DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own the Underland Chronicles. I DO own my OCs, please ask permission to use them in other fics.

It's been a little over a month since PotM was finished, and now the sequel has begun! My plan is to update once or twice a month, though that depends on my muse, my school life (taking college classes this year!), and other unforeseeable circumstances.

Hope you all enjoy this as much I've enjoyed writing it!

Thanks as always for all faves, alerts and, especially, reviews! It always makes me happy to know my writing is appreciated.

A special thanks to my beta, Mep (aka BloodRedTopaz) for her wonderful suggestions and corrections!

(edited 19/5/2011)


Chapter One

Failure and Hot Chocolate

Sighing with frustration, Chandra tilted her head back and let the soft rain pelt her face. Eyes squinted against the tiny drops, she sought a break in the clouds. No sign of the stars or even her namesake, the moon, tonight. Further pursuit would be useless; Tyn had made a clean getaway yet again.

Not for the first time in the past two weeks, the girl wondered why she had thought it possible for her to catch such a creature by herself. Already newspapers from the worst rags to the best in print were publishing at least one article every day on the mysterious sightings of a giant owl, and to make matters worse, other false reports were being made, including two or three about giant bats. Thinking of those made Chandra zip her jacket all the way and hunch her shoulders, wings folded even tighter against her back.

As careful as she was when she flew, there were people who spotted her – the city was too big and brightly lit at night to prevent that – but so far, they thought her a large bat. However, one look too close, one kid stargazing with binoculars or a telescope in the right place at the wrong time, could reveal the truth and the reports of a 'batgirl' would reach the ears of Dr. Delinz and her ilk. The girl closed her eyes and shook her head, not caring how strange she seemed to the few pedestrians still out after midnight.

Mustn't think about those cruel pseudo-scientists, she told herself, hands clenching into fists. They're not worth the effort.

Pattering rain became a pounding downpour, and with a heavy heart, Chandra headed for the apartment complex that, for the moment, she called home. It was hard to not imagine the splendor and comfort of the Regalian palace, where she could have been living if it were not for Tyn. Twitchtongue, her bond, was another memory she avoided, as she regretted declining his request to go with her, though she knew it would have been difficult to hide a giant rat in New York City . At least she looked semi-human.

Rivulets of water slithered through her hair and down the large blue raincoat she wore over a thick jacket. Her jeans were a lost cause; the wind flapped her raincoat about so much the rain had no problem attacking her legs. Shivering, the girl picked up her pace, intent on reaching the complex before she became completely soaked. A hot shower and something warm to eat would be nice. It was a wistful thought. Gregor's family had been fast asleep when she slipped out to begin her nightly search, and the apartment was too small for her to take a shower without waking everyone up. She considered trying Mrs. Cormaci's place, but decided it would be better if she didn't. No doubt the friendly woman would be asleep as well.

By the time Chandra slipped through the complex's front door her teeth were chattering when not clenched together. With a quick jab, she pushed the elevator button and stood beside the sliding doors for almost ten minutes before realizing the obstinate machine had broke again.

"Stupid thing," she muttered, heading for the stairs. "Always breaks down at the wrong time." Taking the stairs two at a time got her to the correct floor in a few minutes, and Chandra grasped the handle of the correct apartment door, expecting it to turn as it had for the past two weeks. Instead, her hand rolled around the ball, and she groaned, leaning her head on the door. For the first time in two weeks, she'd forgotten to unlock the door on her way out.

"Chandra, is that you?" The familiar voice made the girl glance up hopefully, and she breathed a sigh of relief upon seeing Mrs. Cormaci.

"Hello, Mrs. Cormaci. I locked myself out-"

"Say no more," said the woman, smiling as she unlocked her own apartment door. "Come inside, you look like you could use some hot chocolate and probably a hot shower, too."

"Thank you," Chandra said, her eyes filling with grateful tears. "I'm sorry to impose."

"It's always a pleasure to have you visit," replied Mrs. Cormaci, shooing the girl inside before locking the door behind herself. A lamp glowed beside the small couch, with a paperback romance resting on the couch's arm, a ragged bookmark sticking out of the middle pages. "You know where the bathroom is, don't you? Take a hot shower and I'll find you some clothes to wear, then we'll make some hot chocolate, and don't you dare protest. Heavens, child, you could have caught pneumonia out there tonight, what on Earth – or below-" she winked, humor overcoming her scolding tone for a brief moment "-were you thinking?"

Gregor had told Mrs. Cormaci of his own adventures in the strange underground world that existed partly beneath New York , but Chandra had insisted on keeping her visit there a secret. The story she'd given the woman was simple – she'd been treated horribly by Dr. Delinz, her 'mother', and upon moving to New York City, had decided to run away. Following a futile search, Dr. Delinz had left. Not long after that, Gregor found Chandra hiding in Central Park. He then convinced her to stay with his family, who had welcomed the shy girl upon hearing of her sad history. Perhaps not the most original story in the world, but it would do until Chandra was positive Mrs. Cormaci was who she seemed to be, an older, friendly lady who enjoyed company and helping others.

"I couldn't sleep, so I went for a walk," Chandra lied. I wish I could tell her the truth, but kind as she is... I just don't know if I can trust her with the truth. Not yet, anyway.

Mrs. Cormaci frowned. "Well, next time pay more attention to the weather." Her face softened. "You remind me of my son, he was always going out in the rain at night when he was young, and getting into trouble to boot. You aren't in any trouble, are you?"

"No." The girl shook her head, and started to retreat to the bathroom in hopes of getting away before the woman asked any more dangerous questions.

"Have you read the newspapers lately?" Mrs. Cormaci continued, scooping up one such paper from her little coffee table. "Been a lot of hysteria over this giant owl everyone and his brother seem to have seen. You wouldn't know anything about that?"

"Of course not," Chandra said, real confusion in her expression. Why would she think that?

"Probably just another hoax, like the Loch Ness monster…" Mrs. Cormaci shrugged. "Off you go before you make a puddle on my floor. Hot water's in the right tap, not the left, by the way. The plumber was drunk when he fixed a leaky pipe in there and mixed them up. Wouldn't fix them, either, because he swears he doesn't remember doing the job..."

Mrs. Cormaci's voice became a distant mumble when Chandra shut the bathroom door, and the girl let out the breath she'd been holding. "That was close," she breathed, the words lost in a rumble of water as it gushed from the shower nozzle. Her wet jeans clung to her skin, but she managed to peel them off, then dove into the shower and drew the curtain a brief second before her hostess walked in, thanking her lucky star that she'd been gifted with wings and extraordinary hearing.

"Sorry, dear, I didn't mean to startle you. I'm putting some clothes on the counter by the sink, along with a bathrobe to wear over them so your hair doesn't soak the shirt. If you need anything, just yell, I'll be in the kitchen."

"Thank you." Chandra waited until the door had closed before taking a bottle of shampoo off the little shelf that hung in the shower from the curtain rod, then stood in the steaming hot water for a good minute before actually opening the bottle and squirting some of its contents onto her free hand.

Perhaps fifteen minutes later, the hot water began to grow cool, and the girl forced herself to turn it off before she was doused in cold. Opening the curtain, she stepped into the well-steamed bathroom, then spent several minutes searching – dripping puddles of water on the floor in the process – for a towel. She saved her wings for last and dried them as best she could already soaked towel, not wanting to need to explain the use of more than one. Fortunately the water ran off their leather surface with more ease than it did on her skin, and they were barely damp when she pulled on the clothes Mrs. Cormaci had left for her.

The shirt was a little big, which Chandra was grateful for, since she felt a little panicky about covering her wings without having a way to take them out. That reminded her she couldn't leave her clothes lying on the bathroom floor, and the girl went to collect the small wet pile, only to find they were no longer where she had left them. She finished dressing in less than a minute and burst out of the bathroom, still pulling on the bathrobe. "Mrs. Cormaci?"

"Yes, Chandra?" the woman stuck her head out of the kitchen. "Is something wrong?"

"Where are my clothes?"

"Oh! I folded them and put them in a plastic bag. They're sitting by the door. Did you get attacked while you were outside? Your shirt and jacket looked like they'd been slashed. Are you hurt?" When the girl shook her head Mrs. Cormaci added, "I could fix them if you like; I've got a sewing machine."

"No, it's fine," Chandra said, swallowing a groan with difficulty. "I'll take care of them." If she didn't get a close look at the slashes, maybe she missed the fact that they were carefully made, with stitches preventing the ends from tearing further. Good thing I didn't take Grace's suggestion of hemming the edges. Covering a yawn, she glanced toward the entrance, wondering if she dared make her excuses and leave, but Mrs. Cormaci had already been so kind and there was no way to get into the other apartment without a key, and the girl hated bearing extra weight, which is why she'd been leaving the door unlocked in the first place. Sure, the key was only a few extra ounces, but... No, it's not the weight that's the problem, I just don't want to become used to staying there, and carrying a key would make my choice to stay here until Tyn is found final. I wish I could just go home, back to Regalia. Tears pricked her eyes, and she tore her thoughts off that track before she could start crying.

"I think you are in desperate need of something hot, Chandra, you're still shaking like a leaf, and I just checked the temperature – did you know its forty degrees outside? Late fall is not a time to be wandering around outside in the middle of the night." Mrs. Cormaci ushered the girl into the kitchen, then stirred the white liquid beginning to bubble in a pan on the stove. "Cocoa and sugar are in that cupboard," she said, pointing at the correct door, "and I'll need a half cup measure, that'll be in the top drawer beside the fridge. Ever had homemade hot chocolate?"

"No." Shaking her head, the girl began collecting the required ingredients. "D-er, my mother used to buy the canned stuff for a treat. Sometimes it had hard little marshmallows in it. I didn't like it very much."

"In that case, you'll love this. It's my own recipe and my son's friends, when they were young, used to swear their mothers couldn't make it half as good, though they were careful never to say so when in hearing range of said women." Mrs. Cormaci dumped the sugar and cocoa in without seeming to really measure with the half cup, then handed the sugar and cocoa to Chandra before pitching the measuring cup into the sink. "Put that away, then grab the nutmeg, cinnamon and cardamom from the spice cabinet, and don't tell anyone about those, okay? They're my secret ingredients, especially the last... Wait, not the seeds, there should be some ground cardamom in there."

After a bit of searching Chandra found the required spice canisters and set them down on the counter by the stove, then stood back and watched the woman shake small amounts of each spice into the simmering liquid. At first the tiny ground bits spread across the surface like algae over a pond, but a quick swish of the whisk and the spices sank. Sweet steam hovered above the pan and Chandra took a deep breath, inhaling the delicious fragrance.

"It smells wonderful," she said, licking her lips. "Do you want me to get some mugs?"

"If you would, please, they're in the cupboard beside the spices." Mrs. Cormaci fished a potholder out of a different drawer and moved the pan from the stove to the table, then rummaged in another drawer until she found an ornately crafted silver ladle with a gently curved cup that had a lip on one side for pouring. Roses arched up the handle to wrap around the raised C on the end. "This was my mother's, C for Catherine, you see, and she always used it when she made hot chocolate for me."

Sweet and not quite scalding hot, the creamy liquid slipped down Chandra's throat and curled up in her stomach, sending waves of warmth out that took the last bit of chill from her bones. Breathing a quiet sigh, she leaned back and relaxed in the chair, eyes half-drifting shut.

Mrs. Cormaci continued explaining the history of her ladle, but the girl could not stay focused on the woman's words any longer, and barely managed to set the mug down before she fell asleep on the table beside it, head pillowed on her arms. A few minutes later, Mrs. Cormaci coaxed Chandra onto her feet and into the living room, where she could lie down on the couch and be more comfortable, but the girl sleepwalked the entire way and in the morning would not remember moving from table to couch.