Splintered (30 page)

The maniacal laughter, smacking lips, and uncivilized conversations provide a comforting backdrop while I square away things with my new royal friends. I sit at the head of the table with Ivory on my right and Grenadine on my left and catch a floating bottle of wine sent my way by the woolly-headed netherlings at the other end. Pouring a glass for myself, I toast them, then take a long drink. The flavor of berries and plums rolls down my throat, thick and sweet like honey.

Dad wouldn’t approve, even though this is nothing like the wine at home. All I know is, I need something to warm the chill in my chest that hits each time I see Morpheus’s fedora on the arm of my chair—the red moths fluttering with the movement around me.

Morpheus’s sprites share my grief. They bob and weave around the table like hiveless bees, unsettled. Gossamer hangs limp from the chandelier above, crying inconsolably.

Rabid White entertains Grenadine with a joke while passing a plate of moonbeam cookies. The ribbons on her fingers that reminded her of her king’s whereabouts and the skeletal netherling’s betrayal mysteriously flew off when we first sat down to eat. I tuck the red bows beneath my leg to be destroyed later.

Rabid has sworn a vow of loyalty to me and whomever I choose to rule in my stead while I’m gone. Grenadine will need an experienced royal advisor, and I have no reason to doubt his devotion after everything he did to see me crowned.

“You are resolved in your decision?” The Ivory Queen asks me. “It’s better this way,” I answer, touching the necklace around my neck. This key is mine to keep. A ruby embellishes the top, in honor of my kingdom.
“You should know . . .” Ivory lifts a crystallized candy, sucking on one end. “Since you’re a half-blood, the realm in which you live shapes your form. Your wings and eye stains appeared here but will vanish within hours there. Your powers are eternal but will become dormant if neglected. The more you avoid reminders of your stay in the nether-realm, the more human you’ll become.”
Nodding, I take another sip of wine to ease the ache in my stomach. I smooth out the dress Grenadine gave me after I cleaned up—a red strappy one-piece with black hearts, spades, diamonds, and clubs appliquéd just above the knee-length hem. The black petticoats rustle under my hands. She offered boots, but my arches are killing me, so I’m barefoot.
Attending an important political dinner only half-dressed. I couldn’t do that in the human world.
I never thought I would feel so torn about going home. Then again, I never thought
this
place would feel like home. “I want to experience everything that Alice missed out on,” I finally answer Ivory.
“I understand. Your heart belongs in the mortal realm for now, with the knight you told me of. He sounds very brave and noble.” A dreamy look passes over her face.
A pang of sympathy hits me. She’s always been so isolated— Morpheus must’ve seemed like a dream come true. Even if she can’t find the right guy, there are other ways to curb her emptiness, friendships she can forge. Maybe she just needs a nudge in the right direction.
I glance over at Grenadine, whose mouth glows with moonbeams as she laughs, oblivious to us. “While I’m gone, would you and Grenadine meet once a week or so? Eat together, play croquet, whatever you like. You know, to keep foreign relations balanced. You could take turns hosting . . .”
Ivory’s beautiful, icy features warm at the thought. “Of course.”
“And you might take the sprites back to your castle. They’ll be lost without Morpheus.”
The queen smiles sadly. “Yes. They will. I would be glad to take them in.”
We both pause as the conversation around us turns to stories of Morpheus’s antics throughout his life. The dinner guests snort and smile upon each telling—a transparent ploy to cover their sorrow.
I look down at my plate.
Ivory pats my hand. “He spoke of you often. His childhood with you was sacred to him. So few of us here ever experience that kind of innocence.”
My wings grow heavy on my back as I think of our short time together. The memories I worked so hard to remember will now haunt me forever.
Anticipating the inevitable good-bye to these wondrously eccentric beings—to a very wondrous part of myself—leaves me even more bereft. I gnaw on a drumstick. The mutilated goose snickers and rolls around on his platter, as if he can feel my nibbles all the way across the table.
“We should discuss your journey home.” Ivory places her candy aside. “Time is tricky as you step back through the portal between realms. Unless you envision a specific hour, the clock goes in reverse.”
So that’s what the flowers meant by time moving backward in Wonderland. “How far back?”
“It will drop you into the exact same moment you stepped through to begin with. This could work to your advantage. If you aim for your bedroom, you can give the illusion you never left.”
Blotting my lips with a napkin, I meet her gaze. “No. I have another place in mind. There’s something I have to do before my wings disappear, before I can start my life again.”
h
..I..
i
The way the portals work, I’m supposed to envision where I want to land, but it has to be a room with a mirror big enough for me to fit through. Magic is stricter in the human realm. Since the only three places I’m really familiar with at the asylum are the registration desk, the lounge, and the bathroom, I squeeze the tiny key on the chain at my neck and choose the obvious one.
Crouching, I crawl through the portal and end up with my knees in a pristine sink, hands banked on the edges for balance. I almost crash into Nurse Jenkins, who was bending over to dig through her makeup bag. An eyebrow pencil clatters to the floor. She totters backward and falls on her butt next to the toilet, gawking at me. A small sound, somewhere between a whimper and a gasp, squeezes from her throat.
Maybe I could explain the eye patches and wings by saying it’s a costume, but creeping through a mirror? Best thing to do is leave and let her convince herself she’s overworked. It’s unlikely she recognizes me, anyway.
I tuck my key into my bodice and breathe deeply, disinfectant stinging my nose. My petticoats crinkle as I hop down from the sink. Freshly mopped cold tiles meet my bare feet.
On my way to the door, I hear Nurse Jenkins squeak. I pause. She’s still sprawled out, in such a state of shock, she’s practically drooling. A full syringe has fallen from her pocket along with her keys. I almost pity her, until I see Alison’s name on the syringe’s label.
I kneel beside her and clamp her keys between my fingers. “I need to borrow these.”
The nurse stares at me, gaping.
A sense of retribution takes over, and I give in to my wicked side. “You know, you seem a little high-strung today.” I roll the syringe her way with my toes as I stand. “Maybe you should take something . . . sleep it off.”
I tip Morpheus’s fedora, turn to the door, and shake out my wings for good measure. Checking to make sure the hall’s empty, I step out, biting back a smile.
The sterile corridors that used to intimidate me hold no terror now. I duck in corners and stick to the shadows, close to being caught once or twice, but since only the night crew is here, I’m soon on the third floor where the padded cells wait—alone. I don’t have to guess which one she’s in. Call it netherling intuition, but I know. Unlocking her door, I creep inside and shut it behind me.
Curled up in a corner, she turns her shaved head and squints my direction. “Allie?” Her voice sounds tiny and muffled.
I take the hat off and drop it. The dim lighting makes her look fragile and weak. My heart caves in. Maybe she’s still too sedated to do this. She proves me wrong when she pushes herself up to lean against the cushioned wall, wrestling with her straitjacket.
“W-wings?” Understanding creeps over her features. “You found the rabbit hole.”
“It’s over, Mom,” I whisper, moving cautiously toward her across the padded floor. I’ve no sooner ripped open the Velcro belts holding her arms in place than she pulls me into a hug. We kneel, clutching each other tightly.
“But you’re one of them,” she sobs against my neck. “The curse . . .”
“No more curse,” I whisper, rubbing my cheek along the fuzz of her head. “There never was one. I have so much to tell you.”
h
..I..
i
I wake up to a growling stomach. White noise buzzes all around and sunlight seeps under the curtains. Still groggy, I glance at the calendar over my bed. Saturday, June 1st. The morning after prom.
Perfect timing. When I used the mirror in the asylum’s bathroom to come home, I made it back in time to change and crawl into bed for a few hours. Although I don’t really remember anything once I stepped out of my cheval glass.
Maybe because I didn’t step through. Maybe I never went to Wonderland to begin with.
Maybe I dreamed everything . . .
Panicked, I throw off my covers and swing my feet over the bed’s edge. Something drops to the floor: the jade caterpillar. It lands next to Morpheus’s hat.
I feel around my neck and find the necklace with the tiny key.
Relief untangles the knots in my stomach.
Picking up the caterpillar carving, I make a beeline to my mirror—unbroken and as smooth as crystal—to face my reflection.
There it is: proof positive that I rode a wave of clams and captured an ocean in a sponge. The glistening skin and streaks of flaming red in my platinum hair are still there. The tattoos around my eyes are gone, as are my wings—although by wrenching my arm around, I can feel ridges at my shoulder blades. Buds ready to sprout if I need them.
I turn around and stare at my eels in their aquarium. The memory of the bandersnatch’s tongues shakes my core. Then I glance at my cello and recount another memory . . . Chessie’s song, warped and weird. Even looking toward my desk and the dried spider mosaic takes me back to the amazing spiral constellations I saw while in the rowboat.
Memories, real and irreplaceable, all of them. The happy ones, the bitter ones, the terrified and the poignant. Two guys willing to sacrifice their lives for me.
Morpheus, who’s imprisoned forever in the belly of a bandersnatch. And Jeb, who probably spent last night at a hotel with Taelor after prom. It’s possible they didn’t break up in this reality. Since I never answered the door when Jeb first came by, he wasn’t in my house when Taelor came to get him.
I race out of my bedroom, forgetting to throw a robe over my camisole and flannel boxers, half hopping and half sprinting into the hallway. I need to go next door, to see for myself that he made it out of the jabberlock box. To see where things stand with us.
“Whoa there, Butterfly.” Dad catches me as my fluffy ankle socks lose traction and I skid across the wooden floor.
It’s so good to see his face again, I laugh to keep from crying. “Trying to skate without a board.” I motion to the slick floor.
He slaps me with the Elvis smirk. “Just be careful, or you’ll hurt your other ankle, too.”
I throw myself against his chest in a hug.
One of his arms wraps around me, and he holds the other one between us. “Hey . . . you all right?”
I nod, unable to speak over the torrent of emotions. I let my hug say everything for me.
I missed you
.
I love you. And I’m so sorry for fighting with you.
The arm Dad holds between us wiggles. He has the cordless phone against his sternum. I pull back.
My first thought is Taelor. She figured out I stole from her. Maybe Persephone found the purse in the trash. I can’t believe I didn’t think to use the mirrors at the store to put the money back before coming home.
I was wrong to steal it in the first place. So I guess, just like Morpheus said before the bandersnatch swallowed him whole, I’ll have to take my medicine. I’ll have to tell her that I’m the thief and hope she won’t press charges.
I squeeze the caterpillar carving between my fingers to give me courage. “Who are you talking to?”
Dad winks, then lifts the phone to his ear. “Hey, sweetie. Would you like to say good morning to our daughter?” He holds out the phone.
I’m relieved it’s not Taelor, but twist my face into a confused expression. I have a part to play.
“Patients in Alison’s ward never get to use the phone,” I say, making my voice tremble for effect.
Dad shrugs and grins.
The phone’s cold against my ear when I finally take it. “Alison?”
“It’s working, Allie.” Her voice sounds strong and clear.
“Yeah?” I ask, still feigning shock.
“Dad will tell you the details. Come visit me later today, okay?”
“Have they given you anything this morning?”
“No,” she answers. “I did what we agreed on. I’m letting them see that I’m sane. For some reason, they think it was the sedatives causing my delusions. How’s that for irony?”
I smile. “It’s so good to hear your voice.”
“Yours, too. I want to see you again, to hug you . . . to tell you how proud I am. I love you—” Her voice cracks.
I tear up, and this time I’m not pretending. “I love you, too . . . Mom.”
I stand there, rooted to the floor. Dad gently pries the phone loose and says his good-byes before leading me to the couch in the living room.
“The asylum called this morning, before the crack of dawn.” His eyes mist, smile lines framing them. “I went and visited right after, while you were still asleep. She’s lucid . . .
really
lucid. She’s not talking to anything but people. And she ate an omelet off a dinner plate. A dinner plate, Allie! All of this without meds. The doctors are conferring . . . they think maybe all along she was having a reaction to the meds that somehow exacerbated her symptoms. Weird part is what led them to that conclusion. You know Nurse Jenkins?”
I nod, wary. Last I saw her, she was conked out on the bathroom floor with a hundred-volt smile on her face and an empty syringe in her hand. It looked like she took my advice.
“Well, a janitor found her in the restroom really late last night. She had given herself the same sedative they’ve been giving your mom. When she came to, she was talking about fairies walking through mirrors and stealing her keys. Thing is, the keys were right there next to her. The doctor thinks there’s something wrong with the brand of sedative they’ve been using . . . they’re sending it out for further testing.” He sighs and chuckles at the same time. “To think, all this time it could’ve been bad medicine making her worse. I’m so glad we found out soon enough to stop the treatments we’d planned for Monday.”
“Me, too.” I catch his hand and hold his knuckles against my cheek.
“Say.” He tugs at one of the red streaks in my hair. “This a new hairpiece?”
“Sure,” I answer mechanically, not even realizing it’s a fib until I’ve already said it.
“I like it. Well, there are doughnuts on the table. I’m going to spend the day at the asylum. Will you come by after work?”
“Nothing in this world could stop me,” I promise.
It hits me that Dad hasn’t asked about his recliner. I look toward the chair, expecting to see the appliqués torn and frayed. Instead, they’re just as they always were. Which makes no sense at all, because that’s another thing I forgot to fix . . .
Dad heads out the front door, turning once. “Oh, you might want to check your traps today. I found a monster moth in one of them. Must’ve come in looking to get out of the storm last night. It’ll make a great addition to your mosaics. Never seen one so big.”
Monster moth . . .
a brick chucked at my gut would hurt less than those words.
I lay the jade caterpillar on the coffee table and have to force myself to wait until Dad’s truck pulls out of the driveway.
In the garage, I open three buckets before I find him, lying atop a pile of assorted bugs. The stench of Kitty Litter and banana peel stings my nose. I lift him out—glowing blue body and black satin wings unmoving and lifeless.
He escaped somehow . . . he escaped the bandersnatch’s belly and made it back here, only to be suffocated by me.