The White Rabbit Page 2

  Ali wasted no time in swinging on behind him.

  She waited until they rounded the corner before asking, “Was there something wrong with the brownies?” She could imagine the sardonic grin that curved his lips as he answered.

  "If you'd had one of those, hot stuff, you'd loosen up considerably, and my cousin would definitely be late."

  She blushed. “You mean it had stuff in it? Narcotics?"

  "Magic mushrooms. They don't call him the Mad Hatter for nothing."

  Ali declined to ask about the beer.

  "Er, what kind of candidates are you looking for?” she asked after a mile, still replaying the interlude in her head. Rabbit, the Mad Hatter ... this was one dilly of a hallucination. Had she fallen and cracked her head without realizing it? Maybe she was lying in the shower, peacefully bleeding to death. She shivered.

  "Nothing you'd qualify for, hot stuff,” he said.

  Another few miles passed before they saw another building. This one looked like an English cottage and sported some interesting knotty pine animals on its front lawn. The side yard was full of sculpted bushes and bright flowers bounded by low hedges. People came and went, most on foot, some on thick, squat ponies. No one had a bike like Rabbit.

  A maid looked up from dumping a pan of dirty water on the flowers by the front steps as they pulled up. “Rabbit!” she squealed. Leaving the pan on the porch, she bounced up, blond ringlets—among other things—jouncing. Those ‘things’ were well displayed in her low cut peasant dress. “Where've you been, honey?” she asked in a throaty murmur. Ali, she ignored.

  "Little bit of everywhere,” Rabbit answered with the hint of a purr. He glanced at Ali and straightened up. “We need a quick lunch, Glenda. I can't stay long."

  Pouting, Glenda cast an unfriendly look at Ali and flounced back to the inn.

  "Friend of yours?” Ali asked acidly. Not that it was her business, but she'd rode in with him. The least the wench could do was wait until she was in the ladies room before she hit on her ride.

  Rabbit cleared his throat. “Thought you were hungry?"

  Ali snorted and put her hand in her pocket as she headed for the door. To her surprise, her fist closed around coins. At least she wouldn't have to depend on him for her meal. Pity the dream—or hallucination—wouldn't extend to letting her take the money back home. Assuming she would get home, that was. Suddenly worried, she pushed the thought aside.

  They sat down and Glenda showed up, carrying a plate and a mug. She set them in front of Rabbit, bending farther forward than was strictly necessary. “I always know what you want, big boy.” She winked and looked archly at Ali. “What can I get you, honey?"

  Irked, Ali brought the unfamiliar coins out of her pocket and laid them on the table. “I don't know. What will these buy?"

  Rabbit and Glenda stared. Slowly, Glenda blinked. She looked at Rabbit with dawning understanding. “Now I get it. She's a mercy pickup, right? Poor boy, you've got your work cut out for you.” Shaking her head, she headed for the kitchen.

  Rabbit recovered his tongue. Scooping up the coins, he demanded, “Put those back! Are you out of your mind?” Noticing the interested stares directed their way, he glared back, gaining their privacy. “Never mind. I'll hold on to these for you.” The money disappeared into his pants pocket. “Saints,” he grumbled. “I'll be the target for every mugger from here to the capital."

  Unimpressed, Ali said coolly, “I was trying to buy lunch."

  "Why don't you just buy the inn while you're at it? You got any more of that hidden on you?” Unimpressed by her glare, he swore under his breath and swept his gaze around the room. “What idiot turned you loose on the road? Or are you running away?” The idea seemed to gain merit with him. Carefully, he looked her over, as if cataloging her clothes, considering where she might be returned to. He frowned. “Are you married?"

  "No!"

  "Engaged?"

  She blew out a breath. “I'm a free woman, all right? I just woke up one morning and decided it was time to hit the road.” Sort of. She could tell he didn't believe her.

  "So where did you come from before I found you?"

  She looked at the post and plaster ceiling and declined to answer.

  Glenda came back with a plate and mug and accepted Rabbit's money. Her expression was kinder as she looked at Ali, almost pitying. “Don't worry, honey. Rabbit will take good care of you. You just listen to him and he'll get you back where you belong."

  Ali frowned at her back as Glenda left, then shrugged and tore into her sandwich and cider. The minute she stood up, Rabbit was by her side. “I'm just heading to the ladies room."

  "Fine.” He stayed by her side. He was still standing guard outside the bathroom when she finished. Just like at Hatter's, his hand fell lightly on her hip and stayed there, guiding her to the door. This time she couldn't ignore it, or what it made her feel. “Stop it,” she hissed quietly.

  "You'll be safer if they think you're mine,” Rabbit said, sending her a look that made her shiver.

  Nice acting. Convinced me, Ali thought breathlessly. “You're still worried about the money?"

  He raised a brow and bent to whisper in her ear, “You're either a sheltered noblewoman or the most brainless thief I ever saw, and a thief would know the value of their goods.” His brows, dark where his hair was white, knit. “Probably raised in a convent."

  She coughed and forbore to mention Catholic school. Still, she was no innocent. “I know about money. I'm just not familiar with your currency."

  He raised a skeptical brow. “Uh huh."

  That did it. She stopped beside his bike. “Look, thank you for the ride. I'm sorry for cramping your style, so if you'll just hand my money back, I'll be on my way. I think I'm going the wrong way, anyway. I have a feeling what I'm looking for is in the opposite direction.” Pride demanded she say it, but she didn't really feel it. Like it or not, she'd gotten used to Rabbit's brand of protection.

  He looked over her head. Without expression, he said, “Get on."

  She glanced behind her and waffled. A group of interested looking men stared back, clearly eager to see what she would do. Somehow she didn't think they wished to welcome her to the neighborhood. She looked back at Rabbit. Glittering challenge made his green eyes glow. If she refused, would he toss her on his bike? Shove her out of the way and take all comers? Somehow she knew he wouldn't just drive away.

  White knight, indeed.

  Lowering her eyes, she got on his bike's leather seat. With one last cold stare at the crowd, he slid on his shades and moved off.

  Night moved in as they drove and Ally realized she'd arrived in Rabbit's world in late afternoon. “I thought you said it was ‘miles’ to the capital. We've been riding a long time."

  He pulled off onto a small, almost invisible trail. “It is. Many miles. We'll be there tomorrow."

  She snorted, but found she was too tired to argue. When he pulled up and parked the bike, she stared around in surprise. “Where are we? Is this a pit stop?"

  "We're staying here for the night. The next inn is an hour away, and you keep falling asleep.” He swung a long leg over the bike and rummaged in his saddlebags.

  "I can last an hour,” she said querulously, recognizing the peevishness that came from sleep deprivation.

  He tossed her a snack bar and declined to comment.

  Grumpily, she crunched on the bar and watched him set up a small tent. It barely looked big enough for one.

  "Settle in. I'm going to stay up and make sure we're not followed."

  Too tired to argue, she slid into the sleeping bag inside the tent and promptly fell asleep.

  Chapter Two

  Ali blinked and refocused. She was standing in front of the cheval glass, still dressed in her jeans and work shirt. She cast a wary look around and backed away from the glass, not quite willing to test it.

  She didn't take a bath. She crawled into bed and stared at the glass from across the room. Oddly, it didn
't stop her from falling asleep.

  * * * *

  The Queen of Hearts sat on her throne, in her empty throne room, in her great stone castle. On her lap lay a large white cat, which she absently stroked as she looked at her mirror. The tall glass sat before her in an ornate golden frame, a cousin to the one in Ali's room, and no wonder, for they had come from the same place.

  "I see she's finally learned to used the mirror, though only a little,” she mused. “We are not pleased.” Her eyes narrowed as she saw the split images in her own mirror, that of Ali standing before her grandmother's glass, mesmerized, and that of Ali curled in Rabbit's arms.

  That last rankled more than she wished to admit.

  Sharp red nails trailed through the cat's white fur, careful not to scratch. “Dear Cat, I think something must be done. Dear little Ali is set to wreak all manner of mayhem if she is allowed to run amuck. It would be better for us all—her most especially—if she stayed in her own little world and did not tamper with ours.” She thought for a moment. “You will go to Rabbit and give him a warning. I will give him that much leniency. After all, his is a past favorite.” She smiled maliciously at the cat.

  It blinked back with cool blue eyes, as inscrutable as only a cat could be.

  The queen smiled in dark approval and relented. “Though not as entertaining as you, of course.” She glanced coldly at the mirror again. “Go cause havoc, my pet."

  * * * *

  It was easy to write the experience off as a vivid dream.

  Ali had a ton of things to do the next morning, so she rolled out of bed with unusual vigor, carefully avoiding looking at the cheval glass.

  She'd enjoyed playing in the attic as a child, going through the old trunks in search of play clothes and childish treasures, but she hadn't been up there in years, unless it was to store holiday decorations. The place was a firetrap, a hodgepodge of dusty old furniture and piled boxes. Many of the things were useless, dated, moth-eaten clothes, old magazines and an ancient humidifier. Those things were easy to sort and cart down to the curb. After the eight box, though, she started to wonder if she'd ever be able to move all those boxes herself. She stood on the lawn, her hands on her back, and seriously considered tossing things out the window to gather up later.

  Mrs. Heart wandered over from next door as Ali stared up at the window, debating whether she'd alarm the neighbors if they saw stuff flying out it. Seventy-six years and counting, Mrs. Heart walked carefully like someone who feared falling and breaking a hip. She still had on her straw hat and gardening gloves and was holding her pruning shears in one hand. “Miss Ali. It looks as if you could use some help."

  Ali glanced at her doubtfully. “Thank you, but I don't think you'd manage all those stairs very well."

  Mrs. Heart laughed. “Oh, I wasn't going to offer myself, child. My great-grandson is coming over this morning. He has a strong young back."

  Not certain the grandson would appreciate being drafted, Ali demurred, “Oh, you don't have to bother him. Most of it is clothes, anyway. I'm just going toss them out the window and pick them up later."

  "Nonsense,” Mrs. Heart replied, already walking away. “He'll love to help. I'll just go call him.” Pretending deafness—or not. After all, she was old—Mrs. Heart walked back to her yard, ignoring Ali's protests.

  Ali shook her head and returned to the attic, determined to go with plan A. Mrs. Heart was a dear, but Ali refused to let her draft an innocent bystander.

  An hour later, she was thinking differently. What had her grandma been thinking to save seventy two pairs of underwear? Did any woman need thirty six purses? Ali kept chucking useless things out the window in garbage bags, marveling that anyone would save so much junk. Anything she thought might have some value was set aside in the corner. She could have a massive garage sale with the rest. Maybe someone would actually want to buy a purple polyester shirt with fuchsia flowers. It could happen. She didn't bother more than the briefest look outside to make sure she wasn't dropping bags on a curious bystander's head. The grandson had never shown, of course. Smart man.

  Somewhere around mid-afternoon she lost steam. The attic was about a quarter of the way cleared. She really could use an army in here. She went down to make a sandwich and sat down at the kitchen table to eat it. Motion in the front yard caught her eye and she glanced out the window, only to freeze. There was a yard sale set up on the front lawn. Mrs. Heart and another elderly neighbor were presiding at a table, taking money from a hoard of eager buyers. Everything she'd been busy tossing out windows was neatly folded on tables and hung on racks. She couldn't believe her eyes.

  Sandwich forgotten, Ali rushed outside, sliding to a stop before Mrs. Heart and old Mrs. Hutchins. “What...?” she managed.

  Mrs. Heart beamed. “My grandson helped us set up. We wanted to surprise you."

  Ali looked around and blinked back sudden tears. “How could you do this without me noticing? It's so sweet of you!” She wanted to bawl, but sniffed back the worst of the tears. This was so kind of them! She looked around, wanting to thank the grandson, too. “Where is your grandson?"

  Mrs. Heart waved a hand. “Oh, he had something to do. Why don't you go inside and rest a bit, dear? You look exhausted."

  Ali thanked them profusely and went back to her lunch. She was so moved she could hardly eat, but she was hungry. She hurried through her lunch, filled with renewed purpose. She was ready to tackle the attic again. Maybe the grandson could be persuaded to help her move the heavy furniture and trunks down, too. She didn't want to ask, though. He'd already done so much.

  She climbed up the stairs and walked in, only to gasp. The attic was empty. Magic, was her first, awed thought. Then common sense kicked in.

  Alarmed, she ran back downstairs, only to gasp again at the sight of all the old junk neatly arranged on the lawn. She stared at Mrs. Heart, who regarded her calmly. “H-how?"

  Mrs. Heart smiled. “My grandson moved it while you were eating."

  "How?” Ali demanded, amazed. “The stairs are right by the kitchen. I would have heard him. I would have seen him!"

  She just smiled. “His friends helped him."

  "But there was so much stuff!"

  Mrs. Heart patted her hand. “Don't worry over it, dear. Your grandma was a dear friend of mine. We're all happy to help."

  It seemed rude to question her further after that, but Ali wondered. There should have been no way to move all that stuff without making a huge racket. Who was this grandson, anyway? A magician?

  More surprising still, their impromptu garage sale was swamped with buyers. It was if someone had put up ads on every street corner and lit fireworks over her house. It only took two hours to sell everything but the racks and tables, and some people tried to buy those. Purple hats, mismatched shoes, everything went. Better yet, people came out of the woodwork to pay top dollar for her ‘valuable’ antiques. A worn baseball glove apparently signed by Mickey Mantel, along with a matching bat and ball, went for two thousand dollars. Ali just stared as the buyer practically shoved the money at Mrs. Heart and ran off. Had that really been in her attic?

  Mrs. Heart shook her head sadly. “I don't think you got nearly what that set was worth. Ah, well. It is a garage sale. I hope he enjoys it."

  A tarnished saxophone with the nameplate of a famous blues player also brought in a mint. The miracle continued. An ugly painting went for six hundred dollars, a collection of tattered dolls for five. Ali began to feel lightheaded.

  "You'd best sit down on the porch swing, dear,” Mrs. Heart said. “You look peaked.” She smiled at a handsome white cat who sat under the table. When had Mrs. Heart gotten a cat? Distracted, Ali quickly forgot about it.

  By the end of the day, they'd raised thirteen thousand dollars and change. Ali could only stare at the cashbox in awe. “Mrs. Heart, this is amazing. How can I thank you?"

  "I'm only sorry it couldn't be more,” she said kindly, and patted her hand. “Go inside and rest now. It's been an
exciting day, hasn't it?” She toddled off to her own yard, followed by the cat.

  Ali was left with a trampled lawn and a cookie tin full of money.

  Exciting? It was so much more than that. The whole day smacked of magic, the kind she'd found in the cheval glass. Deeply suspicious, she ran upstairs and tossed the money tin on the bed. Then she strode to the mirror, pushing her disheveled hair off her forehead with one hand. Would it happen again? Would he be there? She stared into the glass....

  * * * *

  Dawn light woke her. Too cozy to move, she snuggled deeper into the warmth holding her, then rolled over and warmed her back on the wall of heat, trying to rearrange her pillow. Instead, it was pulled away. “Hey!” She rolled to her back and opened her eyes.

  Sleepy green eyes smiled back. “Bossy, aren't you?” His gaze dropped speculatively to her lips. “How old are you? Eighteen?"

  "Nineteen.” Fresh from sleep, she was too fuzzy to remember why his hungry look might be trouble.

  His eyes moved lower, as if remembering what lay under the sleeping bag. “You must belong to someone,” he said huskily with a hint of disappointment.

  "I told you I don't."

  "You're lying. Women like you don't wander around without bodyguards and keepers. Some man is looking for you right now."

  "Nope. Only you.” It wasn't what she'd meant to say, but his eyes kindled. She'd never seen such green eyes.

  "I'm going to pay for this, I know it,” he muttered, but he kissed her anyway.

  Ali moaned. She'd had a kiss or two before, but those had been like eating liver and lima beans compared to what he gave her. Godiva, champagne and thou, she thought dizzily, then she didn't think at all. Hot brandy seeped into her blood, ignited in a flaming dish she just had to sample. His mouth was heaven, and when his tongue slowly entered her, swept inside and took command, she wanted to die.

  Long minutes passed. He took his time, and she wasn't complaining. At last he groaned and lifted off her. “You're dangerous.” He looked a little unsteady as he got to his feet and pulled her out of the tent.