Howard, A.G. - Splintered 03 - Ensnared by Howard A.G

Author:Howard, A.G. [Howard, A.G.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Amulet Books
Published: 2014-11-21T05:00:00+00:00

We sprint to the art studio. I’m one step behind the guys, trailing alongside Chessie and Nikki, who fling Morpheus’s requested cap at him as we rush down the corridor.

When we arrive, agonized groans greet us, and dread clenches my chest. The studio is shadowed. Hazy indigo light streams through the glass roof, remnants of dusk. A figure lies on the table, writhing in pain.

“Dad!” I shove past Morpheus where he’s stalled in the doorway, cap clenched to his sternum.

Jeb’s already at the table, giving Dad his hand to squeeze.

Tears strangle me. For weeks I’ve been worried about Mom, when it was Dad who was in danger all along. Why couldn’t my visions have shown me that?

I press my palm to his chest. His ticklish, feathery costume muffles his rapid heartbeat. “Wh-wh-what happened?” I ask.

Jeb concentrates on Dad’s face. “I couldn’t stop them.”

“Stop who?” I press.

Instead of answering, Jeb growls—a guttural sound tangled with rage and remorse. I want to comfort him, but I also want to shake him. For letting my dad get hurt, for going without me.

Morpheus steps between us. “Patience, luv. Our elfin knight finally realizes he’s not the god he thought he was.”

My brain clutters with little-girl fears. “Daddy.” I lean over him, sniffling. “Daddy, look at me.”

His eyes flutter, but don’t open.

“We followed the glow, landed close to the abyss of nothing,” Jeb mumbles, his voice quavering and husky from his earlier outburst. “The knights at the Wonderland gate could see us. They used their medallion and sent a wind tunnel. We were waiting to be picked up . . . but we were attacked. The queen’s guards shook up a cage filled with scorpion flies and released a swarm. I tried to get out my sketchpad, to draw nets to capture them . . . like the ones I make for you.” He shoots a glance to Morpheus.

“Your magic failed,” Morpheus suggests.

“I failed,” Jeb says, eyes on Dad again. “The sound got into my head. Louder than a million locusts trapped inside a concert hall.”

Dad wails, rocking his head back and forth, trying to cover his ears. “Make it stop!”

“What’s he talking about?” I ask.

“He’s been saying that since he was stung,” Jeb answers. “It’s like he still hears them buzzing.”

“He was stung?” Is it me who asks the question? I’m not sure. Everyone’s voices are distant, and my body feels compressed, like I’m swimming through sludge at the bottom of the ocean.

“CC was able to kill most of them, and I came out of it enough to capture the others . . . but a couple got loose. I’m sorry, Al.” Jeb still won’t look at me.

Morpheus strips off his jacket, drags a sloshing bucket from beneath the table, and fills a sponge. “Where did they sting him?”

“His left leg, I think,” Jeb mutters.

“No. It isn’t true.” I push between them, gripping one of Morpheus’s biceps. “You said those things turn people to stone. He’s not stone, see?”

He peels my hand away. “We need to get him out of this costume, to assure he’s only been stung in one place.

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