Unhinged (Splintered, #2)(83)
When I step out of the cottage into the dusty air, Chessie flutters over and lands on my head. He digs his paws into my hair and kneads my scalp like a kitten.
Morpheus regards my outfit as I hand him his jacket. “So, we’re off to ancient Rome, then?” he teases.
“I’d lose that smile if I were you.” I jingle the car keys in his face. “Your life is in my hands, lest you forget.” My imitation of his cockney accent is actually spot-on, and I let myself bask in it.
“Sorry to disappoint, luv.” He tosses the jacket into the passenger seat. “I plan to fly this time around.”
He transforms into the moth, his hat exploding into a spectacle of smaller moths that take to the air. Morpheus perches on the hood of the car. My sunglasses rest on the metal beside him, catching a glint of sun. I pretend to reach for them, but before he can guess my intentions, I catch one of his wings instead. He flutters, trying to break loose, his one free wing batting my hand.
I draw out the decanter and stuff him into it, careful to fold his wings. I don’t want to hurt him. I just want to better him.
Once he’s settled inside, I shove a paper towel into the bottle’s neck. No need to worry that he’ll smother. After all, he spent that night in a bug trap last year and survived.
“Looks like you’re going to have some turbulence on your flight,” I tell him through the glass.
His voice fills my head, an angry, scolding growl. When I don’t respond, he yells Chessie’s name. Chessie flits over to the car and sits on the side mirror, licking his paw, amused and uninterested in taking sides.
I hold the decanter up to get a closer look at Morpheus. “Game, set, match, luv. You do realize that my human side defeated you, right? No magic required.”
Unlike a real moth that would beat itself against the glass walls until exhausted, he hangs under the curved neck, dignified, glaring with his bulbous eyes. If he had a mouth instead of a proboscis, I’d be able to tell if he’s snarling or beaming with pride. Knowing him, it could be either. Most likely, it’s both.
My chest swells with some small satisfaction.
I put on my sunglasses. The frames are warm from the sun, but the heat isn’t enough to keep me from shivering when I see Jeb curled up on his side in the backseat. Morpheus dressed him in his shirt and boots, and that small kindness earns my winged rival a secure seat for the drive.
Jeb mumbles something as I tuck the decanter into the curve of his knees. It’s the best place to keep the glass from rolling around. I kiss Jeb’s head, then slide into the driver’s seat.
It’s difficult to find a comfortable position while sitting on my wings. I finally shove them over to my right, which makes a lumpy, irregular form under the sheet. I’ll have to take the side roads to get into town because if anyone were to see me, they might think I’m hiding a dead body.
Chessie pauses on the dashboard, blinks twice in my direction, and disappears through the rearview mirror, getting a head start on London and the rabbit hole.
For the rest of us, Butterfly Threads will be our first stop. There are full-length mirrors across the walls, and plenty of clothes, although I’ll have to make some creative adjustments to fit anything over my wings.
It’s only ten after twelve. When Penelope’s understaffed, she closes the store from noon to one for her lunch break.
I tuck Morpheus’s blazer into my backpack, then check my cell. There are two texts from Jen and three voice mails from Dad. First I respond to Jen:
Found Jeb. Deets later. He’s safe. Be home in a while …
Next, I listen to my dad’s most recent voice message:
“Allie, I’m worried. Enough thinking, okay? Come home. We’ll talk. We can fix things.”
His voice is tight. He’s freaked, without a doubt, but apparently he’s home and, judging by the “I’m worried” line, hasn’t told Mom about what’s happened yet. Good, because if she found out about the events at school, she’d put two and two together and do something impulsive. I don’t need her in danger, too.
Dad said we could “fix things.” I know what that means: When I get back, I’ll be grounded. Shut off from my car, phone, computer, and friends until Monday when he can take me to Mom’s psychiatrist. I wonder if he even plans to let me graduate with my class on Saturday.
There has to be some way to fix this, but I don’t have the time or brainpower to waste on it now. After Red is defeated and I get Sister Two off Jeb’s back, I’ll return from Wonderland and make things right somehow.
If I survive the war.
All of the guilt, fear, and doubt form a lump in my vocal cords. I hope to see you and Mom soon, Dad, I text—meaning it with all my heart.
I take a deep breath and turn off the phone.
We arrive at the strip mall at half past noon. I use the alley behind Butterfly Threads. It’s a safe place to leave my car while we’re gone halfway across the world.
Gravel crunches under Gizmo’s tires as I come to a stop a few Dumpsters down from the shop’s back door, angling the car between a box compressor and a nine-foot brick fence to hide it. Persephone’s red Prius is absent from its usual curb slot, and all the shop’s lights are off. If we hurry, we’ll be gone before she gets back from lunch.
I take off my sunglasses, grab Morpheus’s decanter, and climb out of the driver’s side. I’m not looking forward to releasing him, but I need him to help me carry Jeb and unlock the store’s back door.