“Best carrot ice cream cake in Oxfordshire,” the Pillar says, pushing the tray my way. “And also the best tea in England.” He sits in his chair and winks at me. I watch him sip with ecstasy from his cup. “Almost as good as the Hatter’s tea in Wonderland.” He knows that the mention of the Hatter gets on my nerves.
I fiddle with the fork, trying to persuade myself I have an appetite for the deliciously orange cake on the tray. The truth is I hadn’t felt like eating or drinking anything since I met my sisters today. They tried to kill me? Seriously? Why was it so important to them I return to the asylum?
The Pillar slides the Hatter’s phone back to me. Earlier, I asked him to try and trace the Hatter’s number.
“I couldn’t locate him,” the Pillar explains. “The number is untraceable. Well, not quite untraceable, because it seems like it belongs to a chain of secret phone numbers.”
“Secret numbers?”
“The kind only given to people who work closely with the Queen of England in Buckingham Palace.”
“So the Queen is playing these games with us?”
“Whoever is playing games is playing with you,” he says. “But to answer your question: not a chance.” He cuts a huge part of his cake, looking at it the way a five-year-old would. “The Queen doesn't know how to play these kinds of games. Her greatest hobby is to chop off heads. Play croquet, cards, and chess—and win—when she is bored.” He swallows the cake, staining his lips with syrup. I watch him closing his eyes and moaning to the brilliance of its taste. When he opens his eyes, he says, “And don’t ask me about who the Queen of England really is. We’ve got a bomb to stop first.”
“I won’t. But doesn’t this mean the Hatter is working for the Queen?” I feel tempted to taste the cake but still can’t bring myself to. My mouth is bitter from the taste of my little bloody meeting with my family.
“Not sure, Alice. I’m still working on it. As long as I don’t understand the Hatter’s motives, there is very little help I can offer.”
“Which isn’t like you.” I eye him closely. Should I bring up the subject of why everyone keeps warning me of him? Or have I become so attached to my little adventures in the world outside the asylum that I won’t even risk the fact that the Pillar isn’t totally on my side? “I mean, how do you really know my sister?”
“I told you. I saw them visiting you.”
“Then why did she warn me of you?” I lean forward. Daring him.
“Everyone’s been warning you of me, including Fabiola.” The Pillar licks the cake’s syrup from his fingers. “And she’s supposed to be the word of God or something.”
In truth, I can’t argue with that. If anyone’s the closest to sanity, it’s Fabiola. But she hasn’t been as helpful as the Pillar so far. Lewis also warned me not to give the golden key to anyone, and the Pillar seems interested in it. It’s all confusing and messed up. From another angle, the Pillar saved my life before Edith killed me. He’s done that several times before. I decide I’ll drop this subject for now.
“So tell me about the Hatter.” I need to focus on my job and catch the rabbit.
The Pillar stops in the middle of gorging on the rest of the cake. “This might not be the Hatter, Alice,” he says. “I told you that. The Hatter is such a grand, larger-than-life character. I don’t understand why he would play a game with a rabbit and a bomb.”
“So we actually don’t know who we’re dealing with?”
The Pillar swallows the rest of his cake, moaning again, unable to answer me. A few children in the area giggle at his behavior. “We don’t.” He wipes his lips with a napkin, and then pretends to eat it. The children laugh harder, holding on to their parents’ hands. “But we’re dealing with a crazed maniac, mad enough to kill children with a bomb inside a rabbit. That’s wack à la wack on my menu of insanity. We can’t anger or provoke him. We need to follow his clues and see why he is giving them to you until we find his weak spot.”
I let out a sigh, lost in my haze of thoughts.
“Look, Alice. What happened in your house today wasn’t your fault.”
“Are we talking about my sisters trying to kill me, or me hesitating to kill Lorina?” I am so not happy with myself for being fooled by her.
“Well, Lorina’s act was superb. I’m still shocked at how you believed her.” He chuckles.
“She is my sister.” I stress each syllable, wishing he would understand. “My family. I ran into her arms for the first glimpse of bonding and peace. Don’t you have a family, Pillar?”
My question is rhetorical in nature, but it seems to strike a chord in the Pillar. His face freezes. His eyes stare into a distant memory. I wish I knew how to hypnotize him and know all about him.
“I do.” He nods. And just before he looks like he’ll open up to me, he sticks his fork into my cake and stuffs it into his mouth, silencing his conscience. “You will get better with these emotional hazards once you get your training.”
“Training?”
“They say every day in your life is nothing but training for a bigger cause. Like today. You learned a Life’s Horrible Truth Number 55.”