Hookah

“Suppose she is,” Margaret said. “Where is all of this going?”
“We need to start to work together. Let’s forget our pasts and grudges and unite to get the Six Keys, and then we can bite at each other all we want.”
Margaret looked at the Queen for advice.
“Listen,” the Cheshire said. “Carolus is a madman when he needs his pill. I have incredible powers. Margaret is a ruthless woman. And you, My Queen, there is no one as evil as you are.”
The Queen felt pleasure. She liked the compliment.
“So be it,” she said. “If the Inklings are gathering, then I may as well welcome you and Carolus into Black Chess. But as long as you do as I say.”
“Thank you,” the Cheshire said.
“And don’t ever grin in my presence. God. You’re a creep.”
“As you wish,” he said. “Did you ever know Tom Truckle, the Radcliffe Asylum’s director is a Wonderlander, by the way?”
“Why do you say that?”
“I tried to posses him, but couldn’t.”
“Can’t be. I’m sure I’d recognize most Wonderlanders.” The Queen dismissed him.
“If you say so,” the Cheshire played with Jack’s deck of cards. “Why should I care?” he shook his shoulders. “So what’s our next move?”
“The third key, of course,” Margaret interfered. “We have the one with the Pillar, and we know Alice has one. I may have an idea were the third one is.”
“Great, but not now,” The Queen said. “I need to play with my dogs for a while. And you, Cheshire, get rid of Jack’s body. Jack is dead. I don’t want to see him walking around.”
“But, My Queen.” The Cheshire couldn’t help but flash his grin at her. “I’m planning to do horrible things with his body.”
“How horrible?”
“Horrible as in using him to learn everything about this Alice girl.”
“Now that’s brilliant.”
“And it’ll get even better once I find the Tweedles.”
 Chapter 108 
 The Inklings, Oxford 
I am cleaning the floor when the Pillar enters the bar.
“No news of Jack, yet?”
“Nothing,” I say. “Like you said, I think he will just show up on his own like he always does.”
“Can’t argue much with a boy who is a figment of his own imagination.” The Pillar knocks his cane on the ground. “How about you, are you feeling all right?”
“For letting a monster go?” I stare right at him. “Yeah. I’m fabulous.”
“Listen. I didn’t know the plague was only going to last for three days. Besides, killing Carolus will always kill Lewis.”
“Did you notice that all we do is compile Wonderland Monsters one after the other? It’s like I’m useless.”
“You’re not useless. You’re learning. If you think you’ll become an overnight hero like in comic books, you’re dearly mistaken.”
“And what about you, Pillar?” I put the broom aside.
“What about me?”
“Did you become a ruthless killer overnight, or did you have good training?”
“You’re starting to sound like Fabiola.”
“Maybe I should learn from her.”
The Pillar reverts to silence.
“Look, I’m never going to forgive you for fooling me and taking the key. And I’m not going to ask what’s with you, Fabiola, the kids, and the Executioner. I respect that each one of us has his own past,” I try to be as forward as possible. Frankly, the man is irritable in all the wrong ways. “But be warned. Once I don’t need to learn from you anymore, we won’t talk again.”
“I understand.” He flips his cane. “Don’t worry. I might be gone sooner than you think.”
“Good.” I try not to say a word so I don’t soften to him in any way. Then the stubbornness inside me takes over. “Now, you need to leave. The Inklings only welcomes those who can walk on the white tiles of chess.”
“I hate chess.” He wiggles his nose. “But I wasn’t here for this. I just met with the March Hare. He told me there is a small aftereffect for the plague that has just ended.”
“What kind of aftereffect?”
“Everyone in the world will unwillingly tell the truth again from five to six PM today.”
“Everyone? Us included?”
“Yes. It doesn’t matter whether we smoked the hookah or not. It’s kind of contagious. Everyone who was out there in the world for the last three days must have caught it.”
“So it didn’t end?”
“Actually it’s nothing harmful, according to the March.”
“How so?”
“He says the aftereffect is a bit personal. Everyone will either confront themselves with a truth or someone dear to them.”
“A benign truth?”
“If you want to call it that.”
“Okay then.” I turn back to cleaning. “You need to go now.”
“If I had a smoke every time I hear this,” The Pillar mumbles. Then he hesitates, as if he wants to tell me something. I see him in the mirror on the wall. Fiddling with his cane.
The silence seems to stretch for ages. But eventually he turns around and leaves.
“Pillar,” my tongue betrays me.
“Yes?”
“You think it’s a bad thing that the only way the world experienced peace was to lie?”
“Only if you think the opposite of truth is lying.” He doesn’t turn around, his hands on the handle of the glass door.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means it’s true we avoid the truth at all costs every day in our lives. But we don’t really lie. We make up things. Like a beautiful novel where we fake all our needs for a good hero. By the end of the book, you know it’s fiction, that it’s not true, but you’d be mistaken if you think it’s false either.”
My mind is reeling with ideas and metaphors again. How does he do that?
“Listen.” I stand up. “I may have been a bit harsh on you.”
“No, you weren’t. I’m terrible.” He opens the door to leave. “But don’t worry,” he sounds as if he’s going to break my heart like no one has ever done before.
And he does. The last words the Pillar says almost bring me to my knees.
"You will not see me again for another fourteen years.” The Pillar says, closes the door behind him, and disappears forever.
 Epilogue Part One 
 London. The Hour of Truth, between 5 PM 
In the hour of truth, Margaret Kent stood in front of her mirror again. She couldn’t get her eyes off her fake beauty. All those plastic surgeries and the money she spent did a good job in fooling the citizens everywhere. Her face had earned her a few good jumps in her career, a lot of money, and even admiration and respect.
But if it was so good, why couldn’t Margaret forget her own ugliness whenever she looked into this mirror?
Unable to help it, Margaret brought a chair and smashed it into the mirror. She hit it until her arms tired and her makeup thinned. Then she fell to the floor crying.
 This hour of truth was incredibly devastating to her. 
A few miles away, the Queen of Hearts also stared into the mirror. However, she didn’t worry about her looks. She had made peace with her looks years ago. It wasn’t the looks.
The Queen piled up chair after chair so she could stand on top of them. All she ever wanted was to be taller. Even a little bit taller would have sufficed. Every head she chopped was in hope to make others shorter – and so she’d be taller. If not in physical measures, then in the eyes of those she ruled.
Sometime she told herself she didn’t really mean to kill anyone.
But the question always remained. How high could she stand on the chairs in front of the mirror?
At the highest point, where she felt a tinge of satisfaction, all the chairs tumbled down again.
Picking herself off the ground, she ran to the door and yelled. “Off with their heads!”
The guards looked puzzled, not sure whose head she wanted to chop off this time.
“I’m sorry, My Queen,” one brave guard offered. “Whose head would you like us to cut off?”
“Since you opened your mouth”—she pouted—“Then it’s you. Off with your head!”