Unhinged

by A. G. Howard

  “You’re one to speak of deception.” Mom seethes.

  “Oh?” In a graceful flash of movement, Morpheus backs her to the wall without even touching her. Again, he keeps that distance between them, some invisible line he won’t cross. “You let me take the blame for Alyssa being pulled into Wonderland, for the disorder in her life. But it was you who turned your back on your commitments. You made a conscious choice that affected the future of any child you and Tommy-toes would ever have. It’s time you admit it.”

  In the dimness, Mom’s platinum hair glows and writhes like slivers of living moonlight—as evocative as the plants in our lunar garden caught in a breeze. I’m paying such close attention to her, I don’t notice what’s happening with Morpheus until he growls.

  The moths on his hat’s brim flap, as if resurrected. They lift the hat off his head, and he has to leap for it. The corners of Mom’s lips quiver, fighting a smug smile.

  She’s manipulating their wings.

  I suppress the scream building in me, unable to deny what’s right in front of my eyes: the magic inside her that I thought had never been tapped is alive, because she’s been to Wonderland … and back.

  I remember first meeting the flower fae in Wonderland, how they mentioned that I looked like “you know who.” I always thought they were talking about Alice, or maybe Red. But that wasn’t it at all. They were talking about my mom.

  I press my spine into the wall hard enough to pinch my wing buds. “The smudged writing in the Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland book,” I say, barely above a whisper. “Morpheus didn’t blur it. It was you. You didn’t want me to figure out you’d been there.”

  Morpheus drops his hat into place again. He leans against the wall a few feet from me, one boot heel propped on the baseboard. “Your mum wanted to work with me from the very beginning, when she was thirteen and heard the nether-call. That’s how badly she craved the power of the crown. All I had to do was find a way she could accomplish the impossible tests in King Red’s decree. So for three years, I worked on an alternate route of obstacles to fulfill his requirements by playing on the definitions that he’d written out, getting her approval on each step—”

  “You were going to let Queen Red live inside you?” I interrupt, staring at Mom in disbelief.

  “Not quite,” Morpheus snaps. “Unlike you, Alison planned to use her wish as I instructed, to banish Red from Wonderland forever. And we wouldn’t even be in this sorry predicament had you chosen to do the same instead of saving your boyfriend’s insignificant mortal life.”

  I want to scratch off the jewels under his eyes for saying that, but I can’t move.

  Morpheus waves a hand. “It doesn’t matter now. I made the ultimate mistake, by not having her vow on her life-magic to finish what she started. Alison’s a traitor. She backed out because she met your father. ’Tis telling, though. How she kept all of the heirlooms, taking precautions so no one else could follow the clues I’d given her. Perhaps she wanted another chance to try for the crown one day.”

  “That’s not why, Morpheus,” Mom hisses. “And you know that.”

  He shrugs. “We could ask Rabid. He was there.”

  I shake my head. “Where is Rabid?” In all the craziness, I’d forgotten we left him alone in my room.

  “I tied him up,” Mom answers. “He’s being entertained by your eels. Electroshock therapy. Penance for his role in what happened to you last summer.”

  I gasp at her callousness and start for my room, but Morpheus steps into my path.

  “He’s fine,” he assures me, a hand on my shoulder. “Electricity has no effect on our kind.”

  I shake him off. “Well, it can’t be good for my eels!” I shout. “They have to be terrified!” Morpheus and Mom both look at me like I’m losing it. If I am, they’re the ones to blame. “Get Rabid out. Tell him I demand to know why he’s here.”

  Morpheus raises his eyebrows at me. Then, with an admiring glint in his eye, he removes his hat and bows. “As you wish, Your Majesty.” He passes a meaningful glance to my mom. “You might try telling your daughter the truth for once. Were you able to decipher any of the mosaics before hiding them?”

  Mom shrugs, a sour expression on her face.

  “Share what you saw … along with everything else you’ve been hiding. She won’t survive Red’s attack unless she’s equipped with the truth.” Morpheus offers me one last glance—jewels flashing the gentle blue of compassion—then replaces his hat. His boots clomp across the linoleum floor.

  Once his footsteps are muffled in the living room carpet, I give Mom my full attention, waiting for that explanation. “The mosaics,” I blurt out, though it’s not at all what I want the answer to.

  She returns my stare with one of her own. “I only had a chance to decipher one. There were three Red Queens fighting for the ruby crown, and another woman’s silhouette watching from behind a wall of vines and shadows—someone invested in the outcome … someone who had a deep stake in it all. I could see her eyes. Sad, piercing. I was in a hurry. That’s all I had time for.”

  There have been three Red Queens since last summer: me; Grenadine, who I appointed to rule in my stead; and Red herself.

  That leaves the question of the fourth player, the one in the shadows.

  Mom watches my expression as I flip through the possibilities in my head. Her scowl softens to a sympathetic frown, and she looks like the woman I once knew: the one who made me Jell-O ice-pops when my throat was sore; the one who kissed my hurts away and sang me lullabies; the one who had herself committed to save me from Wonderland.

  But the mom I’m remembering is not her at all. This mom’s hair is still glowing, her skin glistening like snow under starlight. This mom … this netherling … is a stranger to me.

  “You were in Wonderland,” I say, voice quivering.

  “It’s not like he said, Allie,” she murmurs. “I smeared the clues on the pages. But it was because I met your father and wanted to put an end to the quest forever.” She wrings her hands in the dish towel. “I was trying to decide what to do with the heirlooms. That’s why I hid them. I couldn’t just toss them away—I had to figure out how to fix it so none of our descendants would ever end up in Wonderland again.”

  Her answer echoes hollow in the small entryway. Her words send a cold, crackling sensation down my spine. “You knew about the tests. Even worse, you caused them. Because of you, Morpheus came up with all those crazy things I did in Wonderland. All so you could be queen. Then you left him high and dry, and I became your substitute.”

  Mom kneads the towel. “We made the plan before you were born, Allie. I—I didn’t know it would turn out like it did …”

  “Seriously?” The word comes out high-pitched and pinched. “You’re missing the whole point! You’ve been to Wonderland and you never bothered to tell me! You lived what I lived. Do you have any idea how much I needed to know that? To know I wasn’t alone?”

  Her expression falls, but she stays maddeningly silent.

  “Why didn’t you tell me that night at the asylum, when I spilled my guts to you?” The sobs I’m holding back pile upon one another, and my throat hurts more than when I had a breathing tube shoved inside. “Or earlier than that. If you’d just been honest from the very beginning, when you found out I could hear the bugs and plants.” I let one sob loose. It breaks apart into two. “It could’ve changed everything. Wonderland wouldn’t be in this mess, because I wouldn’t have gone and screwed it all up.”

  Mom clutches her dish towel like a lifeline. “It’s not you who caused this. It’s Red.”

  “But I unleashed her,” I growl. “And because of that, it’s my responsibility to fix things.”

  “Sweetie, no …” She drops the towel and reaches for me.

  Jammed in the corner, I can’t escape, so I slap her hand away instead.

  “Allie, please—” Her voice breaks.

  Her wounded voice barely registers. All I see is a traitor. The li
lies in my hospital room had been referring to her. She was the one who would betray me in the worst possible way.

  “You’re unbelievable,” I say through gritted teeth. “You planned to fix things for all of us, huh? You, the one who’s so afraid of everything Wonderland related. You, who thought our family was cursed until I told you otherwise. You, who stepped into my mirror today, with a key you’ve kept hidden not for months but for years. Why? Because you wanted to go back again someday and be queen? Were you even planning to tell Dad before you left him?”

  She opens her mouth to respond, but I plow ahead before she can.

  “All this time you’ve been riding me about my clothes and my makeup … it wasn’t because I looked too wild or immodest. It was because I looked too much like a netherling. It reminded you of everything you lost. Right?”

  She sniffles but doesn’t answer.

  “You hammered into my head how you don’t want me to make the same mistakes as you … to fall in love too young and lose my shot at being an artist. I couldn’t understand why you didn’t try to start over again now that you’re out, to have the career you’ve always wanted. But it was never about your photography. Dad kept you from becoming queen. And now I have the crown. You must really resent us.”

  “No, Allie …”

  I’m deaf to her. I can’t hear past the lies. “How can you hold a grudge against someone as amazing as Dad? He was faithful for eleven years. He stayed true to you and waited for you to get well. All those nights he sat alone in the living room … pining for his wife … staring at those stupid daisies that hid all of your secrets. He deserved the truth, Mom.” Another sob escapes my throat. “We both did!”

  Tears race down her face in the dim light.

  She went to the asylum to protect me when I was a child—those memories threaten to soften my anger. But how can I truly know why she did what she did? Maybe she just didn’t want me to become queen instead of her, and that’s why she tried to sever my connection to Wonderland. Maybe it’s her in the mosaic. She’s the one in the shadows, watching and waiting to get her chance to steal the crown.

  The blossoming mistrust smothers any last traces of compassion, and I hurl the cruelest insult I can think of. “I don’t know who you are anymore. But I do know one thing. You’re a bigger liar than Morpheus ever was.”

  I can’t face Mom’s devastated expression, so I brush her aside, gather up my dress’s train, then make a beeline to the back hall.

  She stays behind, her soft sobs ringing louder than any scream … louder than the train that almost crushed me earlier today. Maybe it would’ve been better if I had been crushed. That pain would’ve been instantaneous and then gone. It wouldn’t linger and eat away at me like what I’m feeling now.

  Poor Dad. I can’t believe how dishonest she’s been with him—the man she vowed to love and stay with forever. And I’m becoming just like her, lying to the guy I love. Which is something I never wanted to do again …

  Mom’s footsteps drag heavily across the living room; then the back door slams. Instead of coming after me, she went to her garden to commiserate with her chatty plants. It’s fitting. They know her better than I ever did.

  I sag against the wall outside my bedroom, willing myself to stop trembling before I face Morpheus. Chest tight and eyes stinging, I peek through the door.

  There are a few puddles around the aquarium’s base. The eels seem okay, gliding through bubbles as if nothing happened.

  On my bed, Rabid White is wrapped in a bath towel. The only part of the bunny-size netherling that shows is his bald head: pink doelike eyes set within wrinkled, albino skin. Fuzzy white antlers rise behind his humanoid ears.

  He’s so out of place here. He needs to go back. Problem is, with my cheval broken, I don’t have a mirror big enough to send him into London and through the rabbit hole. The netherling world once again has me under its thumb with all of its one-way tickets. The portals from the Red and White kingdoms only lead out of Wonderland. The rabbit hole only leads in. I just wish there was some way around the rules.

  I also wish I could be as carefree as Morpheus.

  He sits Indian style in front of Rabid in an oddly endearing scene, like one friend comforting another. He’s tucked a pair of earbuds into Rabid’s humanoid ears. The creature’s ancient face fills with wonder as he bobs in time with the music.

  A wave of affection washes over me, for Rabid and Chessie, and all the netherlings in Wonderland—followed quickly by anger at Morpheus. He let me believe he used my mom’s mind to approach me so young because he was desperate to be free of his own curse. I made peace with that, empathized on some level. One of the things he and I have in common is our fear of being constricted or imprisoned in any way—mind, body, or spirit.

  Now I suspect he wanted revenge on Mom for backing out of their deal. That’s something I can’t forgive.

  Morpheus offers Rabid something shiny and silver to play with. It’s Jen’s thimble. She must’ve missed it in her hurry to pack and leave. Rabid tries to eat it, but Morpheus stops him.

  “Warm it with your eyes,” he instructs.

  Rabid sharpens his glowing irises until they radiate red heat. Under his concentration, the thimble turns a soft orange.

  Morpheus places the tiny inverted cup on one of the four prongs of Rabid’s left antler. The orange glow seeps down his fuzzy horn and evaporates every drop of water in its path, as if the heat is traveling through him.

  “Now, we only need seven more to warm and dry you,” Morpheus says, then laughs as Rabid clacks his bony hands together in applause.

  I don’t know what to think, seeing my dark tormentor caring for one of his own—gentle and teasing. He’s like that with me sometimes, too.

  I fight the tears building at the inner line of my lashes. I’m utterly alone and confused, but a queen doesn’t let her vulnerabilities show.

  As I step in, I clear my throat.

  Morpheus looks up. His true likeness fades beneath Finley’s masquerade, although an echo of his jewels remain. They blink a hazy lilac-gray, the same hue of my boots. It’s the color of bewilderment, as if he’s sympathizing with my turmoil. As if he didn’t have a hand in it all.

  “What did your mum tell you about the mosaics?” he asks.

  “Why is he here?” I sidestep his question, pointing at Rabid. I’m not sure I can trust Morpheus with anything my mom said, or my mistrust in her motives.

  Before Morpheus can respond, Rabid notices me. His pink eyes grow to the size of half-dollars.

  “Majesty, ever and always yours!” The netherling sheds the towel and knocks the thimble off his antler. The scent of fishy water and dusty bones hits my nose.

  Rabid scoots to the edge of the mattress, plops to the floor, and bows. The earbuds pop out and tangle in his antlers. Morpheus catches the tails of the creature’s wet waistcoat to stop him falling face-first into the glass-speckled carpet.

  “Penitent be I.” Rabid laces his skeletal fingers together in a prayerful gesture. The white, foamy saliva that earned him his name dots his lips.

  “Why are you penitent?” I ask, cautious.

  His glowing gaze drags across the shards sparkling on the floor. “Broke your gateway I did not.”

  I frown. “I know. My mom did that.”

  The creature bows his head. “Betrayed my kingdom … so says Queen Grenadine.” He offers a red piece of ribbon tied in a bow.

  Grenadine was born an incurable amnesiac. The bows she wears on her toes and fingers are enchanted with the ability to remind her of important things she wouldn’t otherwise remember.

  A whisper greets me as I press the velvety ribbon to my ear. “Queen Red lives and seeks to destroy that which betrayed her.”

  The fingerprint upon my heart, the one Red left as a warning last summer, flares—a sharp jolt that pushes the air from my lungs. I drop the ribbon and it flitters away. I meet Morpheus’s gaze. He lifts an eyebrow, making the scar on Finley’s temple cur
l.

  “What does this have to do with you?” I ask Rabid, struggling to keep the quaver from my voice.

  “Imprison me you will, Queen Grenadine said.” He lifts his hands toward me, bones grinding as he waits to be handcuffed. “Chains for you I’ll wear, Queen Alyssa. Contrite I’ll be.” He falls to his cadaverous knees.

  I wince when he lands hard on the broken glass but check myself. Bones aren’t susceptible to superficial cuts.

  Morpheus removes his hat and stands, towering over Rabid.

  “What do you know about this?” I ask him.

  A shadow of wings distorts the air behind him, like a wave of summer heat radiating off an asphalt road. “He helped Red find a body to inhabit. He’s the reason her spirit survived.”

  I snap my attention back to my kneeling subject. “Why would you do that? You swore your allegiance to me.”

  Rabid shudders, and his bones sound like tree branches clacking together. “Other obligations tainted good intentions …” Groaning, he keeps his head low. His antlers block his face.

  “As you know, Red saved his life once,” Morpheus clarifies, dropping his hat onto his head. He runs a finger along the moths draping the brim. “Rabid had to repay his debt to her. Only she could set him free.”

  “Free?” I ask.

  “Free to be your faithful subject,” Morpheus explains. “He made a trade. Red’s life for his loyalty. In order to be true to you forever after, he had to betray you one last time.”

  Logic wrapped within nonsense. Par for the course for Wonderland. “So is Red here?” I ask, fighting a clench of dread in my chest.

  Rabid doesn’t answer. Everything that’s happened today—Taelor seeing me and Morpheus, the mosaics going missing, the near-death car ride, my mom’s betrayal—hangs over me, a noxious cloud of black emotion. The power inside me begs for free rein, promising to make him talk. To make him obey.

  I surrender to it: envision the earbuds lifting and swaying like cobras. The song that’s playing grows loud and screeching. Rabid plugs his ears, howls, and backs up. The buds follow and strike. Though they have no fangs or venom, they’re vicious in their pursuit.