Ensnared (Splintered, #3)(3)
I bristle at his condescension. “Mortals have their own way of making memories dormant. They write them down so the past doesn’t preoccupy their thoughts. All I need is a journal.”
He holds his pen an inch from my nose. “That won’t work with enchanted memories, lessen your book is filled with enchanted paper to bind them. Sadly, I’ve ne’er heard of such a magic journal. You?”
I glare in silence.
“I thought not.” The beetle taps my nose with the pen’s tip.
Snarling, I snatch it away and shove it in my pocket, daring him to get it back.
“Fool girl. When repudiated memories nest inside a mind, they become like earworms, playing over and over to a painful degree. Best-case scenario, they cause you to sympathize with your prey so you’re worthless against them. Worst case, you’re driven to madness. Are you willing to risk losing so much?”
I rub my hands along my bent knees, then tuck the excess material of my hospital gown under my hips. No matter how terrifying it is to imagine someone else’s hostile memories eating away my mind, finding Red’s weakness is the only way to defeat her.
“I’ve already lost everything and I’ve already gone mad.” I meet his bulbous gaze. “Need a demonstration?”
Multiple eyelids flick across his compound eyes. Bugs aren’t supposed to have eyelids or lashes, but this isn’t a typical bug. He’s a looking-glass insect, or reject, depending on if you choose Carroll’s terminology or the carpet beetle’s.
The beetle was swallowed by tulgey wood and turned away at AnyElsewhere’s gate. He was then coughed back up as a mutant. Which is exactly what almost happened to Jeb and Morpheus. Thankfully, they were accepted into the looking-glass world, although the thought of them alone there opens a whole new level of horror. Morpheus won’t be able to use his magic because of the iron dome, and Jeb is only human. How does either of them stand a chance in a land of murderous, exiled netherlings?
A silent scream of frustration burns inside my lungs.
I lower my voice so only the conductor can hear. “I used to collect insects. I’d pin them to corkboards. Had them plastered all over my walls. I’ve been thinking of taking it up again. Maybe you’d like to be my first piece.”
The conductor either grimaces or frowns—a tough call with all those moving facial features. He motions toward the aisle. “This way, madam.”
We head toward the private rooms. Two doors down from Dad’s, the beetle stops, looks over his shoulder to assure we weren’t followed, and drops a brass nameplate into place: Queen Red.
My wing buds tingle, wanting to burst free. A brew of magic and rage simmers just beneath my skin. Ready, waiting.
The conductor starts to unlock the door, then pauses. “I attended a garden party at her palace once.” He’s whispering again. “Watched her shave the skin off that Door Mouse’s friend . . . that hare fellow.”
I cringe, remembering when I first saw the hare at the tea party a year ago, how he appeared to be turned inside out. “March Hairless? Red skinned him?”
The beetle nods so frantically his cap nearly falls off. “She caught him nibbling the rose petals. Granted, they’d been planted in honor of her dead father. But still. She used a garden hoe to do it, like a vegetable peeler . . . flayed his hide. Blood spritzed all over the guests. Ruined everyone’s best white suits and all the daisies. Ever hear a rabbit scream? You don’t forget a sound like that.”
I study the bug’s blinking eyelids. He’s losing his nerve. I sympathize, having been on the receiving end of Red’s violence myself. She once used my blood veins like marionette strings—the most physically excruciating experience of my life. She even left behind an imprint on my heart . . . one that I can still feel, a distinct pressure.
Lately, it’s more than just pressure. Ever since that fated night when everything went wrong at prom, when I embraced my madness, the press upon my heart has evolved to a recurrent twinge of pain, like something inside is slowly unraveling.
I haven’t told Dad. I was busy practicing my magic, concocting my plan. My loved ones need me to win this battle, to be stronger than Red for good this time.
I don’t have the luxury of getting a doctor’s appointment. And it wouldn’t help anyway. Whatever’s wrong with me was brought on by magic. Red’s magic. My gut knows. And I’m going to make her fix it before I end her sorry existence forever.
More determined than before, I reach for the key the conductor’s holding.
He tucks it under his hat and then fiddles with the nameplate, trying to get it out of its slot. “I changed my mind,” he says through popping mandibles. “A bug is wont to do that, at times.”
“No.” I grip his twiglike arm. It would be so easy to snap. A fluttering temptation shadows my thoughts—taunting me to be cutthroat—but I pull back and lay a palm across my chest, pledging. “I vow on my life-magic, I’ll never tell her you showed me.”
“Best you have a seat and wait for your father,” the conductor says. Fumbling around beneath the shag that covers his thorax, he pulls out a package of peanuts and hands them to me. “You must be hungry after your journey. Have some lunch.”
“I’m not budging until I see her memories, bug in a rug.” I drop the peanuts at my feet and press my back to the door, blocking the nameplate.