Red Queen by Christina Henry Read Free Book Online

then it was abruptly filled with flames, flames that lit the sky so that the moon was brighter than the sun. The fire seemed to have a voice of its own, a growl and hiss that opened into a howl of delight as it burned and burned and burned.
    Underneath that howl was something else, full of dark and dangerous glee. “Alice. Don’t forget me now.”
    Her eyes flew open. The sun streamed over the mountains,and all was quiet. There was no one about except Hatcher and her, and the echo of the Jabberwocky inside her head.
    â€œI’m going to forget you,” Alice said, her voice low and fierce. “I will.”
    There might have been a small dark chuckle from deep inside her pack, where the bottle was inside her old trousers and her old trousers were rolled tight and buried beneath all their new supplies. But then, there might have been no noise at all, only the clinging edges of a nightmare burned away by the dawn.
    Hatcher woke at the same moment Alice did. She recognized the quality of tension in his body that told her he was alert even if he had not moved. She shifted, moving to rise, and he unwrapped his arm from her waist.
    They silently rolled their blankets and slung their packs over their shoulders. When all the tasks were complete Alice asked, “Hatch, did you hear them last night?”
    â€œNo,” he said. “But I see their footsteps.”
    He pointed to the place where the grass was trampled by large feet, and something else. Something that dragged behind those large feet and left a long track. Something that might be a hammer, or a club.
    The flattened grass was very near to where Alice and Hatcher had lain, as if the creatures leaned over them in the night.
    â€œWhat are they?” Alice asked.
    Hatcher shrugged, though Alice could tell he was not as nonchalant as he wished to appear. “Nothing we want to run into. Best get on. The mountains will take some days to cross.”
    He reached toward the fountain with a cupped hand, to take a drink or splash his face with water. Alice threw out her own hand in alarm, knocking his back.
    â€œNo!” She did not know whether the conversation in the night was real or imagined, but Alice would take no chances. “Let’s take water from the river.”
    Hatcher’s fingers were a whisper from the flowing spout. “Why?”
    â€œCan’t you take my word?” Alice asked, grabbing his elbow and leading him away. Under her breath she added, “I’ll tell you when we are beyond the borders of the town.”
    Alice’s neck itched, like someone stared at it. Like someone was thinking of grabbing and twisting it and crunching on bones. Yesterday the village seemed eerie, but not actually dangerous. Today danger seemed to be all around them, making the air thick and Alice’s breath fearful.
    The village ended as abruptly as it began. There were no outlying houses or sheds or—and this only just occurred to Alice—signs of animals or farming.
    Who had baked the goods in the bakery, and where had the eggs and flour come from if there were no pecking chickens to feed, no golden fields to tend? This isolated place could hardly gather resources from a nearby town.
    â€œWhy, oh, why didn’t we see it right away?” Alice said.
    â€œSee what?” Hatcher asked.
    He allowed Alice to lead him to the stream that ran alongside the village. Here the water tumbled merrily over grey-and-whiterocks before widening into the pool where Alice had bathed the previous day.
    â€œIt’s magic,” Alice said, and as she said this she could smell the enchantment on the air, and see the faint shimmer of mist around the village.
    Hatcher washed his face and drank from the river before filling a skin with water. He twisted around to stare at the buildings as he did so. “It’s not real?”
    Alice shook her head. “It’s real. But it was put there by magic, not by human