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THE WHITE RABBIT
By
Autumn Dawn
© copyright, Autumn Dawn
Cover art by Eliza Black, © copyright Dec. 2007
Reissue released December 2007
ISBN 978-1-60394-102-0
New Concepts Publishing
Lake Park, GA 31636
www.newconceptspublishing.com
This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author's imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.
Chapter One
"Ah, excuse me. I ordered a non-fat pumpkin spice latte. This like, tastes like its got fat milk." The twenty-something blond across the counter looked at her meaningfully as she slid her half-consumed beverage across the gleaming counter. Her manicured fingernails tapped on the tall cup, making sparkles fly off the fake gems glued on her nails.
The lunch crowd had come into the coffee shop in a rush, and this Paris wanna-be had timed her complaint just right.
Ali gave the rhinestone princess across the counter a strained smile. "No, ma'am. I definitely used non-fat milk." It had been a long day and she wasn't up to arguing with someone who just wanted a free refill. She probably had a bet with the pair of young women seated nearby. The blonde's friends exchanged amused looks while Ali squirmed. Ali didn't want to reward this brat's gall with a free drink.
The rhinestone princess fixed Ali with a menacing look and glanced at her badge. "Look, Ali, I say you made a mistake. I want you to fix it. The customer is always right, right?"
Stumped, with a pile of customers in line, Ali forced a smile and reached for the latte. Just as her fingers touched the cup, her coworker Sue swept it away.
With a sunny smile, Sue told the blonde and the equally surprised Ali, "Won't take a moment, honey. You've forgotten all about the fat tester, right Ali? We'll fix you right up," she assured the blonde. She turned her back and hummed while she did something with the drink. They saw her take a straw up and run it through a light coming off one of the machines. It beeped, and Sue nodded happily. She turned back to the blonde with a smile and slid the drink across the counter. "Nope, the machine says it's definitely low-fat. I love technology! You have a nice day now."
Faced with grumpy customers behind her, the blonde settled for a hard look and backed off. Her friends giggled at her as she returned to her seat.
Ali shot Sue a grateful look and helped the next customer. It wasn't until next break that they got a chance to laugh about it.
"I couldn't help it. She was trying to rip us off." Sue grinned and flipped her blond braid behind her shoulder as she put her feet up on one of the break room chairs. At seven months pregnant, she used every chance she could to rest them. Her husband was trying to convince her to quit her job, but she wanted to wait until the baby was born. As a young military man, his pay wasn't much. "She probably shoplifts, too."
"Ugh! She can have my job if she needs something to do," Ali said. She enjoyed her job in the café, but her heart wasn't in it lately. Nothing had been right since her grandmother had died two months ago. Lately every day had been a blue Monday.
Sue smiled wryly. "Honey, she could live for a month just by pawning that pair of shoes she had on. I don't think she's going to be working in a café any time soon."
Ali sighed as she eyed her own worn sneakers. She didn't begrudge anyone their money, but she wished she had more of it. She was going to lose her grandmother's house soon if she couldn't raise more cash.
Glumly she fingered the ornate locket around her neck. Her grandmother had given it to her on her sixteenth birthday. Made of platinum with gold scrolling inlaid all over it, it was the most expensive gift her grandmother had ever given her. Inside was a picture of her grandmother and a tiny mirror. Ali remembered how she'd laughed in delight and teased her grandma-after assuring her that she really loved it, of course. "Is this for signaling airplanes if I'm lost? I'm going to have a hard time checking my makeup in this."
Her grandmother had smiled. "Alice of Wonderland traveled through a mirror to another world, Ali. You never know if this mirror might lead you to adventures of your own. Meanwhile, it's to remind you to reflect on the past to cultivate wisdom. Mind that you don't live there, though. I raised you to shape your own future, after all."
Ali felt a new surge of determination as she reviewed her grandmother's words. Whatever came, she would make the best of it.
It was close to dusk when she got off work and headed for her bicycle. She looked both ways, then stepped off the curb-and was nearly run down by a motorcycle that came out of nowhere. The wind from its passage tore at her clothes, making her gasp. She caught an impression of pale hair and a flash of white on the tank before it roared around the corner. She hopped back, then jumped as a truck horn blared. Muttering an expletive, she ran for her bicycle and fumbled with the combination lock. The world was full of crazy drivers tonight.
She was still shaky when she rode into her grandmother's driveway fifteen minutes later. The old Victorian stoically looked on, its windows sad and dark. Built over seventy years ago, the old girl had seen her share of births and deaths. It would handle a new owner more gracefully than Ali would. She hated the thought of handing over the keys to a stranger. Would they treat the house well?
It wasn't as if Ali had the means to fix it up herself. The graceful turrets needed new shingles and the paint was peeling. The inside was old and worn, and she had a feeling that was the least of the things wrong with it. She needed a handyman with a big pocketbook. What she had were aging neighbors and a bank who wanted to foreclose.
At least the rose garden was as beautiful as ever. Ali had spent much of her childhood helping her grandmother tend the antique roses and weed the daffodils. The garden had bloomed under their loving care, rewarding them with a thick and luxuriant rose hedge lining the white picket fence by the sidewalk. Sweet peas lined the outside of the fence, filling the early evening with luxurious fragrance while lavender snuggled at their feet. Climbing roses in white and red smothered the arch over the gate, and lemon thyme filled in the spaces between the flagstone walkway. Spiral topiary parked by the front steps, ivy trailing gracefully from their square clay pots. A herb garden grew in a neat semicircle on each side of the porch, ready to be snipped for the kitchen. Ali broke off a piece of mint on her way and inhaled the fragrance deeply. Coming home always felt like a little bit of heaven.
Memories twisted her heart with bittersweet pain. So much of her grandmother was still here. If she lost the house, it would be the garden she missed the most.
She unlocked the door and flicked on the dim overhead light, smiling at the memory of baking cookies. Grandma had always had something in the oven when Ali used to come home from school. She'd call hello from the kitchen and beckon Ali into the sixties style kitchen. Ali would get the milk from the fridge while Grandma opened the avocado green stove and pulled out a batch of cookies. The kitchen might be dated, but it was sparkling clean and filled with love.
Ali grabbed some iced tea, then washed off her makeup in the bathroom. When she was comfortable again, she popped some popcorn in the eighties era air popper and slathered it with salt, butter and grated blue cheese. She carried her bowl to the living room and sat on the lumpy old couch to watch a show. Done in shabby chic, the room was clean and comfortable, if a bit quiet. She was too used to her grandma knitting as they talked about the day. She missed the quiet clack of the needles and eyed the abandoned knitting basket, wondering if she should take up the hobby.
She had a million things to do before they foreclosed on the house next week, but she wanted to ignore the whole mess a while longer. The twenty-five thousand she owed on grandma's home equity loan might as well have been a million. It wasn't going to be raised in a week, and she'd promised Grandma she wouldn't make the mistake of paying off a loan with another loan. She still had a little time to go through her grandmother's things in search of valuable antiques. Trouble was, she had no idea what anything might be worth. She had an appointment with an antique appraiser next week. God willing, there'd be something among all the junk stuck in the attic. It might not save the house, but it would be a start on a new life.
She watched the show about half way through, grew bored, and flipped it off. Might as well take a bath before she was stuck in a bread box apartment with only a shower. She climbed the creaky stairs to the house's single bathroom, her feet padding on the cracked yellow and brown linoleum. The claw foot tub was chipped, the finish so worn she could never get it quite clean, but she loved the shape. Since this might be the last long soak she'd have for a while, she went to the bedroom to collect some candles. As she walked in she caught a flash of movement in the corner. Startled, she glanced over and saw the mirror. With a roll of her eyes for her jumpiness, she walked over and touched it.
The glass felt cool and smooth. Ali ran her fingertips over the cheval mirror, remembering the many times she'd seen her grandmother checking her appearance in the old glass. It was probably worth some money and she hated to part with it, but it had to go. Back taxes and a lengthy illness had drained her grandmother's estate. Even if her grandmother had lived, they might still have lost the place.
It was growing dimmer as the storm clouds closed in, and the girl in the mirror became a blue silvered shadow. Her dark hair and eyes became colorless black, like the reflection cast on a dark window. It was as if she were turning into a shade herself.
"That's enough of that," she told herself sternly, choking off the strange feelings. Straightening her back, she turned away from the mirror, then stopped. A glimmer of movement in the corner of her eye made her turn back.
There was nothing there.
Frowning, she looked behind her. The window was shut to the storm and there was no candle to throw shadows. What, then? Hoping to spy the source of movement, she studied the mirror. It was as it always was, except…was that a tree reflected in the glass? How could that be? No windows faced the mirror. Peering closer, she made out details, then color. The tree was moving in a slight breeze, and now there were others, like none she'd ever seen. She chanced a look behind her, saw an ordinary room. Odd.
She reached out to touch the glass.
It was like flowing through water. One moment she was barefoot in her grandmother's room, the next she was elsewhere.
Tall trees shaded the wood, but the track she stood on parted them enough to allow golden sunshine to warm her face and touch her hair. Gaping at the warm blue sky, which was nothing like the pewter gray one she'd left, she wondered dazedly if she were dreaming. Dreams didn't come with strawberry-scented breezes, did they?
"Hey, watch it!"
Ali jerked her eyes down and jumped back, just as a man on a bike swerved, nearly running her down. Staring at the man, whose seated position brought him nearly eye level to her, she tried to figure out where he came from and what the dickens he was riding. Motorcycles she knew, and they didn't look like his sleek silver beast. Whatever it was, it had a white rabbit painted on the … tank, for lack of a better word.
The man whipped off a pair of dark glasses. His green eyes narrowed as he looked her over. "Get out of the road, lady. I don't have time for hitchhikers."
She frowned at his tone. His white hair was crew cut, but his face was young, and he wore an odd black, short sleeved shirt, leather pants and boots. "Excuse me," she said indignantly, moving aside to let him pass. Just her luck. One of the rare times she dreamed about a good looking guy and he had to be a jerk.
Instead of taking off, he stared at her. One pass of his quizzical eyes was all it took to make her wonder. She looked down-and stared. "What the …." Her night gown was gone, replaced by black boots, flowing burgundy harem pants and a clinging black velvet top with red silk sleeves. She tried to imagine herself dreaming up such an outfit and failed. Bad fashion sense aside, she'd never worn a shirt that flashed that much cleavage.
The man eyed her heart-shaped neckline, seemingly forgetting about his rush for a moment. Defensively, Ali crossed her arms under her breasts, then realized it made the problem worse.
He looked away and took a deep breath. "I don't have time for this." Muttering something inaudible, he shifted into gear.
"Fine," Ali said, turning her back on him. Men never looked twice at her, and she'd bet her virtue that he was the first to notice her breasts. Of course, how could he help it? Her top must have had a built in push up bra-either that or they'd learned to defy gravity. Trying to forget it, she looked up, examining the bright red fruit just above eye level. It looked like a red bell pepper and grew from a twisted tree. It seemed to be the source of the wonderful strawberry scent teasing her nose. Curious, she reached for it.
"It's poison, hot stuff. One taste of that and you'll never wake up." The biker had stopped and was watching her.
Ali snatched her hand away and backed up. "It looked like a pepper!"
He grunted. "Whatever that is. Look, princess, just stay on the path and keep your hands to yourself. You'll get to the city soon enough." His hands flexed on his handlebars and he started to roll.
She looked around, seeing nothing but woods, wondering what lurked within them. Lions and tigers and bears…."Er, how far is it to the city?" This 'dream' was beginning to seem all too real, and she'd never been one to kid herself. She was a Star Trekker girl. She knew about wormholes and alternate universes. Suddenly the biker who'd almost turned her into road kill was starting to look like a white knight.
He growled something unpleasant and looked at her with disgust. "Miles, and you don't have a babysitter coming along at any moment, do you?" He looked forward and flexed his wrist on the throttle. He didn't look back. "Get on, before I change my mind."
Unreasonably grateful, she straddled the back of his bike and gingerly grabbed his waist. "My name is Ali."
"I didn't ask." With that soothing comment, he took off.
Ali clamped her hands around his trim waist and held on. Oh, this had been bright. Romeo here was going to splatter them against a tree, and she had only herself to blame. When would she learn not to throw herself on the mercy of cute strangers? "What's your name?" In case she survived the crash and he didn't, she ought to have something to write on his tombstone.
"Rabbit. Do you mind? I'm driving here."
So much for conversation, though she couldn't argue with him keeping his eyes on the road. Much faster and the machine would take off and fly, and she wasn't ready for that.
It was difficult to see much of the blurred scenery, but she got a general sense of the odd flora and fauna. Ferns of impossible sizes dotted the forest floor and bright red monkey-looking things swung from tree to tree. The dirt road they were traveling was impossibly smooth and rock free, and she began to wonder if it was pavement of some kind.
It seemed like only a few minutes before they pulled up to a cottage with two men seated before it. The cottage was made of brick and shaped like an upside down top hat. Both men reclined on wooden lawn chairs with worn cushions. An upside-down wooden barrel laden with brown bottles, tall sandwiches, and a plate of brownies sat between them, begging to be eaten.
Ali's stomach growled.
"Stretch your legs," Rabbit told her as he dismounted. She followed suit, looking curiously around. Surely the upside down hat wasn't a house? Maybe a road-side refreshment stand?
"Rabbit!" the first man called, tilting his bottle to him in greeting. His booted feet were crossed, and he wore brown pants and a vest. Light bounced off his bald black head and the earring in his ear. He grinned, flashing a gold tooth. "Who's the babe?"
"Have a brownie?" the second man offered, wiggling his shaggy brows as he held out the plate of treats. His Hawaiian print shirt was two sizes two big and matched his baggy khaki shorts. He wore socks with sandals and badly needed a shave and a haircut.
"She's not hungry," Rabbit cut in before she could accept.
The hippie rolled his eyes and put the plate back.
"How about a beer, gorgeous?" the black man offered, snagging one from the barrel top. He tossed it to her.
Rabbit caught it and tossed it back. "She doesn't drink."
She glared at him. "I …."
Casually, Rabbit slid a hand around her waist and anchored it on her hip. Stunned by his move, she listened in silence as he spoke to the pair.
"I just stopped by to see what kind of progress you'd made on our project. Found any candidates, Hatter?" He sent a rueful glance at their snacks.
The black man, Hatter, spread his hands. "We've been looking, but a man has to eat. Bud and I were going to get going right after, not that we've had any luck. Looks like you have, though." He smirked. "Hey, I've got an idea. Why don't you leave your friend with us? We'll bring her along after we all eat." He winked at Ali.
Bud wagged his shaggy brows in agreement.
Uneasy, Ali inched closer to Rabbit. His hand stroked her hip reassuringly, then slapped lightly. "Find your own hitchhikers-this one has places to be. We'll see you later," he said, and mounted his bike.
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.
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