Untamed

by A. G. Howard

  A gust stirs in his wake, kicking up a whirlwind of snow.

  It’s better that we’re leaving through the Ivory portal. This painful parting would have been compounded by all my subjects’ faces looking back at me. I chose not to say good-bye to any of them last night when I visited the Red castle. It would’ve felt too final and strange, somehow. I take comfort knowing I’ll see them and Morpheus in my dreams.

  After the moth-driven carriage lifts to the sky, Jeb turns me to face him. He brings my hand to his mouth and nuzzles my knuckles. His intense gaze roams every feature, from my eyes to my nose to my lips, as if he’s studying a painting again.

  The silence twists my stomach into knots. “Are you going to ask?”

  “Ask what?” he says against my hand.

  “If anything happened.” My and Morpheus’s time together feels private and sacred, but if Jeb needs to hear what we talked about and the places we visited to ease his mind, I’ll be open and honest.

  Jeb links our fingers again. “You took my hand today, and you’re standing here beside me. That tells me all I need to know. You’re a queen, and you have responsibilities.” The admiration behind his words surprises me, although it shouldn’t. Not considering his emotional ties to my world. “I don’t have to have an update each time you return. You would tell me anything that might affect us and our life.”

  I smile, awed by his faith. “I would. I will. And thank you.”

  He gently grasps the hair braided at the nape of my neck and presses our foreheads together. “Thank you.” His voice—deep and husky with emotion—forms a haze of condensation between us. “Thank you for coming back to me.”

  I caress his face and the hint of whiskers along his chin. “Okay, I won’t feel like you need an update each time. But please, don’t think you have to say ‘thank you’ every morning when I wake up beside you, either. I want us to be normal.”

  “Normal.” He draws back and grins, his dimples finally making an appearance. “This from the girl who sprouted wings and gave me my first colossal wedgie while we sand-surfed over Wonderland. When was the last time we were normal, huh?”

  I snort, remembering how I couldn’t carry him across the chasm and had to leave him behind, that even when he was every bit as scared as me, he made me laugh and gave me the strength to do what I thought would be impossible. Just like now.

  His grin softens, causing his labret to glisten in the light. I touch it, circling the warm metal so his whiskers tickle my fingertip.

  The action, intimate and sensual, hits me with an almost inconceivable truth: There’s nothing standing between us now. Our lives together will begin today, the minute we cross the border. I’m both happy and overwhelmed.

  “I’m ready for my ring,” I manage over the tightness in my throat.

  His expression sobers. Dragging the chain from under his shirt, he pulls it over his head and slides the ring off. Eyes locked to mine, he slips the silver band into place onto my right hand, where it will remain until he places it on my left once we’ve said our wedding vows. The diamonds glisten—a heart with wings—and my own heart flutters as if it could fly.

  The band fits my finger perfectly and feels like coming home.

  “You’ll always be my lifeline,” Jeb whispers, then presses his thumb to the dimple in my chin and pulls me in for a sweet, gentle kiss. I wind my fingers through his hair and taste him—free of cologne or paint or turpentine. Just him. Human, masculine. Jebediah Holt.

  I could drown in the sweetness of the simplicity.

  With our chests pressed together, my sutured heart glows and hums, trying to close the space between us. His body tenses, as if he senses the pull.

  He breaks the kiss and tucks my head against him, his stubbled jaw scraping my temple. “I have something to show you.” His lips caress the top of my ear and warm me to my toes. “I wanted to wait until we were back. Until we were alone. But I think you need to see it now.” He withdraws something from his pocket and reveals what resembles a clear glass marble—though it’s soft like a bath oil bead.

  “A wish?” I swipe tears from my face with the back of my hand, shocked. “How? When?”

  “Last night at Ivory’s party, after our slow dance. A Mustela fae pulled me aside . . . licked my face to thank me for all I’d done for Wonderland.”

  “Oh my gosh. So, that’s why you left early?”

  He rolls the little ball around his palm. “I was about to cry my eyes out.” He holds up the sparkling tear to the light. “Couldn’t have the Red Queen see me bawl like a sissy pants.”

  I let out an impromptu giggle, adrift in an unexpected swirl of emotions.

  Jeb’s brow furrows in thought. “We could use it to help us fix things, in the human realm.”

  My happy smile fades. “No. This wish can only be used for you.”

  “I was holed up with Morpheus for a month. The one thing I learned is that magic is flexible. It’s all about the wording.”

  I shake my head and cover his hand, hiding his tear. “Magic is precious. You have to save it, Jeb. You could wish for so many things!” I pause, because we both know there are two monumental things he can’t wish for. He can’t get his muse back without unbalancing Wonderland again. And he can’t ask to live forever. Magic won’t change who you are inside. He chose to forfeit his immortality by giving away Red’s powers. He’s mortal and there’s no altering that now. “Jeb, don’t waste the power. Save it for something of consequence.”

  He grows somber, and I know he’s already been struggling with the same thoughts. He puts the wish into his pocket and his jaw ticks.

  Before either of us can say another word, the castle door opens and Dad and Mom step out. I’m shocked to see her wearing the same backless cocktail dress she wore at prom. Although the layers of blushed chiffon on the skirt and wispy cap sleeves are frayed from her fight with Wonderland’s eight-legged cemetery keeper, the dress is still intact.

  I frown, piecing things together. “Wait.” I point from her to Jeb. “So . . . you’re both wearing the same clothes you disappeared in. Is this part of a master plan?”

  “Yes. Jeb came up with it,” Mom answers. “We still need to sort out the details. But first . . .” She and Dad draw me into their arms.

  After a long hug, they celebrate our news. Dad teases Jeb that he almost had to sell a kidney to buy Mom’s engagement ring. Mom tweaks Dad’s ribs so he yelps, and then she gently catches my right hand to admire my ring finger.

  She looks at my face. I know what she sees there: the same anticipation for a human life that she wanted with Dad after saving him from Sister Two’s lair. Her smile is so bright with hope, I could be looking directly into the sun.

  As she turns to give Jeb an impromptu hug, Dad pulls me aside.

  “Butterfly,” he says, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear.

  “Dad,” I answer, catching his hand and holding it at my temple.

  He shakes his head. “Throughout all the craziness . . . I didn’t get the chance to say how proud I am of you, Alyssa Victoria Gardner.” The tenderness in his brown eyes reminds me how the two of us faced the world alone together as I grew up, and how I always felt safe. If only I had known then that my life was being guarded by a genuine knight. “My little girl is a queen. A queen of Wonderland.”

  I smile. “Slightly different from my wimpy dress-up versions, right?”

  Dad laughs and kisses my head. “You can say that again. More like a ninja.”

  I laugh and hug him, blissfully surrounded by his warmth and strength.

  “You ready to go home?” he asks, rubbing my back.

  “Well, not exactly home,” Mom says in response, returning to my side. “We have a detour to make.”

  “Detour?” I ask as she and I step into the castle, arm in arm, with the guys behind us. Our shoes clatter along the glassy floor. Ivory stands at the top of a winding crystal staircase, where the portal waits at the end of a long corridor. Rabid is n
ext to her with Finley at her other side, hand secure on her lower back beneath her wings.

  “Jeb’s house will be the first stop,” Mom answers as we ascend a few steps.

  I’m puzzled for an instant, until the maneuver makes perfect sense. “So we can scope out any police activities going on at our place. Very smart.”

  “More than that,” Dad corrects me from behind. “We’re going to need some outside help to set the stage for Mom and Jeb’s absence for a month, and your escape from the asylum. If we don’t handle this right, I could get arrested for breaking you out while you were a suspect in their disappearances.”

  “Help from whom?” I ask, gripping the cool, glassy rail. This is starting to sound more complicated and dangerous than I imagined. I never considered Dad going to jail. Maybe we should’ve taken Morpheus up on his offer after all.

  “Help from someone who’s been working with the police on the investigation,” Mom answers. “Someone who’s not a suspect and who everyone trusts because she’s been grieving her brother and best friend ever since they’ve gone missing.”

  My pulse hammers in my wrists as I look over my shoulder to where Jeb’s coming up the stairs behind Dad. “You can’t mean . . .”

  Sunlight streams through the crystallized walls and emblazons Jeb’s features, magnifying the cautious resolve there. “Unless you can think of another way, Al”—he says, an obvious reference to the wish waiting in his pocket—“we’re going to have to tell Jen the truth. All of it.”

  Though I won’t say it aloud, I’m not willing to let Jeb give up his wish for anyone or anything. After the violence she’s faced in her life, Jenara is tough. She also believes in the power of crystals, voodoo, Ouija boards, and tarot cards. She’s only one quirk away from tipping the mad scale already. Making her an honorary netherling is the most logical step in this illogical situation. And, honestly, it will feel good to stop hiding my Wonderland side from my best friend. She’s going to be my sister-in-law. Our family life will be less complicated if we can talk openly about everything.

  Before we step through the portal into the human realm, Mom, Dad, Jeb, and I discuss the plan, since we have different places to go during the setup.

  Last night, after I’d reopened the portals during my tour with Morpheus, and while Jeb was weeping a wish, Mom and Dad went into the human realm and did recon. From the safety of our attic, they waited to be sure the house was empty, then went online and gathered up all the news reports they could find about the Underland tragedy on prom night, Mom and Jeb’s disappearance that seemed in some way to be tied to it, and my escape from the asylum a month later.

  APBs had been issued for me and my dad within twenty-four hours after we left. We’d been officially missing for three days.

  The most helpful piece of information was Mr. Traemont’s recent interview with the local paper about his ruined activity center. The devastation had been so severe—busted concrete walls, collapsed floors, and water leaks—it took two weeks to clear away enough to fully assess the damage. He brought in the construction team who’d originally converted the old, abandoned salt dome into Underland, so they could offer insights as to what had triggered the accident. After they reviewed the layout and blueprints, they determined there must’ve been a weak point in the foundation caused by workers mining for salt decades earlier. This sinkhole effect sucked everything into one of the mining tunnels deep beneath the underground cave.

  Their reasoning made more sense than the truth no one could see: that a Wonderland queen had unleashed a cloud of powerful nightmare wraiths that dragged the contents of the activity center into the rabbit hole with such force, half of the cave folded in on itself.

  Like I once told Morpheus, most humans would rather believe they’re alone in the universe than ever admit they might have an otherworldly audience. And like he said in response: Their ego is their weakness.

  Since the accident, Underland had been abandoned—all the entrances to the giant cave condemned and cordoned off with police tape for public safety. That’s where Jeb’s idea fell into place. He pointed out that a few months before the construction on the activity center began, the mining tunnels had been used for storing bulk goods for a military base close by: wet wipes, first aid kits, combs, dry shampoo, powdered deodorant, toothpaste packets, crates of dehydrated meals, bags of dried soup, and bottled water. He saw inside one once after he started working there, and the supplies had yet to be cleared out.

  Thank you, procrastination. Human nature had given us our perfect alibi.

  All we had to do was magically maneuver enough stones and debris aside to get into one of the caved-in tunnels. Once there, we could set the scene of Mom and Jeb being trapped for a month and living off the military supplies. It was so simple, which is what made it perfect. The fact that no one had even considered that possibility was mind-boggling. They’d been so busy pursuing the crazy girl’s alleged involvement, no other venue had been explored.

  As for me and Dad, our story would be equally simple: I had managed to get his keys and escape the asylum using the gardener’s entrance that day while we were unsupervised in the courtyard. He didn’t have time to run for help, so he chased me and jumped into the truck bed as I was driving away. I took him to Underland . . . and while there, retraced my steps on prom night. Upon seeing the wreckage, a terrifying memory came back to me—of seeing Jeb and Mom get eaten by an avalanche of stones and rippling cement.

  I had suppressed it . . . was too traumatized to face their deaths.

  Only they weren’t dead. Because while Dad and I wept for them in the darkness amid the debris, we heard a clacking sound and followed it down to a pile of stones covering an opening. We managed to dig our way in and were reunited with Jeb and Mom—but the gap was unstable, and more rocks and pebbles closed us in again: the four of us trapped together.

  That’s where Dad and I had been for the past three days.

  Jeb’s idea was brilliant. Even Morpheus would’ve been impressed.

  So, we had a plan of action, which only required my and Mom’s magic and the two simulacrum suits. Other than that, all we needed was a catalyst: someone to tip off the police as to our possible whereabouts.

  That was where Jenara and her Ouija board would come in.

  Although it’s morning in Wonderland, it’s nighttime in the human realm. Wrapped in simulacrum suits, my parents enter the portal first, stopping by our house so they can pick up one of Dad’s uniforms and an asylum gown Mom had tucked away. The gown will be for me. We all have to be wearing what we were last seen in, to make the plan work. After Mom and Dad hit the house, their next stop will be Underland, to lay the groundwork for our grand unveiling.

  Jeb takes my hand and steadies me as Rabid and I step with him through the long mirror on the back of Jenara’s door into her bedroom. It closes up to a reflective pane of glass, taking with it our view of Ivory and Finley waving good-bye.

  We made sure Jenara wasn’t in the room before stepping through. We’re going to have to break this to her in increments. It’ll be enough of a shock at first just to see us alive and safe.

  When she’s ready, I’ll show her my netherling traits and powers. Rabid’s here as backup, in case she needs more proof than my wings to convince her that Wonderland is real.

  I tuck away my key necklace. The pink and white vertical stripes on Jenara’s wall glow a silvery hue, gilded by the moonlight streaming through translucent curtains draped across the arched window. Vines of black flower silhouettes stretch across her ceiling—immaculate shadows painted by Jeb’s masterful hand a few years ago. A mural worthy of an art museum.

  I catch him staring at it before he tightens his jaw and looks away. The sadness in the action knots me up inside.

  “Jeb.” I stall behind him and wrap him in my arms, my mouth pressed to the clothes hugging his broad shoulder. “You’ll find your way. I promise . . . there’s so much you have to offer this world still.”

  He tens
es, but crosses his arms so he’s clutching my elbows in place. “I’m not sure how to let go of something that once held me together.”

  “You don’t have to let go. That part of you is still intact. In frames, painted on walls, sketched on squares of paper. Your muse lives on here, through the people who are getting joy from your artwork every day. That’s more magical than anything. Let that hold you together until you find a new path.”

  He brings me around so we’re facing each other, then kisses me. “You’re pretty smart, for a netherling.”

  I laugh. “And you’re pretty tough, for a human.” I drag his head down for another kiss.

  Rabid coos and stares up at us, wide-eyed and fascinated.

  Embarrassed, I pull back. The momentary reprieve was nice, but I know it won’t be so easy to brush aside everything Jeb’s lost. It’s something we’ll deal with together, day by day, until he finds his way again.

  For now, we have this situation with Jenara to tend to.

  Jeb clears his throat, obviously thinking the same thing. “So, I guess I should check the house.”

  “Do you think she’s at work?” I peel off my boots to let the plush shag of the pink area rug cushion my toes.

  He cracks Jenara’s door and peers into the hall. “I know Mom has to be. She always takes the evening shift. You two wait here.”

  Once he steps out, leaving the door ajar behind him, Rabid clambers onto Jenara’s bed. His spindly fingers and toes wrinkle the black-and-white damask comforter. The pink dust ruffle and shams remind me of how Jen and I used to play dress-up in this room. How we fashioned wedding gowns out of sheets and pillowcases, told secrets, ate junk food, and stayed up till all hours of the night.

  It seems so long ago.

  Two white, faceless mannequins stand in front of her window with luminary shades tilted on their heads like hats. Jeb wired their hollow insides and threaded lightbulbs through their craniums to make lamps for her fifteenth birthday.

  I turn one on, casting a white, starry pattern across the wooden floor and Jenara’s bedspread.