I pull back and ask what he means.

"All you've said is wrong," the Pillar says.

"Does that mean Jack is real?" I wipe my tears with the back of my hand.

"Not really."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Are you ready for the truth?"

I nod eagerly.

"Jack isn't a figment of your imagination, Alice," the Pillar answers. "He is a figment of his own imagination."

"What?" I can't even comprehend the sentence he just said. "A figment of his own imagination?"

"When people die in this world, sometimes they aren't ready to cross over to the other side," he explains. "Usually it's someone they have left behind that keeps them attached to the living world. It's not something that happens often. Maybe one in a million." I'm beginning to see where this is going. "There is no doubt you killed Adam—I mean Jack. He just wasn't ready to leave you alone in this world. He believes there is something you haven't learned yet, and he can't leave without helping you with it. Don't ask me what it is, because I don't know."

"You mean he is a dead man walking in my life?"

"He doesn't know that. If you ask him where he slept last night, he usually can't answer it, right?" the Pillar asks. "He is in a haze himself, driven by only one force in this temporary figment of existence."

"One force?"

"His love for you."

My tears burst out again.

"He will appear when your heart needs him the most. He will be seen by others and he will be effective," he says. "If he kills someone, they will die. He is rather true when he is present. Think of him as a living soul borrowed from the other side."

"This so confusing." I hiccup. "But it means he will always be there for me."

"Like a guardian angel." The Pillar chews on the words. "I pretended I didn't see him because of the emotional pressure he will put on you. The world is in danger, Alice, and emotions make us weaker. You can't be like that. You have to learn the art of bluntness in order to face the enemy."

I pull the umbrella up and wipe my tears. "You have it all wrong, Pillar," I tell him. "I don't know what you know about love, or what happened to you in the past that made you so blunt and without feelings, but love strengthens, not weakens. Why didn't you just tell me he was a figment of his own imagination long ago?"

The Pillar stays silent. I sense there is more he isn't telling me.

"If there is anything else I should know, please tell me now."

"There isn't," he says. I believe he is lying. "Do me a favor and don't call for Jack with your heart when you confront the Muffin Man. I want you to know your powers and what you are capable of doing. Jack and I can't be there for you forever."

"How can I do this?"

"Just don't think about Jack up there when you meet up with the enemy," the Pillar says. "Be yourself. Everyone else is taken."

"I will." I like the idea. I can't keep using Jack or the Pillar's help to get me out of every problem. "But still, you have no idea what it's like to be in love." I push the elevator button up, ready for a kill.

The Pillar seems slightly insulted by my words. For the first time, I realize that this ruthless killer was definitely in love one day. The kind of love that maybe left him the way he is now.

Chapter 6 5

Cadbury factory, chocolate stirring floor

I ask the Pillar to leave me alone with the Muffin Man.

"If you say so," he mumbles as the elevator door closes. "I would have liked to see a chocolate factory just like in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory," he teases.

The sound of working machines and drills surrounds me as I walk in between. The factory is huge; I am worried it will take me too long to find the Muffin Man.

Surprisingly, it's easier than I thought. Gorgon Ramstein is humming his own nursery rhyme as he is working.

"Muffin Man, Muffin Man. Do you know the Muffin Man, who lives in Drury Lane?"

I take off my shoes so I can surprise him and he can't hear me coming, my umbrella held up high like a loaded gun.

"Muffin Man, Muffin Man. Do you know the Muffin Man, who somehow lost his brain?"

A few rows of stacked-up material later, I see him standing behind a huge, round machine. It looks like a bathtub, with chocolate stirring inside. It has huge mixing fans that are so long and sharp they could cut through a person. The Muffin Man has tons of pepper sacks next to him. He begins opening one to pour the pepper into the mix.

"Muffin Man, Muffin Man. Do you know the Muffin Man, who's gone utterly insane?"

"Stop!" I stand firm and point my umbrella at him. It's surprising how I got a straight window for a shot so easily. It occurs to me that I must have been taught to use this umbrella before—or was my clash with the Cheshire in Ypres just about enough? "Or I will shoot!" I say.

"How did you know I was here?" He is utterly surprised, one of the sacks open in his hands.

"That doesn't matter." I manage to control my voice. I have to be loud enough so he knows I will shoot. "I need you to put that sack down, sir." I don't know how it works, but the Cheshire said if Gorgon is stopped, his acquaintances will stop.

"How did you find me?" He is perplexed. "You should be out there with all the panicked people, trying to find the poisoned food or stay away from it."

"Please, sir," I repeat. "Put down the sack of pepper."

The sound of stirring machines demands I raise my voice even more.

"The only one who knows I'm here is the Cheshire." His jaw tenses. "Did he tell you I was here? Why would he do that?"

"Because he is the Cheshire. You shouldn't have trusted him." I'm trying to use this conflict. "I promise you won't be hurt if you stop, sir. We will consider you an ally who helped prevent millions from dying." I am lying. I talk as if I am the police or something. Anything to stop this from happening. "I promise I will tell you anything you want to know once you put the sack down." I readjust the position of my feet. Holding a gun up for a long time turns out to be a hell of a task.

"I will not put the sack down," he says. "I don't care if you caught the Cheshire and made him confess. The world has to pay, or the Queen of England apologies publicly."

I want so badly to ask him if this means the Queen of England is the Queen of Hearts, but I won't. I have to strike with iron hands. The killer has to be stopped or killed.

"Sir, for the last time." I can't quite breathe steadily. "Put the sack down, or I will shoot."

"Shoot as you want," he says. "Bullets can't kill me."

"I have Bandersnatch bullets, sir." Why do I keep saying "sir"?

The Muffin Man suddenly panics. He realizes the power in my hands.

"Then it's really the Cheshire? Did he sell me out?"

"For the last time, sir." I grit my teeth. "I mean it. The last time. Put the sack down, or I will shoot."

"You know what she has done to my children in Wonderland?" His sadness begins to surface. It's sincere, I can tell. "Can you imagine your children scraping the doors and windows for three days without food?" This isn't helping me. The image haunts me. "Do you know how many times I asked the Queen of Hearts to kill me and just send someone to open the door for them? I mean, they were just children." An image of Lewis crying I couldn't save them blocks my vision and my reason. I don't want to soften from the Muffin Man's words. I am not sure I can hold on any longer. "Then in this new world, I told myself I would start all over again. I told myself the cruelty of Wonderland couldn't be in the human world. But once I warned the government of my scientific discoveries about the crimes committed by food companies, they killed my lawyer and killed my children. AGAIN!" he screams. His veins are about to spurt out of his neck.