
“But it will cost you.” Carpenter’s eyes narrowed. “Harboring fugitives isn’t cheap.”
Hatter removed his top hat and reached inside—far deeper than should have been possible. He pulled out a brown pouch and tossed it to Carpenter, who caught it with greedy hands.
How the hell did that fit in there?
“Show them to the room, Wally.”
Wally led us through the kitchen. Boxes of oysters lined the counters, along with strange fish I didn’t recognize—somewith too many fins, others with scales that shimmered like oil on water. The briny smell was overwhelming—and painfully familiar. It smelled like the French Quarter on a humid morning. Like home.
My chest ached. I had to find a way out of here. Back to Tinker Bell. Back to Rose. Back to a world that made sense.
He led us up a back stairway and opened a door. I expected a conference room, maybe a closet. Instead it was an apartment—a small sitting area, a fireplace, two doors that probably led to bedrooms.
We would be alone in here. Would he want to kiss me again? I shoved the thought down. He’d told me exactly why he’d kissed me—to hide us. It meant nothing to him. So why did I want it to happen again? Was there something magical about Hatter, or was I just losing my mind?
Hatter glanced around the room. “Thank you, Wally.”
“You’re welcome. Hopefully no one saw you.”
“We kept to the shadows, but the queen has spies everywhere. And now she has Caterpillar.”
My stomach growled. Loudly.
Heat flooded my cheeks as both men turned to look at me.
“Bring us dinner,” Hatter said, not taking his eyes off me.
“Of course.” Wally gave a small nod. “When the others arrive, I’ll send them up.” He shut the door quietly behind him.
Suddenly the apartment felt very small. I looked around. Cozy. A fire already crackled in the hearth. “This is one of your hideouts?”
“One of them.”
I gestured toward the hat he’d placed on the table. “The hat—it’s magical?”
“Perhaps.” A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, like he enjoyed keeping secrets.
I held out my palm, reaching toward it. Tinker Bell had taught me this. If an object held magic, I’d feel it like spider webs brushing against my fingertips. The mirror had felt exactly like that—right before it swallowed me whole. I hesitated.
Nothing. No tingle. No pull.
It looked like a normal top hat—green velvet, a white card tucked into the band that read 10/6. Nothing special at all.
“How does it work if it’s not magical?”
“Nothing is impossible here. Including magic that can’t be detected.” He twirled his finger, and the hat spun lazily on the table. “Don’t bother trying to steal it. The hat only responds to me.”
