Unhinged (Splintered, #2)(74)

I look around the room, stopping at Jeb’s sleeping form. “It’s ever changing.”

Twirling the hat on his fingertip, Morpheus nods. “As it should be. There’s an underground tube passageway close to the bridge that was deserted and sealed up years ago by humans. Netherlings have a freight train that runs through it, specializing in very precious cargo. There are passenger cars available for those who have a personal stake in the merchandise. I arranged tickets for us.”

“You mean you were planning to go, too? You’re afraid of riding in a car. How’s a train any better?”

He shrugs, his frown sheepish. “The train doesn’t exactly move.”

“But you said it runs through the passageway.”

He waves his hand in a dismissive gesture. “You would have to experience it to understand. There’s something there you need to see. A memory in the cargo that doesn’t belong to you but has shaped you nonetheless. A memory that’s been lost for years, that needs to be found before you face Red.”

His answer whets my curiosity. “I don’t understand. The cargo in the train is memories?”

“Lost memories.”

“But how …?”

“Let’s just say that the human concept of a freight train is as misguided as the human concept of a hat.” He offers me his cap.

Puzzled, I take it. It’s the first hat I’ve ever seen him wear that doesn’t have moth embellishments. I hold it up in the sunlight. The texture doesn’t feel like tweed. It’s silkier and seems to breathe and move under my touch. I meet Morpheus’s gaze, confused.

With a wink, he takes the cap back and places it on his head. In a subtle gesture, he waves a hand over the hat’s crown. The tweed transforms from cloth to living moths. They burst off his head and flutter all around us, then, at a whistle from Morpheus, they reunite, scuttling into place like puzzle pieces to form the hat again.

I grin, and he beams with pride.

“So what kind of hat is that?” I ask, unable to resist. He’s adorable when he’s showing off his wardrobe—like a puppy doing tricks. Although I remain cautious, knowing in the blink of an eye he can become a wolf again.

“My Peregrination Cap,” he answers.

“Huh?”

His smile widens—baring white teeth. “Peregrination. An excursion … a journey.”

“So, why don’t you just call it your traveling cap?”

“Then it wouldn’t be much of a conversation starter, would it?”

I raise an eyebrow. “Um, the fact that it’s made of living moths might give you something to talk about.”

Morpheus laughs. For once our relationship feels comfortable, friendly. So unlike his usual flirting and threats.

“About the train,” I say, breaking the genuinely nice moment.

He opens his mouth to answer, but a moan interrupts him. Jeb is rousing. Morpheus starts to get up to check on him.

“Wait.” I grab his tie. Even through his shirt, I feel the strong curve of his collarbone beneath my fingers. It takes me back to how he looked in my bedroom: shirtless and perfect—wings spread high like those of some sort of celestial being—elegant power and pulsing light. Unabashed, unashamed, and confident. All the things that I crave to be.

My pulse beats rapidly against the bite on my neck. “There’s something I want you to do, before Jeb wakes enough to know what’s going on.”

Morpheus kneels again. “What? You want I should kiss your ouchies?” The dark purr of his voice is more teasing than seductive.

I roll my eyes. “I want you to heal me.”

He scowls, all playfulness gone. “Oh, no. No. Jebediah will face what he did to you.”

“He would never have attacked me like that if he hadn’t been under the influence of the juice. Why would you want to rub his nose in it?” I make a frustrated noise. “You were the one forcing me to keep him oblivious about everything. What’s changed?”

“You need to acknowledge the dangers of him dabbling in a world beyond his ken. The Tumtum juice made you voracious, but it made him murderous. He’s a liability. If you involve him in this war, he will be your downfall. This I guarantee.”

My mouth gapes open. I can’t believe I was pouring out my heart to him just moments ago. “No. You want Jeb to doubt himself. You want him to believe he’s turning into his father. You’re going to manipulate him, because that’s what you do. You use people’s weaknesses against them.”

He studies me, long black lashes unblinking in silent affirmation.

“Well, I won’t let it happen,” I say. “Now heal me.”

Morpheus snarls and tries to pull away, but I refuse to let go of his tie.

He raises his wings, casting giant blue shadows over us. If he uses them, he can break free and refuse to do as I ask. Then again, I might do better in a battle of wills now that my powers are getting stronger. A tendril of excitement unfurls inside my chest, just considering it.

We stare each other down. To my surprise, he relaxes his wings.

“What is it worth to you?” he asks.

I release his tie and frown. It’s a trick question.

“Jebediah’s peace of mind,” he reiterates. “What’s it worth?”