Hookah (Insanity Book 4)

by Cameron Jace

  HOOKAH

  (Insanity Book 4)

  by Cameron Jace

  www.CameronJace.com

  Copyright

  First Original Edition, September 2015

  Copyright © 2015 Cameron Jace

  Formatted by Author's HQ

  All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author.

  Other Books by Cameron Jace

  The Grimm Diaries Prequels Series

  The Grimm Diaries Prequels 1-6 (Free)

  The Grimm Diaries Prequels 7-10

  The Grimm Diaries Prequels 11-14

  The Grimm Diaries Prequels 15-18

  The Grimm Diaries Main Series

  Snow White Sorrow (book 1)

  Cinderella Dressed in Ashes (book 2)

  Blood, Milk & Chocolate Part 1 (book3)

  I Am Alive Series

  I Am Alive (book 1)

  Pentimento Series

  Pentimento (book 1)

  Books in the Insanity Series

  Insanity

  Figment

  Circus

  Hookah

  How to read this book:

  Begin at the beginning

  and go until you come to the end;

  then stop.

  In the memory of Lewis Carroll.

  We love you for the madman you were.

  Contents

  Prologue Part 1

  Prologue Part 2

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  Chapter 63

  Chapter 64

  Chapter 65

  Chapter 66

  Chapter 67

  Chapter 68

  Chapter 69

  Chapter 70

  Chapter 71

  Chapter 72

  Chapter 73

  Chapter 74

  Chapter 75

  Chapter 76

  Chapter 77

  Chapter 78

  Chapter 79

  Chapter 80

  Chapter 81

  Chapter 82

  Chapter 83

  Chapter 84

  Chapter 85

  Chapter 86

  Chapter 87

  Chapter 88

  Chapter 89

  Chapter 90

  Chapter 91

  Chapter 92

  Chapter 93

  Chapter 94

  Chapter 95

  Chapter 96

  Chapter 97

  Chapter 98

  Chapter 99

  Chapter 100

  Chapter 101

  Chapter 102

  Chapter 103

  Chapter 104

  Chapter 105

  Chapter 106

  Chapter 107

  Chapter 108

  Epilogue Part 1

  Epilogue Part 2

  Epilogue Part 3

  Thank You

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  Other Books by Cameron Jace

  About the Author

  Prologue Part One

  Tom Quad, Oxford University

  The man in the priest’s outfit landed in the middle of Oxford University in an automobile strapped up in helium balloons.

  Students craned their necks up, recognizing the aero-engined car, a British masterpiece powered by aircraft engines that some thought could fly back in the 1920’s.

  But never had they seen it hinged on balloons like today.

  Against normal laws of physics, the car descended to the ground, and people stared at it as if it was an alien spaceship.

  After landing, the man in the priest’s outfit stepped out of the automobile, flashing a broad smile at the world. His hair was swept by a swirling breeze, and his lanky stature was considerably attractive. He looked familiar to the children attending this celebration. His image had been carved in the back of their heads since they first started reading.

  There was no mistaking it. The man looked like an uncanny modern day incarnation of Lewis Carroll.

  Not just that. The man had arrived with what every child in the world had been craving for a while—and it wasn’t candy.

  “Where are the hookahs?” a child said. “You said you’d bring the Hookah of Hearts!”

  Amidst the flashing cameras and the nosey reporters, the man flapped his hands sideways like a living scarecrow from the Wizard of Oz. He was about to show them his latest trick.

  Behind him, the sky drizzled, not rain but gift-wrapped packages.

  “It’s raining hookahs, hallelujah,” The man said in a soft voice.

  The hookahs inside the packages, like his car, dangled from hundreds of brightly colored helium balloons.

  The children hoorayed and ran toward them, tiptoeing, reaching, and competing for one of their own.

  More flashes. TV Cameras. People with microphones broadcasting the frabjous event.

  The Hookah of Hearts had been in the market for more than a year. Manufactured by Dodo, a mysterious toy company obsessed with everything Alice in Wonderland—the caterpillar and his hookah in particular.

  The children began collecting their presents, ripping apart the wrappers and pulling out their hookahs.

  They began smoking them.

  Everyone applauded.

  Of course they weren’t puffing real smoke like adults. Those were mini hookahs. The children sucked on some unique scent -- the flavor of Tiger Lilies -- which was harmless, and puffed out bubbles instead of smoke.

  Pink bubbles. Blue bubbles. Green bubbles.

  Occasionally there was this one bubble that wrote words like who are you? in the air.

  The crowd applauded again. Enthusiastic. Feeling fantastic. Some of them even felt... frantastic.

  More and more flashes.

  The broadcasting cameras rotated back toward the Lewis Carroll look-a-like priest.

  He looked incredibly uncomfortable with the cameras, shielding his eyes with his hand. But the cameramen didn’t care. This was even better than paparazzi’s photos.

  The reporters wondered how much such an extensive marketing campaign cost the Dodo Corporation.

  “Come
on. The car and flying hookahs must have cost a fortune. They can’t be real, or…?”

  The man wore his smile thinner, and said nothing. He looked like he had a toothache, his jaw twitching a little.

  Another reporter asked him if it was true that over six million hookahs had been sold worldwide.

  Still irritated by the flashes, he continued saying nothing.

  However, he responded to the children who had questions about certain functions in the hookahs.

  “May I compliment your outfit and make up, sir.” A young female reporter stuck her microphone—and nose—out of the squeezing crowd. “I mean, you really look like the legendary Lewis Carroll. How is that even possible?”

  This time, the priest looked amused. It was the question he’d been waiting for. “Y-y-young la-lady,” he stuttered like Lewis Carroll did in real life. “What makes you think I’m not him?”

  Prologue Part Two

  Some of TV crew rolled their eyes at the man’s reply. Others laughed at the unmatched confidence and acting.

  But something about him was so original. The way he said the words.

  An uncomfortable silence swept over the university. A silence that spread to every TV set in every home all over the world.

  Who was this man, really?

  “M-my name is Lewis Ca-car-roll.” The man bowed in front of the camera. “A-and I’ve come to bestow my b-b-beautiful madness u-u-upon this world.”

  The silence stretched for a few more seconds.

  It was like staring at a clown. No one was really sure what to expect. Should they have panicked and ran away, or just laughed and said, ‘Haha, of course you are!’

  Too many so-called Wonderland Monsters had been to London lately: the creepy Cheshire, the Muffin Man, and the Mad Hatter with his rabbit bomb last week. It had become impossible to dismiss someone claiming he was one of them.

  A few kids managed to break the silence, coughing bubbles and flowers from sucking on the hookahs.

  Those bubbles weren’t pink. They weren’t blue. They weren’t green.

  “Why are the children coughing... red bubbles?” the young reporter asked.

  “Silly me. I forgot,” the priest said, stepping back into his flying car and pulling a lever that pumped air into more balloons. “Our Hookah of Hearts, which has already sold more than six million pieces all over the world, well, it’s not just a hookah.” The balloons began to take off again. “This hookah holds a deadly disease like nothing you’ve ever seen.”

  Faces began to redden, confused by the man’s continued speech of madness.

  Was he joking? Why would the Dodo Corporation send a loon like him to represent them?

  “And I repeat”—his smile broadened, too wide to be benevolent—“a deadly virus like nothing you’ve seen before. It should start working in a few hours. Within three days”—the automobile hovered above the ground—“this world as you know it will end.”

  What once was silence escalated to ascending grunts of panic. More children kept coughing. Parents worried, watching him escape into the sky. More people in the world couldn’t believe what they were watching on the news.

  “Who are you?” a reporter screamed at the floating priest.

  “I told you. My name is Lewis Carroll,” he said from high above, looking like someone sweet and colorful in the middle of a never-ending nightmare. “And I am a Wonderland Monster.”

  Chapter 1

  St Peter’s Basilica, the Vatican

  I am waiting in line to enter the confession room so I can talk to Fabiola.

  Tens of men and women entered the booth before me, most of them slouched by the weight of whatever truth, or sins, they were about to confess.

  But knowing Fabiola—from the few times we’ve met—I’m aware of her positive influence on people.

  Until it’s my turn, I fiddle with the key Lewis Carroll gave me three weeks ago when I first met him through the Tom Tower.

  I pulled it out of my cell’s wall this morning, fearing it wasn’t safe in there anymore. Not after I stupidly lost another key to the Mad Hatter last week. I messed up. Who knows what this Hatter would do with it.

  But this golden key in my hand—Lewis instructed me not to lose it under any circumstances. I plan not to disappoint him.

  I’m looking forward to knowing why it’s so important, along with the date scribbled on the walls of my cell in the asylum: January the 14th.

  I wonder what happened on that day. If I could only remember why I wrote it on the wall—and if it was me who did it.

  An old lady pats me on my shoulder, informing me that it’s my turn.

  I stand up, take a deep breath and enter the booth, waiting for Fabiola to slide open the window in between.

  In the dark and silence of the booth, I’m reminded of Jack. Silly Jack who would never give up on me.

  Silly Jack who may be only a figment of my imagination. A figment so nice I can’t risk finding out he’s not real.

  “Are you here for a confession, Alice?” Fabiola asks behind the closed window. I wonder if the White Queen can see through walls.

  “No,” I say. “How can I confess what I don’t remember?”

  “Trust me.” I hear her fingernails on the wooden frame. “It’s a lot easier than trying to confess what you actually remember.”

  I lower my gaze and fiddle with the key, assuming Fabiola’s heard humanity’s darkest secrets between these walls.

  “The Pillar lent you his plane to come and see me?” she says.

  “Yes. But he doesn’t know what I want to see you about.”

  “And what do you want to see me about?”

  “Did you hear about me entering a delirious version of Wonderland through the Garden of Cosmic Speculation last week?”

  “I did,” Fabiola says. “I too had a vision that I met you inside and showed you the Impossible Six.”

  “Lewis, you, the March Hare, Jack, me, and a little girl.”

  “If you’re here to ask me about the little girl, I have no answer for you... at least not now.”

  “I admit I am curious, but it’s not what I’m here for.”

  “Why are you here then, Alice?” Fabiola sounds impatient. I get the feeling she is afraid that talking to me for longer periods will force her to confess too much to me.

  The irony.

  “I think what I saw was some kind of epiphany, a sign for me to do something,” I say. “I want to gather the Impossible Six and create an opposing force against Black Chess.”

  Fabiola slides open the window.

  Chapter 2

  “You want to stand up to the Queen of Hearts and Black Chess?” Fabiola’s eyes show concern.

  “I don’t want to wait for the monster of the week anymore,” I say. “I know about the Circus. How it all started. Black Chess has to be stopped.”

  “You know nothing at all, believe me. But it’s admirable that, although you’re not sure if you’re the Real Alice, you want to play the hero’s part.”

  “I don’t care if I’m her or not. All I know is that I can stop bad things from happening in this world.”

  “Did you think about the price you will have to pay?”

  “Other than living in a mad world where I can’t tell what’s real from what’s not? Yes, I know I want to do this.”

  “It’s not that easy. Black Chess is darkness itself. Stare into it too long and it will stain you with a black veil of unforgettable pain.”

  I shrug, tightening my grip on the key. “I believe the world can be a better place, only if the truth, in this case Black Chess, is exposed and defeated.”

  “The truth,” Fabiola considers. “I’m not sure we all want to know about it. What do you have in mind?”

  “Like I said, gather the good guys. Jack is with me in the asylum. I will find a way to get the March Hare out of the Hole. I’m not sure where Lewis stands in all of this. I mean, is he alive or dead? But I’m not worried about him, not as much as the l
ittle girl.”

  “The time hasn’t come to talk about her yet,” Fabiola says. “So I’d postpone looking for her, same goes for Lewis. He has a war of his own, so he’ll show up when it’s his time.”

  My eyes meet hers. “And you?”

  “What about me?”

  “Are you in? If so, my impression is that you’d be the leader.”

  “Normally I would be. But I am not wearing my white outfit to entice wars. I wear it to wipe off the old days of Wonderland, when I had blood all over my hands.”

  I am oblivious to whatever she is talking about.