Checkmate (Insanity Book 6) (22 page)

“My beloved white knight,” he says. “Carroll’s Knight.”

“Congratulations. I figured.” I keep an expressionless face.

“This is what you, Alice, helped me retrieve after all of these years.”

“I wonder why it’s so important.”

“I can’t win without it,” he says with a smile. It’s the smile of a psychopath, but it’s strangely genuine.

“I find that hard to believe,” I say. “You’ve never lost a game, and yet you were playing without it.”

“Smart girl.” He claps his hands, the flesh barely meeting, like an aristocratic old lady living in an ancient mansion she’s never left for ages. “That I will answer, but first I need you to listen to this.”

He claps once more and the speakers start playing a nonsensical song. It’s all vocals of children and has no music in it. Probably some sort of a poem. I realize it’s called
Haddock’s Eyes.

“Remember this one, Alice?” He tilts his head with curiosity.

I do. “It’s a poem in Alice Through the Looking Glass.”

“Bravo.” He claps. “Clever girl. Does it remind you of me?”

“I don’t know who you are.”

“But you do know me. You used to know my children, too. My wife and my grandmother.”

“We were neighbors in Wonderland?”

“Not exactly.” He raises a single forefinger. “But back to your question: why I can’t win without Carroll’s Knight?”

“I’m all ears.”

His eyes dim, and a dark flash of anger and vengeance-seeking look consumes me in ways I can’t explain. I feel sucked in by his stare, watching him lean forward. “Because Carroll denied me taking my revenge on you and killing you, though he knew what you did to me.” His voice is really unsettling. Not because he is scary, but because he is sincere. A sincere villain isn’t a good thing.

“I get it that I hurt you in Wonderland. You still haven’t explained the necessity of Carroll’s Knight.”

“It’s the only piece in chess I can kill you with, and I have it now. And the irony? You brought to me. The double irony? That Lewis made Fabiola bury and hide it in Chess City,” his eyes are moistening, and it’s getting to me. “And triple irony? That Lewis made the chess piece I can kill you with in the first place. I guess he was so confused about whether to kill you or give you another chance, so he left it to Fabiola, and the random fate of finding Carroll’s Knight.”

There is too much for me to absorb here, but what is most troubling is the Chessmaster’s ability to make me feel evil.

“You can’t win this game, Alice. I’ve mastered the game of chess for almost two centuries, so I will never lose one,” he says. “You know why? Because I was waiting for this moment all my life. You deserve this, Alice. To burn in hell. And all I needed was Carroll’s Knight.”

He pats his beloved chess piece one more time; as if it were alive.

So many question are on my mind. What could I have possibly done in the past to this man that made him hate me so much? But the one that comes out of my mouth is this: “Why a knight? Why not any other piece?”

“Because I, the Chessmaster, Vozchik Stolb, was a Wonderlander once,” he says in a tone so friendly and naive, that I’m starting to hate myself for hurting him. “In fact, I was the funniest, most harmless, of Wonderlanders. Lewis has mentioned me with care and I’m proud of it — though I still hate him.”

“Mentions you in the book?” I ask. “Who are you?”

“I’m the White Knight.”

Chapter 68

Underground Kitchen, Oxford University

“Devil, my butt,” Tom snapped. “You don’t expect me to believe that?”

“Why not?” Inspector Dormouse offered. “You believe in the nonsense of Wonderland and not in good and evil and the forces beyond our grasp.”

“Everything is beyond your grasp, Inspector,” Tom said. “You’re asleep two-thirds of your life. I’m surprised you know what it’s like to be awake.”

Chopin snickered.

“So you think The Pillar is the devil?” Inspector Dormouse averted his gaze toward the cook.

“I didn’t say that,” Chopin shrugged his shoulders. “But look, I accidentally chop off a finger every time I mention The Pillar. Diabolic!”

“You heard anything else?” Dormouse said. “Please, remember. It’s important.”

“I don’t want to remember,” Chopin pulled his chin up and away, like a silly cartoon character in a manga. “I only have eight fingers left.”

“How about a hundred pounds?” Inspector Dormouse slapped the money onto the kitchen table.

“For a finger?” Chopin seemed interested.

“Two hundred pounds.” Dormouse pulled out another hundred.

“I need three hundred pounds,” Chopin argued.

“Why? You’ve lost only two fingers?” Tom felt the need to interfere.

“And I will lose a third once I mention that devil again,” Chopin said.

“Here is another hundred,” Tom offered a hundred of his own, not sure why he’d felt so curious all of a sudden. Maybe he’d like to see Chopin lose another finger.

“Talk!” Dormouse seemed aggressive.

“Say what?” Chopin said. “I will not talk.”

“But you took the money,” Tom argued.

“I didn’t say I would not fulfill my promise, but I will not talk.”

“You’re wasting our time,” Dormouse said.

“No I’m not.” Chopin pulled out a flash drive from his pocket. “This will tell you what you need to know.”

“What is this?” Tom squinted at the drive suspiciously. “A bomb?”

“Why would I explode myself with you losers?” Chopin said. “This is a secret recording of some of the sessions. You go over it and hear everything.”

“Why haven’t you told us about this before?” Tom snapped again.

“And lose three hundred pounds?” Chopin said.

“But you also lost a finger.” Tom was getting mad.

“The devil took one finger, yes, but I fooled the devil and kept the other when you gave me the last hundred
and
I didn’t talk,” Chopin looked sideways, as if the devil were hiding in a teapot nearby, listening to his genius conspiracy.

“Give it to me,” Tom snatched the hard drive, but then something incredibly unexpected happened.

Dormouse found himself standing in a room where both Chopin and Tom fell asleep while standing on their feet. It didn’t take him long to realize it was the Chessmaster’s doing. The madman had earlier announced that he’d make Oxford and London sleep next.

“Hmm…” Inspector Dormouse picked up the flash drive, wondering why he was the only one left awake. “This is weird.”

He took the flash drive outside, preparing to listen to it in Tom’s car — it could also be used as an mp3 player — and looked at the University of Oxford having completely gone asleep.

“I think it’s not weird,” he reasoned. “I think it’s frabjous. The one man who slept the most is the only one awake right now. Could it be that my sleeping kept me immune from the Chessmaster’s curse?”

Chapter 69

The Last Chess Game, Chess City, Kalmykia

“The White Knight?” I say, unable to fathom this.

In the books, the White Knight was the gentlest and most beloved creature in Wonderland. In spite of his short appearance, he saved Alice from his opponent, the Red Knight. I remember reading about him repeatedly falling off his horse and landing on his head. He also had those silly inventions: pudding with ingredients like blotting paper, an upside-down container, and anklets to guard his horse against shark bites.

How could this good man have become who he is now?

“I see you remember me now,” the Chessmaster says.

“I remember what I read in the book about you,” I say. “That’s all.”

“It will come to you,” he says. “All the things you’ve done to me.”

“Why not remind me?”

“I’m afraid if I do, you’ll die from shock before I can beat you in the game.”

“If so, you should have just told me long ago and refrained from finding Carroll’s Knight,” I say. “Stop playing games. Tell me what I did. I’m very curious how I ever managed to hurt Death.”

“That’s the thing, Alice,” he says. “I never was Death before what you did to me.”

This is a complicated thing. Did I create Death in the past?

“I didn’t even ask to become Death.”

“Now I’m starting to doubt your story. It’d make more sense if you longed to become Death to have your revenge. I’d believe that.”

“Not if there had been a ritual involved.” His words echo in the back of my head, and suddenly I feel dizzy again, as if I’m about to remember.

“Ritual?”

“The unholy ritual that made you kill my daughter.”

My hand reaches for the edge of the table and grabs onto it. More dizziness. Faint memories, blurred by older sins. “I killed your daughter?”

“Two actually.” The Chessmaster genuinely exposes his pain, and it cuts through and splinters my whole being into ripped pieces of my own shroud.

I have nothing to say, all but to wish this hadn’t happened.

“And my wife,” the Chessmaster recounts. “My grandmother and my farm dog.”

“I did that?”

“It’s not easy realizing you were the villain, is it, Alice?” The Chessmaster’s anger is now surfacing. All the fluff is starting to wear off and the demon of vengeance is rising. “Villains are so misunderstood. People see them killing and raging, but they never ask themselves why they’ve become what they’ve become.”

“I’m not a villain.”

“All villains say that, even in Hollywood movies,” he smirks, pulling one side of his mustache.

“I’m really sorry if I’ve done any of that, but you must understand that I’ve…”

“Changed?” He tilts his head and places a hand behind his ear. “You realize this is every villain’s poor excuse when they’re about to hang him?”

“You have to believe me,” I plead, ready to get on my knees and ask for forgiveness, even ready to pay for my wrongdoing. I just need him to understand that I’m not the same person anymore, that I don’t even know who that person is. “There are no words that could ease your pain. It’s so horrible what I’ve done. Believe me. Please, believe me when I tell you I don’t remember any of it. I don’t even have an idea why I did it.”

“Oh, please.” The Chessmaster jolts the table as he stands, scattering all the pieces, all but his white knight. It stands firmly in place, unaffected by whatever wants to move it. “You know why you did it. Because of the ritual.”

“The ritual again? What ritual?”

“You want me to spell it out?” He bends forward, face flushing red, and teeth protruding like he is going to eat me alive.

“Please. I don’t remember anything about a ritual. What kind of ritual makes me kill a whole family?”

“A sacrificial ritual,” he grits his teeth. “One that demands fourteen people dead.”

“Fourteen?”

“Fourteen people sacrificed, and fourteen others making a deal.”

“What deal?” I’m on my knees now, closer to the edge of the table; his voice pinching my ears, his spittle on my cheeks.

“The deal you did to save the devil.”

“Devil? What nonsense are you talking about?”

The Chessmaster’s anger subsides to the weakness in his knees. He falls down right next to me, about to cry his heart out. “The deal you did to save The Pillar.”

Chapter 70

London

“Honk that bong!”

Having just arrived, Carter Pillar stood over a police car in the middle of the streets of London, celebrating in the most provocative ways. Everyone in London had fallen asleep because of the Chessmaster’s curse, and only a few, probably immune to the curse, stood next to him.

When he’d first arrived, everyone was shocked with the sudden creepy silence in the city. Those who were still awake were in shock and grief, wondering who to ask for help.

But then The Pillar being The Pillar, had another point of view on the incident.

“Look at it this way,” he told the people still awake. “The city is all ours. We can do whatever we want. You will never have a chance to do this in this miserable and densely populated London again.”

“What would you have us do?” an old lady asked.

“Honk that bong!” he’d said, honking the horn of every car he came about.

“Honking is illegal!” the woman protested.

“And that’s exactly the point.” The Pillar winked.

It was only a few minutes before the others bought into his idea. Suddenly, Londoners went bonkers and began doing whatever was illegal.

Now The Pillar stood upon his limousine, watching them play golf and shooting balls against the Parliament’s windows, honking cars, and singing loudly in the streets.

“Go to the CCTV surveillance cameras!” The Pillar demanded. “Get it all recorded. This is an event like no other!”

Xian on the other hand, not having arrived at America yet, didn’t know where he was. He thought this was it, the place of freedom where he would be free to do whatever he wanted. So he took off his clothes and danced in the streets. At one point, he turned to The Pillar and said, “I love America!”

The Pillar didn’t bother correcting him. He turned around and began walking to the most desired and important destination in London, at least according to him.

“Where are you going, Cao Pao Wong?” Xian inquired.

The Pillar took a moment to answer. He seemed thoughtful, thinking about too many things at once, and then said, “Time to finish something I started, Xian. It’s all about choices, remember?”

Chapter 71

The Last Chess Game, Chess City, Kalmykia

“I killed your family to save The Pillar?” I wipe the tears from my eyes.

“Fourteen people all in all.” The Chessmaster sat back on his chair, collecting the chess pieces and putting them back in place. “You and the horrible Pillar.”

“Why? Tell me. I need to know.”

“Like you don’t.”

“Please. Please. Please. I need to know.”

“You and The Pillar were the worst. You worked for Black Chess, aiding them in that eternal war between good and evil, trying to find the Six Keys.”