into the Underworld.
Prince Number 9 saw them drop into the black river surrounding the palace. He watched from his turret. He said they were both made of fire, like angels falling. Made a big splosh! They both dragged themselves from the waters, soggy and slipping. And he said Daddy looked really pissed off. We all wanted to know who she was, the lady with the red hair. We were told later she was a witch trying to ruin Daddy’s marriage. She must have succeeded because we never saw his wife again.
So what happened to the witch, you ask? Well at first Daddy didn’t know what to do with her. She was a difficult guest and prisoner. He kept threatening to put her in a cage, but he never did. She in turn had done some real damage to him. She had cut off the entrance to the Upperworld and we were all now trapped.
Prince Number 2 got a clout round the ear for asking Daddy if he would marry the witch. I kept my mouth shut, but I wanted to speak to her. And one day I got my chance.
She was sitting in the garden under an apple tree and she looked rather annoyed. I took the opportunity to introduce myself. “Hello, my name is Prince Number 14, or Loveheart if you prefer,” and I smiled as nicely as I could. She had very unusual eyes – they reminded me of something predatory, something reptilian perhaps. She looked at me carefully, brushing tendrils of red hair out of her face.
“Hello, Loveheart,” she said.
“So, how are you enjoying the Underworld?”
She looked into me momentarily and pointed a finger upwards. “You are also from up there.”
“Yes,” I said. “Daddy kidnapped me and murdered my real father.”
“Sadly, I am not surprised by that remark. He’s not a gentleman, has no idea about good manners.”
“Can you open the doorway to the Upperworld?”
She looked suspiciously at me, “Maybe.”
“So why don’t you do it and go home?”
“I am protecting someone I love. I will not open anything until I know she will be safe.”
“Is the Lord of the Underworld in love with you?”
“Not at all. He is obsessed with me because he cannot control me. That is all.”
“Oh,” I said, not really knowing how to reply.
“He has no understanding of love and he doesn’t like women very much,” and she laughed to herself.
“Why is that funny?” I asked.
“Well, he kidnaps women to be his wives, without much liking them to start with. And then kidnaps children, calling them numbers, again without really liking them at all. What does he actually like, I wonder?”
“He likes clocks,” I said.
“No, he likes the fact that clocks are predictable. Controllable. He has no understanding of time, either. He is rather stupid.” And her eyes wandered off into the distance.
“What are you thinking about?” I asked.
“I was just imagining him in a dress.” And I left her to her imagination under the apple tree and thought her wondrous.
Prince Number 3 spied on her, watched her from the turrets, sent blackbirds out to send back reports. There was a standoff between Daddy and the witch. Neither would back down. The portal remained shut. And then one day something changed.
Daddy made a mistake.
He slapped her across the face and I remember
that she was
smiling.
She massacred Princes 1 to 12. Picked them off one by one. Chopped their heads off and put them on Daddy’s dining table. It was then he started to beg. My life and Tumbletee’s were spared. The marriage contract was broken and the portal finally opened.
I want to be just like her when I grow up.
V: September 1887
Detective Goliath Honey-Flower & the People-eaters of Dewdrop Lane
My life before I met Mirror was very different. I was a detective with Scotland Yard for some years in London. A few weeks before I met her, I was assigned to a very peculiar case.
It was autumn in London, great heavy bundles of chocolate and burnt toffee leaves lay across the streets, blown in the wind. The skies, grey and swirling, were streaked with ribbons of violent pink. My detective sergeant, Percival White, had assigned me to a case regarding an elderly couple who lived on Dewdrop Lane, which was a rundown little terraced road in South London, near a boatyard. For weeks the neighbours had been complaining about this elderly couple. Noises in the night, banging and screaming. And strange smells. I had been sent round there to talk to the couple and find out exactly what was going on and to sort it out. It was supposed to be straightforward.