Splintered (Splintered, #1)(104)

Dad winks, then lifts the phone to his ear. “Hey, sweetie. Would you like to say good morning to our daughter?” He holds out the phone.

I’m relieved it’s not Taelor but twist my face into a confused expression. I have a part to play.

“Patients in Alison’s ward never get to use the phone,” I say, making my voice tremble for effect.

Dad shrugs and grins.

The phone’s cold against my ear when I finally take it. “Alison?”

“It’s working, Allie.” Her voice sounds strong and clear.

“Yeah?” I ask, still feigning shock.

“Dad will tell you the details. Come visit me later today, okay?”

“Have they given you anything this morning?”

“No,” she answers. “I did what we agreed on. I’m letting them see that I’m sane. For some reason, they think it was the sedatives causing my delusions. How’s that for irony?”

I smile. “It’s so good to hear your voice.”

“Yours, too. I want to see you again, to hug you … to tell you how proud I am. I love you—” Her voice cracks.

I tear up, and this time I’m not pretending. “I love you, too … Mom.”

I stand there, rooted to the floor. Dad gently pries the phone loose and says his good-byes before leading me to the couch in the living room.

“The asylum called this morning, before the crack of dawn.” His eyes mist, smile lines framing them. “I went and visited right after, while you were still asleep. She’s lucid … really lucid. She’s not talking to anything but people. And she ate an omelet off a dinner plate. A dinner plate, Allie! All of this without meds. The doctors are conferring … they think maybe all along she was having a reaction to the meds that somehow exacerbated her symptoms. Weird part is what led them to that conclusion. You know Nurse Jenkins?”

I nod, wary. Last I saw her, she was conked out on the bathroom floor with a hundred-volt smile on her face and an empty syringe in her hand. It looked like she took my advice.

“Well, a janitor found her in the restroom really late last night. She had given herself the same sedative they’ve been giving your mom. When she came to, she was talking about fairies walking through mirrors and stealing her keys. Thing is, the keys were right there next to her. The doctor thinks there’s something wrong with the brand of sedative they’ve been using … they’re sending it out for further testing.” He sighs and chuckles at the same time. “To think, all this time it could’ve been bad medicine making her worse. I’m so glad we found out soon enough to stop the treatments we’d planned for Monday.”

“Me, too.” I catch his hand and hold his knuckles against my cheek.

“Say.” He tugs at one of the red streaks in my hair. “This a new hairpiece?”

“Sure,” I answer mechanically, not even realizing it’s a fib until I’ve already said it.

“I like it. Well, there are doughnuts on the table. I’m going to spend the day at the asylum. Will you come by after work?”

“Nothing in this world could stop me,” I promise.

It hits me that Dad hasn’t asked about his recliner. I look toward the chair, expecting to see the appliqués torn and frayed. Instead, they’re just as they always were. Which makes no sense at all, because that’s another thing I forgot to fix …

Dad heads out the front door, turning once. “Oh, you might want to check your traps today. I found a monster moth in one of them. Must’ve come in looking to get out of the storm last night. It’ll make a great addition to your mosaics. Never seen one so big.”

Monster moth … a brick chucked at my gut would hurt less than those words.

I lay the jade caterpillar on the coffee table and have to force myself to wait until Dad’s truck pulls out of the driveway.

In the garage, I open three buckets before I find him, lying atop a pile of assorted bugs. The stench of Kitty Litter and banana peel stings my nose. I lift him out—glowing blue body and black satin wings unmoving and lifeless.

He escaped somehow … he escaped the bandersnatch’s belly and made it back here, only to be suffocated by me.

Cradling him, I walk numbly into the living room, wavering with a sick sense of guilt and loss. I place him on the coffee table next to his carved counterpart and nudge his wings with a shaky finger.

“What were you thinking?” I murmur. “Why did you fly into the pipe? You had to know better.” It hurts to see him, once so pompous and full of life, now as hollow as the caterpillar carving. I pet his cold blue body. “I believe you now, okay? I believe that you cared. And I won’t forget what you did for me … in the end.”

I won’t let you forget. Morpheus’s voice slides into my head. I jump back as the moth body begins to vibrate.

The wings fold over and grow, opening to reveal Morpheus looming atop the table, in all his freakish glory. He’s wearing a modern suit in sapphire silk that matches his jeweled teardrops. And, of course, a spectacularly eccentric hat.

I stand, struggling to mask my happiness. A smile breaks out against my will.

“I knew you’d miss me.” He lights on the floor and moves in close, pinning me to the wall with his body.

“How did you escape?”