Himley the Mad Hatter (complete)

Ages ago, my family lived in Tea Country. We were not rich like most of the people there, but my parents made a decent living. My mother was hired to perform elaborate tea services in the homes of the wealthy. Despite the need for such things in Tea Country, my mother’s income was low. My father was a handyman who performed various odd jobs and services for the rich folk. He repaired more than his fair share of mansions.

Both my parents gathered many secrets from the people they worked for. My father was privy to many a secretive talk, and my mother had integrated herself into society despite her status. They supplemented their income by blackmailing those above them. This earned a more comfortable living for me and my family, but it was a dangerous one, and a living they hid covetously.

My father had an assistant, a young man who always kept his face hidden. He had taken pity on him and offered him a job, which he worked well at. He was much older than me, but he appeared to be much simpler. He rarely spoke and was timid and meek, but I always tried to be kind to him. I shared my sweets with him. He never lifted his hood to try them, but merely pocketed them for later. 

When I was ten, I was coming home from school, skipping up the path to my house, when I saw dozens of constables surrounding my home. I stopped and hid, ducking into bushes while I watched my home being ransacked. My mother was dragged, kicking and screaming, from the house, and my father was tossed unconscious onto the ground. I held my breath while I mustered the strength not to cry, lest I be found too.

I could hear my mother screaming from the back of the jail cart. My father still lay on the ground, unmoving, while the constables walked around him. Then I saw our family helper walk out of the house. He stood with an officer, who was speaking to him. I watched as another man walked up and handed our helper a huge sum of money.

“This has been a big relief to us. Thank you for leading us to them,” the officer said.

The helper looked down at the money in his hand, then shrugged. “It was nothing. All I did was earn their trust, and when that was sealed, it was easy enough to go unnoticed.” He tilted his hooded head up to the house. “They thought I was stupid.”

I gasped in horror. He betrayed my whole family, like it was nothing more than a day’s work. 

“There was a girl,” the officer said. “Their daughter. Do you know where she is?”

The helper turned and looked around. “She should be coming home from school by now. Undoubtedly she ran.”

“We’ll begin searching for her,” the officer replied. 

I stayed hidden in that bush for hours. Eventually, I fell asleep as night crept in. I woke due to the cold, peering out from my hiding place to see the garden and lawn trashed and kicked up. My parents were gone, taken to jail, where they would probably be tortured or worse. I heard my mother screaming as they drove away. I was uncertain whether my father was alive or not. He had never moved.

I emerged from my hiding place, crawling out and slowly approaching the front door, which had been open the whole time. Inside, my house had been ransacked. Things had been tossed aside and ripped from the shelves, furniture was turned over, and everything felt empty. As I wandered through my home, I saw signs that people had already come through to steal what belongings remained. My room was picked clean, my toys and clothes mostly gone. 

I crawled under my bed, where there was a loose floorboard. Opening it, I found what was hidden was still there. I took everything out, tucking it into my arms. It was all I had left.

“There you are, Penelope.”

I nearly leapt from my skin and scooted back into the wall.

Our family helper was leaning over the bed, looking down at me. I wanted to be mad. I wanted to be vengeful. But all I could be was terrified. I didn’t want to be dragged away like my parents. At that moment, I would have rather died.

The helper stretched his hand under the bed. “I won’t tell on you, Penelope.”

I bit his hand hard enough to taste blood. He screamed, unable to pull his hand away until I let go. When he did, I ran, scurrying out from under the bed as he swatted at me. He gave chase, following me down the stairs as I slid on the banister. I kept my treasure close to my chest, racing outside into the darkness. I kept running, faster, faster, faster.

The helper gave chase, screaming at me all the while. I hid in the roots of an old tree, going almost underground. I heard the helper pass by, growling with frustration. “I tried to help you, Penelope!” he screamed. “You fool! Die out here for all I care!” He left, huffing and puffing as he went.

I stayed beneath the tree all night, only coming out in the morning. The front of my blouse was covered in the blood I shed when I bit him. I walked into someone’s backyard, stole a dress from the line and changed into it, putting my soiled clothes in my backpack. 

Despite my age, I was able to find work in the kitchen staff of one of the larger estates in Tea Country. I hid there for years, growing up, learning how to cook and prepare tea properly. When I was sixteen, I was swiped by another rich family to become their personal chef. Despite my age, I was given a prestigious place in the staff. I earned the favor of the family and grew close to the elder children and wife.

It was there I first met Himley, an affluent man who was putting his hat into the ring to become mayor. He was going around to all the richest families in Tea Country, hoping to earn their favor and votes. He was a tall, good-looking man with a shock of red hair. He always wore an elaborate hat, something that had become his icon. 

One day, while Himley was joining my employers for tea while I attended them. “My, my, what a lovely young chef you have there,” Himley said with a smile. His front teeth were slightly larger than the rest, but he had a gorgeous smile nonetheless. “Thank you, darling.” His voice was smooth and affected, with the faux accent of high class.

As he reached up to take the teacup I had poured for him, I noticed a strange scar on his fingers. It was a bite mark. I held my tongue and bowed my head to him.

“Isn’t Penny wonderful?” the master of the house enthused. “She’s been a blessing on this house. So young, and yet her cooking skills are second to none.”

Himley looked at me with another sly smile. “A blessing to be certain.” His bright green eyes bored into me, and I looked back at him. “I hear you have a way with sweets?”

Before I could respond, the lady sighed dreamily. “You should come around on Sundays when she makes her trifle! I don’t know how she does it!”

“Perhaps I’ll have to pay another visit,” Himley chuckled. “I do have a weakness for sweets, I must admit.”

He came that Sunday, as sure as rain. For weeks, he showed up every Sunday, eating great deals of my special trifle. All I could see were the bite marks on his hand - the same as those I left on our family’s helper. 

One evening as I was cleaning up in the kitchen, I heard a shout in the corridor. I was in the pantry, out of sight, when I saw the lady of the house and Himley walk in. She looked distraught, while Himley looked pleased. 

“You must not tell my husband!” she whispered in panic. “If he found out, it would be the end of me. Please!”

Himley had his back towards me, but I could taste the smug satisfaction in the air. “I just want to make sure I have your support. Once I am elected mayor, we shall discuss it further.”

He was blackmailing her! Just as my parents had done, Himley was undoubtedly using what he learned from my father to further his career and status. I had no doubt he retained some of the information my parents had back in the day. 

I visited the homes of other wealthy families in the area, talking to the staff about Himley and his visits. I learned from my friends that, apparently, similar things were happening to their employers. Himley was blackmailing the richest and most powerful people in Tea Country to assure his election.

Unsurprisingly, Himley was elected, and so began his frightening rule. For the next four years, he used Tea Country as his own piggy bank. I heard stories from all over that he had something on everyone in Tea Country, even the royal family.

On my twenty-first birthday, the lady of the house comes to me and tells me that Himley has requested that I enter his employment. It’s a shock, but not a complete surprise. I had been hoping for a chance to get closer to him, and alone with him. I’ve been using his visits and my sweets to try to catch his attention. I just wonder what he did to convince both the Lady and the Master to hand me over. It’s perfect. Now, working in his own home, I can enact my revenge upon him. 

I am moved into Himley’s estate rather quickly, and given quarters outside of the staff housing. I have a private suite and a huge book of instructions from Himley himself. The kitchen I am to work in is very nice and modern. I’m not used to much of it yet, but the staff is wonderful - if rather frightened of Himley.

I am often called at odd hours to prepare snacks for Himley, who has a sweet tooth as big as the kingdom of Pirlipat. I make puddings, cakes, cookies, and all manner of pastries for him. He has a fondness for carrot cake, so I always have one in the oven or on hand. 

One evening, I am looking over my treasure - the thing I took from under my bed the day my life was ripped apart. It was Himley who betrayed my parents and sold them for his wealth. He used that wealth to build himself up, and used my parents’ secrets to continue to grow it. 

The bell rings, signaling that Himley wants his treat for the night. I get up and prepare it. I select a prime slice of carrot cake, embellish it with extra icing piped onto the plate, and then prepare the tea.

I take the tray to his study, where he is waiting in his chair before the fire. He sets his book aside and extends his hand, which I place the hot tea in.

“Thank you, dear chef,” he sighs. “I have so been looking forward to this evening.”

“So have I.” I place the slice of cake on his side table.

Himley furrows his brow. “Rather cryptic, don’t you think, chef?” He chortles. “You’ve been delivering me my sweets for weeks now, surely you know that by…”

I slip the knife under his chin.

“I see.” Himley clicks his tongue. His eyes focus forward and his hands continue to hold the hot teacup above his lap.

“Don’t move,” I growl into his ear. His head twitches away from me and he lowers his eyes. “Do you know what today is?”

He sighs. “I’m not so certain.” A sour grimace spreads across his face. “I know we are midway through the week.”

I place the blade closer to his throat. “Ten years ago, you betrayed a family who took you in. You ratted them out, took everything away from them. Ten years ago, you ruined my life!”

Himley looks up at me, his eyes wide and breath bated. “You must be joking.” He lets out a breathless laugh.

I press the edge of the blade against his throat as a warning. “Do you want me to spill that black blood of yours? Because I will.”

Himley stiffens in his seat, pressing his back tighter against the chair so he can escape the blade. “Now, now, dear chef. How do you know you have the right man?”

I reach down with my free hand and grab his wrist, pull it away from the teacup and spread out his fingers. “These scars on your hand are from when I bit you. You reached under my bed and tried to grab me.”

I release his hand, and Himley slowly takes hold of the tea cup again. “If you kill me…”

“I have no intent on letting you get away so easily,” I laugh. “Do not believe for a moment that I am going to make this easy on you.” 

I slap his hat away, and his ears spring out into the air. Himley tenses up further in the chair. “Don’t touch that!” he roars, but his voice quickly returns to silence as he remembers the dagger chilling his skin.

“I know what you are.” I look up along the dark ears sprouting from the top of his head like some dying plant. “You, dear Mayor, are a Hare.”

Himley grunts low in his throat, wanting so badly to struggle but knowing my dagger will plunge into his neck if he does. “How did you figure it out?”

“The blood you spilled was black.” I set my hand on his shoulder. “Also, my father knew. He told me and had me keep the secret. I’m certain you want me to keep it too. What would everyone here say when they found out a Hare used them all? Abused them all? They would kill you, wouldn’t they? Regardless of what you know about them.”

Himley’s breath shudders out. “What do you want, Penelope?”

“I want my mother,” I snarl at him. “I know she’s still alive. My father, too, if he is still breathing. Bring them into your employ with me.”

“You still want to be my chef?” Himley laughs in disbelief. “What on earth are you thinking?”

“I want to keep an eye on you.” I laugh right back at him. “I want you under my foot. That way, Tea Country is in my hands. But I will be only a chef, while you - well, everyone knows all about you.”

Himley wants to look back at me, but he keeps his head forward. His hands holding the hot tea cannot move, and I know the cup must be searing in his palms. “Money? Is that what you want?”

“No,” I snap. “I want this horrible place to burn from within. You’re just the match.”

I slide my finger across the blade until pearls of ruby red appear. Then I drip my blood into the tea. “Drink it.”

Himley’s breath shudders again, and he hisses through clenched teeth. His jaw is tight and his fingers have gone white on the tea cup. “No.”

“Drink it.” I insist, withdrawing the blade from his neck enough to let him move. “Do it, or I’ll scream, and then everyone will know.”

Himley’s hands shake as he brings the cup to his lips. He drinks, finishing off the entire cup. I lower the dagger. There is nothing he can do now. He’s under my power. Himley slouches, clutching his head in his hands. 

Himley lets out a dry, raspy belch. “I feel sick.”

I sit down in the chair across from him and motion to the cake. “Eat up. Sweets always seem to make you feel better.”

He looks up at me. His eyes are dark red, and his sharp gaze slices through me, but I pay it no mind. “Damn you, Penelope!” He looks away, picking up his hat and covering his ears. “How did you know about this?”

“My father wrote a book, taken from books in the houses he worked for. He learned from those books how Hares were used as servants and controlled. Legends, of course, but there was some truth to them. If I hadn’t bitten you years ago my plan would not have worked at all. The blood needs to go both ways.”

Himley smooths out his shirt as he hisses through his teeth. “If I am the one you wanted revenge against, why then do you wish to see all of Tea Country burn?”

“The wealth here is obscene,” I reply with a growl. “Tea Country was built on the backs of hardworking laborers, and now those same people are starving and dying while all these people do is get fatter and wealthier. They have no purpose in this world but to ruin it.”

The corners of Himley’s mouth curl upwards, and his two front teeth glimmer with his smile. “I hate them too.”

“You have a better reason than I to hate them,” I scoff. I rise from my seat and place my palm over my chest. “But that doesn’t change things. From now on, you are mine. Do you understand that?”

“Understood.” His brow quirks. “My dear chef, it is part of my very being now.” Then he grimaces and stands from his chair. He towers over me. Even without his hat, he would be frighteningly tall. “I will free your parents tomorrow. After that, what do you wish me to do?”

I cock my chin up and, slowly, Himley lowers himself to his knees. “Do not worry about the future, Himley. That is my job now. But for now, we will continue acting as if things are the same. You will be the mayor and I will be your darling chef.”

Himley grunts and bows his head lower before he rises again. His red eyes bear down upon me, and he takes the carrot cake from the table. “How lucky you are,” he sneers before turning and leaving. 

Several days later, a woman is brought into the kitchen to start working with me. She’s tall and frail looking, with dark circles under her eyes. It takes me a moment, but I recognize her as my mother. Breathless emotion washes over me as she approaches. She looks at me with curious eyes. Undoubtedly she’s confused as to why she is even here, why she was released from her punishment. Her hair is much whiter than I remember it, brushed but not styled. She has probably not had such luxury since she was pulled screaming from our home.

“You look familiar,” my mother says as I approach her. She has the same breathless cadence to her voice as I do. “Oh, so familiar…” she hiccups.

I nod as tears well up in my eyes. “I’ve grown up some, Mama.”

Her eyes widen and she gasps, cupping her hand around her mouth. “No, it can’t be.” She places her hands on my face. “Penelope! My little girl!”

We embrace, hugging each other tightly and sobbing. Despite everything that has happened and changed, she still feels like my mother. She is gaunt and frail from years in the dungeons, but she is still my mother. She kisses me, pressing her lips to my hair and face, beaming with pride as she gazes at me through tears. I laugh and cry, just enjoying the fact we have been reunited.

That evening, after having spent the day telling her about the kitchen and how I claimed my position, I take her to my room. I brush and style her hair for her, putting her long locks into curlers, much like she used to do for me when I was little. We talk, and talk, and I reveal my plans to her.

“You’re controlling him?” she gasps in alarm. “Darling, this is very dangerous. There is a reason Hares are so reviled in this land. There is always a twist to the bond. It’s so dangerous!”

“I don’t care,” I mutter. I pull more of her hair aside and wrap it neatly around the curlers, pinning them to her head once they are filled. “All these years, all I wanted was to get you back. Controlling him to do so is fine with me as long as you are here.”

My mother sighs, sounding beyond exhausted. “People have fallen in love with Hares in the past because of this. What will you do if love starts to control you?”

She is warning me of things I’m already aware of. “He will still be mine,” I say, as sure as the sunset. “Even more so than before.”

“Penelope,” her voice is low, and harkens to the days when I drew on her wallpaper. “The bond goes both ways. He will have some power as well.”

I smirk to myself. “He is putty in my hands. I’ve known that since I was little. He has a fondness for me, even more now that I am grown. He is a man of appetites, Mama, and I will keep his hunger in my favor.”

Stay smart, Penelope.” My mother turns and places her hand on my cheek. “Hares are dangerous, but women can be worse.”

I kiss her palm and smile at her. “I know, Mama.”

That evening, I deliver Himley his late-night snack. He does not lift his head to acknowledge me as I pour his tea at his desk or as I lay the slice of cake before him. As I wipe off the teapot and set it before him, he turns his chair to face me. “Happy?” he asks through clenched teeth.

“As a matter of fact, I am.” I fold my hands on my apron and look down at him in his chair. “I appreciate how fast you work. Having Mama back in my life feels like a great weight lifted from me.”

Himley’s tongue darts over his teeth. “You’re lucky you captured yourself the right man.”

“I suppose I am.” I step closer to his chair. “Will that be all for the evening?”

“Is it?” Himley leans towards me, his elbows on his knees and his back at a strange angle. “You have power over me, yet all you do is serve me cake? I find that quite hard to believe.”

“You like my cake,” I smile. “It’s part of my power as well. My cake delivered me into your hands. I would be a fool to not acknowledge that.”

Himley’s lip curls. “You think you’re clever, don’t you?” He pops his neck with a twitch of his head. “You used your confections to lure me, both of your making and of your countenance.” His eyes dart over me. “Sweet thing you are. You’re a temptress in an apron.”

I smirk, letting a chuckle escape my lips. “I knew you liked me.”

He scoffs, sticking his tongue out. “I like the pleasure I gained from you, edible and fantasy.”

I take off his hat. He flinches, looking away from me as his dark ears raise up. “How do you disguise yourself?” I ask him.

Himley growls under his breath, keeping his head down while I hold his hat away. “It is a simple trick I learned, nothing too involved. But it only works on my face and hands. Anywhere else if you were to look, would be a Hare’s features.”

I roll the hat in my hands. “Did you learn this trick before or after you betrayed my family?”

He casts a glare up at me. “Obviously after.”

“Which brings up another question.” I set the giant hat on top of my head. “Why did you do it?”

Himley rolls his eyes. “Do what?”

“Betray them!” I slam my palms down on his desk. “My parents took you in! They took care of you, gave you a job, helped you when you had nothing.”

“Is that what you think that all was?” Himley’s voice starts to rise. His eyes have a faint glow to them. “Your father worked me to the bone and paid me nearly nothing! He made me sleep in a cold basement with barely enough food each day. Your stupid cookies were the most I ever got!”

I feel as though the air has been sucked from my lungs. “My father would never…”

“Exactly, your father. He was no father to me, Penelope.” Himley shakes his head. “Your mother just ignored me - that I could bear. But your father saw me,” he seethes. “He saw me and didn’t see a thing. But what did I expect, huh?” He laughs ruefully and licks the corner of his mouth. “You saw things too, but you were so horribly innocent back then.”

“I was a child!” I snap back at him. “How was I supposed to know? And was that really worth ruining our lives for?”

Himley’s eyes narrow and his ears twitch in tandem. His body surges forward, towering over me. His shoulders seem broader, more threatening. Even his hands appear larger. “You don’t know what it’s like to be a Hare, do you?” He tilts his head to the side and his neck pops. “Even though you are poor here in Tea Country - lower class, the child of criminals - people still see such a pretty girl.” He breathes in and his chest swells. “You still get seen. You still get treated kindly. Because you’re not different. Meanwhile, there’s me.” He sweeps his hands down his chest. “Unseen, yet seen at the same time. People ignore me while holding a magnifying glass over my head and telling me to look at the sun. You have no idea what it is like, darling. To be hated so much, to be spit on and devalued because of… who knows!” He grins and traps the tip of his tongue between his teeth. “Be glad you’re pretty and talented.”

I look away from him. He snatches his hat from the top of my head. “You want to destroy Tea Country, so be it. It only removes one finger off the hand.” He sits back down at his desk and takes a sip of his tea. “Everyone wants to believe that Miror is a wonderland, but it isn’t. It’s all the same.”

I push the tray aside to leave the room, but stop and look back at Himley as he hovers over his desk. “Who do you hate the most?”

He looks up and lifts himself so he is no longer hunched over. “It varies day to day, but perhaps I have not met them yet.”

I take in a breath, trying to catch the one I lost. “Have you ever loved anyone?”

“That sounds worse than hating,” Himley laughs quietly. “I would rather not love at all if I can help it.”

I nod. “That is what I thought you’d say.”

Himley clicks his tongue. “Your father is dead,” he says coldly. “Several years ago, in fact. But I am finding out where he is buried.” His tone is unceremonious and lacking in any sort of sympathy.

I close the door again and stand in silence.

“What’s the matter with you?” Himley’s tone is a happy one.

I clutch the door and hang my head. The pain is so much worse than I expected. He had been alive. If I acted faster, perhaps I could have seen him again, even saved him. He may have been an asshole, but he was still my father. I crumple to my knees, covering my eyes with my hands as I cry.

“He failed an escape attempt,” Himley murmurs. “He fell off the wall and broke his spine. Nothing could be done about it.”

I glance back at him as tears fall from my eyes. “Are you happy, then?” I sputter.

Himley lifts a letter, then sets it back aside. “No.”

I sit on the floor for a moment, letting my grief wash over me. After a while, Himley comes away from his desk and approaches me. He holds his hand out, offering to help me up. “It is improper for you to be sitting there. Go cry in someone else’s room, Penelope. Maybe your own would be better.” He pulls me to my feet, then dusts my shoulders and looks me over. “I don’t want to feel what you are feeling anymore.”

“The bond?” I gulp down a breath.

Himley lifts my skirt, using the hem to wipe my face off. “No, the magical pixie of empathy. Of course the fucking bond!” He drops my skirt once my face is dry. “I can feel you inside me, and it makes me want to tear into my own flesh to get you out.”

I lift my chin. “Good. That’s how I want you to feel.”

Himley grins at me. “Vicious brat.”

“Sanctimonious monster,” I breathe back at him.

His hands clutch my waist and I skip a breath. “Common seductress.”

“Lowlife whore.” I find myself grinning.

Himley’s brows raise as he bends closer to me. “What’s this I feel from you, Penelope?” he breathes into my ear. “It’s different.”

“This isn’t coming from me, Himley,” I chuckle. “This is all you.”

Himley’s warm breath brushes against my ear. “Don’t blame me for this.”

The door opens behind us. My mother stands there with a vicious glare upon her face. Himley lets go of me, taking a step back.

“Mama,” I say with a long exhalation. “What are you doing here?”

“Checking on things.” Her eyes flick to Himley, who backs away. “You hadn’t come back yet, so I was worried.”

Himley bows his head to her. “Madam.”

Her vicious stare cuts him open. “You do not get to speak to me. I don’t know what you think you are doing, but you will remain silent around me. Understood?”

Himley nods and walks away.

“Come along, Penelope.” My mother takes my hand.

I smirk, looking back towards Himley. His face is bright red. “Of course, Mama.” I follow behind her, smug in my newest discovery. 

I tell Mama about my father’s fate. She seems relieved, almost as if she had been hoping for such a thing. Then again, they had been separated for ten years. Who knows what happens to a person after such a length of time. In a way, my mother is an entirely different person now, but so am I.

Himley holds dinner parties quite regularly under the guise of thanking his “supporters”. He has some honest ones, but most are the victims of his blackmail. I suppose he keeps tabs on people to make sure they are still under his thumb. Those who come he is assured of, and those who don’t are paid a personal visit by him.

During one such party, my staff and I are kept busy. Our patrons are picky and used to getting their own way, so dinner is always such a difficult affair when so many attend. We are kept scurrying all night.

At one point in the evening, I hear one of my girls scream. Rushing to her aid, I find her cornered by one of the rich assholes attending the party. He has her shoved up against the wall, and I knock him aside, guarding my girl with my whole body.

“You’d best keep your hands on the utensils and not my staff!” I roar at him.

He’s obviously drunk. I can see in his bulging, bloodshot eyes that he believes I have done the offending act and not him. He speaks, but it is in such a slurred voice that I barely understand him. All I know is that he is enraged I interrupted his fun, and now, I am the one who is going to take it. 

He grabs at me, ripping my blouse. His hot, putrid breath beats on my neck. I scream, and then I hear a laugh.

“My god, old man.” Himley grabs his guest and pulls him back. “Show some shame! How many times am I going to have to talk to you about this?” I see his knuckles are white on the asshole’s shoulders and a look of discomfort washes over the rich lout’s face. 

I shoo my girl away and hold my blouse in place as Himley takes hold of the man. His eyes have shifted from green to red, and his shoulders are hunched. He grins down at the man, all while his fingers dig harder into his shoulders. “You dare touch my property?” Himley snarls. “After all the selfish deeds you have done, you think this is acceptable?”

The man blubbers and makes excuses.

Himley looks at me. “What do you think, dear chef? What should we do to this man if he won’t learn his lesson?”

I look at the pathetic display. “How often does he hurt people?”

“You don’t want me to answer that, do you?” Himley chuckles. “Isn’t once enough?”

The hall is quiet.I can hear the revelry of the guests in the dining hall. No one knows, no one is aware that anybody is missing. I look back at the pig and his pitiful squealing. I feel rage, and the enjoyment of it firing up inside me. I;ve known men like him my whole life, men who use their power to devastate others, thinking they are innocent because they have the right. 

I take my dagger out and clutch it, unsure if the pleasure I derive from this moment comes from Himley or me. It would be so easy to end this, to cut him, to make him bleed. Am I too far gone? Am I going mad?

I am used to blood, to carving up pigs to roast. I have grown used to butchery. Himley helps, watching me with knives as I prepared the body and packaged each section. It really is no different from a pig to my surprise.

I stand in the kitchen, facing Himley, who has removed his coat and shirt in an attempt to keep them clean. All he wears now is an apron. His arms and chest are covered by dark fur, the only parts of him he can’t disguise. It looks as though he is wearing a mask and gloves. He grins at me, his eyes scanning me while he licks the corner of his mouth. 

“Well, now,” he breathes, “what have we done?”

I look at the neat stack of packaged meat on the counter. “I’m not sure.” I remove my gloves, then go to the sink to wash my hands.

“How do you feel?” Himley crosses his arms over his chest.

I watch the water run down the drain. “You know.”

Himley comes up behind me. “Say it out loud.”

I turn and look up at him. “I don’t hate it.” I look over his face, looking for some sign of judgement or smugness, but there is none. He looks at me knowing full well that we are one in the same now.

“We’ll get rid of it,” I whisper. “Bit by bit, but we’ll get rid of it.”

Himley touches my cheek and slides his fingertips against my lips. “I have no doubts, dear chef.”

“We’ve been missing for hours. You should return to your party.”

Himley lifts my chin and makes me stare at him. “I have what I need from them, and the staff is taking care of them. They’ll be too drunk to walk to their carriages soon enough. I’ll feed them grand stories of the party, and they’ll have no choice but to believe me.”

He dips down, pressing a kiss to my lips. Our lips part and his tongue darts over my teeth. I moan softly, grabbing hold of him as his hands circle my waist.

“What will you do with the evidence?” Himley chuckles.

“Feed it to them,” I pant. “Piece by piece.”

Himley shivers, kissing my neck and biting my shoulder. “I feel you inside me.”

I shove him onto the kitchen floor. “That’s where I belong.” I straddle his hips, kissing him as his strong hands dig into my thighs. He lifts my skirt for me and I can feel his heat against my own.

“I’m glad we can share these things,” he cackles. 

I bite his neck. “You’re mad.”

“So are you, dear chef,” he groans. “You’re as mad as I am.”

I open his pants and pull him from within. His rigid shaft curves upward and tapers into a spearlike tip. I stroke him before I move him into place. The heat in my loins meets his as he slips into place. I must be mad to want this, to feel this good after what my hands have just done. But I need him and I cannot deny my passion.

Himley cries out, throwing back his head. His hat falls away, revealing his ears. Slowly his features begin to change. His dark auburn fur grows to cover more of him, revealing his true face to me. His fingers grow long and knobby as they dig into my soft flesh. I ride him, uncaring for his visage. It is not the Hare I want, but the man he is. 

“I knew you’d be sweet,” he snarls through clenched teeth. “Soft and moist just like your cakes.”

I slap my hand over his mouth. “Shut up,” I pant. “I’m trying to enjoy myself. Shut the fuck up!” I continue to bounce on him, going harder as he bites my hand. I move back hard against him, slamming myself down to feel more than just his heat. 

Tonight, I have done things that were unexpected and possibly horrible, but I doubt I will regret any of them. Taking Himley - all of him - is perhaps one of the most thrilling experiences of my life. I cannot say I love him, but I know I cannot live without him.

As we lay together on the kitchen floor, our bodies exhausted from our passion, I start to giggle. Himley smirks, kissing my temple.

“And what is so funny?” he whispers.

“I killed that guy,” I chuckle. “I can’t believe I...” I start laughing uncontrollably. 

Himley smiles, kissing my neck and cheek as I dissolve into laughter. “He deserved it,” he whispers. “I will miss his money, but he was long past his end date. Do not feel bad you took an evil man from this world.”

I cough as my laughter fades. “But how can we know if we’re no better than him?” I ask. “I mean...”

Himley places a finger on my lips. “Isn’t it better to have two wicked people in the world rather than three?”

I sit up, adjusting my blouse so I am covered again. “I suppose,” I murmur.

I look up at Himley as he rises. He takes his hat and puts it back on, slowly, his features returning to the shape of his human guise. “If we’re good at it,” he chuckles, “we can make it so there are only two of us. Wouldn’t that make the world a sweeter place?”

I scowl a bit. “I know we are mad, but we are not foolish.” I shake my head. “We must be careful. This one was impulsive. If we have to do it again, then we will not do it so sloppily.” I stand and go to the counter, where I start taking the meat to the freezer to tuck away in my special reserve. 

“I have some people to visit,” Himley says from the freezer door. “Ones who did not show up to the party. Is there anything you can make that I can take to their homes?”

I think for a moment as I close the box containing the meat. “Meat pastries would be best. It will hide the origin of the meat. Or a blood pudding.” I look up at him, excited by the large grin on his face. “The pies will be easier to travel with.”

Himley bends over, giving me a long and sweet kiss. “Is there any cake left?”

I smile at him. “Of course. I always have some ready for you.”

Bit by bit, the meat leaves the freezer. No one is the wiser, and the rich pig is never seen again. There are rumors about his disappearance, whispers that people share when they think no one is listening. They forget he was ever at Himley’s party, and instead the story surrounding it is that his son has something to do with it. But soon, the rumors fade, and he is all but forgotten. 

The pies that Himley takes with him become somewhat famous. I have always taken pride in my cooking, but this was a different recipe altogether. I make the pies alone, not allowing anyone to help me prepare them.

Soon, my mother grows suspicious of the mysterious meat supply. “Penelope,” she says cooly to me one day as I place a pie in the oven. “Is there something I should be aware of?”

I look at her, smoothing my hands over my skirt. “Whatever do you mean, Mama? If there is something on your mind, speak it.”

She looks me over and gives a slight smile. “You and Himley seem closer these days, not to mention your pies are the talk of the town. But I wonder, what meat is it you have been using?” She tilts her head. “I would very much like to know.”

“Nothing we would serve here, Mama,” I say brightly. “But to give away and let others eat, well, that’s just fine.”

“I know you are wicked, Penelope,” my mother murmurs. “You take after your father and I in that regard. But are you, perhaps, a bit too driven? Or is that Himley’s influence?”

I smile to myself and bow my head. “Perhaps. But I think he has given me the opportunity to spread my wings.”

My mother breathes through her nose and laughs. “What parent would I be to hinder my child?” She kisses my forehead. “Just be careful.”

No more of the matter is spoken between us, but I suspect that she has not cared for such things in a long time. As long as I am happy, she is happy.

One evening I am in Himley’s study, serving him his tea and cake like always. This time, I sit in his lap and let him lick icing from my fingertips.

“I have a meeting with Lord Alberdeenerio tomorrow,” he says. “Do you think you can whip me up another one of your wonderful mincemeat pies before I go?”

I pull my fingers away. “I'm afraid I’m all out of supplies. There will be no more of them for quite a while.”

“Really?” Himley kisses my cheek. “Perhaps I should throw another party then?”

I push against his shoulder. “I told you, we cannot be sloppy.”

“No. We will prepare, and I have the perfect guest for us.” He kisses me again. “What do you say, Penelope? Instead of four bad people, there will be only two.”

I cup his face in my palms and kiss him. “All right,” I whisper. “Now tell me, who is it you have in mind?”

Himley grins. “My mad chef, you make my heart flutter.”

I take his hat off and put it on my head. “And you make me dizzy, my mad hatter."