“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 a 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.”

“Which is?” I grimace.

“Thou shalt not trust anyone,” he says. “It’s a harsh truth, unbelievable, but with all the madness surrounding us, it’s crucial. You shouldn’t have fallen for you sister’s play.” He smiles, as if I should accept this as a fully fleshed reply.

We stare at each other. It’s a long moment. I don’t grasp the meaning of it. All I am grasping moment after moment is that I am getting lonelier among the crowd. Was that why Alice met so many animals in her book? Because she couldn’t trust grownups? Because she was lonely?

“How long before the Hatter sends you the next clue?” The Pillar breaks the tension, finishing my cake and drinking my tea.

“About ten minutes,” I say. “He said the countdown will start ticking again at twelve o’clock. Ends twenty-four hours later.”

“Huh. I’m really curious what he has in mind for you.” He tongues his cheeks. “On the outside, this all seems like a time-ticking hunt to stop a bomb. But with all those clues he gave you, there’s so much more about this case.”

I stare at the housemaid dress, the gloves, and the fan I collected, contemplating the Pillar’s words. “It’s almost as if I’m in a computer game collecting items for some great reveal.”

“That’s quite right.” He says it as if it didn’t cross his mind. “The next clue should confirm your theory.”

The Hatter’s phone beeps on the table. The Pillar and I share an uncomfortable moment. Then I pick it up and read the message:

I relocated the rabbit with the bomb behind the Snail Mound in Wonderland. You’ll find it there.

Chapter 25

The Pillar snatches the phone and reads it. He looks perplexed.

“Are you saying you don’t know where this Snail Mound is?” I say.

“I don’t,” the Pillar says. He isn’t comfortable with the fact either. “But you’re missing the fact that whatever that Snail Mound is, it’s supposed to be in Wonderland. How are you supposed to get to Wonderland?”

“Through the Tom Tower, maybe?” I suggest. “The Einstein Blackboard, traveling back in time?”

“These aren’t doorways to Wonderland,” the Pillar explains. “These are only temporarily glimpses into it. You can’t use them to stay prolonged periods in Wonderland. To find something specific, you need to learn how to really go to Wonderland. Which, in the meantime, is impossible.”

“You never told me about that. Why is it impossible?”

“The only way to go to Wonderland is to find six keys, leading to six doors, leading to Wonderland.” The Pillar pouts, as if he didn’t want to bring this up now. All I can think about is that key Lewis gave me is one of those keys. “Six Impossible Keys. Lewis used to call them Six Impossible Things. But that’s way too soon to talk about. This message doesn’t make sense. It’s another game without much clues.”

“Okay,” I say. “I will message him and ask him to clarify.” I begin typing my message to him.

Once I begin, the phone beeps:

No need to reply to my messages. I was just sipping my tea.

The message sends shivers to my spine. I raise my head and look up at the surrounding buildings. How is it possible the Hatter sees me?

I stand up and keep looking at the roofs of the buildings. I am looking for a man with a top hat and goggles, like the children described. But I can’t see such a man.

I feel like a rocket about to launch, spitting out fire. “What do you want from me?” I scream at the sky, spreading my hands sideways.

“What’s wrong, Alice?” the Pillar says.

The walking pedestrians avoid my path, thinking I am insane.