She rolled to the middle of the drawing, trying to escape the metal. “There is more truth to this likeness of Alyssa than anything you can force me to say.”
Jeb tugged at the picture, tumbling Gossamer and the iron bracelet onto the furs. He spread the sketch out on a pillow and traced the charcoal lines. This depiction was like all the other fairy drawings he’d made of Al over the years, but it couldn’t be any more different from the girl he knew.
He’d drawn her with her hair pinned up. She never wore it that way. A black spaghetti-strapped gown flattered her curves. She wouldn’t be caught dead in such a conventional dress. The only thing that looked like her were the lacy black fingerless gloves covering the scars on her palms.
Other than that, the drawing was a complete fabrication. Al was seated on a park bench. She held a rose. Mascara and tears streamed in graceful curls down her face. Come to think of it, it was similar to the way her makeup had looked the last time he saw her.
He still couldn’t figure out why, after nearly drowning in an ocean of tears, her mascara hadn’t washed away. Squinting, he studied the set of translucent wings spread behind her. The thin membranes shimmered in a single ray of sunlight slicing through the clouds. The wings made him uneasy, though he couldn’t pinpoint why.
Maybe because they reminded him of Morpheus’s wings, though a completely different color. Jeb’s temples pounded. Nothing could be worse than her being alone with that bug man. The freak had some kind of hold on her, had gotten into her head when she was little. The subconscious could be very powerful, and if Morpheus still had access to Al’s dreams …
“How do I beat him?” Jeb asked over the knot in his throat.
Gossamer’s bulging eyes turned up to his. She was too weak to crawl away from the iron cuff, which now nudged her thigh. “He will not be defeated. He’s waited years for this day.”
Jeb grimaced. “Okay, so he’s Superman. But everyone has their kryptonite. Something they fear.”
“Confinement,” Gossamer blurted, darkening to the color of a bruise at the confession.
“What do you mean?”
Gossamer pressed the back of her hand to her forehead. “Please … you’re holding it too close … the iron … it’s draining my energy.”
Jeb fell back on the mattress and moved the cuff away from the sprite. Balancing it between his fingers, he studied the iron in the candlelight. It reminded him of his iron labret and the first time Al had seen it—her enthusiastic reaction. She’d begged to touch it, asking question after question about the process of getting a piercing. Her enthusiasm and na?veté. Her insecurities. Morpheus wouldn’t hesitate to use any or all of them to manipulate her.
Jeb had to convince Al to leave Wonderland, to forget this quest to break the curse on her family, whatever it took. Something dark waited just around the corner for her, like in his dream. He could sense it looming.
“So, you want her to fix the original Alice’s mistakes, right? What if I fix them instead?” Jeb tried reasoning. “You send Al home and let me take care of things.”
“Impossible,” Gossamer answered in a breathy whisper, her pale green color starting to return. Crawling toward the sketch, she ran a tiny palm along the rose. “She’s already passed tests and proved she’s the one.”
“Tests? You mean like finding the rabbit hole to Wonderland and drying up the ocean of tears?”
She nodded.
“But I helped with those.”
“She’s the one he’s waited for. Not you.”
Jeb held the iron bracelet over her one last time. “What does he really want from her?”
Before Gossamer could answer, the domed ceiling started to shake. Pieces of plaster tumbled down in thick white chunks. Jeb held a pillow over his head and a palm over Gossamer to protect them from falling debris. The ceiling ripped at the seams, swinging the bed and pulling the chains in opposite directions so the mattress lifted several feet.
After the tremors stopped, Jeb glanced up. Morpheus’s dark silhouette appeared in the jagged opening overhead.
Subtlety was low on this guy’s priority list. “Anyone ever tell you you’re a drama queen?” Jeb growled.
Morpheus leaned in low to glance at the messy room. “Anyone ever tell you you’re a deplorable houseguest?”
His captor’s grand entrance was partly responsible for the clutter, but Jeb bit his tongue, unwilling to risk his chance to see Al.
Morpheus eased back. “Alyssa awaits you in the mirrored hall. And, by all means, wash up and shave. You are to be introduced to our dinner guests as an Elfin Knight, so you need to look the part. Gossamer shall give you tips on proper behavior.” Morpheus dropped in some clothes and boots. They hit the floor with a clump. “Here is the uniform.” He paused and gestured to the chains. “Too bad you haven’t any wings or netherling magic. You will have to climb your way out. And I can assure you, it won’t be an easy trek.”
Jeb’s muscles tensed as Morpheus vanished from view; he knew the warning referred to so much more than his exit from this room.