The Complete Alice Wonder Series - Insanity - Books 1 - 9

by Cameron Jace

  The Pillar approaches me in a hurry and pulls me by the hand to another private chamber in the church.

  "What's going on? Aren't we going to meet the White Queen?" I ask.

  "We will. She doesn't want to meet me in public. I am a bad man, you know," the Pillar says in a regretful tone. I haven't heard him sound like that. What kind of effect does Fabiola have on him? On me?

  We pass through an enormous arch as he nods at a couple of nuns guarding the huge doors to the chamber. They lead us into a new hall and close the doors behind us. Fabiola appears on the other end and points at the confession booth.

  "This is going to be my first time in a confession booth," the Pillar says. "I hope it's big enough to fit us both."

  46

  CONFESSION BOOTH, ST. PETER'S, VATICAN CITY

  "Forgive me, father, for I have puffed," are the Pillar's first words in the booth. But then he looks embarrassed that he said that. It's like a habit. He doesn't feel comfortable inside.

  We're waiting for the White Queen to open the screen to her compartment. The Pillar and I are squeezed into ours.

  "Tell me what you want, Pillar," are her first words when she rolls the screen open. She sounds a lot more serious than I would have expected. "Make it short. You know your presence in the house of God isn't that welcomed."

  "Insults aside, I need to ask you something about Wonderland," the Pillar says.

  "There is no such thing as Wonderland," Fabiola says. I'm surprised by her response. I turn and face the Pillar with inquisitive eyes.

  "She likes to joke," the Pillar explains.

  "I'm not joking," Fabiola insists. "I don't talk about Wonderland in the presence of strangers."

  "Alice is not a stranger," the Pillar says.

  "She isn't Alice." The White Queen's tone brooks no negotiation. Although I like her, I am surprised she denies everything. "Not the one you think she is."

  "I'm Alice Wonder," I say. "And I don't necessarily want to be the Alice. I am here to save a girl named Constance. Can you help us?"

  The White Queen watches me closer from behind the screen. I see her eyes. They are a faint blue, and the white around them is transparent.

  "So it was really you who saved Constance the first time in Oxford," she says. I think her heart warms toward me a little. "I saw it on TV."

  "I thought you said the TV was the devil's window to the world." The Pillar arches an eyebrow.

  "Don't speak until I permit you to," the White Queen says. Last time I heard this, the Pillar was saying it to the Duchess. "So back to you, Alice Wonder." She is definitely warming up to me. Saving lives means a lot to her. "You did a brave job there in Oxford."

  "She couldn't have done it without me—"

  The Pillar's words are cut off by the White Queen's stare. He doesn't shrug, but he pouts. He could slit her throat. But then again, he couldn't. They have a crazy relationship.

  "Come here, beautiful," the White Queen tells me. "Let me see you outside this booth."

  I squeeze past the Pillar and get out, eager to meet her. Outside, she takes me by the hand and walks me along her private place for prayer. It's as artistic and holy as the rest of St. Peter's.

  "Brave girls aren't easy to come by these days." She still holds my hand, walking me to a part of the hall with statues all around.

  "Thank you, White Queen." I nod, feeling safe in her hands.

  "Please, call me Fabiola." She smiles at me and stops before an unusual part of the floor. It's made of black and white marble squares, and its surface glitters in the sunlight shining through from the inlaid glass in the dome above us.

  "Tell me why you want to save the girl," she says. "Is she related to you?"

  "Not at all," I say.

  "Why would you save someone you don't know?"

  "I shared a special moment with Constance in Christ Church," I reply.

  "Tell me about it." She pulls my chin up so I can meet her eyes. "Life's biggest moments are small moments."

  "When she was in the fireplace, she refused to take my hand to save her at first," I say. "She only did when I told her my name was Alice. And then when I saved her, she hugged me so tightly, like no one ever has before. It was a new feeling for me."

  "What kind of feeling?"

  "I've always been looking for someone to help. At least, that's what I remember from my last week in the asylum."

  "The asylum?" The White Queen gazes back at the Pillar as if he is my parent.

  "I found her in an asylum. It's like a kindergarten for mad people, that's all." The Pillar shrugs one shoulder. "Trust me, she is the Alice."

  The White Queen shakes her head and turns back to me. "Continue. You said you were always looking for someone to help."

  "When I met Constance, I felt like she was helping me by letting me save her." The words flow without me even thinking about them. "It's hard to explain."

  "It isn't hard at all," Fabiola says. "This is what true humans feel. We're all here in this world to help one another."

  "And then Constance said something," I continue.

  "Go on. I'm listening. What did the little girl say?"

  "She said the Cheshire told her that Alice in Wonderland is now older and would be coming to save her. Constance has her room filled with drawings of me being Alice in Wonderland, and the Cheshire Cat told her I am coming to save her. Regardless of the craziness of all that, I had to promise her that I would never let the Cheshire hurt her."

  "A promise is a serious matter, Alice." The White Queen nods.

  "But I couldn't keep my promise," I say. "I wish to stay true to my word."

  "That's something I can help with," she says. "You see, most people who come to see me are broken. They need help. They think I can help them when they only can help themselves. I try to make them understand that. In your case, you seem to know it. Only you can help yourself and keep the promise you made."

  "I believe so…" I smile.

  "I will help you. Not because of this horrible man you walk the earth with, but because of that great, loving energy I sense coming from you toward the world." The White Queen has an unnamable magic on the tip of her tongue. The words she says stay with me somehow. It makes me feel twice as tall—which reminds me of Alice in the book again. "But I'm afraid you're not the Alice. You're not the one we're waiting for." She shakes her head. "I'm sorry. You have the same name and good heart, but not as strong as the real one."

  47

  "Come here," the White Queen says, now that we're done with the Alice issue. "Give me a hug." I let her hug me. I feel the same way I did when Constance hugged me. I feel the warmth, a surge of easiness as if returning home. "The Pillar wants you to think you're the Real Alice," she whispers in my ear so he can't hear. "He has plans of his own for Wonderland. Use him, but don't trust him." She pushes me away gently and holds me by the arms. "But I will help you save the girl."

  "A chessboard-tiled floor," says the Pillar, breaking the whispering. I bet he is curious about what Fabiola told me. "I didn't know the nuns were into chess."

  "It's not for chess," the White Queen says, winking at me. "I'll show you. Why don't you step on it, Alice?"

  I comply right away, then stop before taking my first step. I remember I can't step on black tiles. My legs step on the white ones spontaneously, making my walking look awkward. But I finish the walk and end up on the other side.

  The White Queen claps elegantly, barely making her hands touch. She looks at me as if I am an infant who just learned to walk. "The good at heart only walk on white," she explains, and now I know why I couldn't step on black in my cell.

  "Oh," the Pillar says, taking a step away.

  "Don't you want to try it, Pillar?" the White Queen teases him.

  "I don't feel like playing hopscotch today," he says, pretending to be checking the artistic designs all around.

  "So how do we catch the Cheshire?" I ask.

  "Before you catch him, I need to tell you about
the seven girls in the photographs," the White Queen says. "The Pillar sent them to my phone anonymously an hour ago." The Pillar never wastes time.

  "Any ideas?" the Pillar asks her.

  "Actually, yes," the White Queen says. "The theory you sent me is brilliant."

  "It's my theory," I say.

  "Don't be picky, Alice. We're a team now." He turns back to Fabiola. "But it's flawed. Constance wasn't born in one of the towns with a church that has a grinning cat statue in it."

  "That's true," Fabiola says. "But it doesn't mean she isn't a perfect fit to the puzzle."

  "I don't follow," I say.

  "Most of the girls Lewis Carroll took pictures of have a significance in the events that happened in Wonderland," she explains. "One of those pictures the Cheshire requested is of a girl named Alice Westmacott." She pulls out her phone and shows the photo to me. I have seen it before. This Alice isn't me. It's just another seven-year-old girl in a sepia photograph. "The name Alice was very common in Carroll's time," she continues. "This one is precisely the key to solving the puzzle of the seven girls."

  "How is that so?" the Pillar asks.

  "Alice Westmacott's real full name is Alice Constance Richard Westmacott."

  "Okay?" I tilt my head, sensing a resolution coming my way.

  "Alice Constance like a two-part name," Fabiola says. "Some people liked to call their kids with such names."

  "So she could have been called Alice by some and Constance by others," the Pillar says, nodding.

  "Is that why Constance told me her mom wanted to call her Alice?" I ask. "Was she giving me a hint?"

  "I'm not sure how much she knows about this," Fabiola says.

  "This is mind-boggling," the Pillar says. "The present-day Constance didn't live a hundred and fifty years ago."

  "That's true. But bear with me," Fabiola says. "The modern-day Constance's name is Constance Albert Westmacott."

  "She is a descendant of the Westmacott's." The puzzle starts to unfold for me. "But still, she wasn't born in a town with a Cheshire in a church."

  "That's where you both missed it," Fabiola says. "Sir Richard Westmacott was a well-known British sculptor in the time of Lewis Carroll. They knew each other well. His is commemorated by a blue plaque in his place of death in London."

  "A sculptor?" I am trying to follow the complicated puzzle.

  "Please don't tell me he is the one who carved all those grinning cats all over England?" The Pillar caught on faster than I did.

  "Yes, he did," Fabiola says. "I know this because I talked many times with Lewis when he was obsessed with locking the doors to Wonderland in the past. He told me that each Wonderland Monster needed a special charm or magic to be locked away. He worked with Richard to trap the Cheshire."

  "Let me get this straight." I am waving my hand over my head and walking around as I speak. "In order to trap the Cheshire, Lewis Carroll asked his sculptor friend, Richard Westmacott, to design those grinning cat statues. Each statue is in a town where at least one of the girls the Cheshire killed came from, right?"

  "So far, yes." Fabiola nods.

  "And Constance counts as one of the seven girls since she is a descendant of the man who sculpted those statues." I really hope I am making sense. "Now, the Cheshire is killing the girls because they're descendants of those girls in the photographs. I suppose there is a reason for it other than the carvings in their towns."

  "So why is the Cheshire killing them?" the Pillar asks.

  "I don't know," the White Queen says. "In all cases, they are the key to his freedom from whatever Lewis bestowed on him. All I know is where you can find the Cheshire at this time of year."

  "And why haven't you said that from the beginning?" The Pillar rolls his eyes.

  "In Belgium," Fabiola says. "A town called Ypres."

  "Why would he be there now?" I ask.

  "There is a festival called Kattenstoet. The weirdest festival of all," Fabiola says.

  "Are you talking about the Cat-Throwing Festival?" The Pillar rubs his chin.

  Fabiola nods.

  "Cat throwing?" Again, I am having a hard time accepting things I hear.

  "That's a long story," the Pillar cuts in. "We know what we came here for, and we better go now."

  "Wait," the White Queen says. "I haven't yet told you why he attends the festival. I haven't told you why he has a grudge against humanity."

  Suddenly, we hear voices outside. I hear someone thud on the floor, and a nun screaming briefly.

  "What's going on?" I ask.

  "Don't tell me it's the…" The Pillar exchanges a look with Fabiola.

  "You didn't let them follow you here, did you?" Fabiola is suddenly furious.

  "Who is it?" I can't stand not knowing.

  "Who else? The Reds," Fabiola says. "You have to escape."

  48

  Fabiola runs to a fireplace nearby and pulls an umbrella from inside—I think all Wonderlanders have a thing for fireplaces. It's a pink umbrella. It looks silly, and the color doesn't match the grand holiness of St. Peter's. She throws it at me. "You will need it," she says as I catch it. "And when I say you'll need it, I mean it."

  I want to ask if it's going to rain inside the basilica, but the situation is too dangerous for questions. The doors are being pounded. The Reds who killed the nuns outside want in.

  "And I believe you will need this?" She throws a hookah to the Pillar.

  "Thank you for thinking of me, Fabiola," he says, catching it as the doors outside bang harder.

  "As for me, I will need this." She pulls out a sword from the same fireplace. The sight of the White Queen with a sword in her hand confuses me. Since she's heard the pounding on the doors, she has turned into some warrior nun.

  "What's that, Fabiola?" I ask.

  "It's the vorpal sword." She stares at her sword with pride. "Time to stand up to the face of evil."

  I am the most bewildered Alice of all.

  "Holy Borgroves!" The Pillar enjoys this, staring at Fabiola like she's a superwoman. The glimmer in his eyes is unpredictable. I think the Pillar feels something for the White Queen. "I miss the old days," he tells her.

  "Don't get any ideas, Pillar." Her words are sharp. "We're not fighting on the same side. We're only fighting the same enemy."

  The three of us turn to face the doors. I can't help but feel like the worst twisted version of the Three Musketeers. The doors bang open. Finally, I will see the Reds.

  49

  Tons of red-hooded men with hollow faces rush in. Their hoods over their heads are heart-shaped, and most of them have Latin numbers sewn in gold on their back. The numbers vary from one to nine. They are the Reds, my new world's twisted version of Lewis Carroll's playing cards.

  Some of the Reds have swords; some hold spears. None of them talk. They are here to kill us all. A brief thought runs through my head: why isn't anyone fighting with real guns? A spear swooshes next to my ear. I am not going to ask.

  "Lock the doors behind them!" the White Queen orders her nuns outside. "Trap them inside."

  The Pillar whips his hose at the first hooded man approaching him. It's like he is Indiana Jones on crack. The hose snakes around the Red's hollow neck and chokes him. The Red falls to the floor in the form of an empty hood with no body inside. "Ace that!" the Pillar yells and runs for another intruder.

  Fabiola is surrounded by five of them, flashing her vorpal, and taking a fencing master's position. She even signals to them to approach her with her other hand, then pulls the hem of her white dress up again. I can't believe my eyes.

  It only takes one of them to approach her before she goes nuts on him, stabbing and beheading him with the vorpal.

  "The Vatican would be proud of you!" the Pillar says.

  Fabiola is fast. She can walk briefly on air to launch her kicks, her veil floating behind her as if it's her swirling hair. When she spins, her dress swirls with her, like a princess dancing underwater. She fights like a samurai. Empty red
hoods fall all around her.

  "I never had a nun superhero when I was a child, you know that?" the Pillar tells me while choking a Red. "But then again, nuns and priests were not that fond of me."

  "Shut up, Pillar," Fabiola says, still fighting. "I doubt you were ever a child."

  I duck as another spear comes my way and hits the window. When I look outside, there are masses of people walking in prayer, holding candles, and reciting hymns. They have no idea what's going on in here.

  "In the holy name of Wonderland!" The Pillar chokes another Red to death. I catch his eyes while he enjoys his kill. But suddenly his face changes. He tosses his victim to the floor and runs on the church's banks toward me with that expressionless face again. It's like I am looking at death in his eyes. I don't know what's gotten into him, but I am paralyzed with fear again as he hops like a rabbit on the tips of the banks. He lands before me, pulls my head down, and slashes his hose at one of the Reds who was about to kill me.

  "If I were you, I'd start to use the privilege of having a Certificate of Insanity and kill some Reds." He takes a drag from his hookah before he slashes the hose at another Red. "Look at them." He holds the hollow red hood in his hand. "They are the best kill. It's like they never existed in the first place. A perfect crime."

  "Stop talking and come and help me!" Fabiola demands from afar, still sword-battling a few on her side.

  "She takes her job very seriously." The Pillar winks and runs off.

  I kneel and look at the red hood in my hand. I don't know what to do with it, but it looks like I could use it. One of the Reds approaches me, and I hit him with the umbrella between his legs. He screams in pain, and his hollow hands reach between his legs. He lets out a big whiz then says, "Jub Jub," in pain.

  "Pull the umbrella tighter, so the hook totally destroys him," the Pillar says, standing behind the podium now. I do, and the Red Man falls to the floor like the rest. "Ladies and gentlemen," the Pillar shouts, his hands on the church podium. "I am Pillar the Killer. Approach me, and it's off with your heads." He adjusts his tie as he gets the attention of most Reds darting his way. "Always wanted to say 'off with their heads' in a church," he murmurs and starts fighting.