Malice in Wonderland Prequel

  Contents

  Title Page

  CHAPTER ONE The Eighth Square

  CHAPTER TWO The Jabberwock

  CHAPTER THREE The Black Butterfly

  CHAPTER FOUR The Red Queen

  CHAPTER FIVE Black Rose

  CHAPTER SIX Birthday Party

  CHAPTER SEVEN Stolen Tarts

  CHAPTER EIGHT The Knight

  CHAPTER NINE Humpty Dumpty

  CHAPTER TEN Tweedle Twins

  CHAPTER ELEVEN The Witch Doctor

  CHAPTER TWELVE Mad Hatter

  About the Author

  Copyright Page

  Books by Lotus Rose~

  More info at loteyrose.com

  The Corruption of Innocence, Faerie Brace-Face, The Doll Queen, Gothic Lolita, Poniworld Chronicles

  Twisted Holiday Specials

  SinEaster

  Merry XXXmas, Charlee Frown

  BlackHearts Day

  Malice in Wonderland Series

  Malice in Wonderland Prequel

  Malice in Wonderland #1: Alice the Assassin

  Malice in Wonderland #2: Alice the Angel of Death

  Malice In Wonderland #3: Alice the Girl Who Will Tear Your Heart Out and Show It To You Before You Die

  Malice in Wonderland Prequel

  A prequel to the dark comedy Malice in Wonderland trilogy. A peek inside the minds of Alice and the other characters of Wonderland before she killed them. By the author of SinEaster and Merry XXXmas, Charlee Frown.

  CHAPTER ONE

  The Eighth Square

  When Alice was 7

  Alice made her way to the Eighth Square. She’d had quite enough of Wonderland for one day, and it was time to go through the Looking Glass back to her own world.

  However, there was a problem. Standing there in the grass, in front of the square around the Looking Glass House, was a quite tall monster, with claws and fangs and wings and huge eyes.

  “Halt little girl!” the creature commanded.

  Alice looked up timidly at the creature. She was trembling all over. “Excuse me, I’m Alice and I would like to go to the Looking Glass and go through it. I don’t belong here, you see, and I must be getting home.”

  “Yes Alice, I was told you’d be coming. I’m the Jabberwock, and I am guarding the Looking Glass House. None may enter it, unless the Queen of Hearts allows it. And she specifically told me not to allow you to.”

  “But, but, I must return home! They’ll be missing me.”

  “That is unfortunate, but the Queen will not allow it.”

  Alice burst into tears. “Why not?!”

  He pointed a clawed finger at her eyes. “That’s why. The Queen has learned of the magical properties of your tears. She would like you to pay visits to her and cry upon her face, at Her Majesty’s convenience.”

  “What?”

  “Yes, and there are others who require your tears as well. You are to make daily rounds, visiting each person or creature. Those are to be your new duties. When you are not performing them, you shall be kept chained to your desk in your own hut.”

  Alice couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “No! She can’t do that! It’s a crime and she shall surely be punished! Now I say, to avoid any trouble, I shall pass. Forget all that silliness you spoke of.”

  The monstrous face of the Jabberwock took on a mournful expression. “I’m afraid not, Miss Alice. I must obey the Queen’s orders.”

  Alice’s lower lip wobbled. “But when can I go home?”

  “I’m afraid Wonderland is your home now, dear Alice, unless the Queen changes her mind, and even so, she’s more likely to have you beheaded than to let you go back.”

  Alice formed her hands into tight fists at her side. “No! She can’t do that! I am a citizen of England. I shan’t be kept here!” She made a break for it, running toward the Looking Glass House.

  She had only taken three steps when she felt herself forcefully pulled back. The Jabberwock had caught her in his claws, lifted her up, and now cradled her in his arms as if she were a mere baby, rather than a girl of 7!

  “Release me this instant you brute!”

  “I shan’t do that. You must return to the hut they have made for you.” He sounded a little sad.

  “No!” She slapped at his arms. She felt the rage she usually tried to hold back surge through her. “I’ll kill you, Jabberwock! Snicker-snack!”

  “Ah, that’s a reference to that horrid poem. But it’s about my father, not me.”

  Alice squirmed with fury within his arms. “With his head, he went galumphing back!”

  “Yes, the poem is a lie, you must know…”

  Alice righted herself in the Jabberwock’s cradling arms. She lunged for his face. “I’ll kill you!” But the Jabberwock held her off, holding his hand around her midsection. Alice struggled and kicked and clawed. “I shall tear out your eyes and eat them!”

  The Jabberwock chuckled. “I like girls with a little fire. But I’m afraid you are no match for me.”

  “I will behead you like the poem! Do not sleep, for my vengeance shall rain upon you like hellfire! I am death! I will come for you, be certain of that!”

  The Jabberwock chuckled. “Do you have a vorpal blade? It is the only weapon that can easily cut the flesh of a Jabberwock.”

  “I will get one, and then I shall… I shall…” She suddenly broke into sobs again. “Oh I’m sorry, Jabberwock. I let my anger get the best of me. You are only doing your job.”

  “Oh that’s quite all right. I can understand the desire to go home. I often wish I could do so myself.”

  She stopped struggling. “And why don’t you?”

  “I have been banished from my tribe because I foolishly lost my vorpal blade, and also I am indebted to the Queen.”

  “Ah, so she controls your fate, much as she seems to have taken control of mine.” She sighed.

  He sighed too. “Yes, my dear. We are similar in that respect.”

  “I am so so sorry if I hurt your feelings. I don’t know what came over me. Sometimes I get these bad thoughts.”

  “Well, it is quite understandable young miss. I would probably act the same if I were in your shoes.”

  “They say I have two of them. Goody ones.”

  “Pardon?”

  “They say I have goody two-shoes.”

  “Oh, so you’ve attained them?”

  “Huh?”

  “The Goody Two-Shoes of Legend.”

  “I don’t know what you speak of.”

  “Never mind, luv. Ah, there is your escort now.” He pointed with his chin.

  Alice looked to see one of the Queen of Heart’s guard cards approaching. He looked like a human-sized card holding a spear, with legs and arms and a flattish sort of head.

  “I will take her now!” the card called out.

  The Jabberwock said, “You must go with him. He shall take you to your hut, where you shall await your orders.” He set her gently upon the ground, then patted her head.

  Alice sighed. She lowered her head and walked toward the awaiting guard card.

  She turned toward the Jabberwock. “Be well, Jabberwock. I’m sorry about what I said.”

  “Think nothing of it.” Then he looked away.

  And Alice walked toward the guard card and the fate that awaited her.

  CHAPTER TWO

  The Jabberwock

  When Alice was 12

  The Jabberwock burst through the door of the small hut, causing it to swing and bang against the wall as it jolted open.

  The guard card wasn’t there. Alice was there, as he expected her to be at this time of day. Her eyes met his. As she read the sheer panic within them, she momentarily forgot herself and
her arm was jerked back against the chain confining her to her desk, and she grunted.

  At long last, after having dragged the girl’s corpse all that way, the Jabberwock felt a little hope.

  For there stands Alice, he thought, the teary-eyed savior.

  But oh, she does not realize the great power her tiny tears hold.

  …And I am forbidden to tell her.

  Alice’s eyes shifted to the body in his clawed hand. Her eyes widened as she took in all that red—it filled the small hut with its scent. “What happened?!” she shrieked. “Did you kill her?!”

  He was dragging the little girl’s corpse into the room, being careful not to be too rough. He regretted he couldn’t carry her, but his right arm had been severely damaged during the fight. He said, “I didn’t have a choice. She attacked me.” He shook his head. “Honour dictated.” He dragged the body to the desk.

  He let go of Laricia’s arm.

  He felt feeble in front of young Alice, for she held the only chance of fixing this, in those eyes. “Please, you must try to…” He’d almost said “revive”, but the Queen of Hearts had given strict orders that Alice mustn’t be informed of the power of her tears. He floundered a moment for another word. “…help her,” he stammered.

  She shrank away from the body before she composed herself. “Help? How can I help? I’m not a doctor! Why didn’t you go to the Queen?”

  And he searched his mind for a deception of some sort—he couldn’t tell her that if she cried on the dead girl it just might bring her back to life. He had to come up with a lie.

  The girl had approached him, holding the trombone case, with a huge smile on her face.

  The Jabberwock was at his post, guarding the Eighth Square, sitting in the grass, as usual. He usually only left to attend Alice’s unbirthday parties every day.

  “Jabberwock!” she shouted.

  She was a girl of about 10, wearing a tunic and trousers. The girl’s blond hair reminded him of how Alice’s used to look before she started wearing it black.

  He stood rigidly and crinkled his clawed fingers. The girl didn’t look dangerous, but one could never be quite sure. The Looking Glass House in the square was, of course, where the Looking Glass was, and sometimes people or creatures tried to pass through it into the outside world, although as far as anyone knew, only Alice herself could actually do so.

  The girl waved with a huge smile on her face and the Jabberwock cautiously waved back.

  As she approached, the girl called out, “I am a musician! I wish to play for you!”

  “Oh? What is your name girl? And why do you want to play for me?”

  The girl was standing in front of him now. “Why, to thank you for all your good service. I apologize for putting you on the spot. I do so love to play for an audience. I practice my trombone constantly. I’m not the greatest, but I’m improving.” She looked down shyly. “I look forward to someday maybe being good enough to knock ’em dead, with my music, so to speak. And…we are connected through a common acquaintance. I wanted to meet you in person.” She looked up and met his eyes again.

  He peered at her. Something about her was unsettling him—her smile was wide, but something was off. “You do look vaguely familiar, but I can’t remember exactly how. I apologize. What is your name? You said we had a common acquaintance?”

  “Yes, and no need to apologize. I’m sure us humans must all look the same to you, anyway.” And she gave him a playful smirk.

  He grinned back, while trying to maintain his cool. “Oh no no,” he said. “For even though I’m a jabberwock, I can tell you’re a prettier human than most.”

  The fact was that human girls weren’t pretty to him and seeing one only brought back memories of his mother singing to him “little-girl’s-goodbyes” to lull him to sleep with the soothing lyrics of dismembering little girls. Alice was also a little girl he wanted to dismember, but it was forbidden to kill her…but this girl… But he quickly banished the thought from his mind, for it would be dishonourable to attack without being provoked.

  The girl was reacting to his compliment, saying, “Awww, that’s so sweet! Well I’ll tell you who our common acquaintance—hey wait! I just noticed something! How come you don’t have a vorpal blade? Aren’t all you jabberwock guys supposed to carry one?”

  His shoulders slumped. “Yes, well the vorpal blade that was to be passed on to me was stolen.”

  “Stolen? Oh my! Did you ever find out who took it?”

  “Yes I did. And I killed him, but I was unable to recover the sword.”

  “Oh wow! You killed him! But he was a human. Humans can usually only fight a jabberwock with a vorpal blade. It’s the only material able to pierce their hide, right?”

  He nodded. “Yes, but we didn’t battle because I found out he had used deception to gain the sword, and he killed my father dishonourably as well.” Something nagged at his mind. “Wait, did I ever tell you he was a human?” he asked, referring to the man who’d killed his father.

  Her smile lessened. “Do you have any idea where your father’s vorpal blade might be?” She kneeled beside the case.

  “Wait, you’re not telling me…” He watched her trembling fingers unlatch the case. She brought out the sword and took it in her hand, held it beside her face as she fixed him with a mockingly sweet smile.

  “I recognize it,” he said quietly.

  Her voice took on a sinister tone. “Yes, this is your father’s sword right here. You see, that man who slayed your father, who you then cowardly killed in cold blood when he was unarmed—that man was my father. My name is Laricia, daughter of Herbert the Jabberwock Slayer. I have been training for years with this vorpal blade and I am here to avenge my father. Prepare to die.”

  The Jabberwock’s eyes pinged side to side as his mind desperately searched for a lie. He had to tug at Alice’s heartstrings somehow, and immediately. Ah, he knew something guaranteed to make the waterworks flow: “She said she had to see you, even if it was her last act. Alice, she is your sister…”

  Her chain clattered as she jerked, then her eyes were desperately roving the dead girl’s face. “But she is the wrong age! She’s not my older sister, for sure, but she’s too old to be my younger sister.”

  She looked to the Jabberwock with pleading, desperate eyes that were already growing moist.

  Excellent, he thought. Now I need only push her…and those tears…over the edge. It shouldn’t be too hard—the girl is so pathetically gullible.

  He said, “Yes, well the flow of time works differently between this world and the outside. Perhaps she’s not completely gone and can yet be saved. Perhaps if you spoke to her, she might still hear?”

  “Sister?” she said it as a whisper and her whole body was shaking. “My little sis?” She looked down at the corpse’s face. “Why, the last time I saw her…saw you, she was just a baby. I don’t even recognize her…I mean you. Sister, can you hear me? Oh, my little sis! Please say you’re okay!” She awkwardly caressed the corpse’s bloody cheek with her unchained hand, and here it happened. Alice burst into tears!

  A huge grin stretched the Jabberwock’s face before he remembered himself and struggled to suppress it.

  She was sobbing and hyperventilating. “Please, my little sis! You can’t be dead! Can you hear me?! Talk to me!” she shrieked. Many of her tears dropped into the red blood, mixing into pinkened dribbles.

  Alice in her misery pressed her face down against the corpse’s, their noses pressed together while she held her chained arm out to the side. “Please! Did you come here to meet me?! Well, then speak! As your big sister, I demand it!”

  I mustn’t let her know the power of her tears. He began to move toward the body.

  Alice rose up on her knees. “Quit acting! Wake up. I command you!”

  The Jabberwock gently clasped the dead girl’s wrist. “I’m sorry. It’s too late. She’s gone.” He began pulling the body away.

  “No, don’t take her!” Alice shout
ed in her anguish. “Where are you taking her?!”

  And the Jabberwock felt that pesky emotion of guilt come over him again. He felt burdened by the things he couldn’t tell her. He gave her his lame excuse—“I’m sorry, but it’s too late. It’s not good for her to stay here. I must take her away.”

  He looked to the corpse’s face for any sign of movement, the chest for any rising. If her eyes opened before he dragged her out of the room, it would be a disaster, because the Queen would surely have his head for letting Alice find out the power of her tears.

  Alice strained at her chain like a rabid dog. “No, you can’t take her! I must say my goodbye! She must have a funeral!”

  But the Jabberwock didn’t reply or meet her eyes, merely kept dragging that body. As he pulled it through the door, Alice screeched, “Where are you taking her?! No!”

  He pulled the body away from the hut and into a nearby forest. None of the windows of the hut faced this direction, so Alice wouldn’t be able to see any of this.

  Partway into the forest, it began to happen. He felt the pulse begin in her wrist. Then she took a few shallow breaths.

  He dropped her wrist. He’d carried her far enough.

  From the girl’s pocket, he brought out the scrawny human-sized quill pen and notepad he’d stolen from Alice’s desk and began writing his note—he had no ink, so he used blood.

  He saw her eyelids begin to flutter, and felt relief. Here was the secret revealing itself—Alice’s tears could revive the dead.

  The girl named Laricia swayed the vorpal sword back and forth.

  He raised his hands. “Please, there was no wrong in the way I killed your father. You don’t know all the circumstances.” And in fact he deserved to die like a dog, he wanted to add.

  “I know all I need to know. You killed him in cold blood when he wasn’t even armed.”

  She swung at him and the blade swooshed through the air. He had to jerk backward to avoid being hit.

  He said, “Please, according to the rules of honour, I was obligated to avenge my father in that manner.” He couldn’t understand why he didn’t want to fight her. Shouldn’t he be happy for the opportunity?