Checkmate (Insanity Book 6) by Jace Cameron

Author:Jace, Cameron [Jace, Cameron]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Storykiller Books
Published: 2016-03-21T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 43

Tibet’s Autonomous Region

The storm ends the minute I finish the last sentence from Lewis Carroll sister’s diary. Even though, I don’t rise from underneath my coat yet. I’m not sure what I really read. The shock of reading this way outweighs the mystery of the storm.

Is the Chessmaster really Death? Then what does he want to protect himself from? And why does he want me to burn in hell?

And all aside, how can you kill Death?

My coat furls off by itself, and I feel the sudden chill of cold outside. The world around me is an endless whiteout; I can’t see anything before me. Propping myself up on my knees, the storm snatches the notes away from my hands and swirls them upward. The notes are swallowed by the thickness of white, but I am not worried. I know what I’ve read, and have memorized it.

So the Chessmaster killed Lewis Carroll? If so what’s Carolus doing in this world? Why did Carolus even bother to fool me into killing him earlier? So many unanswered questions. The one thing that seems clear to me is that Wonderlanders — and maybe humans — die playing a last chess game against the unbeatable Chessmaster.

Is that really how people die? Does the Grim Reaper give them a last chance in a game of chess? Who’d have thought?

Out of the silence surrounding me, I suddenly hear heavy breathing, but can’t see anything.

“Who’s there?” I inquire.

I wonder if it’s the Dude; that mysterious guardian of mine. Why does he do this, and who is he?

Suddenly a bloody hand slithers out of the thickness of white snow. A gloved hand, covered in blood, stiffening like a predator’s claws.

“Don’t worry, I’m not Freddy Kruger from Nightmare on Elm Street,” The Pillar pants, his head protruding out.

I let out a shattered laugh. “You’re alive!”

“Of course I am alive,” he coughs, crawling toward me on all fours. “In fact, I’m a caterpillar. I may not have been born into a butterfly yet.”

My laugh splinters into tiny sighs when I see his face. What has the giant done to him? The Pillar is scarred on the cheeks and the forehead — the giant certainly pulled out that balding wig as well. There is a wild, thick slash underneath his neck, right about on his chest bone, which shows because his cloths are cut left and right, all but his white gloves on his hands.

I am speechless, feeling guilty, I should have helped him.

“I could use a Hookah right now,” he lays his head on my lap. “I’d smoke the pain away.”

“You killed the giant?” I brush my hand through his hair.

“Ever seen Fight Club, the movie? It was the same down there. But yes, I killed the giant.”

“You should have let me help?”

“You’re more important than me.” he coughs a trail of blood on the white snow. “I’m just a nutty professor; Indiana Jones at best.”

“Severus Snape, I’d say.” I want to laugh but can’t. “And what’s with you and the movies today? I bet the monks never went to New York.

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