The tongues lug him offstage and toward the slobbering mouth. His wings wither against his back, caught up in the appendage wrapped around his waist. His hat flutters to the ground.
I struggle to stand with the contraption beneath my skirts, rocking back and forth until momentum gives me ground. As soon as I’m on my feet, I spin around and lift the glass lid. The vorpal sword’s handle feels warm even through my gloves. Everywhere I touch, I leave prints glowing blue on the silver metal.
A shout draws my attention back to the fight. Graceful and lethal, the elfin knights catapult onto the bandersnatch’s back, hacking away at its hide with their swords in vain. The card guards spring into action. They perform elaborate feats of acrobatic skill to build a card tower above the beast’s head. Then they topple and prick at his tongues with their spears on the way down.
Their combined efforts help Morpheus escape the tongue at his waist. He dives to the floor, flapping his wings for leverage against the other two appendages still on his ankles. The bandersnatch thrashes. The card guards flutter like leaves caught in wind and slap against the walls. The beast bucks again, toppling three of the elves. They hit the floor, knocked out cold, swords spinning next to them with grating sounds.
Urgency surges through me. Fingers clamped on the vorpal sword’s handle, I gut the teddy bear’s stomach seam. Stuffing bulges and parts as something struggles to push its way out.
Morpheus wails. The knights and card guards litter the floor, all of them either unconscious, wounded, or dead. Eelish and slimy, the tongues writhe against Morpheus, holding him upside down. The bandersnatch’s lower jaw unhinges and widens to a chasm, preparing to swallow his prey whole.
Chessie still hasn’t emerged from his prison of stuffing. Tucking the bear into my bodice, I grab the cello bow and vorpal sword, then flap my wings and take to the air. I don’t even care how high I am. Hovering over the snarling mass of monster, I shout down at Morpheus, “Catch!” I balance the sword just over his raised hand and drop it.
With lightning reflexes, he snags the handle and slashes the blade in three sweeps, slicing the head off one tongue. The creature bellows and releases Morpheus, who joins me in midair. Below, our attacker slinks back to its pen, howling.
Hair a mess and clothes slimed and rumpled, Morpheus tucks the vorpal sword into his lapel and nods his gratitude. Together, we descend. My feet have barely touched ground when the teddy bear in my bodice jerks against me, dragging me toward the beast’s pen.
“Chessie’s trying to get to his other half!” Morpheus shouts.
It’s as if someone has caught me on a fishing line and is reeling me in. Morpheus tries to grab me, but it’s too late. I’m shuffled into the pen to face the bandersnatch. My knees start to give as he circles me, looming and snarling, his incapacitated tongue dragging on the floor and dripping green blood.
“Free the smile, Alyssa!” Morpheus swoops into the pen to distract the beast.
Shaking all over, I slide the toy from my bodice and drop it. An orange glow drifts up from the torn seam. The bandersnatch softens its growls, mesmerized by the light.
Cello bow clenched in my hand, I wait and wonder …
The orange glow grows from the size and shape of a penny to that of a football. Emerald green eyes with slitted pupils appear, and a bulbous nose follows in the center. Lastly, a smile bursts into view—glaring white like Nurse Poppins’s at the asylum—with whiskers stretched above either side.
Another orange light answers from inside the bandersnatch’s stomach. It illuminates the creature’s undigested victims. The silhouettes of winged beings, big and small, flutter inside like a morbid baby mobile, casting shadows on the wall of his gut.
The beast holds his head low in silence, somehow aware of the change going on inside him. Chessie’s orange head flips around to face me and morphs into an hourglass shape, whiskers stretching vertically over his teeth to form bow strings.
A cello …
“Be the bridge,” Morpheus instructs me. “Subdue the beast.”
I reach up for the floating orange instrument and coax it down. Leaning against a wall, I drag the bow over the whiskers, choosing a simple song we used to play in band to warm up. But it’s not my notes that come out of the smile. Chessie’s voice sings a melody, melancholy and contagious, and soon I find myself humming as I continue to accompany him—though I’ve never heard the tune.