Hookah (Insanity Book 4) (19 page)

The uninfected looked rather embarrassed, that March could see.

“If I were you, I would feel ashamed for the rest of your life,” The priest looked around. “If I were you, I wouldn’t hide in here and cry and pray for someone to save my sorry butt because I think I’m a good person. If I were you, I’d turn and face the villain.”

The March’s ears stood erect, seeing how some of them had been influenced by the priest’s talk, about to push the church’s gates open and deal with the plague.

“Go out now! Stare darkness in the face and kick its ass!”

Just before they did, the March Hare saw Fabiola enter the church, yelling at the priest. “How dare you come in here with that blood on your hands and talk to them like that?” she roared like he’d never seen her for a long time. “Get out of here, Pillar!”

St Peter’s, The Vatican

W
hen I get back to the basilica, I see Fabiola scream at the Pillar.

I don’t actually hear most of what she says. I am looking at the Pillar. He takes off the fake priest’s outfit, showing the blood-stained blue suit underneath. His face is slashed with bruises and cuts, and he needs medical attention.

More than anything, he looks like someone who needs a hug to me. You can’t kill so many people and feel okay, not even if you are the Pillar.

“I want you gone.” I hear Fabiola now. “I don’t want to see you ever again.”

“Why would you say something like that to me?” He sounds sincere.

“You’re a terrible man.” The veins on her neck stick out. “A terrible, terrible man. Get out.”

“I just killed everyone who worked for the Executioner, Fabiola. Does that not count as an act of righteousness to you?”

“You don’t want justice, Pillar. All you want is blood.”

“How can you have justice without blood?”

Wow. The conversation is taking a heavy turn.

“Ask the kids,” he approached them. “Are you happy the Executioner and his friends are all dead now?”

The kids hurray.

“Stay away from them.” Fabiola stands in the way. “They don’t need a role model like you in their lives.”

“Yeah, I understand.” The Pillar wipes blood off his lips. “I’m the bad guy after all.”

“Don’t try to have anyone sympathize with you,” Fabiola says. “You fooled Alice and took the key from her. You made a deal with the Queen of Hearts.”

“I did.”

“Why?” I cut in. “Why give the key back to her?”

“First of all, I have the key with me. I haven’t given it to her yet.”

“So why were you going to give it to her after you played me?”

“I said I made a deal. I didn’t say I was going to keep my end of it.”

“I
don’t understand,” I say.

“The Queen asked to meet me a few days earlier, asking me if I’d join Black Chess,” the Pillar says. “I said no, but then she offered to tell me the whereabouts of the Executioner, which she knew was very important to me. I’ve been looking for the Executioner for so long—don’t ask me why.”

“See?” Fabiola says. “He only stands on
his
side.”

“Wait, Fabiola, please.” I sense I’m about to hear something else that I don’t like. “Does this mean we weren’t in Columbia to find the cure?”

The Pillar hesitates. “No. I brought you along so you could help the children out. Sooner or later I was going to kill the Executioner and his men.”

“But you didn’t kill him before he told us about the Dodo location,” I argue.

“That’s because I needed to find the whereabouts of the March Hare, save him and then get you with him and children on the plane and go finish my work. I knew he was behind this from the beginning.”

“How is that possible?”

“The March Hare extracted all kinds of drugs and cures from plants in Wonderland. It was him who extracted the Lullaby, which helped Lewis Carroll with his migraines. No one but him could have cooked it.”

“Frankly, I don’t know what to say to you,” I say. “I mean, you do all the worst things in the world. You lie, cheat, manipulate, but then somewhere between the lines you have a good cause. I am so confused.”

“Don’t be,” Fabiola says. “Whatever cause he had, he risked the end of the world by taking you along. What if something had happened to you while you were there?”

It’s a plausible thought, but it depends on whether ridding the world of the Executioner was as important as saving lives.

“So do you have any idea how I can kill Carolus?” I tell the Pillar, hoping he’ll tell the truth this time.

“I don’t know,” he says. “I think your best bet is that the March remembers all the details of what happened with Carolus. I believe the solution lies in the Hare’s ears – it’d be a shame having them stick out all the time for nothing.”

“We’ll take it from here,” Fabiola says. “Now get out of here, Pillar.”

The Pillar nods. He looks defeated in a way. Like I noticed before, he can hardly stand up to Fabiola. We all watch him walk out the door, wondering if we’ll ever see him again—or if we ever want to see him again.

“And please stay away from Alice.” Fabiola stabs the words in his back. I know if there’s one thing he likes the most, it’s to be near me. “Once the Inklings are set to go, we won’t need you.”

The Pillar slowly turns back. “Why do you hate me so much, White Queen?” he says. “I lost this for you.” He waves his right hand in the air and points at something.

I blink, trying to interpret what he means. Lost what for her, Pillar? What in the church was he pointing at? Was he pointing at God? Has he lost his faith to her? It doesn’t make sense.

Fabiola stiffens. The Pillar’s words cut through her somehow. She fights the tears and stands straight, saying nothing.

“Get out, Pillar.” She kills him now—and me. “Go pay the Queen of Hearts with the key in exchange for your revenge. Go spill blood and spread mayhem wherever you want, but not near us.”

The Pillar turns around and walks out. As he does, he stops near one of the uninfected and scares her. “Boo!”

Radcliffe asylum, Oxford

T
he Cheshire, in Todd’s body now, grinned at his sister.

“You look awkward,” she retorted. “Go find Dad and make fun of him.”

“So you’re not Tweedledee?” the Cheshire said.

“What? You’ve read those Alice in Wonderland books now? Aren’t you too old for that?”

“No one’s too old for those books, don’t you think?” the Cheshire said. “So you’re not Tweedledum, either?”

“I’m not,” she says. “What’s wrong with you today?”

“I guess it’s the Alice in Wonderland books.” The Cheshire cocked his head.

“You know what happened to me the first time my teacher read the book to us in class when I was younger?”

“No. What happened?”

“She kept reading it to the class, so fascinated by it,” she said. “And I was like eleven or so. I couldn’t fathom the books. My mind was reeling, truly.”

“And then what happened?”

“I raised my hand after she finished and said, ‘Teacher, is this Lewis Carroll mad, or is he mad?’”

The Cheshire laughed aloud.

“My teacher was
mad
at me when I said that and spent the rest of the day explaining how this book was the pinnacle of literature and that the author was never mad and never took any drugs.”

“And we all know what that means, of course.”

“That he was mad and took drugs.” She snickered.

“You know what’s madder? That we love this book so much.”

“I guess we’re mad too,” Tania said.

“We’re all mad here.” The Cheshire grinned.

“Oh, my God, Todd,” Tania said. “Do that again.”

“What?
We’re all mad here
?”

“That’s bombastically amazing. You look just like the Cheshire.”

“Oh, come on. Who could match the Cheshire’s creepy grin in that Disney movie?”

“No, seriously. Yours is even better,” Tania said. “Please do it again.”

“You know what I can do better? I can make my head disappear, too.”

“Haha. Don’t get carried away.”

The Cheshire grinned. “Wanna see? Look.”

But of course his head didn’t disappear, because sometimes he was still bound by the body of the one he possessed. It seemed that not only was Todd not one of the Tweedles, but he also wasn’t a good sport. His head wouldn’t budge.

“You made me laugh, anyway,” Tania said. “You should do that grin a lot. I think girls will like it. Girls like all kinds of weirds things, trust me.”

“Are you having fun, children?” Dr. Truckle entered the cell.

“Lotsa fun and grins.” The Cheshire put his hands around his father’s arm in hopes of possessing the man’s body to find his way out of the asylum.

To his surprise, he couldn’t get into Tom’s body.

The Cheshire, still trapped inside the teenager, stared suspiciously at Dr. Tom Truckle. To his knowledge, it was only Wonderlanders he could not possess.
Who are you, Dr. Truckle?

St Peter’s, The Vatican

“I
think you were a bit harsh on the Pillar.” I tell Fabiola.

She dismisses my comment and checks on the March Hare in the confession booth. “Did you remember anything of importance yet?”

“Nothing, White Queen,” he replied. “But I feel the drug wearing off. I should remember all that happened soon enough.”

“Then you have no choice but to go to Geneva,” Fabiola tells me. “Take your umbrella. I have a feeling it’s the way to kill Carolus.”

“It makes sense. If Lewis gave it to me, then maybe it’s the weapon to kill his darker half with.” I stare at the laughable umbrella that has saved my life repeatedly.

Fabiola’s phone rings. “Go check if the plane is ready. I need to answer this.”

I don’t go out but call the chauffeur who’s outside somewhere. He landed the chopper on top of a locked building, so he wouldn’t bump into citizens looking for a fight.

“All set,” the chauffeur says. “Come over. We’ll be in Geneva soon enough.”

I hang up and tell the White Queen, but she shocks me with the latest news.

“I know what the Queen is up to.”

“I’m so curious about your sources inside the Queen’s castle,” I say. “What is it?”

“You know the Geneva meeting will have the world’s most prestigious presidents, right?”

“Sure.”

“It will have the president of United States meet the Queen of England. The Israeli presidents meet the most prestigious Arab president. The Russian president meet the Ukrainian president and so forth, to name a few.”

“Those presidents’ nations are in continuous conflict with each other,” Fabiola says. “Usually, in every world meeting of this kind, they settle for courtesy and etiquette, choose not to clash against one another or say what’s really on their mind.”

“I’m not following.”

“Most of the world’s leaders hate each other, Alice. Their countries hate the others’ countries too.” Fabiola holds me by the arms. “Everyone in the world knows that. But we always find a way to make peace in the world. You know how?”

“I get it now,” I say. “By not saying the truth.”

“That’s why the Queen took Carolus with her. He has some of the plague’s scent left. She is going to pour it into their tea at the meeting. And you know what will happen then?”

“Every president will tell the truth,” I say absently.

“The bad truth none of us can handle.”

“And then the world will be in continuous wars, nations against nations. It’s what the Queen loves most.”

“How is this different from a plague?”

“Alice. What happened to you?” Fabiola says. “In a plague everyone dies. Poor, rich, powerful, weak, buyer, seller. In a war, a lot of people get rich. You sell weapons, give the illusion of safety to those you protect. It’s a different ball game.”

I am not quite sure I really understand the difference, but I know the Queen needs to be stopped first, even before killing Carolus. Maybe the two things have to be done at once.

“This is a bit too much for me.” I shrug.

“I know,” Fabiola says. “That’s why I’m coming with you to Geneva.”

On the way to Geneva

T
he Cheshire, disguised in another cell mate, sat next to Tom Truckle in the plane going to Geneva.

He’d persuaded him he knew how to get in, and that Tom needed to be there since the world’s presidents would discuss the consequences of the plague, something Tom was interested in.

The Cheshire had to do it, because as much as he was looking for the Tweedles, he was incredibly curious about Dr. Truckle’s identity.

“Are you sure we can get in?” Tom asked, looking at the world below.

“I’m sure. I’ve always had my secret ways to get into the Queen’s meetings.”

“Well, I sure hope so. I’ve always suspected that the world’s elite people had planned a way out of the apocalypse, like a ship in the sea, or even escaping to the moon. I read about it.”

“Of course. I’m as curious as you are. Let’s hope we expose their plans.”

“But you never told me why you admitted yourself to the asylum, Jack.” Dr. Truckle said. “I always thought you weren’t mad.”

“I have my reasons.”

“I think you’re in love with that bonkers girl, Alice.” He elbowed him. “What’s with that girl? Why is everyone so interested in her?”

“She is special.” The Cheshire grinned. Possessing Jack’s body didn’t fall under the rule that he couldn’t enter a Wonderlander’s body. Because let’s face it. Jack wasn’t a Wonderlander anymore. He was dead. A figment of his own imagination.

Which rather irritated the Cheshire. How could he possess a nobody’s body? It was mindboggling, even for a cat.

Geneva, Switzerland

M
argaret watched the Queen rub her hands with enthusiasm.

Soon the presidents would all enter the main hall and have their conference. The first part was planned to be aired for the public—well, the few channels that hadn’t been brought down by the angry public yet. The second part was going to be a closed meeting where they’d arrange the escape of the richest people in case the plague had no cure.