Mad Hatter Through The Looking Glass Novels & Stories

Everything I need is in that pocket and everything I want is upstairs, about to walk down those steps. Beside me, Atticus stands like a statue with his arms crossed over his chest, eyes fixed at the top of the staircase as though he can will Beatrice to appear faster. I walk toward the large mirror by the front doors, catching my reflection in the glass. The man staring back looks composed, every hair in place, posture straight, expression unreadable. But underneath, my pulse is unsteady, drumming against my skin. Atticus watches me and when he exhales, it's more irritation than patience.

"But Yan—when you find her, don't try to save her. Don't try to understand her. Just... witness her. That's all any of us need. To be seen, one last time, as we really are." She turned. Tapped her way to the door. Stopped. "And check your eyes again tomorrow. Not because they’ll be gray. Because they’ll be brown. Because you need to remember that brown is yours." She left. I stood in the restroom. Alone. The broken mirror showed me three reflections, fractured, mismatched. All brown. All me. For now. I opened my notebook. Wrote: *Margaret. Y-0. The first. The blind see more.*

"Is that really you? I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me!" I frowned a little when I heard how friendly he sounded. The man was dressed in a sleek black coat that came down to his calves. He had full eyebrows, a straight, tall nose, and there was a handsome freshness about him that I could not quite put into words. Even though it was the middle of winter, he did not look all puffy. His wrist showed off a pretty silver watch. I knew that watch brand. Two years back, when Shirley came home from abroad, she gave a Patek Philippe watch to Matthew.

“A meeting with the Hatter is never a waste of time Giovanna. I warn you to watch your tongue and treat him with respect. I have seen what happens to those who do not.” Amber shivered as a chilly breeze cut through her thin clothes like a knife. But it wasn’t just the cold in the air which made her quiver. She’d also heard those stories as well. If your words offended The Mad Hatter, you would lose your tongue. If you took something which belonged to him, you’d lose your hand. If you eyed his woman too long, he’d cut out your eyes. And come to think of it repeat offenses were punishable by losing your head. It must have been the inspiration behind the kidnapper’s threat to behead Grayson.

So many questions flooded my mind as I watched him retract his wings and sit down again. Pinching myself I said, “I am sorry, this is going to take me a moment. I want to understand, so we are fated mates, everything you said is true, and I am Alice falling hard and fast down a very deep rabbit hole. Or maybe I am Dorothy. Either way this is a lot to consume.” “I get to be the Mad Hatter then! Sam and Max can fight over who gets to be the March Hare or the Dormouse,” Damen gleefully stated with a chuckle. “This is amusing to you,” I questioned with slight annoyance.