Unhinged: 2 (18 page)

Chessie is Morpheus’s right-hand cat. This might be a trick …

I should just take a peek. Stick my head in but keep my feet planted firmly in the here and now.

“Envision where you wish to go,” I say, using what Morpheus taught me. Closing my eyes, I picture the bridge and village I saw before the glass cracked. Then I insert the key into the hole and turn.

When I look again, the glass is liquid. The window of water opens to reveal the metal bridge. Stars shine down on the river beneath it, glistening and welcoming. Wherever this leads, it’s beautiful.

A woman catches my eye in the distance. She walks along a grassy knoll toward the bridge. I choke on a startled breath. Even in the moonlight, I recognize the black and fuchsia tracksuit. She was wearing it this morning when I left for school.

Mom
.

Seeing Mom inside the mirror makes my heart flutter as fast as Chessie’s wings.

“How did you get in there?” I ask, knowing she can’t hear or see me. I touch the key at my neck; I could’ve sworn it was the only one we had. Maybe Red lured her in?

I yelp out loud at the thought.

But on second glance, Mom doesn’t look upset or scared. She carries an oversized burlap bag on her shoulder—the one we used to stuff with beach towels, plastic shovels, and buckets for picnics at the lake. That was back when I was little, before she was committed. I loved those picnics …

Her stride is determined as she heads toward the bridge. She’s up to something. Something she
wants
to be doing. When Chessie’s glowing form appears next to her and perches on the bag’s straps, Mom doesn’t even startle, as if she was expecting him.

It’s too much. I don’t care where they are; I have to get in and see what’s going on.

“Want it with all your heart,” I remind myself. “Then take the plunge.” I lift my boot and shove one leg into the cool air on the other side, stiffening when someone jiggles my bedroom doorknob.

“Al, what’s with the locked door?” Jen says from the other side. “Jeb’s here and it’s getting ugly. He got a call from Taelor at work. He and M are in the driveway …”

No.
I can’t do this now. I have to see what Mom’s up to. “I’m busy!”

“Busy?” Jen screeches from the other side of the door. “Are you freaking kidding? Jeb’s going to kill him! You need to get out here, now!”

“Crap,” I mumble. As if triggered by my broken concentration, the portal ripples like water filling up a bucket. If I’m going through, it has to be now, before it closes. I fight with myself, desperate to solve the mystery of my mother but feeling the pull of my life here.

The hesitation costs me my chance. The faux liquid glosses over to reflective glass again. I jerk free an instant before it closes, shutting me off from my mom and all the secrets she’s been hiding.

I don’t take the time to change out of the dress or tiara. As I scramble down the hall, Jen fires questions about what happened at school. I have no clue how to answer, so I push past her and sprint out the front door onto the lawn, expecting a bloodbath.

Instead, both guys are standing in the shade of Morpheus’s opened car hood. Neither of them realizes they have an audience.

Jeb must’ve come straight from his interview. He’s still in his photo-shoot clothes: black jeans, a black short-sleeved knit polo that hugs his muscles, a long-sleeved burgundy tee underneath, and a Japanese-design necktie draped loosely where the buttons open.

“So, it died on some random street?” he asks without looking up.

Morpheus nods. “Stopped rather inconveniently, in fact.”

I purse my lips at the understatement.

Jeb leans his elbows on the car’s frame and pokes at the engine. “Not sure what caused it. This model has a single serpentine belt for everything, so when it fails, the whole engine stops. But if that had happened, it would’ve been close to impossible to get it started again.” He digs around, getting grease on his hand. “Yours looks a little worn, though. You’ll need to change it soon.”

Morpheus taps his hat’s brim in thought. “I was afraid of that. What does something like that run?”

My breath winds tight inside me. I should be relieved that they’re not trying to kill each other, but my mind can’t quite wrap around it. With my mother having an outing in the mirror, it’s too much weirdness all at once.

I turn to glare at Jen as she steps up beside me. “You said they were fighting,” I whisper.

She shrugs.

Morpheus must’ve kept his vow and smoothed things over with Jeb somehow. Which leaves me clear to take care of Mom. Nerves on edge, I start to go back inside.

Jenara clears her throat.

I spin, locked in Jeb’s and Morpheus’s gazes.

They stand there gawking for what seems an eternity. Late-afternoon sun beats down, making the layers of fabric hot and itchy. With everything so quiet, I’m painfully aware of the absence of whispering bugs. Once again, they seem to have abandoned their posts. Lately, they’re either griping about the flowers or just … silent.

Jeb shuts the car’s hood. I bite my lip as he closes the distance between us, wiping grease from his hands on a bandana that he drags from his pocket.

“Wow.” His eyes run the length of me, then meet my gaze, relaying a message as gruff and hungry as anything he’s ever spoken aloud:
I want to touch you so bad, it hurts …

His study of me has never been this intense. My legs feel like softened clay.

He takes my lace-clad hand and pulls me into a hug.

“How am I supposed to wait until after prom with you looking like
that
?” he whispers against my ear, then kisses my temple.

The sentiment leaves me breathless. If only I could enjoy it. I peer over his sturdy shoulder to catch Morpheus watching. He drags off his hat, and the glint in his black eyes tells me he approves of the dress, too.

I frown, screaming at him with my eyes:
Stop wasting time! Get my mom out of the mirror! Find Red so we can send her back!

“The perfect fairy bride,” Morpheus says, making it obvious he can’t hear my thoughts this time. “All you’re lacking are the wings.”

Jeb’s arms tense around me. There’s the friction I expected to see between them when I came out. They’re both on their best behavior, but that peace could snap at any moment.

Jenara shifts so she blocks Morpheus’s view. “Speaking of wings
… Mr. Entomologist, I have a costume question for you for Alyssa’s gown. What say we get some cookies and do some brainstorming?”

He follows her, giving me one last glance over his shoulder.

The instant they’re gone, Jeb whispers, “I thought they’d never leave,” then leans in to kiss me.

I sidestep him and edge toward the door.

He frowns and follows. “You’re mad that I didn’t pick you up from school. I cut the interview short to get here. I have to meet the reporter later to finish the questions. Doesn’t that count for something?”

His wounded expression twists me up inside. “Yes. I mean, no, I’m not mad. I thought
you
were mad. Jen said that Taelor—”

“Mort clarified things.” Jeb tucks his bandana away.

“Mort? He lets you call him that?”

“I didn’t ask permission.”

I tilt my head in thought. “So everything’s cool with you guys?”

“You texted that you had an ‘encounter.’ So when Mort said that he wanted to make Taelor jealous by pretending to come on to you, and that she exaggerated the details because it backfired and ticked her off … well, his explanation fit. Too bad he made an enemy out of Tae, though. She’s not a girl you want to cross.”

“Tell me about it,” I mumble, picking up my pace across the lawn with Jeb in tow. “You should hear what she’s spreading around school.”

“Well, he’s going to clear all that up tomorrow. Old family friend or not, Mothra had no right to use you like that.”

My feet stop dead, entire body freezing at the nickname. Jeb can’t be starting to remember Morpheus’s ability to become a moth. He wasn’t technically
in
Wonderland to make those memories …
not anymore. Unless Mom was right at the hospital, when she said no one ever leaves Wonderland unscathed. Does his subconscious somehow remember something he no longer experienced?

“What did you just call him?” I ask, my voice shaky … hopeful.

“Mothra,” he answers. “You know, Godzilla’s archenemy. Because the guy’s moth crazy.” He gives me a sly grin. “C’mon, you couldn’t have missed his hat. And that car? Gullwings look like moths when both doors are up.”

“Right.” Of course he doesn’t remember. My thoughts return to Mom and her secrets. “We should go in so I can change.”

“Wait.” Jeb takes my hand and twirls me so my flower-petal hem ripples. When I’m facing him again, he shakes his head. “Mort was right. You’re like a fairy on her wedding night. Let me enjoy the fantasy a little longer.” His plea is so silky sweet, I can almost feel it on my skin. He kisses my gloved hand.

We’ve stopped where the grass ends just before the porch’s first step. Morpheus’s laugh carries through the door. The sound transforms Jeb’s expression from admiring to fierce.

“When I got here, I was ready to kill him.” I follow his line of sight to his motorcycle haphazardly parked on and off the driveway’s incline. He didn’t even take time to put down the kickstand. “I had him pinned against his hood, threatened to give him another scar on his face.”

It’s strange, to finally be the center of Jeb’s undivided attention, but now I’m the one who’s torn. One part of me tugging toward the house, and one part wrenching toward him.

Jeb catches my hand and holds it against his chest. “He said I could do anything to his face. Just asked that I didn’t mess up the car. It’s the only thing he has left of his dead dad.” Jeb traces his thumb
over the lace that hugs my wrist. “I saw his scars, Al. Those tattoos can’t hide them. Did you know about the suicide attempts?”

I nod, reluctant to encourage his pity for Morpheus, yet knowing I can’t possibly explain that those scars belong to someone else.

Jeb glances at Morpheus’s car. “He told me his dad died hating him. And the main reason he came to the States was to meet your mom. To try to see his old man through someone else’s eyes. To make peace with the memories.” When Jeb looks back at me, his expression is filled with empathy, and my chest cinches tight. It’s unfair that Morpheus is exploiting vulnerabilities Jeb doesn’t even realize he’s aware of. But I have no right to judge, because I’m a user and a liar, too.

“So as long as he’s respectful to you,” Jeb says, oblivious to my inner turmoil, “I’ll do my best to respect him.”

His tone is tight and pained, but he’s in control. He’s been working hard not to be violent like his father was. And I’m proud of him, because he’s grown into an honest and compassionate man in spite of everything his dad did to wreck him emotionally. I’ve also never felt more unworthy of him.

I draw his hand up to my lips and kiss the tattoo where his wrist peeks out from his sleeve. What would he think of me, if he knew how deceitful I’d become? It might as well be me in that mirror in another part of the world, as far away as I feel from him right now.

“Hey …” He breaks his hand free and lifts me onto the porch. With him still standing on the lawn, we’re at eye level. “You’re too quiet. You would tell me if there was more to the story, right?”

There
is
more. I have to find out why my mom’s in my mirror, and I have to defeat a psychotic magical queen … I’m just not sure how to tell you.

My eyes water.

Jeb’s frown evolves into a grimace. “Why are you crying? Was Tae being straight?” His eyes blaze. “Did that jerk have his hands on you? Did he kiss you?”

Dang it
. “No, it wasn’t like that. It’s just, maybe you can see now how I feel about Ivy. Why I’m hesitant.”

He squints. “That’s totally different.”

Looking down at my boot buckles, I scramble to say the right thing—to hurry and fix this so I can rush to my room and fix everything else.

Jeb steps onto the porch. “Al, it’s business. That’s all. And I already told her yes.”

My emotions do an about-face—from worried to indignant. “I thought we were going to discuss it.”