Ensnared

I move to the front end of the table and nuzzle the top of Dad’s hair, my fingers curled around his ears. “You’re going to be okay, Dad. Mom needs you to be okay. We both need you.” The scents of maple syrup, laundry detergent, and lemon cleaner surround me. It makes no sense he’d smell that way. My brain must be playing tricks because he’s always been home, safety, and comfort to me.

  Dad pummels the back of his head against the table, his face screwed up in pain.

  I shove my hands under the nape of his neck to protect his skull from the hard wood. “Do something!” I shout.

  Jeb finally looks my way. “Al, we’re trying.”

  For the first time, I get a glimpse at his face. He looks just like the little boy in the pictures at his house. Lost, tortured, haunted. The only difference is the blood on his cheek and the labret glistening beneath his lip.

  I’m about to ask him if he’s hurt, too, when I catch sight of my dad’s ankle sticking out from the edge of the cloth. His skin is white, dry, and powdery like cement. The hair has fallen off. A thousand minuscule lights glint off his skin, like a sidewalk under an evening sky.

  He is turning to stone.

  My windpipe nearly closes. “Use your magic!” My voice sounds like a boiling teapot—airy and whistling. “The paintbrush. Heal him like you did Morpheus’s ear.” I grab Jeb’s arm. “Please.”

  He and Morpheus exchange guarded glances.

  “It only works on Morpheus because we share magic,” Jeb answers, his expression filled with so much regret it reaches beyond his enchanted state, making him appear raw and human. “Wait.” He furrows his brow. “Your dream-magic. Thomas is a human. He can slip into dreams.”

  Morpheus nods, catching on where I’m oblivious. “The poison spreads through the bloodstream, spurred by the victim’s agitation. If we can subdue him to a REM state—send his mind where he cannot hear the buzzing—we can calm him. Hold the venom at bay.”

  “The Queen of Hearts,” Jeb takes up again. “She has a remedy for this. Otherwise, her idiot guards wouldn’t be handling the insects.”

  I look back and forth between them. “Yes. Do it. Please . . .” I don’t notice that my face is wet until Chessie blots my cheeks with his tail.

  Jeb starts to touch Dad’s head, but Morpheus stops him. “You don’t know how to harness dream-magic. You need guidance.”

  I tighten my jaw, suspecting the real reason for Morpheus’s intervention. If he were to let Jeb unleash his full power, Red’s strain would also seep into my dad. And who knows what the result would be?

  Jeb shrugs and I stand back, completely useless in spite of all my magic.

  Morpheus cups his bared palms around Dad’s temples and Jeb nudges aside a wing to stand shoulder to shoulder beside him, his hands pressed to Morpheus’s. Though Jeb’s tattoo glows purple, the light that they radiate is pristine blue—strictly Morpheus’s—as if they’ve practiced bypassing Red’s magic many times before. Morpheus looks at Jeb incredulously, seemingly surprised by the purity of the force.

  The light pulsates through Dad’s body, from head to toe, just like when Morpheus unleashed his dream-magic on Jeb the day of prom.

  Dad’s body goes limp and his facial muscles relax.

  I slump across his head, exhausted even though I’ve done nothing.

  “Now, we see to you,” Morpheus instructs Jeb, and motions for him to sit. He rewets a sponge. “You’re bleeding.”

  Jeb scoots onto the table’s edge. “No.” He runs his hands across the red smudges on his costume. “It’s paint,” he explains, dreamlike. “A residue from CC. His palms were sliced following my command to keep the guards from hijacking the funnel.”

  Morpheus frowns and stops blotting Jeb’s face. “Where is CC now?”

  “He was running interference so I could escape with Thomas,” Jeb answers. “The guards captured him.”

  Mumbling an oath, Morpheus throws the sponge into the bucket. After drying his hands on the drop cloth, he drags his jacket on and paces toward the entrance where he set aside his hat. He positions it atop his head, wings drooping behind him.

  “We need a plan to get the antidote.” He works his gloves into place. “Any hope for the element of surprise is ruined. Red knows Alyssa is in AnyElsewhere. Now they have CC, who knows the way to our mountain.”

  Jeb digs his fisted knuckles into the table. “I’ll go tonight, before they can try to find us. I’ll get CC back, and the antidote. We’ll heal Thomas and send him and Al through the gate before anything else happens.”

  I shake my head. “We’re not leaving without both of you. Got it?”

  “How would you get inside, pray tell?” Morpheus asks Jeb, ignoring my attempt at a command.

  Jeb drops to the floor and strips off the bird suit. A navy blue T-shirt and faded jeans cling to him, wrinkled and popping with static from being underneath the costume. “Maybe I can shake things up. Crumble a few turrets and knock down a wall or two.”

  “We’ve already tried that once,” Morpheus contradicts. “Your magic is limited to the natural terrain. Things built at the hands of others, they’re beyond your capacity to alter.” He adjusts his cap, and the orange moths along the brim sway. He looks at me. “Hart has arranged a caucus race tomorrow to elect an official king. We wear the simulacrum . . . go first thing in the morning when the gates are open.”

  “All the prisoners will be preoccupied,” I reason, rubbing Dad’s hand.

  Jeb slants his head in thought. “It would help if we had a floor plan. We’d know exactly where to go for the curative, no detours.”

  Morpheus nods. “We could send someone tonight, someone small enough to slip through existing holes in the wall. While they’re exploring, we can rest, prepare, and plan.”

  Nikki looks up from the other side of the room where she and Chessie have been teasing the cranes that occupy the Japanese screens. She flitters over to us. “Send me,” she insists, her voice tinkling as she points to herself.

  I’m touched by her bravery. “Nikki is strong. She could carry the antidote back herself if she finds it.”

  “I don’t know,” Jeb says. “She’s so tiny. What if—”

  “Nikki is ideal,” Morpheus interjects. “You designed her to have free run of this world. She’s small and swift. And on good terms with your paintings. If CC is sent to lead the guards here, she can distract him. Chessie and I can accompany her as far as the castle gates, wait in hiding for her to finish the expedition.”

  Jeb runs a hand through his hair, leaving it disheveled. He’s obviously still worried for his sprite. “Okay. But I’m the one who screwed up. If she’s not able to get the cure, I should go to this race thing tomorrow. Not you and Al.”

  I start to object, but Morpheus beats me to it. “You’re needed here. You command the creations. You’re better equipped to protect Thomas should the mountain be attacked. Chessie will be our runner if something goes wrong on our end.”

  Jeb nods, resigned.

  Morpheus wraps the drop cloth around Dad and lifts him to a sitting position. “He needs to be somewhere safe, on the chance the mountain is breached.”

  “I’ll take him to the lighthouse,” Jeb offers. “Al, you can stay with him through the night.”

  “Okay,” I whisper. I’m scared to be alone, even though it’s my own father. I don’t know what I’ll do if he gets worse. “What if he wakes?”

  “He shan’t wake. The spell he’s under will last until Jebediah and I release it.”

  I remind myself a queen is supposed to be brave, and agree.

  Jeb balances Dad over his shoulder. Moving aside to let him by, Morpheus grabs my arm before I can follow them into the corridor.

  He waits until Jeb is out of earshot and looks down at me. “Jebediah cannot go to that castle under any circumstances.” He watches the door. “It’s too dangerous for him.”

  I’m not sure I believe in his concern. “Why?”

  “He’s a vessel we can all pour our magic int
o, in a land of powerless fae. Such a rare commodity is priceless. A weapon to be feared and coveted by everyone. It’s almost destroyed him trying to harness just mine and Red’s powers. The inhabitants of this place—the Queen of Hearts, Manti and his goons—they are soulless and merciless. Were they ever to realize what he is, they would fill him to the brim with their magic. Eat him up like a cancer until there’s nothing left. There would be no getting your mortal back after they finish.”

  The logic of his words weighs on my already heavy head. “So, you really were protecting him all this time? By keeping him holed up here?”

  His hand slides down to my wrist in unspoken affirmation.

  “Thank you.” I squeeze his fingers in mine.

  Morpheus gestures to Chessie and Nikki, directing them into the hall to watch for Jeb. “Don’t get sentimental. I did not do it for him. I did it because I couldn’t have you tortured by guilt had he come to such an end. You would’ve blamed your choices on prom night for the tragedy. It would have ruined your faith in your ability to rule. You’d be a worthless queen if you couldn’t trust your own judgment.”

  The jaded explanation falls in line with the reasoning of a solitary fae. Of course it’s for the greater good of the realm he loves. But he still did the right thing, and Jeb’s alive because of it. I won’t forget that. “So, what do you propose we do? Tell Jeb about Red’s part in his magic?”

  “Absolutely not. He’ll get some cockamamie idea to stand up to her if we do that. We have to get him out of this realm before they discover him.”

  “But he doesn’t want to leave,” I mumble, unable to mask the defeat in my voice. “How do you protect someone who doesn’t want to be protected?”

  “He will leave if you take away his source of power. We’ll make a bargain with Red for the antidote. She abhors this place. So we offer her an escape route. She may share Hart’s body, but Red is the most cunning, have no doubt. We get the cure for your father, and in exchange, take Red out of AnyElsewhere. Jebediah will be forced to follow us, to stay tied to the magic he’s become dependent on. He’ll feel the draw, instinctively. Just as he feels one to me. Once we’re back in Wonderland, the iron’s magnetic effect will reverse. The magic will return to its proper vessels. And Jebediah will be human again.”

  Why would Morpheus make such a sacrifice? Drag not only Red back to his beloved world, but another queen bent on destruction, just to help two mortals?

  I shift on the balls of my feet and suppress my suspicion, trying to take him at his word. “The guards . . . they won’t let the Queen of Hearts through the gate. Even if my dad is well enough, he won’t be able to convince them. Red’s inside her, and Hart’s a prisoner. They both belong here.”

  Morpheus taps the diary at my neck. “Which is why the Queen of Hearts must stay behind. We shall smuggle Red out under the guards’ noses.”

  “It’s not like we can wrap her up in simulacrum. She’s a spirit—” The horror hits me even before I finish rolling the reasoning off my tongue. Morpheus’s cryptic statement earlier when I asked how we would flush Red from Jeb’s system: That, luv, will require the biggest sacrifice of all. And you’re the one who will have to make it.

  This is what he was intending all along. When he formed a majestic moth ride to carry us, when he said he’d help me strategize my plan.

  It was never my plan. It was his. For me to go to the castle, let Red’s spirit inhabit me, and carry her out of this realm.

  “No,” I say, pulse hammering so hard in my wrists I can see the movement beneath my skin in the dim light. “I came here to finish her. Not to give her access to my—” I can’t even say it aloud. She already did something to my heart that needs repair. I won’t let her in again.

  Everything that’s happened today . . . the rooms, my epiphanies, Morpheus’s seduction, Dad’s life-threatening state—all of it stifles me like smoke, making it hard to breathe. Woozy and overwarm, I sway. Morpheus backs me to the table.

  “Now, we’ll have none of that.” He draws me into a hug and strokes my hair—a tender gesture that feels out of place with his scolding words. “This is the perfect plan.” His voice rumbles in his chest next to my ear—soft and melodic. “It’s the least dangerous to everyone, most of all Jebediah.” I shut my eyes, letting his steady heartbeat knock against my cheek. “The hardest part will be tricking Hart into letting Red’s spirit go. But as for Red herself, we won’t even have to bargain. It’s all she’s ever wanted, to be part of you.”

  To be part of you. Bile burns the back of my throat. What if it was Red that Ivory saw in the vision . . . Red living vicariously inside my body? What if it’s her future with Morpheus, not mine? If that’s true, my and Morpheus’s child will belong to her. She’ll be his mother.

  I clench Morpheus’s jacket lapels. Doesn’t he realize what could happen if I can’t defeat her once she’s inside me? Doesn’t he understand the danger? Not just for him, but for our future child?

  “I’m not letting her use me as a vessel,” I say against him. “Not ever again.”

  He eases back and drags a gloved thumb along my temple. “Not even for your mortal? And for the father who needs you? You have her memories to vanquish her the moment we step across the border and Jebediah is cleansed of her power.”

  I grip the tiny diary like a lifeline, but still feel myself sinking. “It can’t be the only way.”

  “It is. The only way to salvage what we love.”

  My nerves prickle. “We love? You don’t care about Jeb. You said so yourself.”

  His lips tighten. “He has his merits. Enough that he deserves to live. Just like your father did all those years ago.” He almost looks sincere. But the fluctuation in the color of his jewels gives him away. I’ve finally learned to read him.

  My strength rallies. “No. You’re lying. This isn’t the only way to get Jeb out.”

  Morpheus presses both hands on the table behind me, penning me in. “As you said. He has no desire to leave.”

  I shove him back. “I can convince him.”

  “What? By seducing him?” Morpheus scoffs. “I have half a mind to let you try. Whatever it takes to get the boy out of your system once and for all.”

  An angry throb pulses in my temples. “You’re right. You do only have half a mind if you think your ‘letting’ me has anything to do with anything.”

  His cocky grin answers. “Go ahead then. I’ll swipe the memory of his touch away. And I shan’t need a forgetting potion to do it. I’ve every faith in my abilities to o’ershadow anything that mortal can do for or to you.” He drags his fingertip along my waist, reminding me of what happened between us in his room earlier. “Why are we arguing, hmm?” he croons. “It’s a moot point. You had the morning together. He painted your half-naked body, the lucky sod. Had that been my job, your pretty clothes would ne’er have been crafted. He doesn’t want you anymore.”

  That truth scores through me. But I won’t let a wounded ego derail my resolve. “There’s something else to this Red thing. And if you don’t tell me, I’ll wear a simulacrum suit and go alone tonight to get Dad’s cure and put an end to her for good.”

  His alabaster complexion pales. “Don’t be a fool. To get into that castle, it will take teamwork. And we must be armed with an escape plan. Most importantly, you need to sleep first. You can hardly stand.”

  I step from between him and the table, inching toward the door. “Why would I need to stand? I can fly. And neither you nor Jeb can stop me.” With a snap of my shoulder blades, my wings release, rushing another surge of power through my veins.

  Morpheus’s gaze tracks my wings. Filaments of moonlight stream down from above, illuminating his enthralled expression. “That is a breathtaking display, luv. But dare not mistake my veneration for surrender.”

  He starts toward me, his expression fading to a scowl. I’ve triggered one of his dark, combative moods. It doesn’t matter, because my imagination is more refined than his, and he’s given me
the secret to manipulating Jeb’s paintings.

  Before he passes the Japanese screens, I mentally beckon the cranes. They cease pecking their beaks against their rice-paper prison and turn their attention to me. I assign them a new role: lace spinners, with the moonlight as their thread.

  Bugle-like squawks burst from their throats as they step out of their screens and plop in front of Morpheus in full 3-D form. Wavering on scaly gray legs, the duo clacks and slides along the floor, learning to balance for the first time. Then, wings spread, they lift their elegant necks to full height, reaching Morpheus’s chin.

  He backs up, his jewels flashing a yellow-green—cautious fascination.

  The cranes capture moonlight in their beaks as if it were tangible threads. Pulling it taut from the ceiling, they weave it into a network of glistening lace with otherworldly speed. One blink, and the panel is already down to Morpheus’s chest.

  He tries to duck underneath, but the birds adjust their trajectory, looping, twisting, and braiding the mesh so it reaches his shins. He hardly has time to retreat before the barrier hems him into the back corner of the room . . . a gauzy fence from ceiling to floor. As soon as they finish the first panel, they start on another, beaks clacking.

  “Well played,” Morpheus says from the other side, curling his fingertips through the unbreakable threads. Admiration glistens in his dark eyes. “I am your prisoner. Although I always have been.”

  We watch each other in silence. The one thing innate in both of us is our fear of being held captive. I remember his beautiful, agonized confession weeks ago: Nothing can break the chains you have on my heart. In the vision I had, when we danced upon the sun, we were free and equal in every way. That’s what I wish for him. For us both.

  “I never wanted you to be my prisoner,” I insist.

  He flourishes his arms in a grand gesture. “Yet here I am in a cage of your making.”

  “If you could learn to be honest, the walls would come down.”

  He clenches his jaw.

  “You’re using Jeb to influence my choices. Again. I’m not falling for it this time. Why do you want to free Red? Is there something between the two of you?” I pause at the threshold, waiting.