Unhinged (Splintered, #2)(55)

Through bleary eyes I peer at the clock on my nightstand. The red digital numbers glare 6:15 p.m. I fumble with the buttons to set the alarm for 6:45.

Just a quick catnap … I can fit that in before Dad gets home … then I’ll be rested enough to take Rabid to Butterfly Threads.

The moment my eyes close, my mind kicks into overdrive. I keep wondering: Could Morpheus be right, that my blood might be used as a weapon against me? He is a creature of dreams. He knows how to interpret them. And since he wasn’t behind the clown, who was?

Who triggered that terrifying nightmare that ended in Jeb’s cocooned corpse?

If only Nurse Terri hadn’t sedated me that night, things wouldn’t seem so muddled. If only she hadn’t had those sad eyes that made me want to please her.

My breath sticks inside my lungs.

Mom’s interpretation of my artwork resurfaces: three Red Queens fighting for the ruby crown, and another woman watching from behind a cluster of vines and shadows. “I could see her eyes. Sad, piercing.”

Nurse Terri … she was dressed in that white costume uniform. She stood out. Maybe she was a Wonderland denizen in disguise. She had access to my room, could’ve brought the enchanted clown inside. She would’ve heard about and had access to the mosaics in my art teacher’s car … and my blood.

But if she was a netherling, I would’ve seen glimpses of her true form through the glamour like I did with Morpheus.

It’s all so confusing. But one thing’s for sure: There’s another player in this game. Someone in the human realm who doesn’t belong. I can’t go back to Wonderland and fight a battle while my family and friends are unprotected here with a mysterious netherling on the loose. The fact that they might’ve already had contact with her gives me goose bumps.

If I go through the mirror to the iron bridge in London, maybe I can decipher the mosaics Mom hid and figure out who I’m up against. I squeeze the key at my neck, debating if I should call Morpheus back.

He won’t come. I hurt his pride. He told me I have to find him now. He said he’d be hiding among lost memories, whatever that means.

Yet another riddle to solve on my own.

Strangely, it’s that thought that lulls me to sleep, as if I’ve been preparing my whole life to handle all of this myself. Come to think of it, maybe I have.




“Butterfly?”

I startle awake at Dad’s voice in the darkness. Light slants from the cracked door where he’s peering in.

It takes several seconds to shake the fuzziness out of my head, to remember where I am … what I was supposed to get done before he made it home.

The low rumble of Rabid’s snores from my closet releases a spring in my spine. I sit up, yelping in hopes of awakening my hidden guest.

“Whoa. Didn’t mean to scare you.” Dad comes inside and shuts the door partway so my eyes can adjust. He sits on the edge of my mattress and rubs my head, just like when I was little. Rabid’s quiet now, so I sigh, contented.

“Why are you wearing your clothes in bed?” Dad asks.

I scrub my face and yawn. “Clothes?”

“Are they from yesterday? Your mom said you weren’t feeling well, so I left you alone. But I know you’ve got one final left. I just wanted to check, in case you were up for going to school.”

“School?” I’m like a parrot, mimicking everything that’s said to me.

I glance at my glowing clock: 6:20 A.M. Only then do I notice that I set the alarm for 6:45 a.m. instead of p.m.

My empty stomach turns over. I’ve been asleep for twelve hours. Morpheus kept his word and didn’t haunt my dreams, and I slept soundly. Too soundly. Now I’m not going to have time to send Rabid back or look for my mosaics before school.

My rested brain kicks into overdrive, formulating a new plan. I could leave early and use the full-length mirrors in the girls’ locker room. That would mean tucking Rabid in my backpack and taking him with me to school. The thought of mixing more of Wonderland with my real life rattles my nerves, especially because I still have Morpheus’s mess to clean up with Taelor and the other students.

But it doesn’t matter. There’s no time to lose.

Dad leans over to turn on the lamp. “Something keeps crunching under my feet …” He flips the switch before I can stop him. He gapes as he sees the glass sparkling on the floor. “W-w-what happened in here?”

Busted.

I suppress a groan. “Mom can tell you.”

It’s shameful how quickly I sell her out, though on some level I feel vindicated. Let her justify the broken mirror. Let her be the one under the microscope. She’s proven herself adept at lying for years.

Dad crouches beside my bed, careful not to kneel in the glass. He’s not in his work clothes yet, which means he’s been making breakfast. Mom must still be asleep.

He touches a shard with dried blood on it. “Allie … did you cut yourself?”

“No. Mom—” I stop talking in midbreath. He’s staring at my palms. Of course. This reminds him of the time she cut me. “Dad, it’s okay.” I toss off my covers and scoot out of bed.

His stunned gaze drops to my boots.

I reach down and adjust their laces, as if it’s perfectly normal to wake up wearing them. “Mom bumped my mirror while she was dusting. It fell against my dresser. She cut herself a little, but she’s fine now. It was … more like a paper cut, you know? Superficial.”