Wild Wonderland
Chapter One
The house seemed hollow without Uncle Ted in it. I looked around the rambling Victorian mansion and wondered how he had made it feel so warm, so homey. Now, it felt like a mausoleum; a place haunted by the past.
I was entirely alone.
My parents had died when I was a child; some awful car accident that I don't remember. Uncle Ted was all the family I had–was the only company I had–period. He had looked after me, raised me, and saw to it that I had a good education. Most importantly, he had loved me.
Yeah, he was a little strange; a fact that I hadn't realized until I had begun to attend school. Then I discovered that not all little girls learned self-defense at age three, or swordplay at five, or jujitsu at seven. Well, maybe the last one, but I'm not certain of that. Most parents didn't have a laboratory in their basements either, nor did they warn their children about touching mirrors or the dangers of unknown holes in the ground.
My childhood may have been a bit lonely, but it had also been magical. Uncle Ted told me stories about imaginary worlds where men could turn into animals and where kingdoms were divided by the suits of playing cards. In Uncle Ted's world, caterpillars smoked hookahs, mice drank tea, and rabbits wore waistcoats (whatever that was).
Uncle Ted would have tea parties with me when I was a little girl, warning me that drinking too much would shrink me down to the size of a pea, but eating the cake would restore me. He admonished me to always tread lightly through flowerbeds because you never know when the flowers might be napping, and how would I like it if someone tromped through my bed and woke me up? He taught me the value of time and instilled a deep respect for it in me. I knew never to waste it or take it for granted because that was very rude as well. Ted had been the best man I'd ever known, and now, he was dead.
I dropped to my knees and sobbed, covering my face with my hands. I'd never made any friends, mostly because Uncle Ted discouraged it. As much as he was a kind and generous man, he was also extremely paranoid. Ted didn't trust anyone and had hammered that same sense of distrust into me. I was angry at him for that because now that he was gone, I had no one. I had buried him without a service since there had been no one there to mourn him except for myself, and then I had come home to this empty house. We were wealthy people, which was probably why Uncle Ted was so paranoid, but money is nothing if you have no one to share it with.
“Well, it's about damn time!”
My head jerked up at the sound of the masculine voice. There, on the stairs before me, stood a man. He was about my age, with pure white hair and pale skin. He wore an old fashioned suit without a jacket, but with a lovely tapestry vest, from which he pulled a gold pocket watch. He peered at the watch, then at me.
“I was expecting you thirty-three minutes ago,” he chided me.
“Who are you?” I asked him as I stood. “And what are you doing in my house?”
“This isn't simply a house, my dear.” He grimaced. “It's a gateway.”
“A gateway to what?”
“To where,” he corrected me. “And I suppose that was inaccurate as well. The gate liesbeneaththe house. The building itself is merely a disguise. Subterfuge for the subterranean entrance to Wonderland.”
“I know jujitsu,” I warned him.
“Yes,” he drew out the word as he narrowed his eyes on me. “I assume that's some kind of warrior training that Theodore taught you.”
“You knew my uncle?” I gaped at him.
“Alice, dear,” he huffed. “I knew your whole family. I was present at your birth.”
“Well, how was I supposed to know that?” I nearly shrieked.
“Didn't Theodore tell you?” The man scowled. “That was remiss of him. Perhaps he left you a letter somewhere?”
“A letter? Telling me that a man was going to meet me after his funeral?” I rolled my eyes. “Sure, it must be here somewhere.”
“A letter telling you who you really are, Alice Wild,” the man said sternly.
“Wild?” I asked. “My last name is Turner.”
“By all that's bloody, it is not!” The man appeared deeply offended. “What an awful name. I suppose Theodore thought it was amusing–turning away from Wonderland or something silly like that. Turner is an action, not a name, and it isnotyours. It belongs to an earther, one ofthosepeople.” He waved his hand toward my front door. “You are a Wild, the last Wild in all existence, and heir to the throne of Wonderland.”
“Oh, wow.” I blinked at him. “You're bonkers, completely mad. There's a crazy person in my house.”
“As if that has any bearing whatsoever,” he huffed. “Now, I assume that Theodore would have left something for you in his laboratory. Shall we?”
“How do you know about the laboratory?”
“Alice, do keep up,” he snapped. “I know you and your uncle. I've been here several times to check on you and receive progress reports for Their Majesties. The Card Kings of Wonderland are very concerned for your safety.”
