Down the Rabbit Hole

 

Down the Rabbit Hole

Unknown

 

Entering the old train station, I had expected a dark and dingy passageway. Instead, marble floors shimmered like a whole cleaning staff had just gone through them.

The haunting fluorescent blue light streamed over me in an arc, painting everything in cold neon.

Rabbit kept his grip on my arm.

Chess remained at my side.

Cappello led the way and whistled as he walked. The tune was lovely, horrifying, and somehow soothing too. It twisted through the tunnel and sounded like a lullaby a mother sang to the dead child in her arms.

I sniffed the air.

Cookies?

The whole place smelled like cookies. Warm ones. Maybe oatmeal and gingerbread.

What is this place?

Behind us, the door slammed shut and the lock turned with a final click. I was pretty sure we were now sealed in. I forced my body to keep walking and my breath to stay even.

Don't show them how scared you are.

But my hands had started to shake in the handcuffs.

Rabbit felt the tremor and let out a low, satisfied groan as if he were getting off on my fear. Guiding me along, he leaned my way and deeply inhaled me. A wicked smile spread across that handsome face as he whispered in my ear, “It’s going to be fun to break you.”

A cold shiver ran up my spine.

Fuck.

The marble floor stretched on, the blue light hummed overhead, and the cookie smell got stronger.

Where is that scent coming from?

Cappello kept whistling and the tune curled, rose, and then dipped low. He drifted as he walked—left, then right, then close to the wall, then back to the center. Seconds later, he lifted his nose and inhaled.

A loud chuckle left him.

What did he smell? Me again?

He whistled on.

I tore my eyes off him and accidentally caught Bruco's. He'd been ahead just moments ago, walking shoulder to shoulder with Cappello. Now he was a half-step behind my right side, close enough that I could feel the menacing heat of him without him touching me.

Jesus, he’s a psychopath who moves like a ghost.

His hand was at his throat, stroking the leather pouch, and his gaze remained on my face. When he licked his lips, my flesh flushed with heat and my stomach twisted.

Don't look at him.

A small movement came on my left.

Chess.

He'd shifted toward Bruco, just enough to put his own body in the gap between us. His hands stayed in his jumpsuit pockets and his expression didn't change.

Still, Bruco fell back without a word. That shocked me. Chess was slimmer than Bruco with much less muscle, yet for some reason. . .Bruco silently bowed to him.

Why?

I didn't understand the deference. But for the moment, I'd take it. Chess might be the protector among them, and might was the most I could trust.

Chess turned his head a fraction toward me. “You’re good at code.”

I swallowed. “I’m not.”

"You countered me in real-time."

I pursed my lips.

"Every move I made, you had an answer. That’s never happened to me before. You are. . .unique."

My pulse jumped.

It was never safe to be unique for monsters. Søren had taught me that. I had done brilliant work for him. The masks I built had let me walk into his enemies' bedrooms wearing the faces of women they trusted—wives, sisters, and girlfriends. My fingers touched their laptops and moved through the architecture of their secrets. Once I had everything, I had brought every secret home to him, laid it on his table, and watched him smile at me like a god approving of a holy offering.

I had told myself that this was love. That a man who needed me this much could never afford to hurt me. That my talent was a shield no other woman had ever carried into a room with him, and that the shield was made of something he wanted too badly to break.

I had been so young.

Rabbit slipped his hand down my arm and placed his thumb along my wrist, right against the soft skin under the metal cuff. The place where the pulse was.

He pressed, and with the other hand he checked his watch.

My heart hammered.

Is he checking my fucking pulse? Why?

Then, against my will. . .I felt the change inside my own chest. My heart settled into a rhythm I had not asked it to settle into.

Chess looked at me. “How long have you been running from this Søren?”

“Long enough.”

“And you wear masks?”

“I don’t.”

“Cappello smelled it. Plus, you angle your shoulders to the left when you lie.”

Stunned, I straightened them.

“You don’t like people to know you.”

“I’m fine with it.”

“Finally, honesty. But why were you honest that time?”

I remained silent.

“Who are you?”

“I don’t know.”

“More honesty. Then, you must have worn many masks.”

I gritted my teeth.

“Hmmm.” Chess put his gaze forward. “And you’re highly intelligent.”

“I can’t be that smart if I’m with you in handcuffs.”

Rabbit snickered.

Be careful. Chess may protect me from the others just so he can dissect me and discover my puzzle pieces inside.

Chess seemed like the sort of man who probably played chess against himself and still lost sleep wondering how the other version of him had won.

Too fucking smart.

Chess might be able to protect me, but he was also dangerous in a way the others weren’t.

Men like Bruco kicked in doors and left blood on walls. Men like Rabbit ruthlessly conquered rooms and built kingdoms.

Sure, if I escaped, Cappello could track my smell. Fine. Scent could be altered. Burn the clothes. Change shampoo. Bleach fabric. Wear smoke, vinegar, bleach, gasoline. A nose could be confused.

But Chess?

If I vanished, I could picture Chess building versions of me in his head. One hiding in Tokyo. One hiding in Prague. One dead. One pretending to be dead. He’d test theories against facts until only one version remained standing.

I sighed. “Will you answer a question for me?”

“Of course.”

I widened my eyes. “What. . .will you all do to me?”

“I don’t know the future.”

“But you know the past. What has happened to the other women you’ve kidnapped?”

He frowned. “Do you want the good or the bad?”

Rabbit put his gaze on Chess.

“I want it all.” I swallowed. “Tell me.”

“There will be pain, but there will be pleasure. There will be horror, yet there will be comfort. You will feel spoiled and abused all at the same time. And in the end. . .there will be nothing you can do about it.”

Horror ravaged my senses. Every sound sharpened. Every touch deepened. Every breath felt poisoned with the possibility of what these men might become around me.

My pulse turned violent beneath the cuffs and under Rabbit’s thumb. He grunted and I could bet a million dollars that his cock was getting hard. And for some fucked up reason, that brought heat and terror to my flesh.

Even Cappello’s whistling changed shape in my ears, turning into a frightening soundtrack of oncoming lust.

Wooden turnstiles appeared up ahead. Old ones. They probably hadn't been used in over fifty years.

Why are we in an old train station?

Soon, we walked through the gap between the turnstiles.

Cappello turned around and tipped his hat at me. "Mind your step, lovely lady."

He spun back around and the waistcoat rippled.

So. . .they hide down here? Under Antwerp?

We went through the turnstiles and entered a new space where long lines of fluorescent light decorated the ceiling—glowing blues, shimmering pinks, and luminous whites.

I looked to my sides.

Murals decorated all the walls. Some artist had been given free rein, and the walls were breathless with his masterpieces. The first one I passed was the smiling Cheshire cat lounging on a tree branch. Its grin took up half its face.

I stumbled.

Bruco whispered from behind me, "Careful, pet."

I trembled.

I’m not your fucking pet.

The next mural showed a tea party, but with their actual faces. Cappello sat at the table. The artist had drawn him beautifully—tall hat, embroidered coat, and a porcelain cup raised to his lips.

This is definitely their place. Not just an abandoned spot.

In the image, Cappello was smiling as he poured himself tea, but it was blood. The red liquid fell from the spout in a long, dark ribbon and filled a cup with a scowling queen drawn on the front.

That damn image made me so uneasy, I stumbled again.

The room tilted.

Cappello pointed. "Do you like it, lovely?"

I widened my eyes. “It’s interesting.”

“I painted the first one.” Cappello pointed to more gruesome murals. “Rabbit did the rest.”

At my side, Rabbit stiffened as if he didn’t want me to know that information.

Cappello bobbed his head. "Rabbit's good with a brush, but he's good with a great many things."

I glanced sideways at Rabbit.

Rabbit was looking straight ahead. His face hadn't moved. His grip on my wrist hadn't loosened.

"This is my favorite one," Bruco said suddenly, behind me.

I looked at the next one and flinched.

The mural showed a blonde woman playing an odd game, using flamingos as golf clubs. The woman wore a crown of decayed bones and a gown made from actual hearts. The red organs had been braided together and shaped into a dress. A trail of blood stretched behind her on the painted ground. Her flamingo golf club was aimed at children’s decapitated heads that were scattered across a green lawn.

My bottom lip quivered. “Bruco.”

Cappello stopped whistling. Chess watched me, and Rabbit tensed some more.

Bruco let out a sinister chuckle. “Yes, pet.”

“Why is that mural your favorite?”

“Ah.” The horrid chuckle rose. “Because it is honest.”

“How?”

“The Queen of Hearts is a murderous fucking—”

“That’s enough.” Rabbit frowned and glanced back at him. “We are not friends on a stroll.”

I gave him an innocent smile. “But aren’t we? I surely feel like our friendship has possibility.”

“Careful, love. I’m eager to show you things you would rather I be patient with.”

I did my best to keep my face confident and unbothered, but I doubted that was what happened.

He sneered. “No more questions.”

Hmmm. Bruco is dangerous, but he will tell me things if I ask.

I made note of everything, especially the murals—the Cheshire cat, the bloody tea party with Cappello as the host, the Queen of Hearts playing with flamingo clubs. . .

My face twisted into confusion.

Alice in Wonderland. O-kay. . .Why would criminals theme their murals in a hideout around a children’s book? And. . .Bruco said Queen of Hearts like she was a real person. . .

I’d seen a lot of things in this dark world, but never fucking this. In fact, my theory was so absurd that I began to doubt myself.

No. . .but. . .is that why they call him Rabbit? No. . .that would be. . .ridiculous. . .Right?

I checked all of them.

I mean. . .I knew they were crazy but. . .this is a different sort of crazy. There’s no way I’m right.

Before I could consider more, a door appeared at the end of the corridor.

Cappello opened it and even gave a small flourish of his hand, ushering us through like a doorman.

The room beyond was a living room.

Or it had been, once. A real living room from some old apartment somewhere, scooped up and dropped here in the middle of nowhere. A royal blue velvet couch sat against the right side of the room. A walnut coffee table waited in front of it.

The station's old ticket booth stood in the corner, glass cracked but not shattered. A blue smiley face had been spray-painted on it.

Besides that, several bookcases stretched to the ceiling, and their shelves were crammed with leather-bound books. City maps and photographs hung from pegs along the wall. I squinted at the spines on the bookshelves. The titles wouldn't come into focus.

Someone reads down here.

For some reason, Bruco walked around us and got back to Cappello’s side.

Cappello glanced over his shoulder. "Do you like books?"

I nodded.

"I'll get you some." Cappello winked. "Not Chess's. Chess's books are boring."

Chess let out an annoyed exhale.

“No need to get her books.” A dark chuckle left Bruco. “By tomorrow night, she won’t have her eyes to read.”

My nerves frazzled, and I almost stopped breathing. If Rabbit hadn’t been guiding me forward, I might have stopped right there.

“No.” Cappello waved him away. “Keep her eyes. I hate when you do that.”

Bruco frowned at him. “Why?”

“I like having eyes to passionately look into when I’m fucking the woman.”

“Perhaps we keep one eye.”

“Both.”

Bruco sighed. “Fine. Both.”

Jesus Christ. I have to escape them.

We crossed the living room, passed under an archway where the paint had peeled back to show old tile beneath, and then turned a corner.

Wooden escalators waited.

Two of them, side by side. The wood was old and gleaming, restored with the same care as the marble floors.

Where the hell are we going?

The wooden escalator steps lowered into the earth at a gentle incline at first, and then dipped sharply downward into nothing.

I couldn't see the bottom.

Rabbit’s voice cut through the space. “Time?”

“Time to go home.” Cappello did a spin.

Home? Where is home?

Back to whistling, Cappello stepped onto the escalator and began to descend.

Chess slowed his pace and got behind me.

Rabbit nudged me forward.

I froze. “Where does this go?”

Rabbit dragged me forward. “Come on.”

“N-no.” I looked down at the escalator and saw the haunting dip.

The descent seemed endless. The fluorescent blues and pinks didn't reach into it. After the first ten feet, the light failed entirely, and the throat of the tunnel went black.

Against my will, I got onto the first step. “How deep are we going?”

The wood creaked beneath my feet.

Rabbit stepped on behind me with his hand still on my wrist. Then the warmth of his muscular body pressed against my back, and I could feel that his cock. . .was definitely hard.

Shivering, I tried to inch forward.

He kept me there, feeling the long, thick length of him at my back.

The escalator carried us forward.

Then it dipped.

Down

and

down

and

down.

I gripped the side. The rubber railing was cold. The descent was steep enough that my feet wanted to slide. Rabbit's hand on my wrist was, in some terrible way, the only thing keeping me upright.

The pretty fluorescent lights vanished above us.

The lights changed.

Now they were the bare yellow bulbs of a mining tunnel, strung along the ceiling on cables.

Oh God. What is this?

It was like we were going into the pits of hell.

The walls turned to rocky dirt.

Water dripped somewhere ahead. The air thickened. It was harder to breathe.

My ribs felt smaller.

I had not known I was claustrophobic.

I knew now.

Rabbit shifted, pressing his cock even more against me. His lips brushed my ear. "Are you afraid, love?"

"Y-yes."

"Don't be," Rabbit whispered. "Going through any door can lead to opportunity."

The steps continued to take us down, down, and down, and darkness swallowed us until I could see nothing, just feel Rabbit against me.

That was when he licked my face. His warm, wet tongue slowly went up from my chin and swiped along my cheek.

My nipples stiffened.

He groaned. "Some doors offer escape."

My breath caught.

"Be vigilant, love."

What does he mean?

I held those words against my ribs and trembled some more in the darkness.

Cappello’s whistling continued, calming me.

And then the escalator leveled out.

Cool air brushed my face as we stepped off and began walking forward in the darkness in what I assumed was some sort of tunnel.

A minute later, the path opened into a cavern.

I had to blink several times to adjust.

What?!

The mining lights were gone. Crystal chandeliers hung from a cathedral ceiling, dripping with cut glass that scattered the light into a thousand quiet rainbows.

The walls were paneled in faux marble and inlaid with mosaics of beaten gold. Those mosaics showed a fairy-tale land—strange trees with faces, animals walking on two legs, suits of cards in formation like soldiers.

In the center of the largest mosaic, the Queen of Hearts stood again, but this time, her head was not on her body. She held it by the hair and let it dangle from one fist like a lantern.

Her cruel smile was wider than her face. Around her, four suits of cards flanked her—hearts, spades, diamonds, clubs.

Alice in Wonderland for sure, but why? And how much money do they have? Did the city know about this underground place?

Bronze and marble pillars lined the platform. A subway track ran along one edge, polished to a shimmer.

A booming sound came from down the tunnel.

I looked that way.

A silver train was coming.

What the actual fuck?

Lights flashed. The metal sign on the front of it read: Wonderland.

Okay. It’s the children’s book theme. They are fucking THAT crazy.

The train screamed up to the platform and stopped. Two doors slid open with a hiss of pressurized air.

Two men with guns stepped off wearing black masks that concealed their faces. The top of each mask had bulbous insect-eyes with twisted rubber and metal.

Why are they wearing those?

Cappello and Bruco stepped onto the train.

Where are we going? I mean, sure, the destination says Wonderland, but what the fuck does that mean?

For one insane minute, I hoped that I was still dreaming at my desk in the museum. That would make way more sense. Or maybe. . .I’d fallen into a children’s book like those Japanese tales where the heroine somehow went into a story.

But I knew all of that was bullshit because I felt Rabbit’s grip and even his cock earlier, and that was not a dream. It was too fucking real.

We got on the train, and I quickly took in the space. The inside looked nothing like public transportation.

It was a royal dining car built for lunatics.

Warm amber lamps glowed beneath crimson silk shades shaped like upside-down roses. Gold trim curled along the walls in elaborate vines and thorn patterns. Velvet seats lined both sides of the aisle—deep jewel tones of emerald, sapphire, and blood-red.

One part of the ceiling was painted midnight blue with giant floating clock faces melting into stars. The other part showed enormous white rabbits running through forests with knives in their mouths instead of pocket watches.

The doors slid closed.

I swallowed.

The train moved, and the windows unnerved me most because there was no tunnel outside them. Instead, animated scenery moved beyond the glass like some surreal dreamscape. Forests made of giant mushrooms. Fields of playing cards marching like soldiers. Tea parties filled with faceless guests frozen in place while their heads slowly turned to follow the train.

What sort of time and money do they have?

My stomach twisted.

Or maybe. . .I am dreaming. Please let me be dreaming.

The others sat down, yet Rabbit and I remained standing.

The floor beneath my feet was black-and-white checkered marble like a chessboard.

Chess.

Then another drawing of the Cheshire cat went by.

No. . .Cheshire cat.

Rabbit reached into his jacket. I tracked the movement. When his hand came back out, it was holding a needle.

I shook my head. "W-what’s that?”

“Something to help you.”

I tried to step back, but Rabbit’s grip remained locked on me.

"This will only sting a moment, love." Fast, he stuck the needle in the side of my neck. The sharp tip bit my skin.

“Ah!”

Hot liquid rushed into me.

Chess’s voice sounded at my side. “You just happened to have that?”

My vision blurred.

Rabbit frowned. “I’m always ready.”

“Or you planned to take someone during our heist.”

“Do not try to assess me, Chess. You know you won’t like my reaction.”

“Did you plan this or not?”

“How could I?”

“You could.”

I screamed, but the scream was already softening at the edges, going round.

Going gentle.

My knees folded.

Rabbit caught me. His huge, muscular arms locked around my ribs, and his breath brushed against my locs. “Chess, I could never anticipate this little surprise.”

“Yet you were ready with the needle.”

“One must always be prepared.”

Bruco laughed back.

Cappello returned to whistling.

Everything around me blurred.

The colors smeared into long streaks of light.

I could barely speak. “W-what’s. . .g-going. . .to happen. . .to me?”

Rabbit brushed his mouth against my ear. “Everything, love. Everything.”

Terror rose in my chest, and then the dark took the rest of me.