Page 44 of Locked in Wonderland

The statement was so ridiculous that I laughed. “So it’s a different bird? So what? Crow, flamingo—who cares? I dare say there are plenty of people wandering around Wonderland with all sorts of ridiculous birds thanks to Percy and Lola. I guess I should be grateful it’s not a duck or a swan or something worse.”

The joke didn’t land.

Donovan simply stared at me.

There was something off in his expression that I didn’t much like the look of. Something that made my stomach twist.

He shook his head. “There aren’t.”

“What?”

“There aren’t people with different birds. Just flamingos.”

“They probably got bored and fancied a change.”

Still nothing.

“Does the flamingo look better?”

He pulled the collar of his shirt aside to reveal a tattoo on his neck. I’d seen parts of it peeking out, but there hadn’t been enough to tell what it was. I stared at the flamingo. No, it didn’t look better. I wasn’t about to be rude enough to tell him that to his face, though.

“It’s just a tattoo, you know. The minute I get home, I’m having it removed.”

Donovan let the collar drop back into place and turned away so abruptly that I flinched. By the time I caught up with him, he was standing by the front door, holding it open. Night had fallen outside while we’d been talking. Apparently, I’d become nocturnal.

“You need to go,” Donovan said. The open door and rigid posture had already made that abundantly clear.

I stopped in the middle of the living room. “What did I do?”

No answer.

“Did I say something wrong?”

Even though I was standing directly in front of him, he wouldn’t meet my eyes. “You can’t be here.”

“Why not?”

“Don’t make me pick you up and throw you out.”

Oh, we’d gotten to that stage, had we? I nodded. “Fine.”

I stepped out onto the street. My senses immediately went into overdrive, searching for gangs, knives, baseball bats, or any other unpleasant surprises.

Thankfully, everything seemed quiet. At least Donovan hadn’t slammed the door in my face.

“Anyway,” I said, turning back toward him, “thank you. For the food. For the bed. I’d have slept on the street if it weren’t for you, and I don’t want to think about what might’ve happened.”

Donovan gave a curt nod.

I waited a few seconds longer before turning away.

“Lysander.”

I’d only made it five steps. I turned back. “Yeah?”

“Try the Black Teapot Supper Club. There’s nothing but gossip there. If they don’t know where the man you’re looking for is, nobody does.”

“Thank you.”