Page 46 of The Witching Hours

My second thought was that there was a door off to the side like the one in the story. It had a keyhole like the one in the story, but naturally, there was no key to be seen.

“RIDICULOUS!” I yelled out loud, thinking that’s something Alice might do. Alice was confident and fearless. She would call it all nonsense, stomp her foot prettily, and walk away. Of course, it’s easier to stomp prettily in mary janes than bare feet. It would be my luck to end up with a stone bruise. “I wish I had shoes on,” I said to the dirt tube that surrounded me. And, just like that, I was wearing mary janes and white stockings under my pajama pants.

I thought about the illustration of Alice in her blue dress, petticoats, pinafore, white stockings and mary janes and decided the powers that be only knew one way to dress a person who accidentally fell into a horrid story.

Looking down to admire my new shoes, I wiggled my toes to make sure they fit right. They did. As perfectly as if they’d been custom made.

“Gosh. Thanks,” I said, also out loud, just before it hit me that other wishes might be granted. I could probably get the whole outfit if I so chose, but instead decided to go for what I really wanted. “I want to be home in my own bedroom.”

“WHO’S THERE?” A disembodied female voice demanded in an unmistakably imperious tone.

Not the reaction I’d hoped for. “A girl.” When that was met with silence, I added, “Who wants to go home.”

The door grew to normal size in front of my eyes then swung open hard and bounced back from the dirt wall with a thud. Through it marched a red-headed woman, hair piled high and held in place by a crown with an enormous heart-shaped ruby at the center. She was clothed in a magnificent red velvet corset atop a black felt circle skirt with red hearts appliqued all over along with bobby socks and saddle oxfords. I would’ve said she was beautiful if not for the cruel expression on her full red lips and the scarlet claws that did not appear to be glued on.

She was accompanied by seven guards, five of whom could pull double duty as gardeners on request. They were the six, seven, eight, nine, and ten of hearts whose names and numbers were one and the same. I knew this because they addressed each other in numerical terms.

The Jack and Ace seemed to command more respect. They were closest to the queen; on either side, one step back. The same outrageously red hair gave cohesion to the entourage. They wore stiff tunics with the markings of playing cards over black breeches and pointy-toed shoes. Except for the individual numbering and symbol placement, their uniforms were identical save for the Ace who wore a black beret jauntily cocked to the side. The king’s absence might’ve been significant or not. I had more pressing issues to occupy my thoughts.

Next to the Ace stood a staff shaped like a scepter and topped by a huge red heart that appeared to be lit from within. Itcould’ve been glass, but might also have been the world’s largest ruby. His right fist was wrapped tightly around the pole so as to keep it standing upright. A twelve-inch, double-edged blade jutted upward from the heart making clear to all that the queen’s chief guard had a bayonet at the ready.

The Jack had a similar bayonet staff except that it bore a flag with the queen’s coat of arms.

Altogether they were a grand display in full regalia. They would’ve been intimidating under any circumstances, but crowding into the small space, combined with their larger sizes exaggerated the already palpable air of superiority.

“Home!?!” she asked in a voice that was much quieter and measured, but every bit as imperious as before.

“Are you the queen?” If I’d had any sense at all, my voice would surely have been shaking.

Without taking her eyes off me, she turned her face slightly toward the Jack and raised an eyebrow. “At least she’s simple. I’m far too fatigued after croquet and touring the roses to deal with someone difficult.”

I was sorry I’d asked a question. The one thing I was sure of in that moment was that I’d prefer not to have this woman’s attention trained on me.

“Who else might I be?” She spat with an indignance I thought was feigned. Without warning or segue her entire demeanor flipflopped. She laughed and, when she did, the entire entourage laughed with her. “Of course, I’m the queen.”

The cards repeated what she said in chorus. “Of course she’s the queen!”

With smug satisfaction, she said, “And you are?”

“My name is Catherine, but my nickname is Catty.”

Cocking her head slightly to the side, the queen smiled broadly at that, but it didn’t soften the angular lines of her face.She said, “Meoooooowwwww!”, as she made a clawed swipe through the air.

At first, I thought it was some sort of weird illusion, but there seemed to be an opaque thing on her shoulder trying to materialize. All of a sudden it became a large black cat with big yellow eyes wearing pink and purple striped pajamas. It sat on its haunches so that it could reach up and embrace the crown with both paws while looking down at me with an impossibly wide, toothy grin. If that wasn’t enough, its shoulders shook with silent laughter.

That did it! I squeezed my eyes shut and tried hard to remember the exact words I’d used to get the shoes. “I WISH I WAS HOME!”

At once huge steel faucets appeared and began flooding the chamber with water. In less than a minute I was forced to start dog paddling to keep my face above.

One of the cards, struggling to swim, kicked me and sent me under water. It didn’t hurt much because the force of the water slowed the momentum. I hoped it had been an accident because there were a lot of guards.

I rose to the surface with ease. My dog paddling skills were wicked and that was lucky because the water was rising much faster than I had fallen. I had bragworthy stamina, and had proven it in contests with other kids more than once, but I wouldn’t need it because, looking up, I could see the ceiling light in my bedroom. In seconds I’d be back in my room.

There was no time to consider that I wouldn’t be returning alone. Until I heard the queen’s voice behind me say, “Come back, Catty Cat. I’m hosting a guillotine tea this afternoon. You can sit beside Two.” Judging by her laughter, that didn’t strike me as appealing. In fact, it made me kick and paddle even faster.

First, I didn’t know what a guillotine was but given everything I’d seen of the queen so far, I thought perhaps I didn’t want to. Second, I didn’t like being called Catty Cat. Third, sitting beside “Two” didn’t sound like an honor. It sounded like a “catty” thing to offer. So. No Thanks.

The round hole that had been eight feet in diameter expanded to the size of a pond. It was like circling a drain, but in reverse with the water rising. Under cover of a red and black striped canopy, the queen stood on a barge with her entourage looking fresh and dry while I did my best impression of a drowning rat dogpaddling for my life. The mischievous cat floated by effortlessly, grin fixed on his ugly face.

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