Unhinged (Splintered, #2)(105)

He dressed as a fairy king. The irony doesn’t escape me.

I scowl.

“Problem, luv?” He looks down on me from behind a gold lace half mask while adjusting the ruby-jeweled crown over his blue hair with velvet-clad hands. Tiny moth corpses are suspended in the rubies, like stained-glass fossils.

I shake my head. “I’m pretty sure you’ll be the only one wearing anything tight enough to need a codpiece. Always have to be the showstopper, don’t you?”

“Oh, I assure you, what I chose to show is only the start.”

Mom and I roll our eyes simultaneously, and his grin widens. Together, the three of us dig out the duffel bags filled with supplies from the trunk and trek to the back door.

Jeb’s there before we knock, holding the door open. He’s morbidly beautiful with the fake webs, dusty streaks, and strategic rips Jenara incorporated into his tuxedo. The navy blue velvet-flocked jacket with frog closures makes him look even broader and taller, and his pants drape fluidly down his muscled legs. A periwinkle dress shirt and matching half mask complement his olive skin and dark wavy hair, playing off his green eyes with flecks of gray. The satin cravat at his throat combines all the colors in a paisley print.

He shaved and is wearing the brass-knuckle labret I gave him, but it’s not for me. It’s because he plans to kick zombie ass.

“Jeb …”

He looks through me. “You all need to hurry. We have plans to discuss.”

To have him address us as a collective stings like a slap. The familiarity of him is so painfully close I don’t want to move. Morpheus wraps an arm around me to nudge me along, and Jeb’s gaze flits to the connection before he looks away again, jaw tight enough to crack.

We unload the duffel bags on a wooden bench next to some lockers. Jeb unzips them to check our supplies while laying out his strategy.

“The soccer-ball nets are for the toys, since they can’t be killed. We’ll have to immobilize them to get them inside.” He drags out the walkie-talkies. After testing them, he tosses one to each of us. “We’ll separate into teams. Bug-guts and me, and then you ladies. Stay in contact with your partner via radio.”

The radio is no bigger than a cell phone, so I tuck it into my cleavage.

“The potted trees they’re using are huge,” Jeb continues. “Looks like an actual forest surrounds the dance floor. It’s going to be hard to keep watch through them.” He drags out the night-vision goggles and paintball guns, then looks up, frowning. “I said four sets of goggles.”

“Thomas only had one in stock,” Mom answers.

Jeb scowls. “Okay, we’ll make do. There are two boxes of new donations I haven’t checked yet. Our first priority is to look through those for threadbare toys. And if we don’t find anything, we guard the mirrors on the dance floor.”

“And if we do find something, O-Captain-my-Captain?” Morpheus asks, an acerbic edge to his voice.

Jeb loads one of the paintball guns and aims it at Morpheus’s chest. “Then I shoot the creeper, so we can track it under the black lights, trap it, and send it back to the hole it crawled out of, forever.”

Morpheus and Jeb stare each other down. The tension is palpable. I have no idea how they’re going to work together to get this done. For that matter, I have no idea how I’m going to get through this, knowing how badly I’ve already screwed up.

Mom steps between them and guides the gun’s barrel to the floor. She looks at the three of us, and I can see her putting together what’s happened in her mind. “Before any shooting starts, we’ll have to get the people out.”

Jeb’s intense gaze settles on Mom. I’ve never been so envious of her. “Right. We need to set off each sprinkler head so the whole place gets wet. They’re triggered when their glass globes break. Do you think you and Al can bust them with your magic? Set them all off and send everyone running? That’ll be the signal to clear and then barricade the place. Mothra can take care of the entrance while I short-circuit the elevator.”

Mom nods. “We can do that, right, Allie?” She watches me with a concerned tilt to her head, and I know she sees right through me.

“Sure,” I answer. Jeb’s plan is so well thought out, yet I haven’t managed a coherent thought since he left our house. Obviously our breakup hasn’t affected his productivity like it has mine.

We take the large elevator down. Jeb is in the far corner with the duffel bags, manning the button panel, and Morpheus stands between me and my mom. When we reach our stop, Jeb holds the Door Close button. He focuses on me for the first time tonight. My heart dances.

“Be careful,” he says, his voice deep and gravelly with emotion.

“You, too,” I murmur.

Morpheus’s wings sweep up, an obvious reminder of what happened between us earlier.

I frown as Jeb looks away and opens the doors, leading us out onto the main floor, ignoring me again. Snacks are being arranged in a corner next to a half dozen pool tables with felt surfaces so dark they’re almost invisible. Neon balls, pockets, and cue sticks tempt gamers to play.

At the buffet, a glowing blue concoction fizzes inside a punch bowl, and cupcakes with neon rosettes of icing cover the rest of the table. We tuck our supplies behind the hanging tablecloth, keeping them hidden but close for easy access.