Unhinged (Splintered, #2)(112)
I sneak out of my room at night, when all is still and silent. And I watch the humans sleeping, study their vulnerabilities, and savor the fact that I will never be helpless like them again.
I am mad, and I embrace it. Madness is part of my heritage. The part that led me to Wonderland and earned me the crown. The part that will lead me to face Red one final time, until only one of us is left.
Until then, I’m a queen with no way back to my kingdom, which bleeds for me. My two faithful and beloved knights, Jeb and Morpheus, are trapped in AnyElsewhere—the looking-glass world, the land of the exiled and the gruesome. And my mom is alone in Wonderland, at the mercy of Sister Two. That’s unacceptable. I didn’t get her back just to lose her again.
The rabbit hole has collapsed, and my key is melded to a nugget of worthless metal. But I have another key—a living key—that can open the way into AnyElsewhere through the mirrors of this world. And now I have the tickets to trade for it.
Last night I crept into Mom’s old room after lockdown, longing to see it while it was empty between patients.
In the shadows, a soft, strange glow radiated from behind the picture of geraniums on the wall, detectable only to someone who’d learned to find light in the darkness.
The same picture hangs in every room, but the flowers on this one glimmered—neon green, orange, and pink petals. Following a hunch, I moved the frame aside to find the painting had been rubbed to paper-thinness behind the petals. Even more mysterious, there was a fist-size hole dug into the plaster wall, filled with soil and flourishing ultraviolet fungi.
Mom was harvesting mushrooms from Wonderland while she was a prisoner here. When she told me netherlings always have an escape plan, she meant it.
I sat on the bed for some time after, mushrooms in hand, wondering how often she used them to get out when she needed an escape. It eased my mind to know she’d had that chance, and even more, that she'd passed it on to me.
“Hey, Allie.” Dad’s arrival shakes me back to today. I inhale the outdoor air, feeling a resurgence of energy. The half of my face in the sun is hot, so I scoot further into the umbrella’s shade.
“Hi.” I offer him that much, then return to my conversation with the two monarch butterflies fluttering around the flowers on the table. They tell me to hurry, because London’s a long way for them to fly and daylight is preferable.
Dad watches me with the bugs, tired and defeated. “Allie, sweetie, try to stay focused, okay? It’s important. We need to find your mother and Jeb. They’re in danger.”
Yes, they are, Dad. More than you know.
“If you’ll send away the nurse,” I offer in a demented, singsong voice, “I’ll tell you everything I remember.” I scoop Salisbury steak from my teacup and spoon the salty, meaty bite into my mouth, letting the gravy drip down my chin. It’s the only way I’ll eat now, with teacups and saucers. And I dress like Alice every day. I know how to emulate crazy. I learned from the master.
It hurts my heart to see Dad’s expression as he directs the nurse to leave. He’s afraid to be alone with me. I don’t blame him. But I shove my human empathy aside. He’s going to have to be strong for the journey ahead. If he wants to rescue Mom, his own sanity will be put to the test.
It’s okay, because I have faith in his strength.
He’s the key to all of this, and to make him fit the lock, I will be cutthroat and cunning enough for the both of us.
Left eyelid twitching, Dad looks at me. “Okay, Allie. We’re alone.”
I turn my lips into a savagely sweet smile. “Before we talk about prom night, take a bite of your food. It’s tasty.”
Narrowing his eyes, he draws a fork out of his teacup, dripping with meat, mushroom, and sauce, then shoves it in his mouth.
I prop an elbow on the table and my chin on my hand. “While you’re busy eating, may I ask you a question?” My voice sounds stilted and deranged, even to my own ears. All the better to unbalance him.
He shakes his head, swallowing. “Allie, stop playing games. We’re losing time here.”
I pout. “If you won’t play with me, I’m sure my other guests will.” I lean forward and whisper to the flowers on the table, watching him from the corner of my eye.
He makes a choking sound, almost turning green. “Fine. What do you want to know?”
“I was just curious.” I grip the glowing mushrooms wrapped in Kleenex in my apron pocket. He doesn’t realize I laced both of our Salisbury steaks with the smoothest half of one, that within moments we’ll be the size of beetles, riding upon the backs of butterflies. “How do you feel about trains?”
I’m humbled to be acknowledging the contributors to a second novel.
First and foremost, thank you so much to every Splintered fan out there! Because of your enthusiasm and passion for the story and characters, I was given the green light to make it a trilogy. You’re the best!
Next, my most heartfelt gratitude goes to my husband, daughter, and son, and other family members—whether related by blood or through marriage—you’re each and every one an integral part of my writing dream. You’ve encouraged me at the low points and cheered me at the highs. And I know that no matter where this dream may lead in the future, you will continue to support me. You are a blessing and a treasure. Be assured that I’ll never take you or your sacrifices for granted.