her without harming her.
She screamed and skittered into the air. “Please . . . put that away.”
“Not until I get some answers.” Jeb pinched one of her wings between his thumb and forefinger. He carried her to the bed and set her on a pillow, keeping the bracelet close enough to intimidate her. “Just cooperate, and I won’t hurt you.”
“It already hurts.” She groaned, her greenish skin tinged turquoise. “Mustn’t use my magic . . .” She slapped her palms to her face. “Will make me . . . hideous. Abstain.” Her voice softened, as if she were speaking to herself. “Abstain until the threat of pain and contamination are gone.” She gritted her teeth.
Jeb frowned. “So iron turns your power against you? The perfect weapon to use against your boss.”
“A piece that size . . . will only work on the smallest of our kind.”
Jeb bent over, holding the iron cuff closer to her. “Okay, then consider this a lie detector. Each time I sense you’re holding out, the iron gets closer. Where is Al, and what’s your creepy boss doing to her?”
The sprite’s color changed to robin’s egg blue. She rolled on the pillow, wings struggling to flutter. She pulled them over her shoulders and across her chest, as if to restrain her magic. “Your Alyssa is comfortable and cared for. Morpheus is watching over her as she sleeps . . .”
Jeb snarled. Last night, he’d been the one watching her sleep, in the rowboat. He’d rolled her to face him so he could make her a promise, even if she was too drowsy to hear it. He’d promised to watch over her, to get her home safely. He wasn’t about to break his word now.
He had to fight the urge to trash the room again. “How do I get out of here?”
“Only Morpheus has the means to open the doorway.”
Jeb leaned forward, his nose almost touching Gossamer’s face as he held the iron bracelet over her head like corrosive mistletoe. “You’re saying I’m stuck here until that winged cockroach decides to let me out? He’s going to make Al face Wonderland alone?”
She whimpered, laying a palm on her brow. “No. Since you’ve proved yourself so loyal, he will allow you to accompany her on her journey. You will attend his feast and make plans.”
“Feast?”
“Alyssa’s introduction. Morpheus wishes to put her on display to the others.”
“What others?”
Gossamer slumped in a purple heap and scooted off her perch. She dragged something from inside the pillowcase—a sketch of Al that Jeb didn’t remember making. Slowly, Gossamer drew up her knees and studied the lines. “You did this while you were under our spell. You have power within your artist’s heart—a light that can pierce any darkness. You’ve captured Alyssa’s inner self perfectly.”
“That sketch is pure fantasy,” Jeb grumbled. He laid the iron cuff on the paper next to Gossamer.
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,