Page 50 of Trapped By Clocks and Hearts

The Hatter’s green eyes lit up. “Ah! Wonderful! You know, I’m somewhat of a scientist myself.”

Allie’s eyes widened eagerly. “Oh, excellent! What is your field of expertise?”

The Hatter’s sudden faraway gaze averted to one side. “Time. Time is my friend—or he used to be. We quarreled just last March.”

“Fascinating,” Allie couldn’t help but murmur. She seemed entranced by the Hatter’s rambling.

“Leap years for example,” the Hatter exclaimed with a shake of his head. “They don’t make any sense.”

“I could not agree more.” Allie nodded as she poured maple syrup into her tea before dunking another biscuit in.

“There are two hundred billion trillion stars in the entire universe. When light from a distant star travels a long way, it becomes infrared—which is ironic. Shorter wavelengths are stronger, they carry more heat, but these waves are more of an indigo-violet shade. Do you like colors?” the Hatter prompted.

Allie made a face. “I used to like rainbows. I don’t anymore.”

The Hatter tapped a finger on his chin in deep thought. “Why is the afterlife like a ball of string?”

“Hmm…I’ve never heard of that analogy,” she mused out loud. “I know there’s a theory that the universe is made up of vibrating strings or even sheets of paper.” She paused to think it over. “Why is the afterlife like a ball of string?”

The Hatter turned to her in surprise. “I don’t know. Is that your theory? Can you prove it?” He leaned over the table, his tie dipping into his teacup.

Confused, Allie winced. “How might I prove it? You’re the one who proposed the notion.”

“That’s enough with the riddles, Hatter,” I snapped. “Can you help us or not?”

“Can I? That’s a good question.” He rubbed his chin. “‘Would I’ is an even better one. ‘Why should I’ even more so.”

Straightening up in my seat, I spoke to ensure he understood we would not be diverted by his stalling. “We seek a tree hollow to cross back to the desert.”

Tilting his head, the Hatter nodded. “Ah, I see, I see. I know precisely what you seek. Come. Follow me.” Standing, he beckoned us to follow him.

Deeper into his garden, the grass was more wild, overgrown. Leaves and twigs crunched underfoot. We passed an armchair turned about before an unlit outdoor fire pit.

The Hatter gave a casual wave of his hand. “You’ll have to excuse the March Hare. He hasn’t been lively since the incident with the Dormouse.”

I glanced over too late.

When Allie’s gaze fell on the rotting creature in the chair, skull with sunken eyes, and marred flesh, she jumped, grabbing my arm with a gasp. She turned her face into my chest, her eyes squeezing shut in shock.

Swallowing hard, I put my arm around her shoulders to lead her away. I frowned at her slight tremble and held her a bit closer.

The temperature kept dropping as we walked along the gardens to the back.

The Hatter pushed open another squeaky gate. It led to the forest behind his house. A thick cloud cover dimmed the crisp air. This place was nothing like Tulgey Woods or the swamp surrounding the Duchess’s estate. A thin layer of snow covered all the plants. With the low fog, I could barely see more than a few yards away.

And as soon as we stepped through the gate, the sky turned suddenly to dusk, even when in the tea gardens before, it had only just been mid-morning.

Narrowing my eyes in wariness, my gaze shifted around. “Where’s the tree hollow, Hatter?”

“Go on then. Off with you.” The Hatter shooed us with a wave of his arm.

All around us, about a dozen gray headstones, set out in a haphazard order across the grass, materialized out of the fog.

We had walked into a graveyard.

It seemed the Hatter was indeed the guardian to many doors, including perhaps one to the underworld.

The Hatter sniffed. “I only help people. Ghosts can have tea but nothing else.”