“But we have to, because at some point I was the Bad Alice and I’ve worked for Black Chess. It doesn’t make sense that if I have walked the white chess tiles inside a most important place like in the Vatican? Did Fabiola manipulate it?”
“Of course, she didn’t,” The Pillar says. “Fabiola helped you because she thought you were a nice girl who could save lives while being brainwashed by me. If she’d known it was really you, she’d have killed you.”
“Then why did she show me the vision of the Circus?”
“Either to make you realize Black Chess’s madness, or she was testing you so she could, like I said, kill you if you were the Bad Alice.”
“Some things you say about her make me wonder why you love her.”
The Pillar shrugs. “I know. But hey, I’m as bad myself.”
Sometimes I can’t help it when I listen to him. I suppress a laugh and stay focused on what I need to know. “You still haven’t told me how the Bad Alice was able to walk the white tiles in the Vatican.”
“Because of your intentions.”
“Excuse me?”
“We all have good and evil inside us. It comes and goes. Some of us dip our heads too far in the dark, and some only have snippets of bad thoughts clouding our heads from time to time. For instance, it may cross your mind to pull down the window and verbally abuse the reckless driver next to you in a rare episode of road rage. But it just subsides and you don’t give into it, once you remind yourself that being good is a choice, not a gene.”
“Stop the metaphors. I need firm answers now.”
“Because your intentions were good, Alice, that’s why you walked the white tiles.” The Pillar’s voice is flat like a truth of bare bones without flesh to conceal its hardness.
“If so, then I can walk the white tiles now as well,” I say, taking a deep breath.
“You’re assuming this is one of those holy chessboards?”
“It makes sense, since it’s in a place that is supposedly a portal to Wonderland.”
“A bit far-fetched,” he comments. “But if you truly believe so, then you should start with the black tiles. I mean if you’re right, my bet is you can’t walk them.”
“I can’t,” I say firmly. “I feel it.”
The Pillar’s eyes glimmer, not in the most pleasant way.
“I will walk the white tiles now,” I say, and step inside.
The Pillar’s first reaction is taking a couple of steps back. I believe he just read my mind and realized what I was aiming for.
“Now it’s your turn,” I dare him. “I want you to try to walk the white tiles, Pillar.”
“Ah, there is no need to.” He waves his hand, trying to act playfully, but the concern in his eyes is exposing enough.
“I need you to,” I insist. “I need to know about your intentions.”
His eyes weaken. The shine in them withers a little. I’ve cornered him in a place he doesn’t prefer to be. But I need to know. I need to know, once and for all, what his intentions are.
“Don’t worry,” I say. “I will never kill you, not even if you can only walk the black tiles. All I want is to know you’re on my side.”
“I am on your side.” The Pillar says.
“Actually, this is what I feel. I know what you’ve done to me. You believing in me is beyond remarkable. But there is this feeling about you, I can’t shake.
“What feeling?”
“That I don’t know who you really are.”
“I can’t walk the tiles, Alice,” The Pillar’s voice scares me, because he is almost begging me, something I’ve never experienced with him. “I just can’t.”
“Are you saying you can only walk the black tiles?”
“I’m saying I can’t.”
I pull out a gun from my back pocket and point it at him. I had confiscated it from the Chessmaster’s men in Marostica and held onto it. I’m not even sure it’s loaded, but I have to do this.
The Pillar says nothing. Somehow he is not surprised.
“I’m much more worried now,” I say. “Why aren’t you surprised I am pointing a gun at you? Is it that you don’t believe I will pull the trigger?”
“Actually, I have no doubts you will, if you need to,” he says. “And at some point you will pull the trigger and kill me. It’s my fate, but I’m not sure why you will do it.”
I grimace, realizing that maybe it’s the Bad Alice in me aiming the gun at him. “I’m sorry.” I lower the gun.
“No,” The Pillar says. “Don’t lower the gun. Don’t let repress that dark part inside you, Alice.”
“What? Why would you ask something like that?”
“Because this is why I helped you become who you are now,” he says. “The world is full of good guys trying to fix it, always faltering when it’s time to pull the trigger, because they have no bad side in them. You’re not like them, Alice. You’re perfect. A good person who was once bad. If you could only find the balance inside, you will save this world.”
Like always, his words seep through, and I devour every syllable and meaning.
He is right. If I end up facing Death itself, I will have to pull the trigger. I can only defeat Death with the darker side of me. I grip my gun tighter and point it at The Pillar again.
“Then walk the tiles, Pillar,” I demand. “Show me what your intentions are.”
The Pillar nods, still reluctant, but he approaches the chessboard. And there he stands before a white tile, about to step in, but can he really do it?
Chapter 52
World Chess Championship, Moscow, Russia
The Chessmaster listened to his informer telling him the latest news.
“The Queen is dying, too.” The man told him.
The Chessmaster nodded, thinking. “And Alice? The Pillar?”
“They’ve found three pieces so far. In a few minutes I will be able to locate their final destination.”
“I want to know as soon as they arrive,” the Chessmaster said. “I hope it’s not a far place from here.”
“It can’t be,” the man said. “The sequence of how they found the pieces makes perfect sense. The last piece was in Tibet, pretty close to us.”
“Are you suggesting they’re close?”
“They must be.”
“Be sure, and soon,” the Chessmaster said. “I’m counting on the accuracy of your information.”
“But of course,” the man said. “I wouldn’t risk you killing me.” He smiled feebly.
The Chessmaster didn’t quite like being perceived as that scary Death figure. He hadn’t been always that scary. He had a story of his own, a story that justified his actions — at least from his point of view.
But none of this meant it wasn’t fun infusing much more chaos into the world. After all, the powers he possessed weren’t only killing people. Making entire cities fall asleep was another good one.
He stood up, walked toward two other presidents, and with a couple of moves killed them, then simply announced more cities going to sleep. A slow boring death, he liked to call it. We all went to sleep — died every night — and woke up, never being appreciative of the gift of life. Funny how this came from Death himself.
The Chessmaster announced the new sleeping cities on the news, warning of London being the next one on the list. Then he sat back, daydreaming about all the hell he will soon bestow on Alice. Oh, how long he’d waited for this to happen.
Chapter 53
Director’s Office, Radcliffe Asylum, Oxford
“The twelve men were called Carter Pillar?” Tom Truckle said.
“See?” Inspector Dormouse said. “I told you I know something.”
“But what does it mean? Why would people named Carter Pillar change their name in the same year?”
“I have an idea, not much, but I am curious to know your theories.”
“I don’t know,” Tom Truckle said. “Maybe they knew about him being a crazy madman and didn’t want to have anything to do with him.”