Splintered (Splintered, #1)(30)

It’s clear how young Alice might’ve mistaken him for a rabbit. His horns look like ears when viewed in the shadows.

“White Rabbit?” I venture, feeling Jeb’s arm tighten around me as he mumbles in disbelief.

“White, Rabid,” the pint-size skeleton says. “Liddell, Alice … you not be. But her hands you have.”

I stare at my gloves. “I’m her great—”

“No one,” Jeb interrupts as he steps between me and the creature. He won’t let me out from behind him. I sense him going for the knife in his pocket and clutch his arm to stop him. Then I peer around his shoulder.

“Great No One, are you?” the creature asks, tilting his antlers to one side to see me.

“No. That’s not my name. Did you say Rabid is yours?”

The creature glances at the table, then back to us again, twisting his gloved hands nervously. “Rabid, I am. My family White be.” Appearing flustered by our lack of response, he bows at the waist. “Rabid White, of the Red Court be I. And are you?”

I can’t find my voice. My memories and the online stories were true. We’ve stepped into a nether-realm and are face-to-face with a netherling. That strange melody sings inside my heart, the one put there by my forgotten childhood playmate. It’s even more powerful than the fluttery sensation I sometimes feel. It tells me to embrace my identity, to be proud of who I am.

Without even thinking, I blurt out, “Alyssa Gardner of the human court, I be.”

Jeb hisses and his shoulders tense, but he doesn’t lose focus on our guest.

“Ohhhh.” The cadaverous creature swoons with an odd clacking sound, like a chime made of bones. His lips twist into a hideous snarl, revealing two long, bucked teeth. “Her gloves those be. A thief are you!”

Jeb snaps out the knife and flicks open the blade in one fluid movement, his other arm holding me behind him.

“Everything you’ll ruin.” Our guest’s pink eyes glow hot red. Saliva foams at his mouth. “Not welcome. So says Queen Grenadine, not welcome you be!” His screech hangs in the air as he hops into the shadowed corridor and vanishes.

“What do you mean, Queen Grenadine?” I shout after Rabid. “Since when is there a new queen? What happened to Red?”

Jeb tucks the knife away and grabs me before I can follow the creature into the hallway. “What was that?” His fingers dig into my shoulders as I strain to break free. “Seriously, what was it, Al? There isn’t a rabbit alive that looks like that!”

“Jeb! He’s getting away!” I thrash like a wild animal. “I know where he’s going … it’s the door my key was made for. Please!” There is fear in Jeb’s eyes, and I wonder why I don’t share it. All I know is I’ve always been different in my world. In a place like this, I’m actually ordinary.

“No.” Jeb crosses my arms over my chest, then lifts me against one of the curtains on the wall so my feet dangle, pinning me like a butterfly to a corkboard. “We’re not going anywhere. That foaming freak thinks you stole those gloves. And now he knows your name. Very smooth, by the way.”

“I didn’t say it intentionally,” I grind out, boots swinging with my effort to get down.

“What does that mean—intentionally?”

The same inner melody that gave me courage to speak earlier warns me not to say anything about the moth, the stranger, or the music.

“From what I know about this place,” I offer, “it’s a magical realm. And the thing we just saw was a netherling … one of the occupants.”

“‘Magical’?” Jeb stares at me as if my head’s on crooked. “I don’t remember Lewis Carroll’s version saying anything about little walking skeletons.”

“Alice must’ve been too young to understand what she saw. Maybe her mind blocked out the darker details.” I glance at my gloved palms, empathizing with the desire to hide from bad memories on a level few people could.

“If you’re right,” Jeb says, “then our guidebook is screwed.” He looks at the pinhole of sunlight overhead. “The entrance is still open.” He lowers me to the ground but keeps holding my elbow.

I grip his tuxedo’s lapel. “Don’t you see? It doesn’t matter that Wonderland’s different than what Carroll wrote. All these years, Alison’s been locked up in a psych ward for nothing. It’s real. You weren’t there today. They treated her like an invalid. If they fry her brain, she might end up incapacitated forever. I won’t leave without helping her!”

“We’ve got stuff to help her now. The cake and the bottle.”

“It won’t be enough. I have to fix something Alice did. He told me—” I stop myself too late.

“Who told you?”

“I … I found a website.” I clench my jaw. I’ve already said too much.

“Some perv lured you here via a magical website?” Jeb won’t let go of my arm.

“Not exactly.”

“We’re done.” He’s not even listening to me now. “I’m getting you somewhere safe.” He slides one of the tasseled cords from the curtain behind me, and then drops it to the floor in a golden coil. “First, we get every rope and tie them together to make a lasso. Then we’ll use the furniture along the tunnel wall to get back up. It’ll be like that time we climbed rocks in the canyon a few summers back.”