Present: The Wonderland War, London
M y guts burn with self-loathing, looking at the darker version of Constance. It’s mind-boggling seeing this sweet girl’s darker side. But all I care about is the real Constance now.
“Malice, where is Constance?”
She keeps snickering like she is keeping a secret.
“I won’t hurt you,” I tell her. “You tricked me into killing Jack and I’m not going to make you pay for it if you let me find Constance.”
“Killing Jack will only bring you wrath like last time,” Malice says. “The Jabberwocky will be upset, that’s all.”
I’m not sure what she means. The memories that have attacked me about the bus don’t confirm I killed Jack to get to his father. I wish I could remember the rest.
“As for Constance,” Malice says. “I know you see yourself in her. She means a lot to you. The first girl you’ve ever saved. Not finding her will break you and shatter you into pieces—and you know how much this pleases me.”
I spit on the ground, disappointed. Also, why has my sword dimmed after killing Jack?
I turn to face Constance. “You don’t want your better side to die, right? She is still you.”
“She isn’t dead. She is only suffering.” Constance snickers as well.
I grip my sword and point it at her.
“Are you going to kill a little girl?” She is as annoying as Malice. I’m in a madhouse of doppelgangers.
I take a moment to think things over. Instead of going on with my purpose, I have been double-crossed by the darker sides of people since the mushrooms erupted.
I take a deep breath.
The hardest thing when catastrophe occurs is to take a step back and reconsider. We’re all trapped in our temporarily spiked emotions, we end up responding in the most ridiculous ways.
I needn’t go that route.
The greatest revenge against evil is to neglect it. It will take a piece of you, but you will not feed its fire. And then you will cross over. Wounded a little, but you will have survived—and you can always heal with time.
The slight glitter to my Vorpal sword proves I am right. It resonates with my attempt to escape the moment and think.
“I will find her,” I tell the two lunatics in slow, calculated syllables. “She won’t be far from here. I will go back to where she was kidnapped by Malice.”
The look on Constance and Malice’s faces are priceless. Ironic how evil is dumbfounded when you don’t pay attention. Imagine a demon snarling at you and you just wish it good luck and go back to sleep. Malice and Constance aren’t angry at me leaving. They don’t even try to provoke me. They just stand silent and in awe. Frozen, would be a better description.
Surely they won’t give up that easily, but for now, I am winning by not participating.
Then suddenly someone snatched my Vorpal sword from my hand.
I snap, turning, upset at my weak grip. This sword has to return to me. Now!
It surprises me that it isn’t Malice nor Constance who have taken it. In fact, there is no one else around on the ground.
Because the sword isn’t nearby anymore, but flying in the air.
I raise my head and squint against the gray sky, glimpsing my sword pulled up, as if tied to a loose rope, with almost invisible hands.
Puzzled, I look further upward at the enormous, dark shadow, blocking the skies. At the end of my stare, I see two coal-red eyes.
If Malice and Constance haven’t shrieked and lowered their bodies to the floor asking for forgiveness, I would have taken the time to study the beast.
Now I am as scared.
“Please don’t hurt us,” Malice says.
“We can explain,” Constance follows.
Nothing comes out of my mouth.
I haven’t seen a monster this huge. A monster? An entity? An unholy bigger mushroom?
Then I hear the flapping of large wings. I don’t see them, but a foul smelling wind rattles the air and blows Constance a few feet away and makes Malice curl around herself.
I stand my ground, balancing with my hands, refusing to fall, though I’m about to.
Glass shatters in the buildings all around me. Mushrooms slowly melt like lava from a volcano, and only few people shriek because most of them have died instantly.
My eyes don’t leave the line of my Vorpal sword in mid-air above me.
I still stand my ground with memories swirling around me. Too many to absorb, but easily deciphered. The message is clear. This is the final battle. The one that didn’t happen the last time.
I am staring at him.
In the flesh.
The one who rocks the cradle of evil.
The Jabberwocky.