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

by Cameron Jace

  “You wish, loser,” Constance shook her shoulder and walked away.

  “Wait,” the Cheshire asked. “So who is he?”

  “The one and only,” Constance said from afar. “The Mad Hatter. Can’t you see the children like him so much?”

  48

  Present: Beneath the Mushrooms, London

  Never have I imagined myself kissing someone in this position, but I couldn’t help tasting Jack’s lips. He kisses me back as passionately. It is him. This isn’t a game this time.

  “Slow down, Alice,” Jack jokes. “You’re killing me.”

  “Shut up,” I wave my Vorpal sword at him, realizing it’s an aggressive move. I guess he has to get used to my temper.

  Jack pulls me closer and in a strange maneuver spoons me under the darker mushrooms.

  “What’s on your mind, Jack?” My eyes widen.

  “Don’t flatter yourself,” he says. “We need to stay together to stay alive.”

  “Such an excuse to be so close to me,” I raise an eyebrow.

  “As long as you don’t go crazy on me.”

  “You remember I’ve spent time in an asylum, right?” I pinch him jokingly.

  “The best part, actually,” he smiles. “Most girls don’t let you know they’re crazy. You come with a chip on your shoulder. Refreshing.”

  “That wasn’t romantic.” I pout.

  “It wasn’t meant to be,” he shows me his tongue then his eyes darken as a spew of fire lands nearby.

  “Come with me.”

  We stand up but crouch as we start to run hand in hand, protected by the mushrooms.

  “Just like when we were kids in Wonderland,” I say.

  “What’s gotten into you?” Jack seems alerted. “All touchy-feely and puppy-eyed. We have to find a way to kill my father.”

  “I’m just happy you’re here.”

  “Alice, we’re going to die if we don’t do something about him.”

  “Well, he is your father,” I say. “You must know his weakness.”

  Jack says nothing. I have a feeling he has an idea.

  We sneak into a burned-out building. It’s pretty dark inside. Next to each other, we lean against the wall to take a breath. It’ll only be a few minutes before the Jabberwocky attacks again.

  “Who did I kill then?”

  “Spades,” Jack says. “I escaped him. He was trying to kill me. I assume he pretended he was me and the plant told you I was the Jabberwocky.”

  “Yes, how do you know that?”

  “He tried to convince me the same. I only remembered the connection, that the Jabberwocky was my father when I escaped and spent some time alone.”

  “Why did they make me kill Spades? It doesn’t make sense.”

  “It makes sense. It’s Black Chess’s ultimate trick, to drive you crazy and dupe you into thinking you killed or hurt someone. Their best weapon is to convince you you’re no different from them.”

  I consider and agree actually. “To make us think we’re not on the good side. Is that what the Pillar did for me?”

  “I’m not sure about him, but my heart tells me he is on our side,” Jack stares at me. “Listen, I think I know how to kill the Jabberwocky.”

  “Not with this, right?” I point at my useless Vorpal sword.

  “Actually, with it,” Jack says. “The thing is we have to defeat him the way he defeated each one of us.”

  “How did he do that?”

  “By sneaking into our minds and souls and confusing us into madness.”

  “You want to get into his mind?” I grimace.

  “Something like that.”

  A moment of silence lingers between us.

  “What’s on your mind, Jack?”

  “I want you to trust me.”

  “Who is getting emotional now?”

  “He is my father, I remember little of him, but I have a gut feeling of how to kill him. You have to promise me, though.”

  “Promise you what?”

  “To never hate me after what I’m about to do.”

  49

  Present: On the Road, London

  The Cheshire and the Pillar decided to accompany Constance. The Cheshire, out of curiosity to see how it all folds out. The Pillar, in hopes to find Fabiola—or whatever plan he had on his mind.

  “Are you okay, Pillar?” Constance asked. “I mean you look sicker and sicker. And that skin of yours, what’s happening?”

  “He is dying,” said the Cheshire. “One of the reasons I’m worried about killing him and taking his face and soul. What if I die with that sickness if I become him?”

  “Why do you even want to be him?” Constance says, walking faster.

  “It’s the freakin’ Pillar,” the Cheshire says. “Always two steps ahead. Knows more than anyone. You can never get an answer from him. He is so cool and nuts I’d like to be him.”

  Constance glared at the Cheshire then turned to see what the Pillar thought about this.

  “I’m not flattered,” the Pillar said, this time coughing blood.

  “See?” the Cheshire said. “What if I kill him and become that weak version of the Pillar?”

  Constance had no time to delve deeper into the mystery. She cared more about Alice, hoping she hadn’t given up on her mentor and let her die.

  Still, she knew how much Alice liked the Pillar—even with every shitty thing he has ever done.

  “Do you need help?” She asked him.

  “Keep going to find Alice,” he said, limping now. “And pray for me to find Fabiola.”

  “Pray?” the Cheshire said. “You never pray, Pillar.”

  “Just leave him alone,” Constance said. “I mean I want to find Alice. He wants to find the love of his life. What the heck are you doing here?”

  The Cheshire shrugged then said, “I’m a cat. I like to watch.”

  50

  Present: Beneath the Mushrooms, London

  Now that Jack told me about the plan I needed time to process it, but the Jabberwocky’s fire deprived me from assessing the situation.

  Jack pulls my hand and we snake back through the fire. Crazy as it seems, we are going back to face the Jabberwocky.

  Dodging the fire, we stop at a free space between the mushrooms and Jack confronts his father.

  As for me, I’m supposed to sneak behind the Jabberwocky while Jack distracts him.

  “I’m here, Jabberwocky!” Jack waves his hands in the air.

  The Jabberwocky says nothing. I can’t see the expression in his eyes from here. But even though I want to hear more, I have to face another enemy first. Malice.

  “Where do you think you’re going, Alice?” Malice snickers. “Do you really think I will let you climb the Jabberwocky’s back?”

  “Who said I’m here to climb on his back and kill him?” I snickered back, trying my best to be as annoying. “I’m here to kill you.”

  “Blah, blah, blah.”

  “Thing is, I don’t like to hurt plants,” I say. “How about I see you as Alice?”

  “I’m not Alice.” She sounds offended.

  “Actually you are. Nothing but a shadow of mine,” I say. “A copycat at best. A wannabe. A reflection in a dirty mirror.”

  “Don’t dare me, Alice.”

  “Who said I am daring you?” I wave her off and look away toward where Jack is talking to his father. “I knew you were a coward.”

  In a flash, when I turn back, I see Malice in my form again. Her lips dripping blood. Her teeth pointed. Nice shoes, though.

  “So beautiful,” I smile at her. “How about we finish this, once and for all?”

  “I will finish you once and for all. What was I waiting for?”

  I raise the sword but she does something I haven’t seen before. She lifts up her hand and clenches her fist in the air and then twists nothingness.

  At first, I think she is crazy, but then my sword drops. I can’t grip it anymore. Not only that. My stomach churns with incredible pain.


  “What the hell?” I touch my abdomen and kneel on one knee.

  “I’m you, remember?” She snickers. “I was inside you and I know how it works inside.”

  I can’t even talk. I can’t breathe. I have to think fast. If she is me, am I not her as well? I hope Jack distracts the Jabberwocky long enough that I can figure this out.

  51

  Past: The Hatter’s Grave, Wonderland

  The Hatter laid on his back in the bottom of the grave.

  Tears filled his eyes. Not only was he a coward and loser, he realized he might have permanently damaged his skin, as it fractioned against the walls of the grave while he fell.

  The snickering plants making fun of him made him want to die right away. How come he was such a loser? How come he was so foolish. His father used to tell him that growing up hurt, but he should have told him that sometimes growing up kills.

  The Hatter could only move his hands, so he clasped them together and began to pray.

  Even though he had never believed in anything in particular, he loved the idea of someone—something—larger than life taking care of him. Not that he believed it. Since he was dying, he could hope.

  But what would he say? What prayer would he utter?

  Help me imaginary man in the sky? Help me universe?

  Tears continued to flow like rivers, unable to wash away his shame. He imagined the next day, people gathered around his grave and describing him as just another one of the Pillar’s victims.

  The words that came out of his mouth were far from coherent, but he was trying to tell the universe that if he lived, he would avenge everyone hurt by the Pillar and Jabberwocky.

  Nothing happened.

  No prayer was answered.

  No one came for him.

  His words changed a little. He began to promise the universe he would use the Pillar’s cunningness to help the good. He would learn the ways of darkness so he could later fight it. The same way Alice had tried by becoming the Pillar’s apprentice. True, she had failed, but that’s because she didn’t pull back in time. He wasn’t going to make the same mistake.

  Suddenly, he heard footsteps in the mud.

  Was he imagining them? Nah, it was true.

  Someone was coming, and the plants and mushrooms went silent. It must have been someone they feared.

  The footsteps neared but then stopped.

  “I’m down here in the grave,” the Hatter pleaded. “Make sure you don’t fall in.”

  No one answered him.

  No one moved.

  He must have imagined the footsteps.

  “Who is there?” The Hatter asked.

  No one answered, but the footsteps came closer.

  The Hatter breathed with relief. Finally.

  The footsteps were so near now. Soon he’d see who came for him and get out of this grave, and hopefully fix his back.

  Who was it? he wondered.

  Lewis?

  Nah, he rarely came, and he was lost in his addiction and war against Carolus.

  Fabiola?

  Could be, but she didn’t know he came to see the Pillar.

  The Children?

  He would have loved that, but he wouldn’t even want them to come near the Pillar’s lair.

  His best bet was the March Hare, his one and only true friend, and the one who wouldn’t reply to his pleading.

  The footsteps were so close now. Soon the Hatter was going to leave.

  And boy was he right about the March Hare when he saw a teacup tumble from the edge of the grave down on the muddy ground beside him.

  “March!” the Hatter cheered. “You will need to find a way to lift me up…”

  The Hatter’s stopped talking once he saw the hookah’s smoke swirl around the edges of the grave. In from the smoke shone a face. The Pillar’s.

  With a cigar tucked in the corner of his mouth, he stood smirking with a shovel full of teacups. “You think someone is coming to save you?”

  The Hatter felt an invisible stab in his heart.

  “I wanted to bury you in mud but then realized you’ll suffocate and die too soon and without much pain--and no irony. You know how much I like irony,” the Pillar said. “Then, in all my genius, I realized the real irony was burying you alive in teacups. Not only are they heavy but also sharp when broken at the edges. Have a great tea party, Hatty.”

  And so the Hatter took the first shard of a teacup, stabbing him right in the heart.

  52

  Present: Jabberwocky War, London

  Jack is still occupying the Jabberwocky with ridiculous talk about how he likes him so much and is pissed off he left him as a child. Somehow it’s still working. I guess fathers always want to bond with their sons. Problem is, I’m too late for the plan we discussed, the one I’m not supposed to hate him for after finishing.

  Trust me, he told me the plan but never told me why I would hate him after.

  Right now, my guts are churning to death in the palm of my own nemesis’ hands. Malice.

  “Why don’t you just get done with it?” I spit my pain back at her.

  “I’ve gotta give it to you, Alice,” she says. “You’re strong because I’ve been squeezing hard. Let me see,” she acts as if trying to look into my guts. “Is that the liver? Kidney? I guess I should hit the kidney. You have two anyways, which makes your death slower.”

  Her next squeeze hits harder. I don’t care whether it’s a kidney or a liver. I’m being gutted from the inside out.

  “Ever wonder why I haven’t squeezed the heart?” She snickers.

  The idea itself scares me. That would be the end of me. Surely enough if I let her squeeze my organs long enough.

  I’m down on both knees with the Vorpal sword on the ground beside me. It’s glittering, wanting me to use it, but how?

  Malice is a bit too far away for me to stab her. If I throw the sword at her and miss, I’m without it. It’s like betting on my last card. My brain is frozen from the pain inside. I can’t think clearly.

  All I know is that she can squeeze inside me because she is a part of me. Does that mean I can squeeze her guts as well?

  It takes effort to lift one arm up while the other holds my stomach. My veins are protruding in blue on my arm as if I’ve been to the gym, lifting the heaviest of weights. My palm is clenched and I'm begging it to loosen up so I can squeeze.

  Not that I’m sure how this kind of magic works. I guess I’m going to focus my intentions on Malice’s guts.

  A deep breath helps me loosen up my hand. Now it’s all about the effort to squeeze these numb fingers. I search my mind and soul for Malice’s insides but can only picture maggots and eels.

  “You’re not trying to squeeze my guts, Alice, are you?” She mocks me. “It doesn’t work like that. You’re too stupid to figure it out.”

  In the distance, I hear the conversation between Jabberwocky and Jack escalating. It doesn’t sound as planned. This is getting out of hand.

  Back to Malice.

  There must be a connection. If she is a part of me, then I must have access to her physically like she has to me. What is it?

  Pain surges and numbs my peripherals.

  My mind races back to the idea of Good Alice and Bad Alice. The reason why Fabiola at some point wanted to kill me—I don’t blame her now, having seen Malice. The thing I’m looking for is whether good came first or bad. Light or darkness. I know everyone supports the idea of dark coming first and then turning to light.

  But I don’t believe that, or Malice would have been the original and I would have been a copycat. And I damn well know I’m the original me.

  Which means she can reach inside me because I’ve encompassed her, like a rotten apple on a tree. The apple is rotten, but not necessarily the tree. To stop the apple from infecting the rest of the tree, the tree has to shake it off.

  I need to shake Malice’s grip off. I mean out of my guts.

  The Vorpal sword glitters harder now, and the c
raziest idea comes to mind. An idea inspired by the Pillar when we were in Russia. When he was fighting a giant in the snow and let him hit more and more until he lured the big giant to his demise.

  I get it.

  It’s madness.

  What’s new?

  Instead of squeezing my fingers, I reach for the Vorpal sword.

  “Not going to help,” Malice snickers.

  She has no idea what I’m about to do. I don’t even know if it’s the right thing, but I have no choice but to follow the Pillar’s theory.

  Side thought; did he show me these things to let me use them in the future?

  I grip the Vorpal sword as hard as my feebleness allows me and raise my eyes and flare my nostrils at Malice.

  “You like my kidney so much, eh?” I ask.

  This time I see she might have an idea what I’m going to do. It not only baffles me, but it baffles her.

  I twist my hand and stab myself in the back right next to the kidney. I might miss, and it might kill me, but I have to. Never thought I’d be stabbing myself like this...

  But foolish me thought I could penetrate my skin so easily from this weird angle and with my feeble grip. I only wound myself but not deep enough.

  Ironically, I can’t feel the pain, compared to my shredded guts.

  But it works.

  Malice loosens up her grip and steps back.

  The pain leaves me and delight of freedom fills me all over, except the pain of flesh in my back. Either the sword gives me power or I’m so into killing the Jabberwocky the pain means nothing me to me.

  “Crazy bitch ,” she mutters to herself, but of course I hear her. “You were going to kill yourself to kill me?”

  I stand up and raise my sword. I feel darkness inside me. Darkness I can use to find light. “I’m not afraid to die, Malice. You know why?”

  She takes another step back, not saying a word.

  “Because I have a purpose I can die for. You have nothing to die for.”