Chapter 7

January 26th, 1876

Burtonsville, England

5:47 P.M.

"Well – Radcliffe may be primarily a large bag of hot air and petty embezzlement, but I'll give him this. He was right about that sculptor friend of his being gifted."

"Indeed," Victor agreed, kneeling before the marble tree stump set at the base of the twisted old oak. He ran his fingers over the wedding ring carved into the top, then across the delicate stone wings of the butterfly perched next to it. "It's even prettier than when we last saw it in his studio. I still can't believe you can get marble this thin."

"It is impressive," Fixxler agreed, holding his bag against his chest. "I just hope it holds up in bad weather."

"It survived the trip here – and Burtonsville never gets much in the way of bad storms." Victor grimaced as he withdrew his hand. "I'm more worried about someone coming out here with a club and smashing it. I'm a little surprised Pastor Galswells didn't already have a go. . .perhaps he's too afraid to enter the woods these days. He probably thinks the portal to Hell lurks within." He sighed. "Rather ironic, given the whole reason I had this made was so that people would see it and remember her."

Alice knelt down next to him. "Well, maybe the next generation will be a little less cruel," she said, rubbing his shoulder. "Or, at the very least, a little more inclined to consider it nothing but a harmless folk tale."

"I hope so." Victor reached out again, this time tracing the words etched into the front of the gleaming white stump:

Emily Cartwell

The Jubliciously Lovely Corpse Bride

Died 1852

May She Rest In Peace

Alice eyed his frown. "It's a very fitting memorial, if you ask me. I think she would have liked it."

"Oh, I've nothing against the gravestone at all," Victor assured her. "I was just thinking. . .it's a shame we were never able to find out more about her. I know I should be grateful the Everglots remembered as much as they did, considering how useless my parents were just now, but. . .I would have liked to have let her father know what happened. Assure him his daughter had safely moved on. If he's even still alive. . . ." He bit his lip. "Did they ever find each other in the Land of the Dead? Did he ever forgive her for running off? Or has he spent his whole life thinking his daughter abandoned him for a scoundrel?"

"Maybe Bonejangles or some of the others from the Ball & Socket know," Alice suggested. "From what you've told me, she was quite popular down there. No one's stopping you from asking."

"Right. . .I'm sorry, I know I keep going on about all this," Victor added, looking up at her. "It's just – the more I think about it, the more unfair it all gets. Murdered, then practically forgotten – what worse fate could there be?"

"I certainly can't think of one," Alice said. "Makes me quite glad my family got a proper memorial." She laid the bouquet she'd purchased at the foot of the stump, the paper crinkling against the stone. "I'm sorry I never got to meet you, Emily. You sound like a lovely young lady."

"She was," Victor said, stroking the flowers with two fingers. "And I think she would have liked you. She was a bit like June – very bubbly. And I'm sure she would have been full of sympathy for what happened to you and yours."

"Mmm. . . ." Alice nudged him, smirking. "A real shame she was so much older than the rest of us. If you'd somehow managed to meet her, Victoria, and me all at once, we could have had a proper harem going."

Victor went pink, doing his best to shove back the voice hissing, Oh yes, three women to pollute, wouldn't you have just loved that. . . . "You w-wouldn't have minded sharing me with two other women?"

"Well, if – as you say – Emily was like June, I wouldn't have minded her company. And I already think Victoria's quite nice. And it would be handy to have someone else skilled with a needle around Houndsditch."

"What about Christopher?"

"Oh, Victoria can keep him as a concubine, I don't mind."

Victor snorted, the ludicrousness of the joke overcoming his guilt. "You keep talking like that and people are going to think you're serious."

"Maybe in another lifetime." Alice gave the stone a friendly pat, then got back to her feet, brushing soil from her skirt. "As it stands, it's gone quite dark for six in the afternoon. Are we safe to proceed, Dr. Fixxler?"

Fixxler nodded with a quick glance at the deepening navy blue of the sky. "I'd say it's far enough after sunset. And if it isn't. . . ." He set his bag down and snapped it open, revealing a trio of mottled white eggs resting in little compartments filled with straw. "I brought a few extra, just in case." He picked up the leftmost one, rolling it between his fingers. "You two ready to go?"

"I think so," Victor said, getting up and wiping the dirt from his knees. "Alice?"

"I'm ready," Alice said, rocking on her heels. "I've been ready since five days ago. There's nothing special we have to do, right?"

"No, just stay close to me," Fixxler confirmed. He tossed the egg into the air and caught it. "'Hopscotch' all right as the return word again?"

Victor laughed softly. "It's certainly one I'll remember, yes." He took Alice's hand. "Let's do this."

"Right-o." Fixxler tossed the egg again, then snatched it from the air and forced his thumb into the middle.

Crack! The shell split in two, releasing billows of thick gray fog, which wrapped around the trio in a cool embrace. Victor watched with interest as it flowed down their bodies in a swirling shawl, flaring gold as it reached their feet. "How curious. . .it was the other way around when Elder Gutknecht cast this on me and Emily," he remarked.

"Well, you two were going in the opposite direction," Fixxler pointed out. "Should just be a second more. . . ."

Right on cue, the fog pulsed one last time, then faded away, soaking into the forest floor. Fixxler grinned and doffed his hat, bowing. "Here we are, folks! The Land of the Dead!"

Alice frowned, underwhelmed. "Really?" She glanced around. "I can't say it looks much different. . .you're sure it worked?"

Victor peered closely at a nearby tree. "It did – this bark looks more dark blue than black," he reported. He turned his gaze upward. "And the sky's different too. Much more purple than before."

Alice squinted through the branches. "So it is," she agreed. "All right then – sorry to doubt you, Dr. Fixxler. I was just expecting a more dramatic change."

"So was I," Fixxler admitted, straightening. "It'll be more obvious once we get to town, I'm sure."

"Definitely," Victor confirmed, looking at the mirror of the old oak, then out into the trees. "Goodness, did Emily carry me all the way to the Ball & Socket from here? I didn't think I was out of it that long. . . ."

"It wasn't that far a walk from the village wall to here," Alice reminded him. "If we living could manage it, I'm sure an excited dead bride, who didn't have to worry about tired legs to boot, could as well." She stepped forward. "All right then – let's find the path, and – ah!"

She jumped back as a half-rotted mouse, tail hanging on by a few dangling sinews, burst from the leaf litter, running straight over her left foot. Seconds later, a bony snout sent the leaves flying, and a skeletal fox with the last remains of a blue brush still clinging to its hindquarters took off in pursuit. Alice pressed a hand to her chest as the two raced into the trees, squeaking and yapping. "Okay, now I can believe we're in the Land of the Dead."

Victor giggled as Fixxler hid a grin. "You'll get used to it." He took her elbow and surveyed the landscape. "If it's all the same as Upstairs, we should be able to just retrace our steps – through the old cemetery and down the hill to the river, and then back over to the village. Though – the Land of the Dead would have no use for a cemetery, would it? What would it even look like down here?"

"Let's find out," Alice declared, apparently determined not to let the incident with the mouse and fox rattle her. She marched up the little rise, pulling Victor with her as Fixxler trailed just behind.

As they reached the top, it became apparent that "cemetery" Downstairs was more or less synonymous with "park." All the headstones were still in place – in fact, many were in better condition than the ones Upstairs – but the graves themselves had been dug up, providing open holes for skeletons to lounge in. The coffins had been repurposed into benches and picnic tables, and memorial flowers "planted" into miniature gardens for blue-tinted matrons to coo over. Someone had even hung up Chinese-style paper lanterns between the trees, spilling green and yellow and purple light across the visitors. Victor grinned as he took it all in. "Add a pole, and this could almost pass for the May Day picnic," he murmured. "With a dose of Halloween cheer."

"If the Oxford cemeteries had been this colorful, perhaps I would have gotten up the courage to visit the family vault sooner," Alice agreed. She chuckled as two skeletal children weaved around the gravestones, chasing a mangy cat with its skull poking through its fur. "Anyone you recognize?"

"Well, that woman in the floppy red hat is Ethel Shallots," Victor said, pointing to a tall lady chatting with her blue-hatted friend. "And the children look familiar too. . .never got their names, th – oh!"

Victor's face lit up as he suddenly spotted a familiar large-jawed skull under a bowler hat, ambling along the path at the edge of the crowd. "What luck – hey! Bonejangles!" he called, waving wildly.

All heads promptly swiveled in their direction. "What – who's that?" a skeleton asked, dirt pouring out his eye holes as he sat up in his grave.

"New arrival?" Ethel wondered, pushing up the brim of her hat.

"How's a new arrival gonna know–" Bonejangles stopped dead as he caught sight of the trio. His single eye widened. "What the – Victor?"

"Victor?" Ethel bounced, clapping her hands. "Oh, Victor! Everyone, it's Emily's old groom!"

"It's me!" Victor confirmed, scrambling down the slope hand in hand with Alice. His feet slid wildly in the loose dirt, and Alice wobbled dangerously a couple of times, but they managed to make it to the bottom upright. "It's so good to see you all!"

"It's good to see you!" the skeleton said, clambering out of his hole to shake Victor's hand. The other corpses followed suit, crowding around the couple in a flurry of well-wishes. "Here and breathing again, though? You gotta get out of that habit."

"It's a special trip," Victor explained, waving for Fixxler to join them. "How is everyone?"

"Finally settling down after the ruckus you caused," another skeleton reported. He pointed at Alice. "Who's this?"

"Alice," Alice introduced herself, trying to make eye (or eye-socket) contact with everyone at once. "I'm – er, well, there's a bit of a story involved. . . ."

"Oh, so you're his new lady?" the first skeleton asked. Seeing Victor and Alice's startled looks, he added, "Bonejangles told us that – hey, BJ, where you goin'?"

Bonejangles spun around, already halfway up the path. "I'm coming right back!" he called, waving his arms. "Gotta get somebody! Don't go anywhere, okay Victor?"

"Er – I don't think I could if I tried!" Victor called back, glancing at the ring of corpses around him. "Who–"

But Bonejangles was already on the move again, booking it into the trees. Victor frowned as he disappeared behind a trunk. Well, that's funny. I thought for sure he would have been the first one here to greet us. I was looking forward to seeing him again. . .then again, maybe Ms. Plum and the others from the Ball & Socket are nearby? That would be nice, all of us getting reacquainted at once. I just hope I can properly explain why I'm down here with a third girl – although it seems like everyone already knows about Victoria

"Ah – I would not do that if I were you."

Victor blinked, then turned to see Mr. Ullman behind them, one hand raised to give him a hearty slap on the back. "I'm just saying hello," Ullman said defensively in stereo, one half of his face popping free of the other to give Alice a disapproving look.

"Yes, well, if your idea of 'hello' is an elbow to the face. . . ."

"I r-really don't do well with being s-surprised from b-behind," Victor confirmed, biting his lip as ghostly hands trailed down his shoulders to his hips. Easy, easy. . .he's not here, he can't hurt you, no one's going to hurt you here, you do not need to back yourself up against the nearest tree, you are stronger than that. . . ."Or f-from the front – remember how I was when I f-first entered the Ball & S-Socket?"

Ullman's face snapped back together, now contrite. "Good point – sorry, I did forget for a moment."

"No harm done," Victor assured him, pretending to rub a kink in his back so he could wipe off Bumby's touch. "It's good to see you again, Mr. Ullman. I never did thank you for helping me when Barkis was after me with that sword."

"Oh, think nothing of it," Ullman replied with a lopsided smile. "That scoundrel was not playing fair at all." He waved his hand up and down the seam splitting him in twain. "And it's not like he could have done any worse to me than what the saw already managed."

"Saw?" Alice repeated, eyes wide with horror.

"I was in the lumber business while alive," Ullman explained. "My last day Upstairs, I spent inspecting a new mill I was planning to buy. It seemed all right – up until the moment the catwalk rail gave way and I plunged head-first into some logs being cut. I'm pretty sure they weren't able to do anything with that particular batch of timber."

Alice shuddered. "Oh dear, what a way to go. I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it, it was a while ago – and, fortunately, only hurt for a moment." Ullman flexed his neck, head cleaving apart like someone had driven an ax straight through it. "My only hope is that my death inspired them to shore up those rails!" He squelched his bits back together, then looked around at Fixxler as he managed to worm his way into the crowd. "Goodness, three breathers in one day!" He stuck out a hand. "Good to meet you, sir – Mr. Stephen Ullman."

"Dr. Jeremiah Fixxler," Fixxler introduced himself, shaking.

"He's the one responsible for us being down here," Victor added. "A magician friend of ours."

"Yes, what does bring you to our lovely Land again?" Ethel inquired, clasping her hands before her. "We really didn't think we'd see you again before you died."

"Well, it's mostly so–"

"Sam, please, what is so important that you had to drag me away from my book?"

Alice's head jerked around like an owl's – surprised, Victor followed her gaze to see Bonejangles hurrying toward them again, this time hand-in-hand with a puzzled-looking young woman. "What's the point in being so mysterious?" she added, head bobbing slightly on her exposed spine. "If it's something I'll like, you may as well–"

"Lizzie?"

The crowd fell dead (or, perhaps, living) silent. The woman with Bonejangles froze as if she'd been hit with the Ice Wand, eyes wide. ". . .Alice?"

Victor gaped. Of all the things he had expected. . .but there was no mistaking it. Bonejangles's companion was, beyond the rot, an exact match for the woman he'd seen so often in Alice's precious family portrait. Goodness, she was almost one for Alice herself. She was a bit taller – closer to Emily's height – her hair was longer and worn in a different style, and her eyes were blue instead of green, but beyond that. . . . No wonder Bumby was so interested in Alice as a replacement, he thought, then immediately had to press down the urge to smack his skull against the nearest tree. You disgusting man – as if that makes it right! Ugh, how could I let that even pass through my head. . . .

Alice, fortunately, was oblivious to his mental faux pas. She pulled her arm free of his, eyes locked on the decayed form of her sister. The crowd parted to let her pass. "You're here," she whispered, clutching her hands to her mouth. "You're actually here."

"You're here," Lizzie replied, tears welling up in her eyes. "You're – oh God – Alice!"

In a burst of speed, they were in each other's arms, holding each other so tight one would think they were about to fuse into a single being. "Oh, Lizzie. . .I missed you so, so much," Alice choked out, burying her face in Lizzie's shoulder.

"I missed you," Lizzie said between sniffles. "Oh, Alice, I'm so glad you're all right."

"So this is the famous sister!" the first skeleton declared, grinning (not that he could do much else). "Pleasure to meet you at last!"

"Good to see you're still breathing," the second skeleton added.

"Very – but, Alice, how are you even down here if you're still alive?" Lizzie added, pulling away to look her in the face. "As far as I know, there aren't any corpse grooms around."

"Dr. Fixxler here escorted us," Alice explained, pointing – he waved in greeting. "He wants to meet Elder Gutknecht, it's a bit of a story – what are you doing here?!" she added, putting her hands on her hips in a mock scold. "You're supposed to be waiting for me under your grave in Oxford!"

"We're visiting friends!" Lizzie said with a laugh. "Sam's mother and everyone else at the Ball & Socket. Mama and Papa are there right now – what, did you think we were just going to hang around our house all our afterlife?" she teased in response to Alice's astonished look.

"Well – yes," Alice confessed, twisting a lock of hair around her hand. "Maybe it's silly, but I don't know how Downstairs works! I had to get all my information second-hand from someone who was only here a day!"

"Two, technically – I stayed overnight," Victor reminded her, stepping forward. He offered a hand to Lizzie. "Victor Van Dort. I suppose if you're familiar with the people here you've heard of – oof!"

He stumbled backward as Lizzie practically tackled him with the same force as that with which she'd greeted her sister. "Victor. . .oh, you're all right too. We were so worried. . . ."

"I – what?" Victor blinked down at her, brain racing with confusion. "Why – what do you–"

Lizzie looked up at him with sad eyes. "We happened to be in London when a certain doctor died," she explained softly. "He let a few things – slip."

And just like that, there went said brain into a sudden brick wall. Victor opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, unable to think of a word to say. Alice's family was in Burtonsville? Lizzie had been present for Bumby's death? They already knew what had happened to him? But he wasn't – he hadn't – he'd wanted to gloss over the whole mess, keep the focus on Alice's escape and not his – his failures. . . .

"Yeah, arsehole made it clear that – you are okay, right, Victor?" Bonejangles asked, eye rolling to left to right as he tilted his head in concern.

Victor shuddered as he wondered what Bumby might have made clear about him. "I'm – fine," he managed. "I-I've been better, certainly, b-but. . .l-look, if we must talk about this, c-can it wait until we're at the pub? I – I really only w-want to say it once."

"Of course," Lizzie nodded, releasing him. "I'm sorry if I startled you. It's just – well." She rubbed the bone that was all that remained of her throat. "You must know I sympathize more than I'd like."

"I do," Victor said, awash in a sudden burst of second-hand grief. "I'm so sorry for what happened to you."

Lizzie grinned at him. It was not a nice grin. "I got my own back, eventually. Sam and I made very sure that he wasn't going to be bothering anyone ever again, Upstairs or Down."

Vindictive glee leapt up inside him, chasing away the sadness – though it was tempered with a touch of confusion. "I'm quite glad to hear that. . .but – who's Sam?"

Bonejangles laughed. "Oh, come on – you think I was born with the name Bonejangles?" he asked, nudging Victor's side. He tipped his hat. "Sam Thatcher, at your service!"

"Thatcher?" Victor shared a surprised look with Alice. "Well, that's – curious. . . ."

Bonejangles tipped his head to the left, eyeball rolling back as he did. "What is?"

"My new coworker at Houndsditch is a Thatcher," Alice told him, rocking on her heels. "June Thatcher. And she's from Burtonsville too. I know it's not that uncommon a last name, but. . .do you have a sister?"

"I've got eleven sisters – but yeah, the youngest was June," Bonejangles said, blinking. "Never really got to know her, though – died before she even hit a year. How old's your June?"

"Twenty-three," Alice reported. "And looking at you, I think you've both got the same chin!"

"Really?" Bonejangles rubbed his jaw. "Sheesh, poor kid."

"It looks fine with flesh on it, I've told you," Lizzie said, giving him a poke.

"Yes, she wears it well," Victor assured him, head spinning. Would the surprises never cease today? "And she's mentioned a brother who died when she was a baby." His brow furrowed. "Just. . .she's always called him 'Jeremy.'"

There was a heavy, telling silence for a minute. It was broken by a very unladylike snort from Lizzie. "Jeremy?"

"I told you it was stupid!" Bonejangles snapped, yanking his bowler down to cover his face.

"Oh come on, that's hardly anything to get embarrassed about!" Lizzie said, snickering. "I thought it was something like 'Whitford' or 'Enoch' or the like. You are entirely too sensitive."

Victor giggled behind his hands. "I assume Sam is your middle name, then."

"Yeah, and it's what everybody else always called me!" Bonejangles complained from under his hat. "What's she goin' around callin' me 'Jeremy' for?"

"Search me – if it makes you feel better, my full name's Victor Fitzwilliam Van Dort," Victor said consolingly.

"I'm Alice Pleasance Liddell," Alice added with a chuckle.

"Hey, your parents did it in the right order – middle names are supposed ta be the dumb ones." Bonejangles peeked out from under his brim. "Pleasance, though?"

"Apparently I was born on a very nice spring day and Mama wanted to commemorate it." Alice stood on tiptoe, looking down the path. "Speaking of her – fun as this is, I think it's about time we headed to the Ball & Socket. I'm sure you're, um, dying to know what became of me." She dropped heavily to her heels. "Although, judging by your reaction to Victor, you seem pretty well-informed already."

"Not as much as I'd like," Lizzie replied, touching her shoulder. "Most of what we've learned is hearsay – bits and pieces from other dead. I very much want to know what happened straight from the horse's mouth."

Alice smiled. "Well, I haven't got a horse, so you'll have to settle for hearing it from me."

"We'll go on ahead – let everyone else know you're coming," Ethel said, clapping her hands together. "Oh, they'll all be so excited!" She wrapped Victor in a quick hug. "Wonderful to see you again, dear. I hope my Orville has been treating you right!"

Victor forced a smile. "He's – doing fine."

Fortunately, Ethel was too excited to take much note of his tone. "Good, good!" She waved an eager hand at the group. "Goodbye everyone! We'll see you shortly!"

"Ms. Plum will whip up something delicious, I'm sure!" Mr. Ullman said, licking his lips. "That wedding cake was a real treat, even if the wedding itself never happened."

"I'm glad – but, ah, please remind her that the living generally aren't keen on poison or body parts in their food?" Victor said, tugging on his tie. "We're, um, n-not here to, er, stay."

"Oh yes, of course," Mr. Ullman assured him. "We'll find something for you." He patted Victor on the shoulder. "See you in a bit!"

"We'll warm up the piano for you!" the first skeleton promised.

That got a real smile out of him. "Much obliged."

There were a few final waves and general well-wishes, then the crowd moved off in a flurry of clattering bones and shifting cloth. Alice watched them disappear down the path. "I think you're as popular down here as you are unpopular up there," she said to Victor, nodding toward the twilight sky.

"Yeah, we heard what Mr. 'That Hat Is Compensatin' For Something' is callin' ya these days," Bonejangles commented, skull dropping into shadow as he fixed his hat. "And that the rest of the village is goin' right along with it. Ethel might wanna believe the best of her husband, but I'm guessin' he wasn't all that happy to see ya."

"Not at all – but at least he wasn't the one to throw mud at me," Victor said, wiping his face as he recalled the splat. "It was – frightening, for a moment, as poor Dr. Fixxler can attest."

"They were about ready to send him Downstairs permanently," Fixxler confirmed. "Fortunately, Victor is surprisingly scary himself when he loses his temper."

"What, you sling some mud right back?" Bonejangles asked.

"No, just words – admittedly, some nasty Whitechapel slang, but. . .I think I escaped simply because no one's used to hearing me shout." Victor sighed, twisting his hands together. "It all makes me very glad Emily's grave is out beyond the village walls. We bought her a headstone, if you'd like to see it."

"No kiddin'?" Bonejangles climbed the hill, followed by Lizzie. "Oh, yeah, I think I see it – what is that, a stump made outta marble?"

"We wanted something a bit outside the norm," Alice said. "There's a butterfly on it as well, and a ring."

"Nice – we'll wander that way later for a better look," Bonejangles said, helping Lizzie back down the slope. "Gotta get you to ma and pa now. . .though, hey, speakin' of your old fiancees, Victor, whatever happened to Victoria? We heard something about her parents spiritin' her out of town after we all gave Barkis his welcome, but nothin' since. She just drop off the face of the earth?"

"Almost – it took my parents over a month to find her and her family," Victor explained as they started off. "And when we did. . .they'd already heard that Galswells was calling me damned, and took it to mean I'd – come here to stay. Victoria had been trying to get back to Burtonsville, but after that, she decided I must have loved Emily more than her and allowed herself to move on as well. She's happily married now to a friend she made during that time – Christopher White." He smiled awkwardly. "I showed up shortly after they got back from their honeymoon, in fact."

"Oh." Bonejangles took off his hat, twiddling with the brim. "Uh – feel like I oughta apologize for that. It was me and my boys that gave 'em the spook, after all. Didn't mean to screw up your life like that."

"I've never blamed you – any of you," Victor reassured him, putting a hand on his arm. "Yes, perhaps you could have come Upstairs a bit more quietly, but – even if you'd been the most sedate skeletons in existence, the Everglots still would have been frightened. And Galswells would have still ranted about demons. And Victoria. . .maybe if they hadn't fled, she could have convinced her parents to reconsider, or me to elope, but – we'll never know for sure." He shot Alice a smile. "At any rate, she's found someone she's happy with, and so have I."

"Still. . .you went through a lot of bullshit, didn't you?"

Forget and obey, Thirteen. . . . Victor nodded slowly, his stomach knotted. "Yes, but – well. Like I said, we'll tell all at the pub."

"It's all ended well enough," Alice said, leaning up against him. Victor forced back his awareness of how warm her body was next to his. "We're good friends with Victoria and Christopher now." Her fingers twined with his. "And I don't think I'd be nearly as happy in the wake of Bumby's death as I am with Victor."

Lizzie beamed, eyes just a touch watery. "We're all thrilled for you. Both of you."

You wouldn't be if you knew the kind of thoughts trying to invade my head right now. Perhaps I should let you do what you did to Bumby to me. Victor nodded at her. "Thank you."

"Yeah, it's great, knowin' you two found each other," Bonejangles agreed, grinning. Then he swung his head over to Fixxler. "And somebody else besides – Dr. Fixxler, huh?"

"Jeremiah Jack Fixxler," Fixxler introduced himself. "Which I hope puts 'Jeremy' into perspective."

Bonejangles rolled his eye. "Fine, I'll give ya that. How'd a guy like you end up with these lily white folk?"

"Well, first Alice came into my shop looking for a cure to Victor's amnesia," Fixxler reported, ticking it off on his fingers. "And then when they both came back around to say thank you, turned out they knew less about magic than I first assumed and I ended up giving them the beginner's course."

Lizzie tilted her head, brow furrowed. "How do you mean? Did you think Victor came down to the Land of the Dead on his own to meet Emily?"

"No," Alice said, smirking. With a little shimmer, her form shifted to her Wonderland self, complete with blue dress and bloody apron. "He means I can apparently do this without even thinking about it."

Lizzie and Bonejangles both started. "Whoa! Looks like bein' able to cast False Flesh is a family thing, eh Liz?" Bonejangles said, straightening his hat.

"Even I have to rip a hanky in half, though. . .that is – rather a lot of red on your front," Liz observed, biting her lip.

"Wonderland's not nearly as nice as it was when I was a child," Alice replied, looking down.

"Not as nice? The Queen of Hearts wanted to take your head off when you first visited."

"She was a lot more proactive about it when I tumbled down there in Rutledge. And you don't even want to know what the Dollmaker attempted to do to me."

Lizzie's face darkened. "I have a nasty idea, given the name. Oh Alice. . . ." She put her arm around her sister's shoulders. "What I wouldn't give to rewind time back to those sunny days sitting by the Isis."

"Me too," Alice whispered, letting the illusion fade. She looked back at Dr. Fixxler. "Any spells that might let us do that? I mean, I don't suppose I have a hope of casting them. . . ."

"Papa already asked Elder Gutknecht once," Lizzie jumped in. "Not only does it require a vast amount of power, it also only allows you to observe – you can't change anything."

"You're basically in the same position as Scrooge in A Christmas Carol," Fixxler nodded. "A ghost watching other ghosts go about their business. You could refresh your memory of one of those sunny days, but that would be about it." He scratched under his hat. "So, uh, you're already familiar with Elder Gutknecht, Miss Liddell?"

"You can call me Lizzie – you brought my sister down here, you've earned it," Lizzie assured him. "And yes – the short version is, Sam and I met while he was on tour at Oxford, he told me about what happened between Victor and Emily, we became friends, and he took my parents and me here to see Elder Gutknecht about visiting Upstairs for a night to try and warn Alice about Bumby."

"Yeah, already knew he could pull the trick off thanks to Victor and Emily nearly gettin' hitched," Bonejangles nodded. "And figured this would be one o'those cases where he wouldn't mind us wanderin' around among the living."

Alice stopped short, staring. "Wait – so – when did you–"

"Halloween," Lizzie told her. "Elder Gutknecht told us it would be our best shot for what we wanted to do."

"Trip was a total bust, though," Bonejangles said, dipping his head. "Couldn't get near Bumby or find you. Musta wandered over a good half of London lookin' too."

Alice winced. "Ah. Yes, I – wasn't very well during my last few months with Bumby," she confessed quietly. "My hallucinations were running rampant, and so was I. Couldn't stay in one place for ten seconds altogether."

"Yes, we gathered that from some of those we spoke to." Lizzie squeezed Alice. "How are you now?"

"Better – Wonderland still insists on popping up in the world, but at least now I can see reality behind it," Alice told her. "And I've learned not to speak to my visions aloud, for the most part." She chuckled. "Actually, this visit is doctor-approved – the new head of Houndsditch, Dr. Wilson, is aware of the Land of the Dead, and he thought coming down here to – well – make peace with what happened might fix things. Make it so I stay more in the real world." She leaned up against Lizzie. "Frankly, though, right now I don't care if being here actually makes it all worse. It's all worth it to see you again."

"We're delighted to have you," Lizzie replied. "But I do hope this visit makes your brain quiet down. You've gone through quite enough in your life." She looked over at Victor, biting her lip. "Both of you have."

"You've gone through quite enough yourself," Victor reminded her, nodding at her exposed spine. "In life and death."

"This? I asked for this from a friendly maggot," Lizzie said, touching the bone. "Bastard left bruises, and I refused to go around for however long I'd be here with his mark on me. No-Rot keeps the rest of my flesh on me well enough. And, to tell the truth, I'm feeling much – lighter, these days. What with Bumby behind me." She flashed Bonejangles a smile. "And Sam at my side."

Victor blinked. That smile. . .had looked an awful lot like the ones Alice favored him with. The same heart-melting warmth, the same playful glitter. . .and the way Bonejangles was looking back at her. . .could it be. . . ?

Alice was apparently having similar thoughts, glancing between the two. "Lizzie?"

"Yes, it took me dying to find a man I found suitable," Lizzie responded with a giggle. "It's not my fault – he died before you were even born! I was five or six at most!"

"Yeah – reckon me and Liz hooked up about the same time you two hooked up," Bonejangles revealed, tipping his hat to an astonished Victor.

"I doubt it – Victor and I became official only recently," Alice said, blushing. "Largely because I'm a bit of a blind idiot when it comes to recognizing a man loves me."

"And I didn't speak up because I never thought she'd have me," Victor admitted, playing with his tie. Given what I keep thinking of her now, I should have kept my mouth shut. "And then there was. . .everything else. . . ."

Lizzie reached over to pat his shoulder. "Well, if it makes the two of you feel better, Sam was too frightened of getting rejected to confess to me for a while. And it was only after I kind of forced it out of him that I realized I shared his feelings." She rubbed the back of her head. "Though you could probably blame that on me having a bit of thing against any man not Papa for years. . .anyway, we're just going on mostly as we were before – taking things slow. But. . . ." She shared another smile with Bonejangles. "It's nice. It really is. Nothing like those bloody undergraduates."

Alice smiled too. "That's wonderful. We're all very happy for you, Lizzie."

"Thrilled," Victor agreed with a nod. "Even if it is a shame you could only meet after you died."

"C'est la vie, as good old Paul says," Bonejangles shrugged. "I'm not gonna sweat it." He swiveled his skull back toward Fixxler. "You got yourself a beau?"

"Happy bachelor at the moment," Fixxler replied.

"Unless Elder Gutknecht will have him," Alice teased. "He's the whole reason we're here in Burtonsville instead of being gravely disappointed in Oxford."

Fixxler gave her a look. "I am merely an interested researcher hoping to meet one of the greatest in the field."

"Is that why you were bouncing all over the room when Dr. Wilson approved the trip?" Victor had to ask.

"Yes. That's how all interested researchers act."

A subtle tilt of the skull, and Bonejangles's skeletal grin became a smirk. "Suuuuure. You and Artie are gonna get along just fine."

They reached the Ball & Socket with surprising speed – Bonejangles, as it turned out, knew his fair share of shortcuts through the twisty streets of the Downstairs village. "Ran errands for Mr. and Mrs. Brewster back in the day, 'fore I set out with my music," he explained, leading them through an alley. "Mr. Brewster always offered half a shillin' more if you got back within a half-hour, so I learned the quickest way to every place in Burtonsville from their house pretty fast. Just sorta kept up the habit when I cacked it." He grinned and waved dramatically as the creaky old sign sporting his own elongated jaw appeared before them. "Here we are! Creme de la creme of taverns. In my humble opinion, anyway."

"I'm sure," Alice smirked. "Would you say that if you didn't have such an obvious stake in the place?"

"Hey, I earned that sign."

"He really is talented," Lizzie agreed. Then, lightly nudging his ribs, she added, "Though he could stand to brag about it less."

"If I'd been more modest, you might not have come and seen me that night," Bonejangles retorted, nudging her back. "And then where would we be?"

"I imagine you'd be here and Lizzie would still be in Oxford," Alice replied, standing on tiptoe to peek in through the nearest window. "I'll give you that it looks nicer than the Flaming Stallion or the Elephant's Elbow. Hopefully the clientele are a little less rowdy."

"Depends on how much poison Paul's been pushin'," Bonejangles grinned. "Tonight, though? With Victor back and the famous Liddell sister at his side? And a newcomer besides? Everybody's gonna be all fired up!"

Alice raised an eyebrow. "I'd rather not be swarmed like I have a school of Snarks on my tail, if it's all the same to everyone."

"Good luck," Victor said, holding back a giggle.

"We'll try to keep it down to a dull roar, but – they're a very enthusiastic crowd," Lizzie admitted. "Nice, of course, but – well, you should have seen the welcome we got when we first arrived! Ms. Plum nearly crushed me on the spot!"

"Mmmmm. . . ." Fixxler fiddled with his fingers. "Nobody's going to have a problem with me, are they? I hate to ask, everyone's been very nice so far, but – you didn't see them Upstairs."

"Anybody gives ya a problem, I'll knock their block off," Bonejangles promised, waving a skeletal fist. "You got a right ta be here, same as everybody else. Gotta say, though, people loosen up around here once they bite the big one." He held up his arm. "'Specially when they see we're all the same color inside."

Fixxler snorted. "True. Though I've had one fellow come in who, upon seeing me accidentally cut myself, was shocked my blood was as red as his. Probably believed my bones were black too."

"I sincerely apologize that there are so many idiots in the world," Lizzie sighed, rolling her eyes as she headed for the entrance. "But really, the worst you should get in here are a few smelly burps in your face."

"So no worse than some of my clients in Whitechapel. Good."

Lizzie chuckled and opened the door. "Wait to say that until you've smelt them."

"It can't be any worse than the rot," Victor joked as he stepped inside.

"VICTOR!"

And was promptly bowled right back out again by Ms. Plum. "How good to see you again!" she cried, hugging him tight. "Oh, we were all so worried when Mrs. Carter told us what was going on with that awful Galswells – and Bonejangles said you'd gotten stuck in Whitechapel?"

"Not by choice," Victor said, just managing to stay upright with his fingertips clinging to the door frame. He patted her back with his free hand. "It's good to see you too, Ms. Plum. How are things?"

"Oh, fine, fine – and you must be Alice!" Ms. Plum declared, snatching her up in an embrace before she could get away. "Your sister told us all about you, and that awful, awful Bumby – we're so glad to see you well!"

"Thank you," Alice said, carefully extracting herself from Ms. Plum's grip. "Ah, this is our friend, Dr. Fixxler. He owns a magic store in Whitechapel."

"Ma'am," Fixxler said, tipping his hat.

"Oh, don't start with that," Ms. Plum said with a playful swat. "I was only 58 when the flu took me!" She grabbed both his hands and gave them a shake. "It's a pleasure to meet you, I'm sure. You three come in and make yourselves at home! Afraid I can't stay and chat – got something in the oven for you all! Don't worry, no noses," she added, wagging a finger at Victor.

Victor laughed, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. "Thanks. I'm sorry, it's just–"

"It's fine, dear, I understand – bit hard to remember how to cook for a living stomach! But I think you'll like this." She hauled everyone inside, grinning at all and sundry. "Guests of honor have arrived, everyone!"

A general cheer went up from the assembled corpses. "A toast to the Live Groom!" General Bonesaparte cried from his perch beside the pool table – Victor noted with amusement he'd replaced his sword with a pool cue. "Emily's favorite young man!"

"A toast to Whitechapel's Merry Murderess!" General Wellington added, raising his glass high. "Congratulations on giving that scoundrel Bumby what-for!"

"A toast to – to – who are you?" a skeleton called in the direction of Fixxler.

"Dr. J. J. Fixxler!" Fixxler called back.

"He's the one who got us down here!" Alice provided, sniggering.

"A toast to that then!" Glasses and mugs and bones clattered together, and a rainbow of various drinks disappeared down various gullets (and in some cases, promptly reappeared back on the floor). "Hip hip hooray!"

"Alice!"

Two new figures broke through the crowd – a bearded man and a woman with close-cropped red hair, both still displaying obvious burn marks despite over a decade of decay. "Mama! Papa!" Alice rushed into their arms, prompting a pub-wide "awwwwww." "I've missed you so. . . ."

"We've missed you!" Mrs. Liddell gave her daughter a tight squeeze, then held her at arm's length. "Oh, Alice, look at you. You're all grown up."

"A fine young lady," Mr. Liddell agreed, then sighed. "I wish we'd been there to see it happen."

"What, you wanted to watch me lying catatonic in Rutledge for ten years?" Alice joked with a weak smile.

Mr. Liddell harrumphed. "I still can't believe they put you in there! A mere child! My daughter deserved better!"

"What we deserve and what we get are two very different things, Papa." Alice took her father's hand, tracing over the burns stretched across his palm with a finger. "As you well know."

Mr. Liddell sighed again. "That I do. . .at least now that wretched Bumby is dead and gone. One less thing to worry about."

"Indeed," Mrs. Liddell nodded, before turning to Fixxler. "Dr. Fixxler, you said? Good to meet you, sir – Lorina Liddell, and this is my husband Arthur. Thank you so much for bringing them down here."

"My pleasure," Fixxler assured her, shaking hands. "Your daughter is a very interesting young lady."

Mr. and Mrs. Liddell shared an amused look. "How many times have we heard that over the years. . .I'll assume you're the rare fellow who means it in the positive sense," Mr. Liddell said. He turned to Victor, face softening. "So you're the famous Victor." He offered his hand. "It's good to meet you at last. We've heard quite a lot about you."

"G-good things, I hope," Victor said, taking it and trying to ignore the way it crunched in his grip. And I thought I was nervous at the Everglots. . .stand up straight, make eye contact, smile. . . .

"About you, yes," Mrs. Liddell said, touching his side. "About your situation. . . ." She hesitated as a dark cloud seemed to pass over the group. "Well. It's just good to see you up and about, really."

"Very much so," Mr. Liddell agreed. He scanned the pub. "Why don't we go back to our own table and have a proper chat, away from prying ears? Carolina's keeping it safe for us."

"Carolina?" Alice repeated.

"My ma," Bonejangles explained proudly. "Kicked the bucket last year. And sounds like a good idea to me." He waved back the corpses crowding in to say hello. "Oi, show's over, folks! Give the livin' some breathin' room, they actually need it!"

"But why's he with Lizzie's sister?" a childish voice piped up from table leg height. "I thought he was marrying that sad lady in the dress!"

"Whatever happened to those Everglots anyway? Heard they vanished!" a skeleton agreed.

"You really spent a year in Whitechapel, Victor?" Ethel's friend asked. "Because your parents thought you mad?"

"Barmier than a box of barnacles if they thought sending him there would cure him," Wellington said.

"It's all a very long story," Victor said, holding up his hands. "Let me talk to my friends, and then Bonejangles can make a song out of it and explain it better than I ever could."

Bonejangles laughed. "Outta what happened to you? That's a whole musical! Honored you think me up to it, though." He swept his arm through the air. "You heard the man – you'll hear about it all soon enough! For now – NEXT ROUND'S ON ME!"

The cheer that followed that announcement was louder than the first. The crowd parted, corpses of all stripes hurrying to the bar and allowing them access to the back tables. "That'll keep 'em quiet for a while," Bonejangles said, taking Lizzie's arm and leading the way through the little maze. "Though you're probably gonna have your arm pumped off before the night's over, Victor."

"So long as I'm prepared for it," Victor replied, smiling. "After what happened Upstairs, it's just nice to be liked again."

"Oh, trust me, almost everyone here had something kind to say about you," Mrs. Liddell told him with a smile. "You left quite the impression."

"Well, it ain't every day that we get a breather down here," Bonejangles pointed out. He waved at a corpse, much bluer and fresher looking than the Liddells, seated at a nearby table. "Hey, Ma! Can you believe it?"

"Barely!" the woman said, standing up to greet everyone. "If it hadn't been Ethel announcing the news, I would have thrown it off as a prank!" She extended her hand to Victor. "So you're the famous Living Groom. Lovely to meet you at last. Carolina Thatcher – you're acquainted already with my son."

"And your daughter, actually," Victor said, shaking. "June's working in Houndsditch now."

"What – she is?" Mrs. Thatcher blinked. "When did that happen?"

"Bumby hired her as my replacement when it looked like I'd finally wandered off for good – don't worry, she arrived after he died," Alice added quickly as poor Mrs. Thatcher's eyes went wide with horror. "In fact, she was on the same train I shoved him in front of. Finding her waiting at the Home when I returned was a surprise, but a good one. She's been invaluable in keeping the place running." She grinned. "Particularly with the daily meals."

Mrs. Thatcher sighed, relieved. "Good, good. I was worried that she wouldn't find anywhere to go after I passed." She twisted her hands together. "Though I dread to think what might have happened if she'd arrived at Houndsditch earlier."

"Let's not go there," Lizzie said, glancing between Victor and Alice. "It's bad enough thinking about the lives that bastard did ruin."

"True enough." Mrs. Thatcher offered her hand to Alice. "Pleasure to meet you too, my dear – your parents and sister are truly lovely people. I'm glad my Sam and your Lizzie found each other."

"I am too," Alice nodded, accepting the handshake. "And I'm glad for the chance to finally meet Sam, after hearing so many stories about him."

"Hope I live up to the hype," Bonejangles joked.

Alice winked at him. "So far, so good."

Mrs. Thatcher giggled, then turned to Fixxler. "And you're – oh."

Fixxler's hand paused halfway to his hat. "Something wrong?"

"Nothing," Mrs. Thatcher assured him, shaking off her surprise. "It's just. . .the last time I saw skin that dark, it was – on my husband." She sighed. "Whom I have many mixed feelings about. Just tell me your name isn't John."

"Jeremiah, actually," Fixxler said with an awkward grin, letting his natural accent slip through. "It's your own fault if you're from Alabama, though."

"Well, I'm from Rhode Island, but John and I met in Louisiana. And then had to run from it, which I suppose involved passing through Alabama. . .that's quite a gift with voices you have there," she added, tilting her head. "I wouldn't have suspected you were American when you first spoke."

"He has a ridiculous Transylvanian one he does for customers at his shop," Alice said, snickering. "I had to tell him to cut it out when we first met."

"Ridiculous sells," Fixxler argued, grinning. "People enjoy vhen they think they're getting something overrrr on the poorrrr, stupid foreignerrr!"

"Which is a most telling indictment of the human race," Lizzie said, counting heads before grabbing a chair from a nearby table. "Sam, could you help me out here?"

"On it, Liz," Bonejangles said, picking up two seats and setting the first behind Lizzie. "For you, milady. And I guess you can sit too," he added, handing the second to Fixxler.

"Much obliged," Fixxler replied blandly, settling himself in.

Victor pulled out a chair for Alice. "It is lovely to meet you all – but – I – I confess, I'm a l-little lost for words," he admitted, drumming his fingers against the back. "I didn't think – we c-came here as sort of a – a test run. Because Dr. Fixxler w-wanted to meet Elder Gutknecht, and I wanted t-to be here for the anniversary of meeting Emily. We didn't expect–" "We happened to be in London when a certain doctor died. He let a few things – slip." "I-I didn't realize that you–" "About you, yes. About your situation. . . ."

Alice put her hand over his. "We were prepared to meet you in Oxford," she took over as she sat down, looking between her parents and Lizzie. "And to do a lot more explaining about what's been going on Upstairs."

"We still have plenty of questions for you," Mr. Liddell said, ushering his wife into a seat. "Top of the list being how on earth you even came into Bumby's 'care.'"

"We heard your parents sent you to him," Mrs. Liddell added to Victor. "How they ever considered him a suitable doctor. . .then again, we've whiled away many an hour wondering how he passed his exams at all."

"In my experience, most doctors are cut from similarly arrogant cloth – he probably fit right in," Alice said bitterly. "Though I would hope most of them aren't as vile inside as he proved to be. You can thank Rutledge night nurse Pris Witless for sending me to his Home. She was the one who recommended him for my case. He'd been following it since the beginning, according to her – I bet he was. Probably hoping I'd suffer an accident before I remembered him." She slumped in her seat. "She got fired shortly afterward for not being quick enough to hide her Blue Ruin when the superintendent came calling. I'd declare it some small attempt at cosmic justice if she hadn't proceeded to start shaking me down for money every chance she got."

"Disgusting," Mr. Liddell growled. "As if it wasn't bad enough your being there. . .do you even have an inheritance, anymore? Or do I have to find my way Upstairs to have a little talk with Radcliffe?"

"Papa's never forgiven him for accusing you of starting the fire," Lizzie told Alice.

"Why should I? Scoundrel was likely looking for excuses to loot the trust fund." Mr. Liddell huffed and leaned heavily on a hand. "Why did I ever let him talk me into signing his name onto those papers. . . ."

"He didn't get it all," Alice reassured him. "Nor did Rutledge or Bumby. I'm still in possession of roughly 1,500 pounds. And he's moved off to Sheffield, so I need never lay eyes on him again unless for some reason I end up working in a steel factory."

"I'm a little surprised he didn't just run off to the Orient and be done with it, given his collection," Mrs. Liddell remarked. "But good, I'm glad." She fiddled with a loose thread on her sleeve. "I don't suppose I could persuade you to share some of it with poor Nan Sharpe? Lizzie told us she's – fallen on hard times."

"Oh, so you dropped by the docks on that trip of yours?" Alice said, looking back at Lizzie.

Lizzie nodded, shuddering. "We didn't see Nanny directly – Sam just happened to bump into one of her – ladies." She rubbed her arms. "How can any woman do that? Just – lie there and let men take – l-liberties?"

Because some men won't give them a choice, the voice hissed in Victor's ear. Would you, if you thought you could get away with it?

Don't you dare, Victor thought back, clenching a fist under the table. You know that I've never once gone after a prostitute.

No, you save your lusts for the more innocent – better to utterly destroy someone you love rather than give some old hag a few coins, right?

I have done neither and will do neither. Go away!

"Some of them feel they have no other choice," Alice told Lizzie, tracing a circle on the table with her finger. "And, to be fair, Nanny seems to make a decent wage from her stable of girls. I've offered her some of the inheritance, but she's refused. Says she has enough to keep a roof over her head and food in her belly. I'd like to get her out of the business, but. . . ." She shrugged. "You know Nanny. Stubborn as a mule when she has the mind to be, and she often does."

Lizzie shook her head, spine creaking. "I'll never understand it. She could have done anything else. . .and what about that brute I ran into Upstairs? He seemed to know her – and you too, Alice! And Victor as well!"

"Wait, what? Which brute?" Alice asked, holding up her hands. "There's plenty to pick from in Billingsgate."

"Some awful man wrapped in a fur coat – I never did get his name," Lizzie admitted, her anger cooling a touch. "But he thought I was you for a moment – and he was going to cut off one of my fingers and send it to Victor just to see how he'd react!"

"What?" Victor stared at her a moment. "He – he was – but why–"

And then it all clicked together in his mind. His eyebrows went low as his jaw tightened. "Oh. . .I should have finished the job."

"I would have let you if we hadn't been in the middle of a crowd," Alice said, patting his back.

"Most of them were cheering me on!"

"That may be so, but put a bobby amongst them and at least half would have sold you out just to keep themselves from falling under suspicion."

The Liddells, Mrs. Thatcher, and Bonejangles exchanged some puzzled looks. "Beg pardon?" Mrs. Thatcher asked.

"Oh – the man you met upstairs was Nanny's old pimp, actually," Alice informed Lizzie. "A waste of skin that goes by the name of Jack Splatter. Victor nearly strangled him to death about a week or so ago."

The silence that followed this pronouncement was tangible. "You did – what?" Mr. Liddell managed after a moment. "I mean, not that I'm really judging, given what he tried to do to poor Lizzie, but. . . ."

"They have a bit of a feud going," Alice explained as Victor blushed. "Or, they did, anyway, until Victor finally put him into his place."

"Holy SHIT!"

Bonejangles abruptly slammed the table with a hand, hard enough to vibrate his eye out of his socket. "What – ah, damn – but it's you!" he cried, jabbing Victor in the arm with his finger. "I never would have believed it! You're the Swell Who Walks Whitechapel!"

"What – ah – you know about that too?!" Victor babbled, trying desperately to get his bearings again. And here he thought he was finally on solid ground, conversation-wise. "How?!"

"Last time we were in London, from a couple of new arrivals! We do kinda a loop-de-loop," Bonejangles said, tracing a circle in the air before leaning down and retrieving his eye from the floor. "Oxford, London, Burtonsville, back again."

"We help keep an eye on the children in the Downstairs version of Houndsditch," Mrs. Liddell explained further. "We also got into the habit of keeping up on the local gossip while we were waiting to get Upstairs to see you. . .we weren't sure what to make of this 'Swell' business though. Something about punching unconscious the hardest man in the East End?"

"And running into a burning building for a prostitute?" Mr. Liddell added.

"I – er – um – I d-didn't realize Nanny was in there at the time–" Victor blurted.

"Wait, Nanny? You saved Nanny from a fire?" Lizzie asked, eyes wide.

"Sort of – he went in there for me," Alice explained, touching Victor's shoulder. "What happened is, I went to see Nanny at the Mermaid after an – episode left me half-drowned in the Thames. Splatter forced his way in and beat her for not giving him a share of her profits. Then he knocked over her lamp, intending to burn the place down. I tried to stop him, but he knocked me unconscious. Victor, by some miracle, was looking for me on the docks that morning, and encountered Splatter outside the burning building. After Splatter revealed he'd left me in there and tried to stop Victor saving me, Victor punched him into a bunch of packing crates, ran inside, and got me out. After I stopped struggling with him thinking he was a Wonderlander I didn't particularly care for," she added with a blush. "Nanny recovered enough to more or less save herself, though I'm sure Victor stopping her from having to deal with my delusional arse helped."

There was a very intense silence. "And that Splatter person is not in the Land of the Dead right now why?" Lizzie finally asked, voice as sharp and cold and flint.

"Again, I would have been happy to let Victor choke the last vestiges of life from him if it weren't for the fact we were on a crowded street," Alice said, pinching her nose. "My desire to keep Victor in the Land of the Living with me for the immediate future outweighs my belief that Splatter does deserve to die for his crimes against humanity." She rubbed Victor's back. "Not to mention I didn't particularly want Victor to bloody his hands. I think one murder per couple is more than enough."

Victor pressed his hands over his face. "I'm sorry," he mumbled. "I don't – I don't really want to be a thug, just – s-sometimes I get so angry–"

"Are you apologizing for saving my sister's life, you goof?" Lizzie asked, leaning down to peek between his fingers. "As if I wouldn't have done the same thing to Splatter if I'd been there! Bloody hell, when the False Flesh spell wore off in front of him during my and Sam's trip, I made him piss his pants in fear! I'm hardly innocent!"

"Yeah – you shoulda seen what she did to Bumby when he ended up down here," Bonejangles agreed. "Even if he hadn't got eaten by a blob monster little while later, there was no way he was hurting any more innocent girls."

Victor peeked over his fingertips. "I – blob monster?"

"Big black oily thing with lots of doll faces all over it," Bonejangles elaborated, shuddering. "Creepy as all get out."

Alice blinked. "Big black – Bumby was eaten by a Ruin?"

Another interesting silence fell over the table. ". . .How do you know what that was?" Lizzie asked after a moment, clearly rattled.

"Because they're from me! Look – the way I dealt with both your deaths and with Bumby's corruption was to revisit Wonderland and fight my way across it," Alice said, faking swinging her Vorpal Blade. "The first time, in Rutledge, the enemies were all native residents – Card Guards, Snarks, wild Roses, Chess warriors, Fire Imps, Jabberspawn. Creatures that belonged there. But the second time, in Houndsditch, while some of the natives were still lined up against me, the most common enemy I battled was a black blob monster adorned with china doll faces. There were many variations – the one you describe sounds like a Colossal Ruin, the biggest and most terrible of the lot – but they were all cut from the same cloth. And they all came from the Dollmaker – Bumby's avatar in my mind. They symbolized the lives he ruined – the way he would take a person and tear them down into something not even recognizable as human. But I certainly never saw one in reality – only in Wonderland." She looked over at Dr. Fixxler. "How on earth could something from my mind devour Bumby after he died?"

"That's an – interesting question," Fixxler said, rubbing his chin. "Given what my grandpop told me about the slave-owners and other bastards he saw go Down, I thought being dragged off to Hell corresponded directly to your own sins."

"That's how Barkis went, according to Bloated Barry – a bunch of his old beaus ganged up on him," Bonejangles said, rolling his eye from socket to socket. "Though – thinkin' about it, that means Emily got him too, didn't she? 'Cept we already know she went Up for good, and I'm pretty sure she was done with his sorry arse no matter what when she did."

"Perhaps it wasn't really Emily – just some phantom of her conjured up to punish him," Victor suggested. "I mean, I have no idea how this whole process works, so it's possible, right?"

"But then why go with something from Alice's mind for Bumby?" Lizzie asked. "It would have been weird to see some spectral version of myself fall upon him, but it also would have made more sense."

"Unless. . .unless the images are pulled from the hellbound's own mind," Fixxler said, tapping his fingers against his cheek. "Good old Mr. Hartstead would have seen his fair share of whips in his day, and Barkis likely never really forgot any of the women he killed. . .did you ever tell Bumby about the Ruins, Alice?"

"I did!" Alice said, snapping her fingers. "There was a break in between the incident at the Mermaid and my wandering off again after a visit to Radcliffe's gone wrong, and I brought them up during some of my therapy sessions. Bumby seemed reasonably disturbed by them."

"So I suppose God, or whichever force He's deemed in charge of all this, considered it an appropriate method to yank him into eternal torment," Lizzie nodded slowly. "Well, far be it from me to second-guess the creator of the universe. I just would have found it more satisfying if it hadn't scared all of us nearly to death all over again."

"They're not pleasant creatures to look upon, no," Alice confirmed. "Or to kill. You're lucky you didn't have to go up against one. I took a beating from the Colossals every time I faced one in Wonderland."

"Oh, darling. . . ." Mrs. Liddell reached across to take her daughter's hand. "I'm so sorry for you. I remember all those stories you told us about that place when you were small. All those silly, mad creatures, all those fantastic little worlds. . .and now you're having to – to kill your way across it?"

"To be fair, Lorina, she kept stealing the carving knife going up against dragons there," Mr. Liddell reminded her. "And there was that incident with the Hobby Horse and Nan Sharpe's head."

Alice chuckled. "I've still got both of those, in a way – they were important weapons during my sojourns into insanity. Along with a gun-like pepper grinder, an exploding jack-in-the-box, a razor-edged deck of cards, a magical wand made of ice, a teapot that fired like a cannon. . .I had a lot more to defend myself against than just the Jabberwock, though."

"But why would Wonderland turn against you so thoroughly?" Mrs. Liddell asked. "I know you didn't always get along with your imaginary playmates, but – you make it sound like every last one of them wanted you dead!"

"Not every one, but – most of them," Alice said, looking away. "At least right after the fire. Because. . . ." She sniffled. "Because I wanted me dead. Even this last time, with some of my enemies helping me, there were enough creatures who sought my slaughter, because. . .I saw him," she abruptly confessed, turning back to the table with watery eyes. "That night. W-what he did to you, Lizzie, it – it woke me up. I t-thought you were having a nightmare. And then, w-when he crept out of your room, it was d-dark, and I didn't r-recognize him, and I am s-so so sorry. . . ."

"Oh, Alice!" Lizzie sprang from her seat, coming around Victor to pull her sister into an embrace. Her parents quickly followed. "Alice, it wasn't your fault! Not at all! You were eight! And you just said you didn't recognize him! How were you supposed to, half-asleep in the middle of the bloody night?"

"But I j-just ran away to Wonderland! Darted off a-after the Hatter to a damned tea party!" Alice choked out, tears streaming down her face. "I could h-have at least screamed!"

"Honey, you know how hard it is to wake us once we've gone to sleep," Mrs. Liddell told her, stroking her hair. "We probably wouldn't have even heard."

"For God's sake, the house was already a lost cause by the time the smoke stirred us," Mr. Liddell agreed.

"And – and I was a lost cause long before that," Lizzie whispered, touching her spine again. "You couldn't have saved us all no matter what you did."

"I – I know that," Alice said, wiping her eyes. Victor pulled out his handkerchief and handed it to her. "Thank you. . .somewhere in my head, I understand that. I've told myself it wasn't my fault a thousand times. It's just. . . ." She waved a hand up and down their bodies. "Seeing you like this. . . ."

Mrs. Liddell touched what little was left of her nose. "No-Rot potions only go so far," she said in a slightly embarrassed tone. "But it happens to everyone down here. We're used to it."

"And we're happy," Mr. Liddell added, rubbing Alice's shoulder. "We've made a pretty good afterlife for ourselves down here. We have friends, we have hobbies – I'm still teaching, in fact! To a rather shorter set of students, but they're more eager to learn than most of the undergraduates ever were."

"I actually found a man I can stand," Lizzie reminded her, patting Bonejangles on the head. "That's a definite improvement over my breathing life. Yes, we all wish that we could have survived that wretched night – that Bumby had never come into our lives. But the Land of the Dead isn't a bad place to be." She took Alice's chin and made her look into her eyes. "And I will not have my baby sister blaming herself for something she barely even understood at the time."

Alice managed a wet smile. "I think you're the baby sister now, Lizzie."

"Hey – just because you're technically older than me these days doesn't erase the fact that I was born first." Lizzie released her chin, face softening. "Look, I understand – I've wondered at times if I really did lead that bastard on, or if I'd fought just a bit harder. . .but Alice, none of us have ever blamed you. All we ever wanted was for you to have a decent life Upstairs."

"Sorry to disappoint." Alice sighed and rubbed her face. "It still amazes me that I didn't recognize him the moment he walked into my cell at Rutledge. Maybe I didn't have much of a chance of saving you. . .but if I hadn't forgotten, could I have spared more souls at Houndsditch? Could I have kept a few children off the block?" Her eyes slid to Victor. "Could I have. . . ."

"Alice, please," Victor said, taking her hand. "You were struggling against your own brain. You'd only just regained any grip on sanity at all. No one can say you weren't trying your hardest. I'm the idiot who didn't cotton on to him in time. The one who had the chance to expose him after finding that journal. If I hadn't tripped while running out of his office–"

"Don't you dare blame yourself either," Lizzie cut in, silencing him with a finger on his lips. "Bumby had a nasty habit of making rich and important friends – it's why Papa had to tolerate him at the university. He could play at being a decent human being if he had to. So you tripped – so what? Anybody could have. It doesn't justify what he did to you." Her eyes darkened. "Did you get called a tease too?"

"He is frustration personified! The way he parades around, pretending to be all shy and innocent – the boy violated the sanctity of marriage with a corpse! The least he could do is allow me to bend him over my desk!" "Yes," Victor said, shuddering. "He – he e-even brought up you when he. . .he. . . ." No, no, don't you dare start crying, you have spent enough time being weak. . . .

He started as an arm slid around him, and looked up to see Mrs. Liddell at his side. "You poor, poor boy," she whispered. "We've heard a few of the stories from the children at Houndsditch. About how he made them forget everything before selling them to these. . . ." She stopped, unable to put voice to the words. "Did he do the same to you?"

Victor nodded. "W-without the sale part. K-kept me for himself. Made me. . . ." He stared down at the table, gritting his teeth against the influx of memories. Why does it still hurt so much? Why can't I just move on?

Because you know you enjoyed it, the voice whispered. Know it's really all you're good for. Otherwise, why would you want to do it again so badly?

Victor rapidly shook his head. "No, I don't – I – I shouldn't – i-it was only a week–"

"Only a week?" Bonejangles repeated, incredulous. "Sounds bloody long enough to me! Especially with the things he hinted he was doing durin' it!"

"Still – what he did to Lizzie was worse!"

"Apples and oranges, Victor," Lizzie responded. "Yes, he tore away my innocence and my life – but he only did it once. And he left me my mind and will! You. . .he kept calling you Thirteen – like your name didn't even matter!" She scrubbed her face. "Ugh. . .if only I'd been able to force myself past those gonophs. . . ."

Confusion managed to slip past all the bad feelings swirling about Victor's head. "What?"

Lizzie sighed. "During the trip to London Above, Sam and I visited Houndsditch," she explained. "I was posing as a long-lost cousin of the family, looking for Alice. The little girl who greeted us told us Bumby was upstairs with Thirteen – in fact, she nearly said your name. We thought it was another child and came this close to sneaking inside to attempt a rescue. . . ." Her shoulders slumped as she stared at the floor. "But we stumbled upon three of his 'customers' around the back door, and I couldn't get my feet to move."

"I don't blame you," Victor said immediately, hating that broken look on her face. It was much, much too similar to Alice's when she'd given up. "I – I probably couldn't have either, in your place. And, f-frankly? I don't. . . ." He scrubbed his tongue against his teeth, trying to get rid of a certain phantom taste as the voice giggled. "I don't think I would have wanted you to see me like I w-was just then."

"I think we're all getting a little too caught up in the past," Mr. Liddell declared, putting a hand on Lizzie and Alice's shoulders. "Personally, I've never quite forgiven myself for giving Bumby the perfect fuel by keeping my photography chemicals in the library. But we can't keep running down those self-pitying paths every time the fire or that arse comes up. What happened, happened. We can only make the best of what we have left." He patted Alice's head. "Like Lizzie said – we're doing fine here in the Land of the Dead. None of us have ever blamed you for our deaths. And, frankly? I am so proud of you for enduring everything you did. You are the bravest young lady I have ever known, my girl. And I'm glad you were able to send Bumby to his death and get away with it."

Alice smiled again, much more genuinely. "Thank you, Papa." She dabbed at her eyes again. "Cheshire agrees with you, by the by. Says I'm threatening to go in circles again. Not like I mean to, mangy thing."

Mr. Liddell chuckled, then turned his attentions to Victor. "And as for you – Bumby fooled all my colleagues at school, plus whoever knows how many people as the owner of Houndsditch. And what he did to you was reprehensible. We're all thankful you were able to overcome it."

"Yeah, even if it makes me want to go next Halloween to give your parents a spook like we did the Everglots," Bonejangles grumbled. "Sendin' you off to him and all. . .how the hell could they think you were loopy?"

"Sam, language," Mrs. Thatcher put in, shaking a finger.

"I've heard worse, Mrs. Thatcher," Alice said. "Goodness, I've said worse."

"Me too," Victor admitted, coloring again. "And the trouble is, they weren't around when the mass rising happened. They were out on the road looking for me. And getting lost after Mayhew died in his seat. . .they only came back after everything had calmed down again."

Bonejangles tilted his hat to substitute for crooking an eyebrow. "Huh. And the fact the pastor was going on about devils invading the whole place?"

"I didn't believe him either, Sam," Mrs. Thatcher said, sighing. "Remember what I said when I first arrived? We thought the town crier had gone a bit loopy himself. And no one seemed to want to talk about it when we did visit the village."

"Because of Galswells, probably," Victor said. "Though by the time we found Victoria's parents and they backed me up, I think mine just didn't want to believe. They'd spent too much time and effort on trying to cure me. And Mother does not like to admit she's ever wrong."

Lizzie pulled a face. "Alice, I hate to say this, but I think you're going to end up with rather – unpleasant in-laws."

"Oh, I'm only marrying him for his money," Alice said flippantly, laying her head on Victor's shoulder. "At least, that's what Nell believed – right before I let slip that Papa helped educate the sons of lords and ladies. You don't happen to have a list of all those of noble lineage who passed through the halls of Christ Church, do you, Papa? She wanted one so she could send out invitations for an event that won't be happening for months yet."

"If I did, it crumbled to dust long ago," Mr. Liddell said, rolling his eyes. "And considering I happily failed a good number of them, they're probably not interested in renewing the acquaintance. She'll have to find her own peers to bother."

"I'm just glad she isn't capable of bothering you personally," Victor said, tugging on his tie. "You probably wouldn't let me near your daughter otherwise." Not that you should anyway. . . .

"Nonsense," Mrs. Liddell told him. "According to all accounts, you're a fine young man."

"Indeed – and, more importantly, you make our Alice happy," Mr. Liddell agreed, smiling. "Just keep doing that and we'll all get along perfectly."

Which means, sooner or later, you won't be getting on at all, the voice sniggered. You can't hide what you're truly like forever. You think you fear losing Alice? What about her whole family? And all your other friends besides?

I haven't lost them yet – and you are not what I'm truly like, Victor shot back. You're just some disease I have to cure myself of. And I will. As you so lovingly point out, I've got too much at stake.

Oh, keep telling yourself that. . . .

"Food's up!"

Victor didn't think he'd ever been so glad to see Ms. Plum in his life. She and the taller of her two assistants scurried over to the table, Paul riding on her shoulder. "We've got spider-egg tarts for our native folks," she said, setting a dusty-looking tray of pastries filled with a strange white glop in the middle of the table. "And for our living guests. . . ." Her assistant set a somewhat-cleaner tray in front of Victor and Alice. "Chocolate!"

Victor examined the food closely. Both pastry and filling looked as fresh as any you'd find Upstairs. And no sign of body parts, just like she'd promised. "I didn't know you got chocolate down here," he admitted, picking one up.

"You'd be surprised how many people die with a snack on them," Ms. Plum replied, dusting her hands off on her apron. "We got these just last month – traveling salesman who'd had a carriage accident. Sample case was thrust right through him! I've been saving them for a special occasion." She adjusted her chef's hat. "Though I admit, this is batch number two. Added a pinch of belladonna to the first one without thinking." She clapped her hands. "Ah well, we'll eat it up."

Alice and Fixxler fixed the tarts with dubious looks. Victor couldn't blame them – neither the story of how the chocolate had gotten Downstairs, nor the knowledge that adding poison to food was second nature to Ms. Plum at this point, was doing much for his appetite. Still, that was no reason to be impolite. "Thank you. It's very sweet of you."

"Well, we've missed you!" Ms. Plum replied, taking his hand and patting it. "And we've all been rather worried, what with the news that's come from Gertrude and your friends here. Such awful nonsense going on up there. . . ." She tilted her head, hitting him with a motherly stare. "You're all right, dear?"

I've been forced back into a village I hate, had mud thrown on me by a near-lynch mob, endured a horrible and awkward tea with my parents, had all my worst memories dragged to the surface again – and I'm still terrified I'm going to succumb to my inner darkness and lose the best person I've ever met. "I'm fine," Victor said, forcing a smile.

"You're sure?"

Victor looked around the table – at the Liddells, Mrs. Thatcher and Bonejangles, Fixxler, and Alice. On the other hand. . .I'm currently in my favorite pub, surrounded by people who actually like me, having a nice chat with what I hope to be my future in-laws, being reminded that Bumby got his and can never hurt anyone again – and I'm sitting next to the woman who – despite everything – still believes in me. He nodded, the smile softening into something more genuine. "Yes."

"Good," Paul said with a little nod, the wings on his roach "bow tie" fluttering. "Anyzing to drink for ze table? I assure you, we have both ze best poison and ze best liquor!"

"I wouldn't say no to a little brandy," Mr. Liddell said, going around to resume his seat.

"I'll have some brandy too, if you don't mind," Fixxler nodded.

"A third for me," Mrs. Liddell added.

"I'll take a whiskey," Bonejangles said, holding up a finger.

"Just some carrot juice with arsenic for me," Lizzie said.

"I'm fine, thank you," Mrs. Thatcher said, waving her hand.

"Er – neither of us drink, honestly, so just some water, please?" Victor asked, looking to Alice for confirmation. She nodded. "Yes, waters."

"Three brandies, whiskey, carrot with arsenic, and two waters," Paul repeated. "Very good! We shall return shortly!" He swiveled his head around as Ms. Plum took him back to the bar. "Up, up, my little friends! We have drinks to pour!"

"Thank you, Paul!" Mrs. Liddell called after him, before scooping up one of the spider-egg tarts and biting into it. "Mmmmm. . .sometimes I wish we'd met Ms. Plum while we were all alive. I would have happily hired her as a cook."

"The woman does have a talent for pastry," Mr. Liddell agreed, taking a tart of his own.

Alice side-eyed them. "You know, I'm probably one to talk, given I've had Whitechapel street food more than once in my life, but – how on earth can you eat that?!"

Mrs. Liddell giggled. "You get used to it, dear. The ingredients are extreme, yes, but we simply can't taste anything else."

"The tongue is apparently one of the first things to go," Mrs. Thatcher confirmed with a sad nod. "Along with your nose and your skin in general. It does make you wonder why eyesight and hearing persist so well."

"Danged if I know, Ma," Bonejangles said, rolling his eye between sockets. "Though I'm glad I kept both. Make being a singer heck of a lot harder if I couldn't hear myself!"

"Beethoven managed pretty well without his hearing," Victor said, picking up a chocolate tart and contemplating it. "If I had to choose one, I'd rather be deaf."

"Even with you tinklin' away on the piano?"

"Yes. I. . . ." He bit his lip as he looked into the darkness atop the pastry and remembered an equally-black room, with a voice coming from all directions – "You don't deserve a name. . . ." "I've h-had blind, let's say."

"Well, let's hope you need never worry about either," Lizzie said, giving him another painfully sympathetic look. Then, in a clear attempt to change the subject, she added, "And Sam and I tried Whitechapel street pies during our trip Upstairs. Would not recommend the ones from that Dibbler fellow."

"Dibbler?!" Alice sat up straight, horrified. "Oh, Lizzie, of all the people to choose from!"

"You've had his wares, then?"

"Once. I didn't finish it. There were too many – rubbery bits."

"He got me too," Victor confessed, making a face. "Alice unfortunately only caught up with me after I'd already taken a bite. I don't know what kind of meat he uses, but it's surely not beef."

"Oh, Liz found out for ya," Bonejangles told them, leaning on a hand. "It's rat."

"Pulled a tail out of my pie," Lizzie said, rolling her eyes to the heavens. Fixxler pressed a hand over his mouth – Victor didn't blame him, what with his own stomach lurching. "Perfectly awful end to a perfectly awful night."

Alice reached across to touch her sister's hand again. "I'm sorry, Lizzie. I don't know why my body had to wander about while my brain was busy in Wonderland. I was still enough in Rutledge. . .I'm not even sure where I was on Halloween."

"Nowhere near us, that's for darn sure," Bonejangles said. "We went all over the city – by Houndsditch, out on the docks, to Radcliffe's old place – even stopped by Hyde Park. Liz said you might want to try out the slide."

"Not that we could find the slide," Lizzie said, shaking her head. "I swear, that had to be the foggiest night I've ever seen either in life or death!"

Alice went very, very still. "Foggiest. . .oh."

"Something wrong?" Mrs. Liddell asked, frowning.

"Just. . .well. . .right between exiting Queensland and entering the Dollhouse in Wonderland. . .I found myself chasing lampposts in Hyde Park," Alice confessed quietly. "On a night so foggy I could barely see my hand in front of my face."

Lizzie was silent for three seconds. And then – "Oh, fucking hell, that was you!"

"Elizabeth!" Mrs. Liddell gasped, nearly dropping what remained of her tart.

"Er – something wrong?" Paul asked, appearing by Victor's shoulder in the middle of a tray of drinks.

"Just that I almost – almost – caught up with my sister on Halloween last year, and turned away because I didn't think it could actually be her!" Lizzie let her head thunk against the table. "It just figures!"

"Lizzie, you had no idea it was me," Alice said, patting her scalp. "And even if you had decided to pursue me – well, I almost certainly would have dismissed you as just another hallucination. Or, worse, attacked you thinking you were an enemy."

"I know, but – between that and just missing out on maybe saving Victor. . . ." Lizzie picked up a tart and crumbled it in her hands. "It grinds my gears, it really does."

"Same here," Bonejangles agreed, taking both Lizzie's carrot juice and his whiskey. He knocked a good half of the latter back, the alcohol spilling through his bones and onto the chair. "Makes me feel like whoever's running the show likes to toy with us."

"Samuel Thatcher, you shouldn't speak that way about God," Mrs. Thatcher scolded as Paul had his assistant pass out the rest of the drinks.

"I'm with him," Victor said, allowing himself a moment to sink into bitterness. "Any deity who lets people like Barkis and Bumby run around as long as they did obviously doesn't have our best interests at heart."

"I suppose there's the possibility of it all being part of some greater plan – but yes, I'd like a chance to meet with Him and ask a few pointed questions myself," Mr. Liddell admitted, sipping his brandy.

"The funny part is, I don't think you'd get the chance until you lost the urge," Mrs. Liddell said, accepting her brandy with a nod. "After all, you're not supposed to go Up until you're actually at peace, if I understand it correctly. Being ready to yell at God Himself does not qualify as peaceful."

"No, it does not." Alice chewed on her lip as her water was placed in front of her. "I – I know you said you're happy here. And I believe you, I do. But I just want you to know – if you ever do feel ready to – m-move on. . .don't hold back on my account. I've seen you, and we've all said our pieces about the fire. If this does not convince Wonderland I don't need it as a crutch and it doesn't need to keep invading the real world whenever I'm not paying attention, nothing will. And I don't want you to delay your final rewards just to wait around for me."

"Oh, Alice." Lizzie lifted her head again. "If we want to wait for you before we pass on, that's our decision. This may not be Heaven proper, but it's still a good place."

"Indeed – we're having plenty of fun here," Mr. Liddell nodded. "We don't mind sticking around for a while."

"I think that's how most of us down here feel," Bonejangles added, looking at Paul for confirmation. "I mean, movin' on don't look bad, but nobody's quite done yet."

"Always new customers to make comfortable," Paul agreed, smiling. Then he glanced down at his tray. "And, frankly, I'd like to get reacquainted with ze rest of me before I go anywhere. Stupid bet."

"That seems fair enough," Alice allowed. "And yes, as long as you're happy, please stay. I just – I don't intend on dying anytime soon, and I didn't want you to feel you had to wait."

"We have plenty to keep us occupied Downstairs for the time being," Mrs. Liddell assured her. "And we'll make sure you know if we do decide to move on." She grinned. "Although I can certainly assure you I'm not going anywhere until you have a new last name."

Alice laughed as Victor resisted the urge to bonk his head against the table. "Well, that gives us plenty of excuse to delay the wedding even further, huh, Victor?" she said, patting his back. "Sorry, Mama, but almost literally everyone we know keeps hounding us to tie the knot already."

"Oh, I don't mean it to sound like I'm rushing you," Mrs. Liddell hastened to say, shaking her head. "Just – I won't feel at peace until you're properly settled. Both of you."

"I think that goes for all of us," Lizzie nodded, looking between Alice and Victor. "After everything that's happened to the two of you. . .you both deserve whatever happiness you can give each other."

"I can assure you we're very happy already," Alice said, cuddling up against Victor's side again. "And we won't keep you all waiting too long on this wedding. Perhaps we're not ready yet, but we want to be official sooner rather than later too."

Victor nodded agreement, hoping that it didn't look too forced. Oh dear. . .he did want to be official, truly. Did want to call her his wife. But every time he thought about it, his thoughts plunged right back into that dark bedroom. . .to that crushed doll beneath him, the Ruin dripping down his skin. . . . He swallowed. He struggled so hard to master the evil within him, shove it down into some deep black pit where it could never get out again – and then she'd snuggle up to him like this, or flip her hair just the right way, or press her sweet lips ever-so-briefly against his, and it would all surge right back out, his mind straying back to all those wretched, disgusting places where he violated her again and again. . . . This is why Victoria and Emily tossed you aside. They saw it even if they didn't realize it. They saw you weren't so different from Bumby – not different at all. You'll poison her just like he tried, tear her heart and soul to pieces, and love every second of it. . . .

"Arf! Arf!"

Something hard and white abruptly leapt into his lap, butting his chin with its nose. Victor yelped, startled out of the threatening abyss. "What the – Scraps!"

His face lit up, all bad thoughts fleeing the wave of sheer joy at seeing his childhood pet once more. "Oh, Scraps – who's my good boy?" he asked, rubbing the dog's skull. "Who's my good boy?"

Scraps barked, tail beating a cheerful tattoo against Victor's chest. "Oh – so this is the famous pup!" Alice said, sitting up straight again. She offered the skeletal pup a palm. "Hello, Scraps."

Scraps craned his head to sniff her hand with his fleshless snout. Then he yipped and tumbled into her lap, rolling himself over to offer his spine and ribs for rubbing. "Heh – enthusiastic little thing," she commented, doing her best to oblige him.

"He always was, alive or dead," Victor said, reaching to scratch under Scraps's jawbone. "No wonder he got along so well with Emily. . .he drove Mother mad with his bouncing about when I was younger. Though, frankly, given her attitude toward most animals, he would have annoyed her even if he'd been the most sedate dog in existence." He caught a paw and playfully shook it. "How are you doing, boy? Is someone looking after you down here? Mayhew perhaps?"

"Last time I saw him, he was livin' in the Elder's tower," Bonejangles told him. "Wonder what he's doing out here?"

"Well, it's not like I don't walk him."

Victor turned to see a familiar ancient skeleton hobbling up to the table. "Though with him, it almost always turns into more of a run," Elder Gutknecht continued, pressing a hand against his bent spine. "I wondered why he just bolted like that when we neared the pub – he must have caught your scent. Back down here with a pulse again, my boy?"

Victor chuckled. "I'll get it right one day. Actually, we're kind of here to see you."

"Oh? Not more troubles, I hope," Gutknecht said, fiddling with his glasses. "Miss Liddell and Bonejangles informed me you were in a rather bad spot for a while."

"I'm better now," Victor said firmly. One day I'll believe that when I say it. "This is more of a social call." He got to his feet, standing behind Alice's chair. "May I present Alice Liddell – you probably already know her by reputation."

"Indeed I do," Gutknecht nodded, offering her a hand. "A pleasure to meet you at last, my dear. You're looking well."

"Thank you – I'm doing much better now that a certain doctor has died," Alice replied, shaking. Scraps whined at the sudden lack of pets and clambered down to sniff everyone's feet. "Thank you for helping my parents and sister try to warn me about him. Even if it didn't amount to much."

"I did what I could," Gutknecht said. "I was very pleased to hear you were able to overcome him on your own."

"We're all very glad of that," Victor agreed. He moved over to Dr. Fixxler, who was sitting frozen with a chocolate tart dangling from his fingers. "And this is my friend Dr. Jeremiah Fixxler. He runs Dr. Fixxler's Mysterious Elixirs in London Upstairs. He's the one who brought us down here."

"Ah – good to meet you as well then," Gutknecht said, extending his hand to Fixxler.

"The – the pleasure is all – all mine," Fixxler stammered, dropping the tart and accepting the handshake. "Sorry, it's just – when I heard Victor's story, and your name. . .pardon me if this is too forward, but – is your first name Theodor?"

Gutknecht's toothless grin caught the yellow light. "Aaaah. Another fan of my book, I take it?"

Fixxler's face lit up like a child who'd just met Father Christmas. "I've read it from cover to cover! It changed my life! To go from thinking I was going to have to spend the rest of my life working on some plantation, to knowing magic was real, and could be done so easily. . . !" Fumbling in his bag, he brought out an old tome, bound in cracking leather, and a fountain pen. "Um. . .would you mind signing this?"

Alice snorted. "Interested researcher," she whispered to Victor.

"Oh, let him have his fun," Victor said, sitting back down. Scraps hopped into his lap and nosed at his hand – Victor favored him with a few spine scratches. "I'd probably be just as excited if I ever got the chance to meet Beethoven or Mozart."

"Wait, wait, what's this about you writing a book?" Mr. Liddell demanded. "You never mentioned being an author!"

"It was a long, long time ago," Gutknecht replied modestly, scribbling his signature on the title page. "I'm sure it's been long-eclipsed by more modern works."

"I can assure you, you're still one of the top authorities among European magicians," Fixxler said, hugging the book to his chest. "Unseen University – one of our magazines – quotes A Treatise of Magick regularly. And there's plenty of people still searching for the truth of what happened to you after you vanished from history." He paused. "So, for the sake of posterity – why are you here?"

"Well, I thought that if I wanted privacy in my golden years, I had to go somewhere remote," Gutknecht explained, leaning on the table. "Oh, Paul – a glass of my usual, please, would you? Everyone in Germany knew my name after all," he continued as Paul and his assistant scurried off. "So, after some time touring the continent, I crossed the Channel into England, and stumbled upon – well, it wasn't Burtonsville yet. Just a few scant houses full of people living off the forest. I liked the quiet and decided to join them."

"That's more or less the reason John and I settled here," Mrs. Thatcher said with a sad smile. "We hoped that the village would accept us, but if they didn't, it was easy to keep to ourselves. And the forest is lovely."

"So you tarried here until old age took you?" Alice guessed.

"Not quite, I'm afraid," Gutknecht confessed. "About a year after my arrival, I went out on a morning ramble. It was a beautiful day, and I went farther afield than I normally did. . .and when I came across the stream, I decided to go ahead and cross it." He sighed, rubbing the giant crack running across his skull. "You'd think a man already reliant on a walking stick would know better, but. . . ."

The entire table winced. "Oh, Elder Gutknecht. . .I'm so sorry," Victor said with feeling. "What an awful way to die."

"It wasn't how I wanted to go – but it could have been worse," Gutknecht replied, shrugging. "I was out like a light the moment my head hit the stone. Just an instant of pain, and then I was here." He smiled again, skull bright in the lamps. "And finally free of that bloody arthritis."

The elder Liddells and Mrs. Thatcher laughed. "One of the few good things about dying – losing all those little aches and pains of approaching age," Mr. Liddell nodded. "God knows I was happy enough to stop grunting every time I needed to get out of a chair. So you've been here since the beginning, have you? It must have been fascinating, watching the village grow and change over the years."

"I was the one to meet Mr. Burton and his wife when they passed on," Gutknecht said. "Very nice people." He looked around as Paul returned with his "usual," a bright red concoction that fizzed dangerously. "Thank you. . .though quite opposed to drink, so it's for the best they passed on before this place was built."

"So that's why I saw a coffee shop, but no tavern," Alice said, looking up at the ceiling. "Though the population now doesn't seem to fear alcohol." Her face darkened. "Then again, considering how much they seem to fear anything different up there. . . ."

Victor put a steadying hand on her arm. "We won't be staying past today. Much as I would have liked to come down here when I passed on, it's not worth living anywhere near that village."

"You can always do like we do and travel back and forth," Mrs. Liddell said, sipping her brandy. "It's quite easy when you don't have to stop to stretch, or sleep, or – anything else." She frowned at them over her glass. "Do you have any idea where you're going to live yet? I assume you're not staying in Whitechapel."

"No," Victor and Alice said together. "We'll probably stay in Houndsditch until we're ready for the next step," Alice continued. "But after that – well, I'm not really sure. I don't know if I want to actually live in Oxford again. I don't want to forget my past, but neither do I want to drown in it."

"We understand that," Lizzie agreed. "It's not like you can move back into the old house anyway."

"I'm just hoping you two are settled by Halloween," Mrs. Liddell explained. "It would be nice to come visit you. Get a chance to see what Upstairs looks like these days. We missed out on Lizzie's trip."

"That would be nice," Alice said quietly. "Though I'm not sure how we'd actually tell you where we ended up."

"Oh, Reaper's Speech should do the trick."

All eyes (and eye sockets) came to rest on Dr. Fixxler. "It's a spell that allows you to send mail between the realms," he continued, smiling like the cat who'd been sitting on a canary until just the right moment. "Needs a good amount of raw magical talent, but I think you and your future husband have just enough to fuel it. And if not, there's always Draw Upon Another's Currents – sharing power would definitely put you over the edge."

There was a moment of silence. "So, uh, you didn't suggest this to us why?" Lizzie finally asked, turning to Elder Gutknecht.

"I didn't know such a spell existed!" Gutknecht said, straightening his glasses. "When on earth was that discovered?"

"Pretty recently, actually! The Unseen University magazine did an article – in fact, I might have that one here," Fixxler said, picking up his bag and rooting around in it. "Something about a Mrs. Ogg accidentally managing to send a love note to her recently-deceased husband. And yes, they mentioned how odd it was that we figured out how to move living bodies before paper."

"So we can still write to each other! Well, that's better than nothing," Mr. Liddell declared with a grin. "Though we'll probably need your help, Elder. I know Lorina and I aren't particularly gifted magically."

"I'll be only too happy to assist," Elder Gutknecht assured him, peering into Dr. Fixxler's bag with interest. "I don't think I've ever found a copy of this down here. . .a shame. I must be so behind. . . ."

"You should take a few," Victor encouraged. "They're delightful – informative and funny."

"Could I see one too?" Mr. Liddell asked, scooting a little closer. "I've been meaning to brush up on my magical theory. Fascinating stuff. . .which means, sir, that if you have a copy, I'm going to want to see that book of yours," he added to Elder Gutknecht.

"Oh dear – we're never going to get him out of that tower now," Mrs. Liddell said, mock-laying a hand across her forehead. "I have never met a man so obsessed with paper!"

"Mama – if I may say, you're the one who married him," Alice pointed out with a grin.

"So I did," Mrs. Liddell agreed, smiling. "And it was worth every moment. Still is." She leaned forward, taking both Victor and Alice's hands. "I hope you two are as happy as we are. Whenever you feel it's time, of course."

"We've both got a few demons left to exorcise," Alice said, then looked around. "Although, admittedly. . .when I came in here, everything was knotted tree roots and demonic dice and jacks sticking out of the walls. Now. . .well, it's still a lot more colorful than I'm used to, but. . . ." She grinned. "I think I'll have some good news for Dr. Wilson once I get back."

"I'm glad," Victor said with feeling. At least one of them was improving. "And I'm working on mine. I want to be settled by Halloween myself."

"In your own time, dear," Mrs. Liddell said, squeezing his fingers. "We're just glad to have you as part of the family."

She wouldn't feel that way if she knew the real you, the voice hissed, but after what had happened with his parents Upstairs. . .it was a lot easier to ignore in favor of the warm wave of surprise and acceptance. "Thank you, Mrs. Liddell. I'm happy to be a part of it."

"Oh, call me Lorina – I don't mind," Mrs. Liddell urged him. "And I think we've spent far too much time thinking of the bad moments as it is. I'd rather hear a happier story. Like how did you come to own Scraps?"

Now there was a happy memory. Maybe sinking into those for a while would drown out the voice. At the very least, it was another good reminder of why he had to keep resisting. "There's not much to it – when I was four and a half, my father came home from the cannery saying he had a surprise for me. . . ."