Elayra snorted at Ghent’s comment about her being ‘something else.’ “For your sake, I’ll take that as a compliment.”
She frowned when Ghent called Drust their uncle. “We already told you he’s not blood related to either of us,” she said through an impatient sigh as she turned left, a finger still rubbing over one of the feathers on her arrows.
Her frown deepened when he reiterated her statement about coffee. “That’s what I just said, isn't it?” She looked to him with a raised eyebrow.
“What about tea?”
“Tea?” she interrupted before Ghent continued. Her brows rose. “I… wouldn’t know. He’s known for many things, but a tea obsession isn’t one of them,” she said slowly, wondering where that odd question had come from. “But yes, tea is easy enough to make when you can find herbs to do so.”
She blinked at his hope, realizing that neither she nor Drust had fully explained the situation with Hatter. But he would need to know, sooner or later. Deserved to know. But her eyes narrowed at him when he continued.
“I would hope you’re not referring to Drust and me,” she growled dangerously as they turned the corner. "We aren't the crazy ones." She eyed the slouching man further down the sidewalk suspiciously, her grip on her bow tightening, but he did not seem to notice them immediately.
“Wait, what?” she snapped at Ghent’s suggestion of taking the scenic route. “Like you just said, we shouldn’t keep Drust waiting any longer!” She scowled and took an irate breath as she finally left her arrows alone and gripped the bridge of her nose. One thing at a time, she ordered herself. “Look, Ghent,” she began, unsure how to tell him about Hatter. “Your ‘old man,’ he—”
Before she could get more than that out, her attention snapped to the man when he called Ghent’s name. In an instant, she gauged the distance between him and them, decided an arrow would be sufficient at that range, and cocked and drew back her bow, her feet shifting expertly with the motion. Though ever ready to fire with the arrow aimed toward the man’s chest, she held it, unsure whether the man was friend or foe.
Elayra snarled when Ghent called her ‘your highness,’ her grip on the bow unwavering. “Shut. Up!” she bit. When he finished, she glared at him for a short moment, then slowly released her bow, preventing the arrow from firing. “Fine,” she growled grudgingly, returning the arrow to its quiver, “but don’t ever call me that, especially where enemy ears might hear!”
As the man approached, she rested her hand on the hilt of her dagger hanging beside the quiver, trying to make the action look as leisurely as possible, ever ready to draw it or her sword should the need arise.

"Now why would I be referring to you and Drust?" Ghent's smirk faded once Hatter was mentioned again. Elayra appeared reluctant to voice what she was going to say, which only made Ghent wonder if she had bad news to deliver. "He...what?"
Elayra's grip on her bow was enough for him to forget the topic of Hatter, at least for now. "Hold on! You can't go around shooting people!" Hastily, Ghent moved to lower the weapon before Miles could see what was happening. Thankfully, his interference was not required. She'd lowered the weapon on her own.
“But don’t ever call me that, especially where enemy ears might hear!”
Ghent's hands went up to the straps of his backpack as the drunkard approached, an attempt to look casual. "Too risky, huh? What am I supposed to call you, then? Do we have to go back to Blondie?"
Miles was a mystery. Some days Ghent guessed him to be in his forties, other days he wondered if he was pushing sixty. No matter what day, he always resembled an old, disheveled miner, minus the pickax.
The man eyeballed the teenagers with an air of suspicion, hands shoved deep into the pockets that was made from who-knew what kind of animal. "What're you doin out so late?"
Whoa. Miles really was in another world. Rather than point out the fact that it was early morning, Ghent shrugged, his backpack lifting slightly with the movement. "Just getting some fresh air."
"Hmph." Miles cupped his hand over a cigarette in order to light it. So much for fresh air. "Who's that?"
Ghent made it a point to keep an eye on Elayra. Hopefully Miles wouldn't say something to trigger a hostile reaction. "A girl from acting class." He'd planned his response; Elayra's attire along with her weaponry wasn't exactly normal for the city. "We're on our way to rehearsal. I'm the hero, and she's gonna be the damsel in distress." At that, Ghent smirked towards Elayra and winked just to be extra annoying. "Isn't that right, m'lady?"
Miles wasn't impressed. He eyed the weapons and drew up the collar of his moth eaten coat. "Better not let them see you totin those knives around."
Ghent raised an eyebrow. "Them?"
Miles exhaled smoke. "Cops were sniffin around earlier. Couple punks broke into the Book Barn." He looked behind his shoulder, visibly nervous. "Ain't that where you work?"
Acting wasn't necessary. Ghent was genuinely shocked. Frank was incredibly passive; he wouldn't have called the police unless he absolutely had to. Drust and the Shadowmire must have left the place in shambles. "Uh...yeah...well, I used to."
Miles appeared suspicious again, but the sounds of oncoming traffic encouraged him to get moving. "If I were you, I'd take off before they start pointin fingers."
With the smoke violating his lungs, Ghent cleared his throat, thankful that Miles was headed in the opposite direction. "Er...right, I'll do that. See you around, Miles."
This complicated things. Ghent didn't want to risk running into anyone else -- especially the police.
"Sorry about that." Miles was hardly his responsibility, but Ghent felt the need to apologize for the man. "Don't suppose that portal of yours can meet us halfway, can it?"

“What do you have against my name?” Elayra snapped, keeping her voice low enough that it would not carry to the man as he drew ever closer. “Elayra,” she enunciated it slowly. “It’s not that hard.” She looked back to Miles as he nearly finished closing the distance between them. “I take it you know this man?”
Realizing the shield above them may gain extra unwanted attention, she shifted her focus away from the magic maintaining it. Without her direction, it burst once more into a glittering dust that vanished quickly in the rain. “And for the record,” she added as the raindrops at last managed to reach them in full, “I wasn’t going to shoot him. Yet, anyway.”
When Miles stopped in front of them, Elayra returned his gaze, her suspicion far heavier than his as she looked him over. She glanced to his hands, hidden in his pockets, and her grip on the dagger tightened slightly. There was no telling what he could be hiding inside.
“‘Late?’” she repeated, then glanced up at the sky as Ghent answered him, blinking away raindrops, but the cloud cover still made it impossible to tell what time it was. Though, it did look like the clouds had lightened ever so slightly.
She tensed when the man withdrew his hands from his pockets, pulling out an unusual rectangular device no larger than his thumb. Unsure what to expect, she shifted her left foot slightly behind her, ever tense, when he flicked its top and a flame ignited easily from it. She had seen devices with similar capabilities in Wonderland, but none as small as his. Curiosity momentary getting the better of her, she moved to get a better look as he lit his cigarette.
She gave Ghent a sideways look when the man asked about her, wondering how he planned on answering.
At the prospect of her being his ‘damsel in distress,’ her face scrunched up with the effort of suppressing a snarl. As much as she wanted to scold him for suggesting such a thing, his wink only making her efforts against it that much more difficult, they needed to get rid of Miles. If Ghent's lie would get that job done, she could not risk disillusioning the man further than he already looked to be. Instead, she forced a tight smile that would not fool anyone, and her eyes narrowed as Miles eyed her weapons.
“‘Them?’” she asked at the same time as Ghent, her her expression sobering, becoming more worried and alert. “Them who?”
Though his answer made little sense to her, she understood one thing: it shocked Ghent.
She glanced between the two as they exchanged their final words, the smell of the smoke rising from his cigarette and flooding from his lungs threatening to make her choak. Tobacco was not an unfamiliar scent to her, but whatever kind of substance that was, it smelt like it must have been a few centuries past its expiration date. She held her breath.
She turned to watch Miles go, taking the smoke with him as she made sure he did not decide to return. Once he had rounded the corner, she glanced to Ghent’s side, then punched him in the arm, hard, just as he apologized.
“That’s for calling me a damsel in distress,” she snarled, glaring at him. She snorted at his question. “Sure,” she began, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Let me just summon the Mystics from the grave. No, it can’t meet us halfway!” She gave a growling sigh. Whatever Miles’ words had meant to him, had apparently been enough to concern him. “What are ‘cops’ and ‘punks’ in this world that they’d make you suggest that?”

"Ouch! Hey!" Ghent expected payback. What he didn't expect was Elayra to punch with the strength of a trained black belt.
How could someone so small pack such a wallop? "I was only trying to throw him off our trail!"
This wasn't true, for Ghent hadn't tired of making himself a nuisance. Elayra's hot-tempered reactions fueled his antics and he got a thrill out of seeing how far he could go. For the sake of his own well being, Ghent decided to tread lightly again if she was going to retaliate with physical blows.
"So I can shoot bolts of lightning from my hands, but a portal can't meet up with us?" Grumbling, he rubbed his arm where he'd been socked, convinced that Elayra had used magic to hit him. No way she could punch that hard.
"I guess in Wonderland, you'd call cops 'guards.'" Continuing to rub his arm, Ghent observed a car turning down their street, the driver an elderly woman. "And punks, well, that'd be us. We kinda broke the law."
Breaking and entering wasn't the best of ideas, but Ghent thought they could get away with it. He'd justified it to himself; Frank wouldn't have minded them borrowing the back room, it was the Shadowmire attack that made things messy.
"Just for the record, no one would've known we were there if you hadn't brought those ghouls along." Ghent wasn't taking accountability for his role in this -- why should he admit that his plan had been a bad one?
"Well, if the portal's not gonna meet us, we'll just have to risk it." With a sigh, he unzipped his backpack and held it out to Elayra. "Miles may be crazy, but he's got a point. If the cops see that you're armed, we're in for some trouble." With a nod, he gestured to her dagger. "We'll start by hiding that."

Elayra glowered at Ghent at his explanation. “You couldn’t think of anything better? After all,” she smirked as she continued, “you’re more the ‘damsel in distress’ in this equation.”
She gave a snorting, mocking laugh at him shooting bolts of lightning. “You were trying to make a shield. Not lightning bolts. That’s what we would call a successful failure. Or perhaps a failed success.” A smug smile spread over her lips when she noticed him rubbing his arm where she had hit him. She gave a sigh as the expression turned to a frown. The guy can’t even take a punch.
When he finished answering her questions, she placed a hand on her hip. “Portal magic’s practically impossible to control. Supposedly, only their original creators could force them to move. And I have no idea where the others are here, or how to locate them.”
She glanced down the street, her foot tapping impatiently against the pavement. They needed to get back to Wonderland, even if that meant going through these ‘cops.’
“Excuse me?” she growled when he blamed her and Drust for the Shadowmire’s appearance and the situation at hand. “We didn’t bring them!” She took a threatening step toward him. “And you’re the one who suggested the storeroom! If we hadn't been here, I’d bet my bow they’d have picked up your scent and attacked. No matter how long you’ve been here, you’re still a Wonderlander. And where do you think you’d be if we haden’t been there, and dealt with them somewhere deserted, huh, Featherhead?” She jabbed a finger angrily at his chest, and answered her own question without giving Ghent the chance to speak. “Dead,” she drew her thumb across her throat, “that’s where! You and everyone unlucky enough to get in their way! That’s how they work. How the Red Sorceress works.” She spat the title, hatred flashing in her gray eyes. Her fingers balled into a fist as she returned her hand to her side and continued. “They’ll stop at nothing to get what they want.”
Elayra took a heated breath and turned her back to Ghent, putting a couple feet between them and glaring murderously at the ground. “She doesn’t care how many people she has to hurt or kill to keep her reign,” she added quietly, bitterly, her voice nearly drowned out by the patter of the rain.
She turned back toward him at the sound of the zipper, and eyed him warily when he held his open backpack out to her. She raised her eyebrows and gave a humorless chuckle at his attempt at hiding her dagger, having no desire to be weaponless.
“I have a bow, arrows, and a sword. Do you seriously think hiding a dagger would do any good? Besides. If your ‘cops’ spot us and want to give us trouble,” she drew her saber and shifted her body so she could swinging the long blade in an impressive show without hurting Ghent, as tempting as the thought may have been. She winced slightly when the quick movements made her pack shift painfully over the bruise on her back, and her side ache slightly, but she did not falter; she stopped in a stance with the sword ready for attack, and her bow held out to her side, waiting for use as a blunt weapon, “then bring it.”

Foisting off the blame didn't go over well. At all. The accusation ignited Elaya's temper, and she didn't hesitate to set the facts straight. Ghent stepped back, but not far enough to escape her wrath. Eyes wide, he looked to the finger she'd jammed against his chest, amazed by the intolerance she had for his comments.
"Alright, alright! You didn't bring them, they followed you," he attempted to reword what he'd said, even though it was too late for that. He'd scarcely a chance to defend himself; Elaya was so riled that he'd no choice but to stand still, shut up, and listen.
At first, Ghent was prepared to argue. As Elayra went on, he started to see the bigger picture. He started to understand why she was justified in her anger.
“They’ll stop at nothing to get what they want.”
This was enough for Ghent to feel a sharp twinge of guilt, for he knew that Elayra spoke from experience. It was easy for him to forget that she had been through a lot; Elayra was the epitome of stoic.
Uncomfortable with his guilt, Ghent dared to speak up after she was through. "I'm..." He was ready to offer his condolences, but he stopped himself in time. Elayra didn't want his sympathy -- she'd already made that clear. "...Never mind."
The refusal to hand over the dagger earned a sigh from him, and he dropped his arm back to his side.
"I'm aware of your arsenal," the words were sarcastic, though his tone had been stripped of it. "If you want to get to Wonderland, we'll have to ditch them." By all accounts, the plan was a poor one. Hide the weapons, even if that meant leaving the majority behind. Getting past a pedestrian was simple enough -- Ghent could lie his way out, should he need to. But the police? Never. The very thought made him nervous, but not Elayra. The talk of the cops hadn't scared her; she was willing to fight them.
"You're kidding, right?" When the sword was drawn, Ghent ran a hand through his dampened hair, convinced that Elayra's hotheadedness would land them in jail or worse.
"You've never seen a gun, have you?" He looked around, unintentionally mimicking Miles' nervous mannerisms. "If you go at a cop with a sword like that, they'll shoot you on sight!" The more Ghent thought about this, the less he liked it. "They'll shoot me, too!"
Their options were limited, and Ghent grew increasingly uneasy. He hadn't any personal experience in dealing with the police, only stories to go from. Mrs. Saxon was always sharing gruesome tales from the news; many of which involved the police dealing with 'young ruffians and hoodlums'. Ghent didn't want to become the next cautionary tale.
"Maybe...maybe we should wait. They'll leave soon enough." The police had better things to do than to hang around an old bookstore all day; a few hours wouldn't hurt, would it? "Drust would understand, wouldn't he?"
Ghent knew the answer. No way would Drust understand. Ghent could already imagine the black webbing around his eyes, consuming his pupils until he snapped. . .
"Fine! You can keep them. We'll just have to risk it!" With a loud sigh of defeat, he shouldered his pack again, convinced that Elayra wouldn't give up the smallest of weapons. "But you can't draw any weapons! You may know the risks of Wonderland, but I know the risks here." Ghent was visibly frazzled, disturbed by the thought of being confronted by an officer with this girl. "Got it?"

“Ditch them?” Elayra hissed, her tone and expression displaying how stupid of an idea she thought that was. Hiding them outside her quick reach was one thing, but abandoning them completely was another. “You’re daft! You have no idea how hard good weapons are to come by! It’s not like we can waltz into a blacksmith’s shop and order new ones. Well, I suppose we could, but we’d end up being attacked by a Forsaken blacksmith.”
She lowered her stance when Ghent asked about something called a gun. She raised her brows at him. At least he finally seemed to be paying more attention to their surroundings. “The word sounds familiar. But no.”
At Ghent’s suggestion of them waiting and Drust understanding, Elayra gave a single, snorted laugh as she sheathed her sword, the weapon clicking into place violently. “Why don’t you ask the Sorceress that once her beasts catch us because we weren’t gone before they had time to get to Hollow Hill?”
She gave a smug smile when he agreed to her keeping her weapons, but the expression did not last long. Once Ghent finished, he stared at him a long moment, scowling. Regrettably, he made a good point. This place was nothing like her world, and all she knew about it was what little she had seen, and Ghent had shared with Drust and her. Which meant he would likely know better than her how to best wrestle with the cops and get past them to the portal. Even if doing that without weapons was a foreign, neigh inconceivable idea to her.
Elayra let out a growled sigh, her eyes narrowed in frustration. “You’re right,” she conceded in a hiss as if the words themselves were painful to say. “But I am not leaving my weapons behind!”
She strode to the nearest building's wall, her steps heavy against the pavement and the short heel on her boots making splashing clicks. With her platinum hair now sticking to her face from its wetness, and raindrops running annoyingly down her scalp, she quickly re-summoned her rain guard, then leaned her bow against the wall. Without the irritant of the rain, she shrugged out of her pack, which managed to remain a bit dryer than her, placed it at her feet, and undid the buckles keeping the flap of the main compartment in place.
With it open, she gripped her bow and grudgingly fed it into the pack. Though the depth of the pack was far shorter than the length of the bow, the weapon impossibly disappeared inside. Once it was put away, she proceeded to unhook her sword and quiver from her belt, and repeated the process, carefully placing them inside before refastening the front flap.
Straightening, she tested the weight of the pack, which had grown with the addition of the weapons. She slung the pack back over her shoulders, doing her best to prevent irritating the ill-placed bruise, then took her time unhooking her dagger. Once it was freed, she bent down to place it her boot, where she could still hopefully have semi-quick access to it should the need for it arise.
Feeling rather naked and vulnerable without her arsenal in quick reach, she turned back to Ghent and crossed her arms heavily, her gaze and expression dark.
“Happy now?” she spat. “We’ve wasted enough time.” She jerked her head down the street with a motion worthy of an irate Drust.

Ghent kept his distance. For the most part, he was unfamiliar with the opposite gender, but he did know that females tended to be particular and overprotective when it came to their belongings. Elayra may have been different from the girls at school, but she was a still a girl. Ghent didn't want to give her yet another reason to be angry with him.
Wrapping the drawstring of his hoodie around his finger, Ghent surveyed the street, another attempt to appear alert, when in reality he was beginning to think about coffee again. Coffee cake, to be precise. Cake of any flavor would have been welcomed now, he'd skipped breakfast, and he was beginning to suspect that Elayra had too, unless she'd packed some food along.
Before he'd a chance to further daydream about dessert, Ghent noticed that Elayra was removing her weapons, placing them into the pack. That isn't going to work. Ghent scoffed to himself, tempted to say so out loud, but he decided she would find out without his help. Amazingly, both weapons fit, stashed away as if they never existed in the first place.
"No way! Where'd you get the Mary Poppins bag?" Forgetting his former decision to hang back, Ghent approached, invading her personal space just to get a better look. One would think that magical bolts and demonic creatures would have prepared him for this, but it hadn't. This seemed to impress him the most of all.
"That's sick! Does it weigh much? I'll have to get one of those," he looked on with wonder, envying the fact that the pack was not his own. Somehow, his means of luggage didn't seem quite as exciting anymore.
"Well, I'd be happier if it stopped raining," Ghent answered her question, choosing to ignore her angered tone. "And I'd be happier with some food! You didn't eat today, did you?" He started walking again, keeping as close to her as he dared in order to reap the benefits of the rain shield.
"Want to know what I think?" Ghent dug through his backpack, resulting in a few clings of cans and crinkling of wrappers. "I think you're hangry," he diagnosed the blonde, prattling on as they made their way down the sidewalk. "That's why you're angrier at me than usual. Luckily for you, I came prepared."
While packing, Ghent thought with his stomach rather than his head. The backpack contained a ridiculous amount of junk food; so much that he'd had to sacrifice a few articles of clothing in order to fit them all.
"Here you go. Taste the rainbow," he tore open a bag of Skittles, passed it to her, then did the same for himself. "So...if you're wondering what a gun is, it's shaped like this," he freed one hand, mimicking the shape best he could with his palm and fingers. "It shoots bullets. They sorta look like these, I guess," he referred to the candy, chewing thoughtfully as he narrowly dodged a puddle. "Bet a Shadowmire wouldn't last long with a bullet in it."
Ghent was so busy talking, that he didn't notice the beat up Station Wagon turning onto their street from behind. The vehicle was moving at a slow crawl, the driver slouched, with bloodshot eyes ever watchful.

Elayra’s brows rose at Ghent’s inquiry and amazed excitement about her pack. Apparently, Earth lacked a similar convince.
“Mary who?” she snapped, angling herself so there was a little extra space between her and Ghent. She huffed a sigh at his further questions. “The enchantment on it to make it lighter has started to wear off. But it’s only a portion of the weight it should be. Thankfully, the Curse didn’t effect all items with preexisting enchantments. But good luck finding one.” She snorted.
Elayra only shook her head at the question of food and walked just to his left, glancing at him from the corner of her eye. Noticing him keeping tentatively close to her, she glanced up at the small rain guard.
She took a breath, moving more of her focus to the shield than necessary to maintain it, then muttered a simple, “Extendo,” as she waved her hand toward it and Ghent.
At the order, the shield glittered and expanded with the motion of her hand to hover over the both of them.
“Want to know what I think?”
“Would my saying ‘no’ prevent you from telling me?” she grumbled. But, alas, he continued regardless.
Her brows furrowed, and she turned her head toward him. “You think I’m what?” She let out a single chuckle through her nose at his reason for his diagnoses. “Or maybe you’re just extra annoying in the mornings.”
She eyed him as he reached back to a pouch in his pack, and pulled out what looked like a colorful envelope with the word, “Skittles” on one side. She watched him curiously as he tore the pack open, then handed it to her. She hesitated.
“Taste the…” Slowly, she took the pack, glancing between it and the sidewalk ahead of them, watching for anyone else who may cross their path, be they from Earth or Wonderland. “So, people here have managed to discover and bottle the ‘taste of a rainbow,’ yet don’t have magic?” she asked dubiously, watching him as he used the convex candies to aid in describing a bullet.
“Hopefully we won’t have to find out,” she offered at his conclusion. And hopefully Drust hasn’t had any problems with them, she added to herself, concern for her guardian flashing in her eyes. There was no telling what, if anything, had been waiting for him on the other side of the portal. Had the Shadowmire already returned to the Sorceress? Could she have already sent others to find them? Would she and Ghent find Drust waiting for them, safe in Wonderland, or the Red Queen herself?
Elayra scowled and looked to the side, trying to dispel the thoughts as her regret of having to hide her weapons deepened.
“Here,” she said gruffly, handing the pack back to Ghent. The car following them went unnoticed, the rumble of its engine overpowered by distance and the pattering rain. “Save your rations. I have my own if I need them.”

"Mary Poppins." Ghent tilted his head back, only to be hit in the eye with an ill-timed raindrop. "She's basically the world's best babysitter, and she's got a magic bag just like yours."
The statement was completely contradicting to his further claims, so Ghent rubbed at his eye and elaborated before Elayra pointed it out, which he was certain she would. "She isn't real, though. Cause, as you well know," he cleared his throat, preparing to repeat the phrase he hadn't tired of: "Magic doesn't exist here."
The news regarding the bag being rare was disappointing -- couldn't Wonderland have a magic item shop or something? -- but it gave Ghent room to complain, so that was just as good.
"Well, I wish *you* would've cast a hex on my backpack. I had to leave all my prized possessions behind!" He sighed at the inconvenience, all while wondering how many other snacks he may have stored if this had been done beforehand. If coffee was hard to come by in Wonderland, Ghent had a feeling sweets and anything worthwhile were nonexistent.
Since Elayra was good enough to extend the magical shield his way, Ghent smiled his thanks and put a larger distance between them. He didn't want to invade her space any more than necessary, and he didn't want to be in range of another punch, should he rile her again.
"Hangry. You're angry because you're hungry." Ghent looked at her for her reaction, convinced that he was right. "After you eat, you'll see the world in a new light! You'll realize how charming I am."
“So, people here have managed to discover and bottle the ‘taste of a rainbow,’ yet don’t have magic?”
"Yup. Here on Earth, we've got our priorities in order." Ghent wasn't paying attention to his surroundings anymore, he was too busy sorting through a handful of candy. Once he'd gotten his favorite flavors together, he dumped the candy into his mouth, close to laughing when he saw Elayra's less-than-amused expression.
"It really bugs you that we're this advanced without the use of magic, doesn't it?" He smirked at her with an air of arrogance, painfully oblivious to the station wagon creeping along after them.
"Most of what we've got, we owe to science. Magic's cool and all, but Wonderland sounds primitive in comparison. You guys need some serious upgrades." He frowned, reconsidering his choice of words. "Or, we do. I keep forgetting that I'm one of you." This hadn't yet sunk it, and Ghent wondered if it ever would. He'd lived his life on Earth, and he wasn't sure if he could (or should) accept this change of title.
The two teenagers were close to rounding the corner when Ghent accepted the pack, dumbfounded by her refusal.
"Seriously?" He opened his mouth to ask who in their right mind turned down candy, but he stopped, catching sight of a rather disturbing image in the reflection of the shop window.
A few feet away, a familiar, beat up station wagon rolled to a slow stop. What the heck? Ghent stared at the reflection, his heart beating faster when he realized that Miles had been following them for who-knew how long.
"Drop the shield," he whispered urgently, although by now he knew it was too late. A low rumble of thunder sounded, and the rain chose that moment to fall heavier than it had been. Ghent hoped that Miles would leave, but he didn't. Miles pulled up closer and rolled the window down, his hawkish eyes unblinking.
"Get in," he demanded in a growl as Ghent turned to face him, balking at the order. This wasn't an invitation, this was a threat.

Elayra’s brows rose in an irritated warning when Ghent cleared his throat after his explanation of Mary Poppins. She gave something somewhere between a snort and a growl when he finished with his all too familiar phrase.
“I’ve met some pretty thick-headed people,” she growled, “but you top them all, Featherhead. You proved that statement wrong just a few minutes ago! Not to mention…” she let the words trail off as she jerked her head upward toward the shield.
She scowled at Ghent’s complaints about his bag versus hers. If the Sorceress doesn’t kill him, she thought, I will.
“Haven’t you heard anything Drust and I have told you?” She turned a dark glare on him. “No one outside the Sorceress’ little circle can cast that kind of magic anymore. At least, no one you would want to ask for that kind of help from.” Her nose crinkled and she snorted as she finished.
“It really bugs you that we're this advanced without the use of magic, doesn't it?”
“What ‘bugs’ me is your incessant insistence that it doesn’t even exist!” Her hands clenched at her side as he continued.
“Well,” she began in a dangerously low voice at his opinion of Wonderland and its need for ‘upgrading,’ paying no attention to his surprise at her returning the candy. “If you can find anyone left who isn’t Curse-ridden, one of the Sorceress’ followers, or at risk of being hunted down and torn apart by the ‘Red Queen’ if they so much as put a toe where she can see it,” she turned her gaze fully to Ghent, only the need of returning to Drust preventing her from stopping to give him a better piece of her mind, “then by all means, tell them that! What we’ve got, we owe to survival, not—”
Elayra’s words cut off as, from over Ghent’s shoulder, she noticed the vehicle as it came to a crawling stop at about the same time her companion saw it as a reflection. She angled herself defensively toward the station wagon as Ghent gave his order, and instinctively reached to draw her sword. The shield burst into glittering mist. Her face twisted in a growl when she gripped only empty air where her hilt should be, the thunder making her jump as the downpour intensified.
As the vehicle drew closer, she could make out the driver from behind the windshield, his face distorted slightly by the rain as the wipers struggled to keep the glass clear; the man they had encountered on the street had followed them.
Mentally scolding herself for not taking notice of their stalker earlier, her muscles tensed as he pulled up to the curb, and rolled down the window.
“Get in.”
Despite the threat in the man’s tone and his potential advantage from inside the station wagon, Elayra laughed at his demand. Hating her lack of weapons and running the few offensive focus words she knew through her head, she met his gaze with a mocking expression, a smirk on her lips. All the same, her gray eyes remained ever wary as she watched for any signs of attack.
“Not going to happen!” She placed a hand on her hip, ignoring the thick raindrops drumming against her scalp and dripping down her back. “Wouldn’t want to miss rehearsal, now, would we? C’mon.” She gripped Ghent’s arm and moved to pull him away from the wagon toward a narrow alleyway between buildings a few yards ahead of them, careful to not fully turn her back on Miles.

"I don't believe it." Face drained of what little color remained, Ghent staggered back with Elayra. "Morbid Miles just tried to kidnap us!" Up until now, he'd never a reason to use the title. The addition of 'Morbid' was something he overheard Mrs. Saxon say.
"Blasted kids," Miles gripped the steering wheel tighter, visibly agitated by Elayra's refusal. Squeezing his eyes shut, he mumbled incoherently to himself before leaning out the window. "Wait! I can take you there," this time, he tried to make this sound less like a threat and more like an invitation, but it did little to calm Ghent's imagination.
"Nah, we're good!" Ghent flashed a not-too-convincing grin, waving to keep things friendly. Had it not been raining, he would have been perspiring from nerves alone. In his mind, 'morbid' translated to 'insane' and he didn't fancy finding out if the man deserved such a name. "Thanks anyway!"
When Miles didn't respond and leaned over towards the glove compartment, Ghent felt his stomach flip.
"Oh no. No, not good! I think he's got a gun!" Although he wanted to, Ghent refrained from breaking into a run. Miles was more unstable than usual, he could shoot on impulse.
"Quick! What was the spell you taught me?" Desperate, Ghent turned his attention to Elayra, believing that a well aimed bolt would be more than enough to scare the drunkard off. The wording of the question didn't sit quite right with him, so Ghent was quick to rephrase it.
"Well, actually, you didn't teach me..." Despite being crippled with fear two seconds ago, Ghent smirked at the memory and buffed his fingernails against his hoodie. "I taught myself that one. Guess those're the perks, being The Hatter's son and all."
While Ghent was busy bragging on his newly discovered heritage, Miles exited the still-running vehicle, pistol in hand. "Don't move!" He waved the weapon to draw attention, graying hair sticking to his face in every which direction. "Ghent! You're going to hear me out, boy!"
Ghent recoiled in shock. For once in his life, he'd been right to jump to conclusions. Miles really did have a gun. "Whoa! Okay, calm down!" Voice a pitch higher than usual, he raised both hands to surrender, motioning for Elayra mimic the action. "Elayra, seriously. Don't antagonize him!"
Too late. Miles was antagonized. "Quiet! Rehearsal's over." Both hands shaking, Miles gripped the pistol, his intense gaze flickering between both teenagers. Unlike before, he was no longer hunched over, he was standing at his full height. "I know where you're really going...and I'm coming with."

Glad he at least let her pull him away, Elayra glanced to Ghent at the epithet he used for Miles. At least now she had some sort of name to match to the face. “Thanks for the update, Featherhead,” she bit in a hushed tone. “Still think it was a good idea for me to hide my—?”
Her words cut off when Miles called to them, bidding them to wait. Once Ghent gave his answer, Elayra tried to hurry him toward the alley.
“I think he’s got a gun!”
Though the word did not hold the same severity to Elayra as it did Ghent, a weapon was a weapon. She released her hold on him, reached into her boot, and drew the dagger she had hidden there. She looked to Ghent as he asked about the shield focus word.
“Tuito,” she answered hurriedly. She had no idea if the magic shield would hold against a gun, but it was better than nothing. If he could manage the simple spell, that was.
Realization dawned on her when he elaborated. She scowled when his potential brilliance turned into gloating as she tossed the dagger just high enough for it to flip over, her fingers easily catching the tip.
“Not the time, you dolt! And you almost fried me!” she snapped. Her gray eyes locked on the pistol the man brandished wildly.
A gun. Now that she had one waving only a couple yards away, it made the memory of where she had heard the term rise from its dusty corner of her mind. She had seen a pencil drawing of one years ago in a journal kept by a now dead World-Jumper. He had compared it to a bow, only easier to use and with far more punch.
She could see Ghent’s desire to run in his eyes. Torn between stepping between him and Miles, and standing behind him to try avoid getting electrocuted if he chose to use his magic, Elayra remained beside him, her dagger posed to throw.
“Come closer and see what happens!” she growled before Ghent tried to appease him, her voice mingling with the steady patter of the rain.
She cast him half a glance when he told her to not antagonize him just a little too late, motioning for her to copy him as he raised his arms. She looked fully back to Miles when he spoke, a crazed gleam in his eyes. A gleam she knew a bit about. But he was not Drust. She knew what fueled the Curse in her guardian, but this man, someone from Earth, was something else entirely.
She glanced nervously to Miles’ shaking hands. An unstable grip did not bode well with a bow and arrows. She could only imagine that it was the same with a gun.
Instead of mimicking Ghent, she slowly raised her empty hand toward Miles, showing it was empty, and bent slowly to place her dagger on the ground. But then, he gave his final demand. She froze, staring at him, hard, for a long moment.
How could he know? Was he a spy for the Sorceress, or something else? Another glance toward his shaking hands made her pull from the questions running through her head and complete the action of placing the dagger on the sidewalk near her feet. If he was a spy, he was an inexperienced one.
“It’s Miles, right?” she asked cautiously as she slowly straightened. If he was not a spy, she could at least try to talk him down. “Look. You’re the one with the powerful weapon here. Whatever it is you want, how about you put that thing,” she nodded to his gun, “down, and we’ll have a nice, civil chat about it. Just the three of us. Somewhere out of this rain.” She held a hand to the side, letting the drops collect in her palm, more drops running down her face as they dripped from the strands of hair plastered to her face. “Unless you enjoy looking like you just crawled out form Swall—” she cleared her throat, stopping herself from giving a specific name, just in case he had been sent to find them. “From a swamp,” she tried to amend quickly.

"Why the heck would he want to come?!" Ghent hissed, keeping his voice low enough for only Elayra to hear. This was impossible for him to wrap his mind around. It made no sense that Miles should want to come, it made even less sense that he should know of Wonderland's existence. "I thought Wonderland had tea, not booze!"
Miles took a step forward. Ghent couldn't tell if he was glaring because of the remark, or if he was squinting because of the downpour. Either way, Miles looked angry, which was rather out of character for the quiet, skittish man Ghent passed on the daily.
"I know what you're thinking, but I didn't tell him." Elayra hadn't blamed him, but Ghent whispered the disclaimer just in case. He didn't need to give her another reason to dub him a dolt or Featherhead. "Elayra, get behind me, I won't hit you. I'll zap him with magic and we can run for it!"
Miles' eyes darted between the two. His paranoia increased when he could not overhear the discussion between the teenagers, and this resulted in his hands shaking even more. "I said quiet!"
Ghent stiffened, raising his hands higher to show he still surrendered. To his relief, Elayra surrendered too, but in a different way.
"We’ll have a nice, civil chat about it."
A civil chat, yeah right! Ghent scoffed in his head. A hotheaded princess and a deranged drunk wouldn't remain civil for very long.
While Ghent inwardly panicked, Miles eyed the surrendered dagger. He listened to Elayra, brow furrowed as he considered the proposition. "Just the three of us..." He turned towards his vehicle, mumbling to someone who wasn't actually there. After what felt a lifetime to Ghent, the man started to lower the gun, blinking once.
"There'll be no tricks," Miles warned sharply. "No sudden moves...no cops." The word was spat with detest.
Ghent began to smirk, a plan already forming in his mind.
Miles snarled, waving the gun towards them. "And no magic."
Ghent's smirk vanished.
"Yeah, that's right...I know more than you think." Miles gripped the weapon tighter and spit on the pavement. "I'm not a fool, and I don't take kindly to being treated like one."
Elayra's almost-slip up didn't go unnoticed. Miles observed her with scrutiny, taking a few steps back towards his station wagon. "I'll repeat what I said before," he pulled open the back door. "Get in, both of you."
The distant sounds of traffic drifted in and out throughout their exchange. Not a single car passed them by, much to Ghent's dismay. "Wait! How do we know you aren't trying to kidnap us?"
Miles shot him a withering look. "Do you honestly think I'd kidnap you with the cops around the corner?"
Ghent swallowed. "Well, no but..."
Miles climbed into the drivers seat, hands resting on the steering wheel. He sighed heavily, pistol gripped in his right hand. "I don't have all day, and neither do you! Get moving before this becomes uncivil!"
Ghent glowered and removed his backpack before tossing it into the vehicle with a soft thud. "After you, your..." he stopped himself right in time. Calling Elayra 'your highness' wasn't a good idea. Especially not in front of Miles. "You're...forgetting your dagger!" Although the cover-up was embarrassingly bad, it worked. After a beat, Ghent cleared his throat, awaiting permission to retrieve the weapon.
Is this kid for real? Miles gripped the steering wheel, teeth grit. Ghent was chipping away at what little patience he had left. "Yeah, go ahead! Just hurry it up!"
Ghent retraced his steps, recovered the weapon from the ground, and returned it to Elayra. "You're welcome," he smirked smugly, leaning one arm against the open door while gesturing towards the backseat with his hand. "Ladies first."

Elayra shot Ghent an irate look when he asked about Miles, mingling with another inaccurate thought of his of her home. “Whatever you think you know, forget it!” she hissed quietly through her teeth, emphasizing each syllable of the last two words.
With her weapon on the ground, it took no small amount of willpower to avoid snatching it back up and throwing it at him. But she had no desire to find out what kind of damage a gun could do. As inconspicuously as she could, she took a small step back as Miles mulled over her offer, trying to place herself a bit behind Ghent. If Miles did not back down, she hoped an electric bolt would be quicker than the man’s pistol.
“Be ready,” she muttered to Ghent, moving her lips as little as possible to avoid further upsetting Miles.
“Just the three of us…”
Elayra made a slow, deep nod in confirmation. When he looked back to his station wagon, Elayra’s gaze flitted between him and the dagger, aching to grab it and take advantage of even the second’s distraction, but she forced herself to stay in place before the barrel of the unfamiliar weapon.
Elayra blinked in surprise when, at long last, Miles lowered the gun. It had actually worked. And it had been a lot easier than it normally was with Drust. Her surprise changed to a scowl when she saw Ghent smirk at Mile’s demands in the corner of her eye, an almost proud smirk, and she moved to kick him in the shin in warning.
Her attention snapped back to miles when Ghent’s expression made the man wave his gun back to them. She cast Ghent a cross glance, the threat of murder in it if he made Miles use the weapon, but then his final demand made her inhale.
He knew about magic.
They could have downplayed his statement of knowing “where you’re really going,” tried to play dumb, but magic was not something she could easily deny, especially if he saw her rain shield. Elayra’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. She looked him over again, searching for any sign he was working with the Sorceress, perhaps placed in this world before the Curse. After all, they had just agreed to willingly go with him. That could be exactly what he had been going for.
She took careful note of how he opened the back door of the vehicle, taking in the layout as well as she could from the sidewalk. The inside was small, and even if Ghent did try to use magic in there, she doubted it would end well for any of them. She glanced longingly at her dagger, as if saying a farewell to a best friend on their death bed, as she stepped around it and walked slowly toward the wagon with Ghent.
During Ghent and Miles’ exchange about kidnapping, she looked down the street in the direction they had been heading, the direction toward the portal to Wonderland.
Sorry, Drust, she thought bitterly. We’re going to be a bit late.
She reluctantly started to remove her own pack as Ghent tossed his inside, her back stiffening when it rubbed against the bruise beneath it. She looked to Miles through the open window, assessing his position verses where they would be. Her gaze lingered for a moment on the space between the front seats.
Her angered gaze snapped to Ghent when she caught onto the tone of the beginning of the title he had begun to favor using, but thankfully, he caught himself. She gave a slight, approving nod when he amended the statement.
“Well, if Miles would be so kind as to allow me to keep it?” The hint of calm kindness she tried to use came out stiff, almost as if it pained her.
At the man’s okay, she did her best to hide a satisfied grin as she followed after Ghent as he went to retrieve it, bending down as he did.
“As soon as we’re in,” she began in a rushed whisper as she let Ghent grab her dagger first, her back to the car so Miles would not see her mouth moving, “watch for my signal, then reach for his gun. Just keep him from shooting either of us.” She turned back toward the wagon with Ghent, and took her dagger from him. “Think you can do that?” she asked, nodding to try making the words look like a thanks as she bent and carefully replaced it in the opposite boot as its sheath, the hilt keeping it from sinking all the way down as they returned to the wagon.
“Ladies first.”
Elayra glowered at him. “Don’t think so, Featherhead. You first.” She jerked her head toward the backseat, ready to follow him inside so she would be sitting directly behind Miles, her pack hanging by a strap in her hand.

Ghent kept his movements slow to buy extra time. He held eye contact with Elayra while she gave instruction, amazed by her ability to think clearly despite the situation. "Watch for your signal. Got it." He could hear his heart beating in his ears. As much as he hated the plan, he knew that grappling for the gun was the only option they had. There wasn't time to create a backup plan.
Returning to the car, Ghent leaned against the door to appear casual. He waited for Elayra to enter the vehicle, only to be told that he was to enter first.
Ghent's arrogant 'you-owe-me' smirk vanished. Elayra referred to him as Featherhead again. He was guilty of giving Elayra half a dozen nicknames, but he didn't believe any of them came close to Featherhead. Although he didn't want to respond to the name, now wasn't the time to protest. Miles was watching them impatiently.
"As you wis--ouch!" Ghent didn't get to finish the quote. He misjudged the height of the ceiling and smacked his head on the way inside. Had he been paying attention to the review mirror, he would have seen Miles roll his eyes.
"Well, isn't this cozy?" The back seat offered very little room, no thanks to the collection of clutter strewn about. Sneakers hitting a few empty cans, Ghent pushed aside a large cardboard box in order to make space to sit. As he anticipated, the vehicle reeked of smoke.
Cleaning off the seat was futile, so Ghent brushed some of his wet hair out of his eyes and was forced to sit in the middle seat among the cassette tapes, cigarette remnants, and loose change. "The coast is clear, Goldilocks," he told the blonde, curious as to how she would react to the wagon. Wonderland couldn't have had cars.
"Keep those hands where I can see them." Miles watched the pair with less intensity than before. If anything, he appeared annoyed, irritated by the time it had taken to round them up. "If you see the cops, duck. Understood?"
Ghent liked paranoid Miles a whole lot more than lieutenant Miles. "Understood," he moved his hands to appease the man, noting that being in the middle seat was beneficial since he was closer to the gun.
Once both teenagers were inside, the wagon started to move. The rain obscured the view from all angles, creating an illusion that it was a lot later in the day than it actually was. Even if Miles had a destination in mind, Ghent couldn't tell where they were going.
"So...Wonderland." While he waited for the signal, Ghent decided to keep Miles talking in an effort to distract him and possibly figure out how he knew so much. "You'd mentioned wanting to come with us?"
Miles gave a solid nod, looking up into the mirror every few seconds. "Yes," he responded hastily, a hint of desperation in the answer. "That's why...not a lot of options," he began to mumble nonsense to himself. "Had to snatch you kids before the cops did."
Ghent glanced towards Elayra, visibly disturbed by the gibberish. "Er...right..."
Without warning, Miles slammed on the breaks and turned around to face them. "I'm not crazy," he was vehement. "I want answers, and you," his bloodshot eyes landed to Elayra. "Are going to give them to me."
The windshield wipers ticked back and forth, their rhythm interrupted by the click of the pistol being cocked. "What happened to the portals?"
Elayra's attire, the magic shield, the slip-up about Swallowhill. In his rattled mind, Miles assumed correctly. The girl was knowledgeable about Wonderland. Far more than Ghent was.

Elayra suppressed her own smirk when her nickname for Ghent wiped his away. She had at least found a verbal payback for the many he had been using for her.
She eyed him threateningly as he spoke and started to get in, but his words cut off as he banged his head against the car. She heaved a heavy sigh and gripped the bridge of her nose with a shake of her head.
We’re doomed before we even get to Wonderland, she thought bitterly as Ghent at least managed to get inside the car. She half expected him to somehow fall through the seat.
She glared murderously at Ghent’s newest name for her. She hesitated for a moment before slowly getting into the back seat.
The first thing that hit her was the smell, a hint of stale alcohol lingering beneath the initial odorous shock. She tried to stifle a gagging sound, but failed. Her shoulder pressed against Ghent’s, and she rested her backpack in her lap. Brown paper bags, discarded papers, and empty beer bottles and cigarette boxes crunched and clanked on the seat behind her, making her have to sit on the edge of the seat.
Elayra did her best to act as if getting in a car was as natural to her as it had been for Ghent, with little success. She looked around the interior as discretely as she could, from the glass windows to the worn faux leather of the seats. The interior of abandoned carriages she had seen were almost in better shape, and that was saying something.
Hoping she could figure out how to open it again, she slowly reached over and closed the door. She jerked her hand away when she accidentally pressed a button that made the window roll down a fraction, her eyes widening and muscles tensing in preparation to dodge or fight a booby trap. After a moment, realizing that moving the glass was all it did, she reached across Ghent and placed her pack atop his so it would not be a hindrance.
She only glared at Ghent’s question, not wanting to risk insulting Miles so long as he still had the gun.
Elayra gave a quick, stiff nod in response to Miles' orders to them. Not that she had any idea what a cop looked like in this world.
She inhaled through her nose and gripped the edge of her seat when the car jerked into motion without any obvious command. She tried to get a better look at the front seat, to see what allowed him to control the vehicle, but could only make out the steering wheel.
She tried not to scowl, keeping her hands on her knees for the time being, waiting for the opportune moment to strike. Preferably when the car was not in motion.
“So… Wonderland.”
Elayra glowered at Ghent. Her hand twitched with her desire to whack him for giving Miles that confirmation, but she thought better of the sudden movement at the last moment.
She eyed Miles, the upper half of his face just visible in the rearview mirror. Her eyes filled with uncertainty as he gave his mumbled response, all but ignoring Ghent.
They were already in the car with him. If his state was a show to get them where he wanted, it was no longer necessary, yet he kept it up to perfection. And he had let her retrieve her dagger. Whether it made her a bit crestfallen or glad that it was probably not one of the Red Queen’s allies they were up against, she could not say, but either way, she needed to find out for sure.
Elayra shouted in surprise and threw her hands up to stop herself from slamming into the back of Miles’ seat when the car skid to a halt. She gasped and bucked back with the motion of the car.
Her attention snapped up to Miles when he turned in his seat and his eyes settled on her. Her chin lowered and she gave a soft snort at his demand, her gaze darkening. She glanced toward the gun at its click, unsure what the sound meant. But whatever it was, it could not be good.
Miles wanted answers. Answers she had no desire to give without knowing why he wanted them, but he did not seem in much of a state to take kindly to her own questions, unless they were the ones holding the gun. Quite literally.
“That’s a good question,” she said slowly, biding herself a short moment as she moved her hands back to her knees so they were closer to her dagger, but hopefully not close enough to draw his notice to the weapon tucked on the inside of her right boot.
Either they tried to disarm him now, while they were stopped and the gun at least pointed away from them, or risk waiting and him finding out more than he should about Wonderland’s current state. Risk him deciding to continue onward to who knew where beneath the dangerous possibility of him having an even shorter fuse than Elayra if she gave a false answer that did not please him.
She looked slightly toward Ghent as if hoping for his help in the intricate reply, instead doing her best to convey a silent message: Get ready!
She looked back to Miles to try keeping his attention on her to give Ghent an extra second, her expression hard as she spoke. “But it’ll have to wait.”
As quickly as she could, she pulled her dagger from her boot and reached around the headrest to press the wavy, blue-tinted blade firmly against Miles’ throat, hoping Ghent had understood and would get to the gun before Miles could use it on either of them.

Ghent lurched forward as the vehicle halted, stopping himself from falling further by grabbing onto the headrest. He simultaneously reached his left arm across to prevent Elayra from hitting the back of Miles' seat, startled by the backlash. "You okay?!"
Amidst the chaos, Ghent wondered if the suddenness of the stop was because of a crossing pedestrian. The thought was immediately dispelled when Miles turned away from the wheel, not an ounce of sanity found within his face.
"No one said you were crazy." Speaking as calmly as he could manage, Ghent gripped the headrest tighter, eyes landing towards the gun. He was within reach. "This was supposed to be civil, remember?"
The only sound louder than Ghent's own heart pounding was the click of the pistol. Elayra's signal hadn't gone unmissed; she wasn't always the easiest person to read, but he understood. It was now or never.
The 'no sudden moves' rule didn't last long. As Elayra pulled the dagger, Ghent lunged forward to tackle Miles' arm. Ghent practically threw himself into the man, gripping his wrist with both hands in order to keep the barrel aimed away from them. "Drop it!"
Miles elbowed Ghent and fought for control of the weapon with an enraged shout, only to surrender when he felt the cold metal blade touch his neck. Roaring in frustration, the drunkard started to go into a tirade about 'his' portal, and about how they had no right to take it from him.
While Miles cursed their very existence, Ghent fell back in his seat, lifting the pistol towards the man. "Alright, cool it!"
The tirade stopped. Miles breathed heavily, eyes darting between the two teenagers and their newly acquired weapons. A flicker of fear crossed his face until the look morphed into anger again. "You won't get far," he growled, tilting his head back to avoid being cut by the blade. "If you leave now, you'll never make it!"
Ghent watched him intently. Although Miles was at their mercy, he didn't trust what the man was capable of. His insanity made him unpredictable, and his desperation made him dangerous.
"Who says we're leaving?" Ghent enjoyed the freedom to be mouthy again. Being a hostage limited that. He waved the pistol towards the right, motioning for the drunkard to exit the vehicle. "Get moving!"
Miles' eyes narrowed. He didn't seem to believe Ghent capable of wielding a gun, let alone using it.
"I'd rethink what you're doing, boy..." If looks could kill, the pair would have never made it to Wonderland.
Ghent didn't waver. What Miles doubted was true: he didn't have the guts to use the gun, but he had a feeling Elayra didn't have the same problem when it came to her dagger.
"I don't have to rethink anything," Ghent jerked his head in Elayra's direction so that Miles would remember whose mercy he was really at. "But you should."

To Elayra’s relief, Ghent had understood. Almost as quickly as she had drawn her dagger, he lunged between the two front seats at Miles’ arm. Trying to make sure to give Ghent ample room as he grappled with Miles for the gun, she reached her other arm around to the front along with her weapon to try forcing Miles’ back into the seat so he had less leverage. The garbage littering the floor shifted beneath her feet as she partially stood to get as good a grip as possible around both seat and man.
Luckily for Miles, even in his insanity, he had enough sense to give in at the lick of the dagger’s blade. His roar made their triumph glitter in her eyes. At last, they had the upper hand against him. And Ghent had even played his part well.
The triumph turned into rage as she let their situation fully settled in her. Now, she had no need to play the obedient peacekeeper. They were at no one's mercy but time's.
“Shut it,” she hissed in his ear at his all but incoherent rant as Ghent gave his own order. She spared him half a glance when he raised his commandeered weapon, wondering if he could even use it without her getting caught in the crossfire.
She checked her grip on the dagger, keeping it firm and her arm steady in case Miles decided to try pulling it from him, or had another trick hidden up his sleeve. Incapable of seeing his face well from her position, she kept an eye out for any sign he planned to retaliate, her body ever ready to react should he so much as twitch, a predator watching its rival. She snorted and opened her mouth to respond to his prediction, but Ghent beat her to it.
At his demand for Miles to get out, she shot Ghent a glance that said, ‘Not yet!’ but she did not dare look away from Miles for long. He seemed about as confident of Ghent’s abilities with the gun as she was, and did not appear to be taking her threat much more seriously, to her annoyance. It made him only that much more unpredictable.
She smirked when Ghent gave his warning about her. In emphasis, she adjusted the blade and added enough pressure behind it so it was unnervingly close to breaking skin.
“While it wouldn’t surprise me if Ghent passed out at the sight of blood,” she began in a low, menacing voice. Her smirk faded, replaced with dour indignation and determination, “it doesn’t bother me one bit. So, unless you want your corpse to provide a distraction for the cops, you’re going to answer a few questions. Lie, and I’ll make sure you die slowly. Simple as that.”
She took a quick breath, giving him little room to object before spitting the first of her questions at him, closely watching his reactions as well as she could, using the rearview mirror to her advantage. “Who are you, Miles? Why are you after us? By order of the Red Queen?” Though she was certain the Sorceress would not use someone like him, she had to ask. “How do you know about the portals?”

"I would not." Ghent sat up straighter, offended by the remark he knew to be (somewhat) true. It didn't help that Miles was in complete agreement with Elayra. Even with the knife held to his throat, the drunkard managed to scoff at Ghent's denial, liquor on his breath.
Seeing that no one was taking him seriously with the gun, Ghent lowered the weapon, hands clammy with sweat. The gun wasn't needed, Elayra had Miles well at her mercy. Though he'd never admit it, Ghent felt better pointing the barrel away from the man. The gun didn't make him feel safer, he felt uneasy with it.
The windshield wipers continued to tick back and forth. Grumbling underneath his breath, Ghent sank back into the seat, clothes damp from the rain. "I've seen my share of battles and blood," he huffed. Video games and movies probably didn't count, but Elayra didn't have to know that. She probably didn't know either existed.
"You haven't seen anything, boy." Miles sounded as if he spoke from experience. The man focused on reading the blonde, trigger finger twitching. There was a dangerous, hardened look in Elayra's eyes. A look that was more than enough to backup her threats. Unnerved by the hostility, Miles inched back, only to feel the blade pushed closer to his neck. Moving a second time could prove disastrous.
Stiffening, Miles growled lowly, furious that the tables be turned. "Thought Featherhead already introduced me?" He used the nickname he'd overheard, earning an insulted 'hey!' from Ghent.
"Name's Miles...in this world, anyway..." The drunkard trailed off, growing distant until the next question struck a nerve. "I'm not after you," he corrected, clenching both fists. "I'm after the portal! And I don't follow orders from that witch!"
Ghent flinched, startled by the venom in the response. Constantly fearing that this would turn into a crime scene, he wondered if the heated answers (or lack thereof) would be enough satisfy Elayra. Probably not.
Miles grit his teeth, struggling to keep his tempter in check throughout the process of answering. "For years, I've been searching...waiting...trying to find one blasted portal."
Ghent considered all that had been said so far. Despite being incredulous most times, he wasn't having trouble believing the man. This was a shock, to be sure, but it didn't take much imagination to picture Miles in Wonderland. Drust was crazy, Miles was crazy. Elayra's crazy. Ghent reminded himself, eyeing the dagger that was one push away from drawing blood. The thought was enough for him to advert his gaze. Or maybe I'm crazy for going with them.
"You ask an awful lot of questions." Miles grunted, eyes darting towards the window. A car sped past, putting him on edge until the vehicle was well gone.
After the threat had passed, Miles continued, clenching his fists again to prevent his hands from shaking. "You're obviously brighter than that one," he referred to Ghent, unafraid of saying so. Aside from Wonderland, insulting Ghent was the only thing he had in common with the girl. "So you've likely figured that out by now. I'm a World Jumper...or I used to be, until she came along."