Heartless(52)

But then Hatta lowered the hat and she saw that he was smiling, and his smile was heart-thumpingly open, honest, beautiful. His lavender eyes sparkled as they found her, then shifted to Jest.

“Fine. Fine!” he said, holding a hand up in surrender. “I suppose I will allow her to stay.”

Cath dipped into a curtsy, still flushed with success. “You are too gracious, Hat—”

The shop suddenly rocked. She slipped, toppling into Jest, whose arms encircled her.

The guests gasped and scrambled to gain their balance. Something clomped on the roof, followed by scratching, like talons scrabbling for purchase. The shop rocked again, sending an array of dishes over one side of the table, tea and cookies splattering onto the floor.

An ear-bleeding screech made the hair stand on the back of Cath’s neck.

Jest glanced up, drawing Cath’s attention toward Raven. The clown bust he stood upon had changed, the jovial grin turning down into a mockery of fear.

Raven tilted his head, as if his black eyes could see right through the beams of the ceiling, and recited in his somber cadence, “’Tis the nightmare of the borogoves, the terror of the slithy toves. Though long believed a myth by all, the Jabberwock has come to call within our peaceful grove.”





CHAPTER 20

JEST TURNED TO HATTA. “We must make a run for the Crossroads. The beast will be too large to follow us through.”

Cath gaped up at him, her heart squeezing tight. “You mean for us to go outside?” She turned toward Hatta, whose face was drawn, his jaw set. “Wouldn’t it be more prudent to stay put and wait for the beast to tire? Surely it will get bored and leave if it can’t get to us.”

A window at the back of the shop shattered. The Porcupine and the Bloodhound scrambled away from the scattering glass.

Two clawed fingers pushed through the destroyed window. The remaining glass shards scraped over the scaled skin as the fingers writhed and searched for a way inside, drawing charcoal-colored blood from the wounds.

Cath shuddered and pressed herself into Jest’s arms. “It can’t get to us here … can it?”

“These walls are but wood and nails, Lady Pinkerton,” Hatta said, his voice low. “The Jabberwock may not fit through the door, but it can doubtlessly open a new one.”

Her mouth dried.

The claw disappeared from the window. The shop rocked and trembled again as the monster paced to the other side of the roof. Searching. Through a gap in a set of drapes, Cath saw a slithering tail flick past.

Fear wrapped around her, encasing her limbs in stone.

She was going to die. Here, among strangers, in the middle of the night. She would be a feast for the Jabberwock, and her parents and Mary Ann would never know what had become of her.

A sudden gust through the chimney extinguished the fire that had been blazing in the corner hearth. The air filled with the smell of smoke and embers.

Hatta, the only one still sitting, pushed himself back from the table, the legs of his imitation throne scratching against the floorboards. He grabbed his cane and pressed his hat onto his head before surveying his guests. His attention landed on Jest.

“Think of it like being at home, mate,” he said. “Haigha and I will go out first to distract the enemy with a clear target. You and Raven helm us on the sides. Protect the others while they run for the Crossroads.” His gaze slipped down to Cath and he seemed, briefly, to find something amusing in their situation. “As always, we must protect the Queen.”

Jest flinched, his fingers digging into her arms.

A deep voice rumbled across the table. “I will bring up the rear.”

Cath turned toward the Lion, who stood regal and imposing in the dim candlelight, his orange mane haloed around him, although the look was diminished by the carousel hat clopping around his head. His tail flicked as he scanned the other creatures, all smaller than he was. “I will not enter the Crossroads until we all are safe.”

Hatta tipped his hat. “You are a brave soldier.”

Overhead, the Jabberwock screamed again. It was followed by the sound of splintering wood and creaking nails. The walls trembled.

“Everyone into position,” Hatta yelled. “Prepare to run for the Crossroads entrance. We must move as one.”

Jest pulled back, gripping Cath’s shoulders. His brow was drawn with fear and apology, but she stopped him before he could speak.

“It was my choice to come,” she whispered. “You couldn’t have known this would happen.”

A muscle twitched in his jaw. “I will get you home safely.”

She nodded and, despite the fear coursing through her veins, she trusted him. “Impossible is your specialty.”

His eyes softened, barely covering his distress. “So it is.”

“Are we ready?” asked Hatta. He had moved toward the door, ready to pull it open. Haigha stood opposite him, his large ears quivering.

Cath glanced around. The old lady had climbed onto the Bloodhound’s back, gripping her knitting needles like daggers. The Squirrel had taken hold of the fishbowl, with the two Goldfish cowering beneath an overturned sugar dish that had fallen inside. The Boa Constrictor had the snoozing Dormouse cradled in his jaw. The Parrot and Cockatoo were ready to take flight; the Chameleon had colored himself to match the grass and wildflowers of the meadow outside; the Bumblebee was brandishing his stinger; the Porcupine had puffed up his barbed quills; and the Turtle had drawn his head into his shell.