RADCLIFFE ASYLUM, OXFORD
S ince the Cheshire couldn’t find another rat to possess, he resorted to a fly in the end.
Now, this was risky business.
For one, he had to leave his phone behind for good now. Second, he was prone to getting killed at any moment. Humans loved to kill flies.
To tell the truth, it was tempting, like killing ants. Just a calculated slap and the fly was history.
But soon, he found himself another host — one of the asylum’s wardens.
The Cheshire strolled through the ward like had before when he possessed Ogier’s body and scared this Alice girl a few weeks ago. Oh, boy, was that fun. That look on her face would have made one hell of a selfie.
But enough with that poor girl thinking she was the Real Alice. It was Tom’s kids he was looking for.
He gestured at a few other wardens on his way. Everyone seems concerned with something called Plan-X. This loon Dr. Truckle thought he’d survive the apocalypse in this asylum.
But frankly, what did the Cheshire care? All these humans, dumb as a bum.
And here he was, staring at Tom’s children, Todd and Tania, with that famous Cheshire grin on his lips.
The two obnoxious kids stared back. They weren’t scared of him. Not at all. They grinned back.
Although he’d heard the news about the Pillar and Alice leaving Columbia, and the Queen’s disinterest in sending someone after the Pillar, the Cheshire felt excited, staring at Todd and Tania.
I bet I found you after all Tweedledee and Tweedledum. This will be fun.