Unhinged (Splintered, #2)(101)

I flip on the lamp and move my dress from the bed, laying it over the chair at my desk. Jeb plops Morpheus down. His beautiful wings drape both sides of the mattress, limp. It’s entirely unsettling to see someone as animated as him be so still and vulnerable.

I kneel next to the bed and push his hair back from his face. He’s shivering. His eyes are closed, and his jewels blink a sickly grayish green—dull instead of glistening—like stagnant, murky water. Black veinlike strands swell and move under his pale skin, as if snakes were writhing inside him. His blue magic pulses around the strands, trying to contain the poison, but the black keeps multiplying.

My stomach turns over. “Did Sister Two do this to you?”

Morpheus squints through one eye and coughs, nodding. He yelps as the black veins tangle and knot at his neck. My body aches, as if I’ve caught the poison. It hurts that much to see him suffering.

“Shh.” I squeeze his hand. His palm feels clammy. “We have to try to keep it down, okay? We don’t want my dad coming in.”

He grits his teeth against more shivers. “Always knew I’d end up in your bed … and hear you say those words one day.” He manages a smirk.

Jeb snarls. “Unbelievable. Even when he’s at death’s door he’s a tool.” He arranges a pillow beneath Morpheus’s neck. “Why don’t you keep your mouth shut while we help you.”

Morpheus laughs weakly, his skin flashing with blue light. “What say Alyssa”—his breath rattles—“gives my mouth something else to do?”

Jeb narrows his eyes. “What say I give you a fist to chew on?”

Morpheus snorts, which triggers several more coughs.

I glare at them both. “Are you guys kidding me right now?” Shaking my head, I roll up Morpheus’s sleeve to expose his birthmark. I cringe as the black snaky veins follow my touch. It’s like they’re drawn to my movements.

Sitting on my bed, I start to work off my boot.

Jeb stops me with a hand on the buckles. “What do you think you’re doing?” he asks.

“I have to heal him.”

“And what if this poison is contagious?” Rain pounds on the window and roof, as if punctuating Jeb’s concern.

I pause.

Jeb glares down at Morpheus, who’s faded out again.

“Hey.” Jeb pats his face, oddly reminiscent of when Morpheus did the same to him at the studio.

Morpheus’s eyes flutter open.

“She wants to heal you,” Jeb says. “Is it safe?”

Morpheus grunts. “The stinger … my stomach … take it out first.” Another cough. “Drown it.”

I start to work the buttons open on Morpheus’s black shirt, but Jeb brushes me aside and takes over.

Morpheus places his hand on Jeb’s busy fingers, eyes opened to slits. “Ah, my pretty pseudo elf.” He takes a labored breath. “Is it time at last to express our unrequited feelings?”

Jeb’s ears flush red. He’s about to retort when Morpheus groans, doubling over again. Biceps bulging, Jeb holds him flat to the bed so I can finish opening his shirt.

There’s a puncture wound the size of a quarter on Morpheus’s abdomen. The black, inky poison seems to stem from the site. His blue magic blinks once and grows dim, as if defeated.

I shudder.

“Careful with that thing,” Jeb mutters.

I nod, using a Kleenex off my nightstand to protect my fingers as I work the stinger from the wound. It wriggles in my hand as if trying to escape. Shuddering again, I toss it into a glass of water next to the tissue box. The stinger fizzes and drifts to the bottom, disintegrating within seconds. The black veins under Morpheus’s skin writhe wilder, as if they’re fighting to survive without their source. Morpheus’s eyes slam shut, and he grinds his teeth in agony.

Unable to bear his pain any longer, I press my ankle to his forearm. Heat surges between us. The black veins slow their movements and fade until all that’s left is the puncture mark. His blue static reappears and pulses through the wound, leaving behind a silvery scar.

I ride a wave of euphoria as Morpheus’s natural coloring comes back. He opens his eyes—alert and stronger by the second. He holds my gaze as I feel his forehead. His fever’s gone. Jeb’s watchful eye burns into my back, and I withdraw my hand.

Morpheus snags my ankle before I can slide off the bed, thumb running across my wing tattoo. The touch sends a prickly sensation through my wing buds.

“Moth,” he whispers soundlessly. The Morpheus I know has returned, teasing and taunting, reminding me of my vow.

Jeb comes up behind me and pries Morpheus’s fingers free. “Hands off, owl bait.”

The guys exchange scowls as I climb off the mattress with Jeb’s arm securely around my waist. It’s nice to see some things never change.

Morpheus sits up, his wings unfurling around him. He stretches—languid and graceful—then drops his feet to the floor. Jewels sparkling green, he watches me as he rolls down his sleeve and buttons his shirt. “Thank you, Alyssa. And, Jebediah, I suppose we’re even now.”

“Not even close,” Jeb says. “You brought Red here. And you’re going to help send her back.”

I put my hand on Jeb’s chest. “Wait. First, tell us what happened with Sister Two.”