Elayra could not help but give a disbelieving, snorted laugh at Ghent’s comment of seeing battles and blood. She shifted her eyes to Ghent, making note that he had lowered the gun, but returned her full attention to Miles at the sound of his voice. Her gaze flitted to his finger as it twitched, almost as if it wished it was still placed on the gun.
The uneasiness she picked up from him made a content feeling settle in her. Now he might at least take one of them seriously.
Her eyes narrowed at his answer to her first question. “You know what I mean,” she growled, shifting the tip of the dagger carefully upward toward his chin. “So don’t try my patience.”
Her brows twitched downward when he gave his answer. “In this world?” she repeated. She listened as he continued in his irritatingly vague way, searching for any reason to doubt him. But the bitterness and hatred in his response was something she knew all too well. It was not, as far as she could tell, an act to save his skin. Noticing the fight waging in his eyes against his anger at the situation, her grip on the dagger tightened, ready to act in case he snapped.
“For years, I've been searching... waiting...trying to find one blasted portal.”
She raised her chin slightly. All he wanted was the portal, a rabid dog searching for the bone another had stolen from him.
He couldn’t be… could he? She stared at him long and hard until he spoke again. A couple stray beads of water dripped down her face from her still damp bangs, but she did not dare move to wipe them away.
“Would you rather I had just killed you for what you did,” she began mockingly. Her head turned to follow another car that drove by, and she ducked down, just in case, the blade never moving from its mark, “no questions asked? Because that can still be arranged, if you’d like.”
The moment the car had gone by, Elayra straightened as well as the horribly cramped car allowed. She tried to suppress the antsy, almost anxious feeling that had begun to sneak its way through her at the confined space. The sooner they could get out of there, the better.
Again, she cast his hand a glance when it formed a fist. She inhaled through her nose when he confirmed her suspicions.
A World Jumper. Miles was a Jumper.
She glanced away, scowling. He was just as much a victim of the Red Sorceress as the denizens of Wonderland, stranded in this world for over a decade, condemned to a descent into madness.
She took a heated breath. “They closed,” she began stiffly, answering Miles’ single question to her handful, “to protect the other worlds from the Curse she cast. Wonderland… isn’t what you once knew it to be.” Loathing saturated her voice and glistened in her eyes at the wrong done to Wonderland and its people.
Her people, whether she wanted them to be or not. “And if you ever want that to change, want the portals to open again, permanently, we,” she jerked her head toward Ghent, “need to get back before they wear out and close again.” Though she had relieved some of the pressure from the blade as she spoke, she kept it firmly in place. “But apparently, the area is being guarded, thanks to… an incident last night.”
She tilted her head slightly, and turned it toward her captive as an idea formed. “Tell you what. You want to know where the portal is. We need to get to the portal. You help us, and we’ll help you. What do you say?”

"What is this, 'beat up on Ghent hour'?" Ghent shifted uncomfortably, unable to make much room for himself. The cardboard box was pressing into his shoulder, plus the legroom in the back was practically nonexistent. "Cut me some slack!"
Miles scoffed in reply. He knew better than to insult Elayra, but Ghent was free game. He had to let out his frustrations somehow.
"Simmer down," Miles scolded, sore and irritable after being held hostage. The wagon's roof was too low to sit comfortably, especially if one was turned backwards. "Let the girl talk."
As Elayra answered the question from earlier, Miles frowned deeply, gaze downward. "Figured as much...knew it'd be bad...heard stories." He seemed far away again, resuming eye contact after Elayra mentioned the portals opening permanently. A look of desperation fell over the man. This had been his heart's desire for more years than he cared to remember.
"I can get you past the cops," Miles answered earnestly, a striking contrast to the snarling lunatic he'd been before. "Can get you past 'em easy."
Ghent raised an eyebrow. He didn't have a whole lot of faith in their captive. Miles' sudden mood swings made him impossible to trust.
"I'll help you...and you'll help me." Miles wanted to confirm that he understood the proposal correctly. His optimism morphed into skepticism when he remembered the blade still held to his throat. "There'll be no tricks..."
Ghent thumped his head against the back of the headrest. "Oh for the love of...are you seriously going to go through that again?" He didn't give Miles a chance to answer before quoting the rest of the rules. "No tricks, no sudden moves," Ghent did an impersonation of the drunkard, coming close to being spot on. "We heard you the first time!"
Miles squinted back at him, jaw set. For a long, dragging moment, he said nothing. Elayra's dagger was the only thing preventing him from lunging at the boy. "He won't last a day," he predicted lowly, analyzing the boy with a critical eye. "He wouldn't have lasted in Wonderland before the witch took over."
Ghent returned the glare. "That shows how much you know!" A pathetic comeback. He wasn't sure how to argue when he feared the words were true.
Miles didn't bother responding. If time was against them, he didn't want to waste it bickering with Ghent. "Put the dagger away," he instructed as another car sped past. This time, he didn't flinch. "I'll get you past the cops."

Elayra's eyes flicked to Ghent in annoyance. “You’ll get slack when you’ve earned it!” she snapped, wishing he would just keep his mouth shut.
She returned Miles’ gaze when he looked back to her. The corner of her lips twitched up for a fraction of a second at the change in his countenance; she knew she had said the right thing to gain his help before he said he could. He was unstable, yes, but when someone wanted something as badly as he looked to want the portals open, then even the most impossible of truces could be formed… so long as it was in his favor, at least.
She gave a quick, stiff nod when Miles echoed her, then let out a “Ha!” at his audacity to restate his previous list of demands with the current standings.
She shot Ghent a warning glare, trying to shut him up before he could further irritate Miles and potentially make the man change his mind, but his head was against the headrest, his attention away from her.
“Keep your mouth shut, would you?” she growled, glancing toward Ghent in the unnerving silence that befell Miles. She looked back to him, her face hard. Her eyes narrowed and she tightened her grip on the dagger at the murderous look he was giving Ghent.
She snorted, her lips pulling downward when Miles voiced her own doubts about Ghent. Though, she thought a day was being generous.
“He wouldn’t have lasted in Wonderland before the witch took over.”
Elayra snorted. “I’ll have to take your word on that,” she intoned. She snarled and turned her head toward Ghent when he spoke again. “I said, Shut. It!”
Her eyes narrowed once more at Miles when he gave his final instructions, her gaze flicking toward another car as it rushed by.
She raised her chin slightly. “Fine. No tricks from us, and none from you. But if I think for even a second you’re about to betray us,” she shifted the blade, carefully adding the tiniest bit of extra pressure to it as she leaned further forward around the seat, her voice menacingly low as she continued, “I’ll turn your insides into your outsides faster than you can say ‘Wonderland.’”
Elayra slowly removed the dagger from Miles’ throat, but made no move to return it to her boot. The patter of the rain against the car intensified, the windshield wipers struggling to keep up with the sheet of water flowing down the glass as she backed away slightly. She remained in her half-standing position, the top of her head nearly brushing against the roof, ready to act should Miles show any hint of further hostility.
“The portal we used is near Frank’s Book Barn,” she informed him, avoiding telling him exactly where near the store it was. The last thing they needed was to lose the only bit of leverage they had to insure his aid. “What do you need from us," she jerked her head toward Ghent, “to get us there?”

"Fine!" Ghent huffed, voice barely audible as he sank down further in his seat. Being scolded was not something he would ever grow accustomed to, and it was becoming more and more frequent. While sulking, he began to wish he hadn't asked to retrieve the dagger. Without it, Elayra was less threatening. Not by much, but less.
Miles viewed the exchange, a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips as Ghent was put in his place. The feeling of justification faded when Elayra switched targets. Teeth grit, Miles attempted to lean away to avoid the dagger, his back pressed against the steering wheel.
"I've got no intentions of betraying you," the drunkard stiffened, tilting his chin up in order to avoid the blade. "I want to get to the portal just as bad as you! I wouldn't get much out of turning you two in, would I?" The words were spoken through clenched teeth, he didn't want to move any more than necessary.
"Guess not." Ghent didn't doubt Elayra's ability to follow through with her gruesome threat. For the sake of keeping Miles alive, he decided to agree with the drunkard. After the dagger was put away, both males breathed a little easier. The fact that they'd gotten this far without blood being shed was a feat in itself.
“What do you need from us to get us there?”
"I need you kids to listen closely." Free to move once again, Miles grumbled about his aching back and turned to sit more comfortably. "Around the corner from Frank's, there's a boutique...real fancy place...you seen it?"
Ghent's eyes were on the road. His grip remained firm on the pistol, although he silently wished that he could be shed of it without having to surrender the weapon to Miles. "I have."
Miles reached for the pack of cigarettes sticking out of his fraying coat pocket. "Good," he mumbled to himself as he readjusted the review mirror in order to see the teenagers in back. "I want you kids to smash the boutique's window."
Ghent gawked at the suggestion. He gotten into plenty of trouble over the years, but he'd never lowered himself to committing vandalism. "What's this got to do with getting past the police?!"
Miles snorted, annoyed that he should have to spell everything out. "Ever hear of a distraction, boy? Once the alarm goes off, the cops'll head right for ya."
It was too risky. Allowing his imagination to get the better of him, Ghent envisioned himself in the back of a squad car after being caught. His parents would be severely disappointed in him, and his reputation would be ruined after Mrs. Saxon caught wind of the crime. After being questioned, Ghent assumed that would be deemed insane, especially if Wonderland was mentioned. From there, he would spend the rest of his days in an asylum along with his comrades.
Miles didn't notice Ghent's failure to respond, he was too busy lighting a cigarette. "From there, you take off through the alleyway, keep to the right, and you'll be in the back of Frank's in no time. The area'll be clear, and we can get to the portal."
The smell of smoke snapped Ghent out of his wild thoughts and brought him back to the present. Doing his best not to breathe, he glared at the man through the mirror, coughing once into his sleeve. "And what are you going to do, Miles?"
Miles exhaled more smoke. "I'll be busy causing a distraction of my own in order to buy some extra time," he nodded towards the door, motioning for the two to exit. "Leave the gun. I'll be needing it."

Elayra snorted at Miles’ complaints about an ‘aching back,’ watching him closely as he readjusted himself with his back once more against the seat, putting himself in an even easier reach.
“We’re all ears.” Dagger still in hand, she finally sat as far back as the cluttered seat allowed. She held the weapon in her lap, an antsy finger tapping against the hilt. She cast a glance to the car door and the rain-streaked window, the patter of it on the glass vying to be heard over Miles’ voice. She took a deep, slow breath, trying to calm the claustrophobia the cluttered car aroused.
“How would I know the place?” she snapped, her voice a bit more clipped and impatient than the situation warranted.
When he reached for his coat, her grip on the dagger shifted and her muscles tensed, ready to act if he pulled out another weapon. She watched him suspiciously. She cast a glance to Ghent, checking for any signal that the items he retrieved were an imminent threat, but he seemed untroubled by them. All the same, she remained ever on edge as Miles gave them their orders.
She stared at him for a short second, her brows furrowed, then realization of why dawned on her. She started to nod, but then looked to Ghent at his question.
“Seriously, Featherhead?” she asked, her voice as condescending as her expression.
She heaved a sigh as Miles explained himself, her attention once more on the man. She glanced to Ghent again at his uncharacteristic silence. The worry in his eyes was far from encouraging.
“I’ve broken into Forsaken-infested stores with alarms and guards I guarantee would make your police run home with their tails between their legs,” she tried to reassure him. “Breaking a window and running will be a piece of eatmay cake.”
Her full attention turned to Miles when, with a small flick of his thumb, a flame sprouted from a small device in his hands. More of this world’s use of science, she presumed. But her awe faded at the stench of the smoke, the smell similar enough to the stale odor clinging to the upholstery for her to recognize it.
She, too coughed as the foul smell filled the car with the white trail snaking from the cigarette’s cherry. Frowning in disgust and fighting back another cough, she placed the sleeve of her free hand over her mouth and nose, breathing through the fabric that still retained some of the earthy scent of Wonderland.
Elayra leaned into the door, more keen on leaving the car than before.
“Great." The fabric of her sleeve slightly muffled her voice. A foot tapped in quickening rhythmic sync with the finger on the dagger. “We’ll meet you there.” She paused, thinking of the dead-end alley housing the portal. “But we’ll have to go around its front. There’s no other way.”
At his demand to leave the gun, she held out her hand toward Ghent to stop him in case he moved to hand the gun over, the dagger’s tip pointing toward the door opposite hers.
“Once we’re out, he’ll leave it on the floor back here.” She looked to Ghent and nodded to the floor at her feet directly behind Miles’ seat as she returned her hand back to her lap. At last, reluctantly, she replaced the dagger in its hidden sheath, reached across Ghent, and grabbed her pack.
Eager to get out, she held her breath, lowered her hand, and frantically fidgeted with the door until she noticed a handle similar to the one on the outside. She pulled it, and the satisfying cla-thunk of the door unlatching made a triumphant twinkle enter her eyes. She pushed it open, and all but lunged out of the car.
Relief of being in the open flooded through her, drowning out the irritation of the torrent of drops splattering over her as if trying to make up for the dry patches that had formed on her clothes.
She quickly stepped away so Ghent could get out, turning so she faced the vehicle as she inhaled the wet air. The rain washed away most of the unfamiliar stenches of the city, leaving a familiar freshness in its wake, a freshness her lungs found most welcomed. The feeling of being trapped slowly ebbed with each breath she took. She slung one strap of her pack over her should, and could not help but gasp through her teeth when it hit her forgotten bruise. Hoping neither Miles nor Ghent had noticed, she turned a glare on the man through his window.
“See you behind Frank’s,” she called, the words a warning demand, before Ghent could close the door.

"What will you need it for?" Ghent knew his constant questioning was not approved of. By asking, he risked angering the Wonderlanders, but he didn't care. Leaving the pistol didn't feel right, especially after he saw how desperate Miles was to reach the portal. "You're not going to shoot anyone, are you?" The combination of desperation and insanity often lead to disaster.
Miles dropped the lighter into his pocket, shooting Ghent a dark look. "You're worse than my mother. Quit nagging," he snapped, half visible through the cloud of smoke engulfing the vehicle. "I'm not stupid. Just do as your told!"
The harshness of the words felt like a slap to the face. Ghent drew a foot back to kick Miles' seat, but he thought better of it and kicked at a bottle instead, growling in frustration. After Elayra retrieved her bag, he exited the wagon, shot Miles a glare, and placed the weapon on the floor among the empty beer cans and cigarette remnants.
Like the paranoid skeptic he was, Miles checked that no tricks had been pulled. "I'll be there," he answered Elayra, turning to face the road in his preparation to leave. "Don't be late."
Ghent regrouped with Elayra as the the vehicle crept away. The older of the two cleared his throat, irritated that Miles couldn't have waited for them to leave before turning into a chimney. Jerk.
"Surprised he can see the road through that mess." From the looks of it, Elayra was glad to escape the smoke too. With one hand gripping the strap of his backpack, Ghent observed her in silence. So caught up with his discovery of magic and the run-in with Miles, he'd nearly forgotten Elayra was hurt. The hiss of pain was a reminder of that.
"Hey, um..." Brows furrowed, his eyes were focused on Elayra's shoulder as if he could see the injury through the fabric. Ghent knew she didn't want his sympathy, but he still sympathized with her. From what he could tell, Drust was the only guardian she had. The entire situation was terribly unfair, and Ghent came out ahead. For that, he felt guilty.
"Shop's this way," he finished, changing his mind at the last minute. Asking to carry Elayra's bag again was asking for trouble. Asking if she was alright would probably evoke a defensive -- and possibly angered -- reaction.
Rather than address the obvious, Ghent lead the way, confident that Elayra would follow. The plan (or lack thereof) was disturbing, but he didn't voice his concerns. It was the only plan they had and there wasn't time to conjure a better one.
The awnings were spaced out, offering shelter in between buildings. Many shops remained closed, most without the promise of opening again. The rain never ceased, but Ghent wasn't paying attention to the weather. His doubts and fears consumed his thought process. Even with the promise of magic, he doubted he was skilled enough to take down a single shadowmire.
Disturbed by the thought, Ghent gripped the strap of his backpack tighter, the same hand he'd miscast a spell with. Amazingly enough, he remained quiet until they were about a block away from the boutique.
"So...you've broken into stores before?" Ghent decided her earlier statement was a safe topic. One where he might learn a little about Elayra and Wonderland at the same time.

“We won’t be.” Elayra watched the station wagon pull away, then carefully slipped the other strap of her pack over her opposite shoulder, trying to distribute the weight evenly over the tender spot on her back. Rain dripped through her hair and down the back of her neck.
She snorted at Ghent’s comment. “I’m more surprised he hasn’t passed out from lack of oxygen.”
“Hey, um…”
She spun toward him, the tone in his voice making her scowl. “What?” she snapped, the direction of his attention not going unnoticed. She eyed him in his moment of debate, daring him to say what she expected he would say. She raised her chin slightly when he wisely changed his mind.
She nodded, then followed silently behind him, the patter of the rain drowning out their footsteps.
She did not dare conjure another rain shield in case anyone else were to see it, and was thankful when the open streets gave way to buildings with awnings. The drum of the rain grew louder beneath the tin overhangs, but at least it gave them a few minutes of a reprieve from the relentless deluge.
She remained ever watchful, the whispers of the rain playing tricks on her. More than once, she paused or spun around, ready to draw her dagger and wishing her saber still hung at her belt, only to find nothing more than the rain making its music on a new surface, or the rush of water flowing down the street carrying rubbish in its torrent. One good thing about the rain, though, was it kept the streets virtually empty. Lights glowed invitingly from a few of the shops in the process of opening for the morning, and a couple people rushed along the sidewalks, umbrellas in hand, paying the teenagers no attention. It was still so strange to her, seeing people, real people, on the streets and not having to hide or run the opposite direction.
When Ghent at last broke his unusual silence, Elayra cocked an ear toward him.
“Many times.” She shrugged, keeping a careful eye out for anyone else brave—or crazy—enough to be out in the downpour. “But we only take what we need, when we absolutely need it. The Forsaken don’t usually even notice something’s missing.” She paused, realizing Ghent had no idea what the Forsaken were. “They’re what we call the people initially affected by the Curse,” she explained before he could ask.
She jumped at a clatter in an alley as they passed, but only a stray dog ran away from the road down the narrow alleyway.
“They’ve basically become mindless zombies.” A mix of disgust and bitterness entered her voice, anger flashing in her eyes. “They go about their lives like they always did, but they don’t really know they’re doing it. It’s just… instinct, for them.” Her lip curled up with a soft snort. “Unless they so much as sense you’re not Curse-ridden. Then they’re driven to attack. They’re some of what make towns and cities dangerous.”

Ghent noticed how overly alert Elayra was. Not a sound or person went by without her being aware of them, and more than once she'd spun around to face a nonexistent threat. While Ghent would have found this funny a day ago, he didn't poke fun at her. He couldn't fault Elayra after hearing about the conditions she was brought up in. Being alert was key to survival.
As they made their way down the sidewalk, Ghent walked alongside of the blonde, listening intently as she responded to his question. He felt successful to have avoided her wrath, plus he struck up a conversation without being sarcastic. This was a progress for an otherwise terrible morning.
The mention of the Forsaken succeeded in piquing Ghent's curiosity. It also put him on edge. Before Elayra could continue, there was a noise from the alleyway, one that sent him into a panic.
"What was that?!" Ghent looked around wildly for the culprit, only to find that a stray mutt was the source of the clatter. Keeping calm was impossible with Wonderland's inhabitants on the mind. Embarrassed, Ghent mustered a weak laugh, wishing his heart would get a chance at returning to a normal pace.
"Ah, dogs are always hanging around here," he nodded towards the alleyway, remembering Elayra's questions about William. "But don't worry. They aren't spies or anything."
Doing his best not to allow his nerves to get the better of him, Ghent listened as Elayra explained about the mysterious beings she'd mentioned earlier. When the Forsaken were likened to zombies, he slowed, taking on a look of disbelief.
"Wow ... " Rain dripping down his face, Ghent stopped underneath the last awning in their path, gaze downward. "That sounds awful." The words were quiet, almost inaudible underneath the rain hitting the pavement around them. The more he learned about Wonderland, the more he pitied Elayra and the people affected by the Curse. At the same time, he regretted his compliance in accompanying the two from his past.
"Is that what'll happen to Drust?" At the memory of the White Knight, Ghent began to walk again, keeping an eye out for an object heavy enough to break the window with. "I know you'd mentioned him being affected by the Curse...or, at least partially," he added, as he hadn't a solid idea of how much hold the Curse had over the man. "Will he get worse?"
Up ahead, the currently-closed boutique was impossible to miss. The shop appeared misplaced among the others; it was lavishly decorated with plenty of expensive, modern looking clothing modeled by faceless mannequins behind the large window. The surrounding stores looked pitiful in comparison, and Ghent found himself wondering why Miles chose this shop in particular.
"You got a spell that'll break glass?"

Though spoken softly, Elayra still caught his comment about Wonderland’s residents’ condition.
She shrugged, her face hard. “It is what it is. But that’s what we’re going to change.” Her voice came out fiercer than normal in her attempt at keeping her doubt from entering her tone. “Kill the…” She stopped herself, then cast an extra glance around the street for good measure. She lowered her voice as she continued. “Kill her, the Curse will die with her, everyone affected by it will revert back to as normal as you can get, the portals will reopen, and you can be on your marry way back here.” At least, that was how she hoped it would go.
When he asked about Drust, her steps faltered and she inhaled. She had been trying hard to not think about that. A day ago, she would have said ‘no’ without hesitation. But now, after the Curse’s effects had escalated here, she feared the possibility of it spreading, even with him back in Wonderland. For all she knew, the Drust on the other side of the portal was waiting, consumed by the Curse he had fought against for as long as she could remember, to attack the moment they stepped foot in Hollow Hill.
She swallowed, hard, shook her head, and wiped all but as confident of an expression as she could from her face as she caught back up with Ghent.
“It would affect him a bit differently, but no,” she answered softly, hating the uncertainty in her voice. “It’s just something about this place that’s made it more prominent here. Mix that with the extra stress he’s been under lately, and you get what you’ve seen so far,” she finished, trying to convince herself of the words.
As they neared, Elayra easily guessed which shop was the boutique. She raised an eyebrow at some of the clothes in the display window, eyeing the eerie, white-faced mannequins
Her lips pursed slightly in contemplation at his question.
“Maybe,” she answered slowly. She placed a hand on his shoulder to bring him to a stop under an awning one store down, the boutique's window visible on the opposite side of the street. She moved a step in front of him. “But it's best used at extremely close range. Let me give it a go first. Don’t need to risk you blowing the entire store to oblivion right off the bat.”
She took a deep breath, trying to tune out the drumming of the rain as she cleared her mind and reached out to the world’s magic. Once again, it met her eagerly, awaiting her orders.
She thrust both hands out toward the window as she said the focus word she had used against Drust the previous night. A burst of condensed air that crackled with an electric, magical buzz shot from her palms toward the window. It started out strong, sending drops of rain splaying in every direction as it rushed through the downpour. It hit the window with an impressive thunk, but its force was nowhere near enough to shatter it.
Elayra heaved a frustrated sigh, then turned to Ghent. “Your go, Featherhead.” She crossed her arms grudgingly as she moved as far from him as she could without leaving the protection of the awning. “Maybe you can modify it enough to do some damage. The word you want is inexus,” she said it slowly, carefully enunciating its three syllables. “Say it a few times before you reach out to the magic, would you?”

"Right...sounds simple enough." Ghent tried to hide the fact that the task ahead scared him silly. He barely had the nerve to break a window, let alone kill a sorceress capable of destroying an entire world.
A low rumble of thunder sounded in the distance. At the mention of Drust being under extra stress, Ghent swallowed uneasily. If he wanted to help prevent the Curse from possessing the Knight further, he realized that he would need to watch his mouth and learn to follow orders.
  "Hope he's in a better mood when we show up ... " Ghent halted as Elayra put a hand to his shoulder, thinking she'd spotted something. After a look around, he found that this wasn't her reason for stopping him. They were alone, the few pedestrians they'd passed were nowhere in sight.
"Let me give it a go first."
"Be my guest." Ghent didn't object in the slightest. He scoffed at the mention of blowing up the shop, believing the comment to be a joke while wondering if there was any truth to her words. His magic was as much of a mystery to him as Elayra was.
While Elayra prepared herself, Ghent paid special attention to her stance so that he might copy her when his turn came. If at all possible, he wanted to improve and get in a bit of practice before they were faced with the dangers of Wonderland. Skilled as she was, it didn't take long for the magic to answer Elayra's call. Ghent watched, amazed as she sent a force of air towards the window, raindrops shooting from the glass upon impact.
"Not bad." The window was still in one piece, but Ghent was impressed by how quickly the magic connected with her. "Guess you need someone with a little more strength, though," he smirked at her, stepping forward to be in position. "Don't worry. I'll take it from here."
Ghent closed his eyes to focus, grimacing as the nickname reached his ears. "Couldn't you think of something a little more flattering, Blondie?" He sent her an unamused look over his shoulder, straightening when she asked him to repeat the focus word.  
"Oh, yeah...good idea." Remembering his failure from earlier, Ghent repeated the word in his head a few times before speaking it aloud. "In-ex-us," he echoed her. "In..ex...us. Inexus. Got it."
Looking both ways to ensure no pedestrians were in the near vicinity, Ghent exhaled shakily. Focusing never came easily to him. "Here goes ... "
  Eyes scrunched tight, Ghent attempted to empty his mind as Elayra advised. One thought jumped to the next, and before he knew it, he began to focus on the fact that Elayra watching him. A full minute ticked by without so much as a spark. 
Finally, Ghent gave up, sighing in defeat. "Nothing's there," he admitted, ashamed to face her after the bragging he'd done. An idea dawned upon him, and without explanation he stepped towards Elayra, clasped a hand to each of her shoulders, and turned her to face the opposite direction. "Sorry. I think you're making me nervous."
Back in his place, Ghent closed his eyes, giving himself a second try. "No peeking," he warned, repeating the focus word a few times more in his head. "I'm like an artist, I can't be watched."
  With his mind better at ease, Ghent remained still, tuning out the sounds of the city. Half a minute went by when out of nowhere, he felt a surge of energy shoot through his finger tips into both hands. It was a familiar feeling, one he recognized from the first time he'd reached out to the magic.  
  Eyes snapping open, Ghent didn't hesitate. Just as he'd seen Elayra do, he shot his hands towards the window, eager to prove himself. "Inexus!"

Elayra snorted at his comment of, ‘not bad,’ her gaze darkening at his smirk. “Shut up and just do it. You’re wasting time,” she snapped.
She watched Ghent try to mimic her position, then quickly summoned a shield in front of her, just in case. It curved slightly over her head and sides, ready to deflect any flying debris in case he really did blow the store to oblivion. At his comment about her nickname for him, it became her turn to smirk.
“Would you rather ‘Stumblebum,’ Featherhead? Or maybe ‘Dunderhead?’” She crossed her arms. “Because all of those would suit you rather well.”
She rolled her eyes at his reaction to saying the focus word. She listened to him when he said it aloud, giving a slight, satisfied nod when he said it correctly. When he began to search for the world’s magic, Elayra grew tense, her gaze shifting between him, the store, and the roads. She scanned the shops, making sure no one was watching, or showed any sign of having seen her use of magic.
Time seemed to drag on. Though no more than a minute could have passed, Elayra started tapping her foot impatiently, the sound of her boot clicking against the concrete drowned out by the downpour.
“Nothing’s there.”
She scowled, and released her hold on the shield, making it disappear in a glittering burst. “It’s there. You’re just not looking right. You need to do this little thing called ‘concentrate.’ Maybe you've heard of it?”
She eyed him suspiciously when he stepped toward her, and took an instinctive step back before he gripped her shoulders. She reached up with both arms to push him off, but he spun her around. She blinked at the empty sidewalk now in front of her, wondering if there was something she was supposed to be seeing, some sort of hidden threat, her confusion the only thing protecting Ghent from her.
"Sorry. I think you're making me nervous.”
Her eyes narrowed and brows rose as she turned partially back around, realizing what he was doing, his back already to her.
“You’ve got to be joking,” she growled as he returned to his place at the opposite side of the awning.
She ran a hand down her face as Ghent grew still. For their sake, she tried to keep from looking at him, but she could not stand having him at her back about to try his hand at magic, especially after the last time. Without a sound, she turned mostly back around, her back hunched slightly, ever at the ready to act should he prove successfully unsuccessful.
This time, she did not have as long to wait.
The full word had barely left his lips before a powerful burst of air and energy erupted an inch from his palm. It carried enough of a backwards rush to make Elayra’s waterlogged hair billow wildly around her face even from her distance. Though Ghent could sense the slight dwindle of the magic over the span between him and the shop, like an unfamiliar sixth sense, the burst hit its target. It shattered the storefront window into hundreds of thick shards, sending them flying through the air from the force of the rotating gale like tiny, knife-like missiles.
Predicting the end result a millisecond before it happened, Elayra leapt across the space between her and Ghent as she summoned another shield. She tackled him to the hard, wet ground, directing the shield to cover both of them in a protective dome. Before the two hit the ground, she sensed and heard a few of the shards collide with her shield.
She laid there for a short second to make sure the threat had passed, hoping she had made it to Ghent in time to keep him from getting skewered.
She quickly propping herself up, her forearm on Ghent’s side. Once more, she dropped the shield, and the torrent of rain she had thrown them into poured over them as she looked him over, hard worry in her gaze.
“You alive?”

Either his magic had a mind of its own, or Ghent was standing too close to the target. The window never got a chance to crack as he expected it to, it exploded, putting him into immediate danger.
Before he could register what was happening, Ghent felt himself hitting the pavement. The ground's impact was mostly broken by his backpack, the articles of clothing packed inside helping to cushion the fall.
From where Ghent lay, he could only stare at where the window used to be, fragments of glass hitting the shield Elayra so wisely summoned for them. Her magic held up well, nothing was able to touch them, not even the rain.
Underneath the safety of the shield, Ghent remained frozen in place. His blue eyes were wide with fear, and he was very well aware of the disaster so narrowly avoided.
Inside of the shop, the tallest mannequin tipped over into the ones beside it, resulting each crashing to the ground in a domino-like effect. Ghent cringed to see the destruction, pained to envision the cost of damages.
"You alive?"
The question and sudden pour of rain brought Ghent back to his senses. "Y-yeah, I think so ... " Face paler than usual, he looked himself over to check for injury. Finding nothing new, he turned his attention towards Elayra, fearing that she'd taken a hit to save him. To his relief, she appeared unscathed, and -- to his delight -- perhaps even worried.
"Why?" Forgetting how afraid he was two seconds ago, Ghent smirked widely and propped himself up with his elbows, inches away from her face. "You worried about me?"
The teasing didn't last long. Right after he so obnoxiously asked, the alarm in the boutique went off, alerting the surrounding shops that something was amiss. Terrified of being caught or spotted, Ghent scrambled to his feet, offering Elayra a hand up.
"I can't believe I'm guilty of vandalism." Adding to Ghent's stress, the unmistakable sound of a gunshot sounded several blocks away. "And murder! Come on, we have to get out of here!"
Without a second thought, Ghent broke into a run towards the alley right as a car rounded the corner. It wasn't just any car, it was a sedan. A black sedan. A cold feeling of dread sank in. Ghent didn't need to look, he felt it in his heart. The driver was Mrs. Saxon.
Keeping his head down to avoid identification, Ghent continued to run as fast as his legs would carry him. When they neared the alleyway, he found that it was crowded with dumpsters and much too narrow for a vehicle. For that, he was immensely grateful. "Did she see us?!"
Elayra wouldn't have had any idea who 'she' was, but Ghent was so caught up in panicking that he hadn't thought to explain. "She'll be the first to rat us out!" Police sirens sounded. "My mom is going to kill me!"

“Good.” Elayra gave a quick, relieved nod as he examined himself. He looked a little paler than he had been a moment before, but in one piece, nonetheless. She held his gaze for a moment as he looked to her, before his pleasure at her expression made her usual irate irritation reclaimed its place over her features.
She opened her mouth to snap a reply, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of the truth, but the long, consistent ring off a high-pitched alarm made Elayra’s attention snap back to the store. She jumped to her feet as Ghent scrambled to do the same. Though the sound was unusual to her, its meaning was universal: INTRUDERS!
“Run now, think later!” Elayra reached to grip Ghent’s wrist when he spoke instead of immediately fleeing. She moved to tug him along a couple paces as she turned and ran toward the nearest alleyway.
Satisfied he would keep running, she released him as the unfamiliar crack of a gunshot echoed from somewhere nearby, wondering why he linked the sound so quickly to murder. Had Miles actually killed someone just to get them and himself to the portal? She shook the thought off. They had their own problem to deal with.
A couple paces ahead of Ghent, she ducked into the alleyway before him just as a car turned the corner, hoping it had not spotted her or Ghent before he turned behind her. The stench of the multiple dumpsters, a few too full for their lids to lie flat, filled the air between the alleyway, mingling with the smell of wet dog.
“Did she see us?”
Elayra looked over her shoulder at Ghent, a spike of panic at his unexplained use of ‘she’ rushing through her chest.
“Who?” She glanced behind her, the panic on Ghent’s face making her that much more on edge as he rambled on. Deducing that ‘she’ was not the ‘she’ Elayra was used to judging by his following words, she scowled when he finished.
“You’ve got to be joking!”
With a frustrated growl, she spun around and reached back to pull Ghent to the side of one of the dumpsters packed full enough for the bags to just hide them from prying eyes. She gripped his shoulders to give him a quick shake to try shifting his focus from his panic to getting out of there before they got caught. She wished more than ever that her sword still hung at her belt.
“Your mom’s not the one you should be worried about right now!” she growled threateningly as the sound of sirens grew steadily closer. “Get your head on straight, and get us to the Book Barn, fast!” She shoved him back toward the alleyway none too gently, ready to run after him, or push him onward.

"I wouldn't joke about that!" Ghent's shrill response turned into a yelp as Elayra pulled him out of view. Believing his nemesis had been spotted, he sank down to hide, his back pressed against the dirty brick wall. "What? Is she coming?"
Impatient for an answer, Ghent stood on his tiptoes to peek over the bags of garbage. Seeing the sedan, he gasped and dropped back to his normal height, just in time to receive a much needed shake.
Ghent stared at the girl from underneath his hood, rain dripping down his face. The suddenness of the action shocked him back to his senses and rendered him speechless all at once. This wasn't at all like the comics.
Some hero, he chided himself, regretting his foolishness in ever agreeing to this madness. He started to protest that he had every reason to panic, only he never got the chance to explain. One shove later, Ghent was back on track.
"Okay, okay!" Amazingly, Ghent regained his footing using nothing to stabilize himself. A dumpster lid was within reach, but he didn't want to grab onto it. There was as much filth on the outside as there was on the inside.
Fueled by fear, Ghent fled the scene, his imagination running with him. As much as he feared the horrors of Wonderland, he feared being caught by the police even more. It didn't help that the Book Barn was several blocks away. There was plenty of time to be caught before they reached the portal.
Inwardly cursing Miles for choosing the boutique as their distraction, Ghent lead Elayra through maze of buildings. The alleyways were pitted with dozens of potholes filled to the brim with water, none of which Ghent bothered to miss. His sneakers were soaked clean through, as was most of his clothing. There was no point in dodging what he'd already failed to avoid.
"It's just up ahead!" Ironically, they'd arrived to the same alley William was discovered in the day before. Without a second thought, Ghent started to dash past the last dumpster when he was jerked to a rough halt. Out of nowhere, a hand had latched onto his backpack.
"Slow down, boy!" Miles pushed Ghent backwards, extending an arm out to stop Elayra if necessary. "You want to get us caught?!" As if to prove his point, a car sped past.
"Miles!" Gasping for breath, Ghent moved his hands to his knees. "You didn't," he panted, wishing he'd taken his former gym class a little more seriously. "You didn't shoot anyone, right?"
Miles lowered his arm, cocking a brow. "Unlike you, I'm not an idiot." He pat his side, the pistol concealed by his smoke infused coat. "Created a distraction. So did you two, by the sounds of it." He hacked a laugh, eyes glistening with revenge. "Old bat running that place got me a ticket for loitering."
Ghent straightened, taking the words like a slap to the face. "Are you freaking kidding me?" He threw his hands up, pacing in a line between the two Wonderlanders. "You had us run across town and bust a window over a TICKET?!"
Miles shrugged with one shoulder. "It's my last day here. I wanted revenge." Shoving his hands into his pockets, he looked into the street, confident that the police were scattered and nowhere near the Book Barn.
"Alright, girl...your turn to lead." The drunkard looked behind his shoulder, reverting back the skittish behavior he'd displayed upon first meeting the blonde. "Where's the portal?"

Relieved that Ghent seemed to have come at least somewhat to his senses—and miraculously managed to keep his balance—she hurried after him. A quick glance over her shoulder at the sedan, which had paused at the alley’s opening, cured her of that small bit of relief, and she pushed herself onward, glad for Ghent’s fear-induced speed. A ghost of recognition flashed in her mind, and she tried to remember where, if at all, she had seen the car.
She let out a breathless growl when she remembered; the car Ghent had delivered the cat to at the park. Though it had been dark, she was sure it was that car that had likely seen them run into the alleyway.
Her heart increased a beat, the uncertainty of if this car’s driver also possessed a weapon other than the cat making her constantly look back, even once it was out of sight. When they finally emerged from the alley, she scanned the streets as they groggily came to life. Watching for any sign the sedan had predicted where they would end up, she followed Ghent closely.
The clouds made it difficult, at best, to gauge the time, even when Elayra dared glance upward into the heart of the downpour. More cars made their way down the streets, each rush of them passing by making her grind her teeth. Her hand remained stretched across her to rest at her left hip, her fingers longing for the comforting feel of the worn leather of her saber’s hilt. She jogged a couple steps behind Ghent, avoiding the puddles he carelessly splashed in, habitually minimizing the noise she made while avoiding getting her feet any wetter. Though as soaked as Ghent, her boots fared better against the rain than her garments; at least, her feet were not squelching inside her shoes with every step.
“About time!” she snapped when Ghent declared their approach. Though it had only been a few blocks, it felt more like it had stretched on for a couple miles.
When a hand reached out from behind the dumpster, Elayra snarled. Before she could register the voice accompanying it, she easily ducked beneath the arm extended to stop her and simultaneously drew the dagger from her boot. She spun around, dagger at the ready, and took a step to leap toward whoever had dared stop them. When her gaze found only the haggard, drenched form of Miles, she quickly caught herself, the dagger falling inches from the hand that had gripped Ghent’s pack.
Her face twisted in an annoyed frown, and she straightened. As Ghent bent in exhaustion, her gaze swept over Miles, searching for any sign of where he kept the gun. Though not as worn out as Ghent, her breaths came heavier than normal. Her legs ached in protest against running after the excessive amount of it she did the previous day, but she ignored the soreness as well as she could. Her head turned slightly toward Ghent when he voiced his question.
Her gaze flicked to the pocket Miles tapped, and the corner of her lips twitched upward in contentment that flashed in her eyes before her brows raised at Miles’ reasoning for choosing the boutique. Ghent’s reaction made her tilt her head in a mix of confusion and curiosity as she watched him pace between her and Miles. Though she had no idea what getting a ticket meant in this world to warrant it, revenge she understood.
“Alright, girl… your turn to lead.”
Elayra nodded, but stopped, hesitant to look away from him in case he decided to draw his weapon the moment he knew where to find the portal.
“Fine.” She cocked her head, her gaze hardening dangerously. “But I should warn you. One of the White Knights of Heart Palace is waiting on the other side of the portal. If you show up without us,” she nodded toward Ghent, “he won’t be very happy. And I trust I don’t have to tell you that an unhappy White Knight isn’t someone you want to encounter. Especially an unstable one.”
She turned from him, her eyes the last thing to leave him, then headed toward the main road, hoping the threat of facing one of the Knights would keep Miles in line.
“Keep an eye on him,” she whispered to Ghent, pausing by him long enough to return the sinuous dagger to her boot. “And stay close to me.”
Without looking to make sure the two followed, she poked her head out into the familiar street. She glanced around once, quickly taking in the few people opening shop, then stepped onto the sidewalk, keeping her pace as casual as she could. Her gaze locked onto the large sign above the door of a building an alley opening away, reading, “Frank’s Book Barn.” Emboldened by the prospective of home being so close, she quickened her pace.
Careful to not let her guard down with their destination so near, she glanced down the alleyway where the shadowmire had attacked. Yellow police tape blocked off most of the alley, and one of the storage room doors hung ajar, its top hinge busted.
She shuddered at the thought of the Red Queen’s minions. With a silent plea for it to be no one else but Drust they would find waiting for them on the other side of the portal, she took a deep breath and hurried past. On the opposite side of the building, she turned down the alleyway, her pace slowing.
To the untrained eye, the alley ended in nothing more than a dead end. Graffiti covered the brick wall, creating words and tags in a chaotic artistry, many signatures and artworks overlapping as if at war with each other. To a normal passerby, the shimmery crack snaking its way over the bricks was nothing more than an ordinary crack. But to Elayra, that crack was their way home.
A couple steps into the alleyway, the pulsating feel of the portal’s magic swelled around her, unmissable even by the most novice mage. But there was something off about it. An air of struggle mingled in it, making the pulse feel more like a dying heartbeat. Her steps faltered, and her breath caught in her throat.
The magic of the portal was fading.
Elayra glanced behind her to Ghent, sparing Miles only half a glance, panic in her eyes.
“Hurry!” She reached behind her to grip Ghent’s wrist to make sure he did not fall behind, then sprinted toward the hidden portal, puddles splashing carelessly beneath her feet.
As if sensing their approach, the crack spread down the wall and yawned open before them, creating a swirling vortex of blue and white. Unlike its opening on the Wonderland side, here, flashes of sickly red lightning burst deep in its center, a virus trapped at the portal's heart.
When they neared the half-way point, a movement to their right caught Elayra’s eye. An inexplicable shadow flitted across the bricks beside them, darting ahead faster than the trio could run.
“Oh, come on!” Elayra groaned as the shadow pooled just ahead and slightly above them. She moved to shove Ghent ahead of her as hard as she could as the shadow darkened. “Get to the portal! Now!”

Without hesitation, Miles removed his hands from his pockets to show he remained unarmed.
"I don't want any trouble," the drunkard looked behind his shoulder to ensure the aforementioned knight was not there. "Not from any cops, not from any knights...I already told you, I only want to reach the portal!"
While Miles argued his innocence, Ghent resumed his pacing. Their newest companion no longer concerned him, Mrs. Saxon did. If she had managed to identify him, the entire city would know before nightfall, including his parents. When Elayra stopped near him, he stopped too.
“R-right. Sure.” Ghent hoped he didn’t sound as uncertain as he felt.
After an awkward pause, he gripped the straps of his backpack and stepped in closer. “Like this? Or… no? Yes?”
Elayra was already moving, but Ghent couldn’t tell if he was too close, or not close enough. Cringing at his own awkwardness, he settled on keeping two steps between them.
Amazingly, their walk was undisturbed. Miles trailed alongside the teenagers, eyes forward. The man was unblinking, his posture stiff. If not for him mumbling about the knights needing to mind their own business, Ghent would have thought him to be in a trance.
Out on the road, Ghent kept his head down. The shopkeepers didn't pay them any attention, and the only person who passed them was in a hurry to reach their vehicle. For the first time that morning, Ghent was thankful for the rain. It offered a welcomed distraction.
"She's close." Miles' pace quickened as a car sped past the group. He barely breathed as they came to the alleyway, a wild look of desperation in his eyes. "Feel that?"
It took Ghent a few seconds to realize that by 'she', Miles was referring to the portal. As much as he would have liked to, he couldn't deny he felt something. It was a bizarre sensation, as if the air around them had a heartbeat. Curious to find the source of the pulse, Ghent peered over Elayra's shoulder to obtain a better look at crack in the wall.
"Oh, wow..." Ghent couldn't tell if the portal was supposed to look this way, or if something was wrong with it. He'd hoped that the sight of the magic would help jog his memory, but his memories of escaping Wonderland were no clearer than before.
Frowning, Ghent continued to look the portal over with a critical eye. After the portal widened, he could see the strange red lightning sparking within its core. This was more than enough evidence for him to deem it unsafe.
"I hope that's not our portal," Ghent scoffed his disapproval, secretly deciding that Miles would go through first. "Is there something wrong with it? Because it doesn't look safe."
Miles could have cared less whether or not Ghent accompanied them, but after Elayra brought up the White Knight, he didn't want to take any unnecessary risks. "Of course it's safe," he snarled, agitated by the skepticism coming from the teen. "We have to hurry!"
Unable to figure out the reasoning for their sudden haste, Ghent had no choice but to follow Elayra after his wrist was grabbed. He was beginning to see a pattern: if Elayra wasn't dragging him along on a run, she was pushing him. "What's wrong?!"
"It's dying!" Miles halted as the shadow revealed itself, and he cursed their misfortune with language so colorful it rivaled the graffiti covered walls.
Keeping true to the pattern, Ghent felt himself being pushed by Elayra again. Gasping, he staggered forward and turned his head to demand an explanation. Before he got the chance, the ominous shadow caught his attention, filling him with dread.
"What about you?!" Ghent couldn't tell if she intended to follow. Elayra hadn't said she wasn't coming, but she hadn't said that she was, either.
"You heard her! MOVE!" Miles urged them forward, fumbling for the holster at his side. "No blasted witch is going to ruin my chances," he started to rant to himself, taking aim at the darkness looming above them.
Using what speed he had left, Ghent heeded the order and made it to the portal. Despite the orders, he didn't go through. He was frozen in place, at a loss with what to do.
Miles circled around, finger on the trigger. "What is the matter with you?!" He was looking at the shadow when he said it, but the words were aimed at Ghent. "Get going!"
For what felt the hundredth time, Ghent was roughly shoved. As he tumbled backwards, he made a frantic grab for Miles' coat to stop the fall, grabbing onto nothing but air. "NO!"
Rather than hit the wall, Ghent fell into the portal, vanishing from the world he'd called home for fourteen years.

“I’ll be right behind you!” The anger and frustration in Elayra’s voice at Ghent’s hesitation was drowned out only by Miles’ shout.
When Ghent finally obeyed to an extent and ran for the portal, Elayra hurried after, now a pace behind Miles. Her steps slowed just long enough for her to draw her only, pathetic weapon in case the man’s gun failed. It was at least better than nothing.
She did not turn her back on the shadow as it jerked and twisted drunkenly over the wall, taunting Miles to try shooting it.
When the two males stopped, Elayra almost collided with Miles.
“What’s going on?!” she shouted in a panic, glancing over her shoulder to see Ghent frozen in place still at least a yard from the portal. “Go, Featherhead!”
Thankfully, Miles shoved Ghent with enough force to make the boy stumble back just far enough to fall into the portal. The bluish-white of it flared for a short second as he fell through, his shout echoing loudly down the alleyway and making the shadow quiver as if in laughter.
Before the light had time to fade to its normal intensity, leaving no sign of Ghent behind, the shadow stilled. In the blink of an eye, the black shadowmire that had escaped death by her or Drust's hands lunged from the pool's depths, the monster's body stretched to its full length. The darkness clung to its even blacker fur as it formed the rest of the creature’s body, the two red clovers standing out on its head and rear like drops of blood. It bore its menacing fangs in a wide snarl and stretched its claws toward Miles and Elayra as it soared through the air at them.
Elayra grit her teeth and threw herself to the side toward the portal, tucking her body into a summersault made slightly awkward by her pack just before the monster landed. Its accordion-like body landed surprisingly softly for such a large cat. Its form separated her from Miles and Miles from the portal as its long, impossible tail whipped toward him after his weapon-wielding hand.
She hopped to her feet and spun toward the monster, its gaze and wicked grin on her. Revenge raged in the beast’s eyes, but that was not what made Elayra’s breath catch in her lungs. They glowed brighter than they should have, even in the muddled light of the rainy day. A gleam of calculating intelligence swirled in their depths, a gleam unlike any she had ever seen naturally reside in a shadowmire. A bone-chilling, gut-wrenching, familiar gleam that looked more magically human than supernaturally animal.
The Red Sorceress was watching.

The stories didn't do the shadowmire justice, nothing could have. What startled Miles most of all was the size of the beast, and how quickly its sleek, ebony body moved.
"You're next, girl!" Miles made a move to push Elayra through the portal. One swift action was all it would have taken for the two Wonderlanders to join Ghent, but the shadowmire had other plans and lunged forward to attack.
Cursing loudly, Miles twisted out of the way enough for his coat to take the damage rather than his flesh. Three perfectly spaced tears in the fabric were evidence of the shadowmire making its mark.
Even though Miles was faster than most his age, speed alone was not enough for him to avoid the second attack. As he prepared to shoot, he felt a sharp, stinging pain go through his arm. The shadowmire's tail acted as a whip, and it succeeded in disarming him.
"No!" Ignoring the bloody gash across his wrist, Miles dived after the pistol in desperation. The weapon disappeared beneath a dirtied puddle of rain, just out of his reach.
Breathing raggedly, Miles had no choice but to crawl towards where he'd last seen the weapon. From his position, he couldn't see Elayra or the portal, and the pulsing of their exit felt weaker than it had.
"Where is it?!" Pawing through the water frantically, Miles finally felt the cool steel near the bottom. He removed the pistol and returned his finger to the trigger, fighting to keep his hands steady.
As he sat up, Miles narrowly avoided a second hit from the shadowmire's tail. Unlike before, the shadowmire wasn't aiming for him. Its tail flicked to the side as if taunting someone, an evil grin pulling at its lips.
While the monster focused on Elayra, Miles knew that was this was the distraction he needed. It was now or never.
Crouching on one knee, Miles aimed the barrel upwards. "I haven't waited this long to have everything taken away from me now, witch!"
Keeping both eyes open, he aimed for the shadowmire's head, and shot.

The shadowmire’s ears twitched, and irritation flashed in the beast’s eyes—rather, the Queen’s watchful enchantment—when Miles’ called out to it. It’s tail flicked as if to lash at him again, but it did not have time.
Nothing could have prepared Elayra for the earsplitting ring of the gunshots. She gasped and covered her ears as the confined space amplified the noise.
The shadowmire yowled in pain when Miles’ bullets hit their target, its volume contending with the bang of the gun. It shook its head violently, its body thrashing about and sending sprays of rain from its fur and scales.
Elayra ducked and sidestepped to avoid its tail as the beast spun toward miles with an almost metallic, feline roar, but her attention snapped to the portal a single lunge away from her when it flickered. She inhaled and glanced between Miles and the shadowmire, and the portal.
“Sorry, Miles,” she muttered as the beast’s scaly segments scrunched together in preparation to pounce at the current greater threat.
Saliva strung over its sharp teeth as it bore its impossible number of wicked teeth at the gun-wielding man. It kept one eye closed, thick blood dripping down from its corner to soak the fur of its face. Its tail shot in front of it, both a distraction and attempt at disarming him again.
“Keep it angry,” she shouted at Miles as she stepped sideways toward the portal, unsure if the usual tactics would work with the Red Queen backing the creature up, “and you keep it stupid!” With that, she jumped into the swirling portal as it flickered again.
The moment she stepped through, the magic of the portal let out a final, long pulse, like the last weary moan of the dying. It sucked together into its glowing crack, but even that snuffed itself out like an eye closing for the last time.
As if it sensed that the portal—and its desired prey—had vanished, the shadowmire let out another howl. An almost feminine, human air mingled eerily with it, before its injured body sunk into a pool of shadows that raced away over the walls and to the rooftops.
In the alley, a scrap of dirtied, brown fabric stuck out from the dead-end where the portal had been: a small scrap of Elayra’s dress that had not quite made it through. A scrap that created the only solid evidence that the Wonerlander had roamed the streets of Earth.

The sound the monster made was otherworldly. Droplets of water and flecks of blood hit Miles as the shadowmire shook out its coat. Cringing at the combination of the screech and blood, Miles aimed to shoot again when the pistol was knocked out of his grasp for the second time.
Unable to keep his balance, the drunkard fell backwards from the force of the hit and stared up at the salivating monster in horror. He attempted to scoot himself back, hoping to put any distance possible between himself and the shadowmire while Elayra instructed him what to do.
"It's already stupid!" Miles' response was automatic. Using insults was second nature to him. "There's nothing I could say about this idiot that hasn't already been said!"
Neither Wonderlander got to see if Elayra's advice worked. The second the insult left Miles' lips, Elayra escaped, and he felt a change in the air that caused him more pain than his injured wrist. The portal died, and the shadowire seemed to die with it.
"No, no, no!" Scrambling to the wall, Miles slammed a fist against the bricks, breathing heavily as he unleashed his frustration. The portal was gone, and so was his chance at world jumping. He gripped his bleeding wrist and started cursing again, unintentionally quoting some of the profanities on the surrounding walls.
"This can't be happening." Crippled by defeat, Miles finally sank down to a crouched position, gripping handfuls of his graying hair by the roots. He sat there for a full minute, muttering weakly about missing his chance. The sight of him babbling to himself while rocking back and forth was something better suited for an asylum.
"I'm not crazy," Miles began to argue with the wall, turning defensive as he did with Ghent and Elayra. He nodded to the scrap of fabric left behind and continued to argue his sanity. "See? This is proof that they were here!"
Loosening his grip on his dripping hair, Miles reached for the evidence, freezing at a sound that made his blood run cold. The blast of sirens sounded in the distance, alerting him to the fact that the police had heard the gunshot, and they were close.
Swearing underneath his breath, Miles forced himself to stand. Visibly shaken, he fled the scene, leaving the fabric and pistol behind in his hurry.