ArchEnemy by Frank Beddor Read Free Book Online Page B

stayed.”
    That stopped him. She did know better, but knowing it didn’t help. He could not, he realized, reason Molly out of her feelings. And maybe she was right. He shouldn’t have jumped into the Pool of Tears and spent thirteen years on Earth, searching for Princess Alyss. Impossible for him not to have done it, yet he shouldn’t have done it, shouldn’t have left Weaver. He couldn’t have known about Molly, yet he should have known. He should have known and returned to his family.
    “Do you have a lot of experience in looking glass transport?” he asked, which only seemed to give support to Molly’s complaints; he knew too little about her, not even if she was familiar with Wonderland’s most efficient means of public transportation.
    “I have enough,” she said, and bent into the focused glass.
    He stepped into the continuum after her and, rushing headlong through the vein of ethereal glitter and shine, couldn’t help being impressed. Molly traveled well, without any show of concentration on her destination, without any of the stuttering forward motions typical of less experienced travelers who visibly struggled against the pull of entrance portals, near which the body fought hardest to be reflected back out into the world.
    Midway to Genevieve Square, Hatter and Molly relaxed, as if floating in water, and let the gravity of its exit glass pull them onward.

    Every hour of every day in Genevieve Square, business-folk, shoppers, tourists, entertainment seekers, and countless more stepped from the Crystal Continuum on to the pavement without attracting a second glance from passersby. But Hatter Madigan emerging from a looking glass portal was no common occurrence. Hardly had he and Molly stepped to the pavement before Wonderlanders were pointing and calling out to the Millinery’s most famous graduate. Hatter didn’t appreciate being the center of public attention. Aware that Molly was watching him, he tipped his top hat to fans and well-wishers, thinking he could not arrive at Gimble Lane fast enough, not near fast enough. But finally—
    “I guess this is it,” he said, squinting up at the beryl slab of a building in Gimble Lane. “We’re on the top floor.”
    One of the Millinery’s attendants had arranged for the rental of the flat, outfitted it with necessary furnishings and bedding, and transferred Hatter’s few belongings to its sleek, spacious rooms. No doubt a large number of Wonderlanders would have been happy to live there, with its expansive view of the city, its automatic bedmakers and self-cleaning kitchen and bathrooms. But that was part of the problem. Entering the flat, glancing round at the gleaming sterility of floors and countertops and crystal hearth, at the pristine furniture the Millinery attendant had chosen and the walls barren of decoration, it didn’t strike Hatter as a home for a father and daughter. Where a conventional family might have had an entertainment matrix containing thousands of programs and games: a collection of training manuals, delineating decades’ worth of the Millinery’s pedagogical techniques. On a shelf where holo-crystals etched during family outings might have been arrayed: the bottled cleaning solutions Hatter used on his top hat, wrist-blades, and belt saber. Aside from a scarf and the other little presents Weaver had given him, everything Hatter owned had come from the Millinery.
    “You like that?” he asked, because Molly had run excitedly up to a purple dog flower, which was wagging its petals and barking happily under her touch.
    The girl tensed, as if ashamed by her sudden eagerness. “It’s OK,” she shrugged and, without another word, loped off to explore the bedrooms.
    A note crystal was leaning against the flowerpot. Hatter cracked it open. The dog flower was a housewarming present from the Millinery attendant. Moving from entry hall to kitchen, Hatter passed a square of translucent rock embedded in the wall, activating the flat’s