Ensnared
Page 82
He and Morpheus managed a trade somehow: Jeb for his creation.
They tricked everyone. Including me.
I shake my head. Chessie launches from Jeb’s shoulder and flutters in front of me. His whirling, all-knowing eyes recount everything: Morpheus finding Jeb in the dungeon; the two of them in private, coming up with the plan and sneaking into Manti’s chamber in simulacrum suits; Manti agreeing to everything as long as he got to play the loyal king to salvage his reputation in his queen’s eyes; Jeb painting and animating the miniature hookah that triggered my human memories; and last of all, Jeb touching up his doppelganger’s face to flawless perfection before painting bloody streams under the blindfold and gag, then masking his own ears and face with elfin features, harlequin face paint, eye patch, and gaping holes.
Chessie smiles again, tiny teeth glinting. I open my palm for him and he rolls to his back so I can rub his tummy. With a contented grunt, he leaps into flight and makes a beeline for Morpheus, who puts him to work looking for his hat in the ashes.
I turn to Jeb, still shaky. “CC’s image. His face. I thought you couldn’t complete him.”
Jeb rubs his labret with his thumb. “Because I couldn’t see inside my heart. Ever since I can remember, I measured my worth against who my old man was, or how successful my art was. You’ve been telling me all along that I chose to be better than my dad. It was a choice. It finally hit me that you were right. Every time your life was at stake, my first thought was to help you. Like today, even if I couldn’t have painted a way, I would’ve found another. That’s the one good thing that came out of my childhood. Having seen the worst is what helps me choose the best. This place let me face my demons. But you . . . you always had faith I would beat them. And now I have. Thanks for that, Al.” His green eyes shimmer with a self-possession they’ve never had. Complete and total acceptance.
The rain stops, and reality hits full on.
Jeb’s alive and whole—in every way. Morpheus didn’t betray us. And all the horror I just witnessed was a brilliant, twisted lie.
Jeb twines one of my blond dreadlocks around his finger. “You okay?”
I’m tempted to scream at him for letting me believe such terrible things about both of them. But I’m too happy to have him alive, standing here and talking to me . . . touching me . . .
I want to leap into his arms and hug him tight. Since my dress is a killing machine, I settle for pressing my palm against his chest. His heartbeat thumps from the other side of his clothes. I will never take that rhythm for granted, or the fact that he still has a life-clock.
“Never scare me like that again,” I say.
He lifts an eyebrow. “Hey, that’s my line.” Using my dreadlock, he draws my face close and brushes his lips and labret across my forehead, then down my temple to my mouth in a gentle peck.
Morpheus makes a huffing sound. “Well, that’s just jolly beautiful. I’m the one who got a bump on the noggin and half strangled.”
Jeb releases me, rolling his eyes.
Morpheus brushes futilely at the ash clumped on his clothes. “Sucking up all her sympathies when you had the easy part. Follow Chessie out the gate, and lead him to her father and uncle’s hiding place. Oooh, so scary.”
Fighting a smile, I study the raw red marks along his neck that look like rope burns.
I take his hand and squeeze it. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
His thumb rubs raindrops from my knuckles. “You couldn’t know. From the moment Red inhabited you, everything you knew, she knew. We had to concoct a plan to get the medallion and make you remember your strength and get angry enough to tame her spirit, all without her knowing. Without you knowing. It was the only way.”
The only way . . .
The phrase triggers my dad’s advice when we first arrived here: You’ve never murdered anyone, Allie. Be sure it’s the only way. Otherwise, it will haunt you . . .
I look again at all the death in my wake. My stomach turns. “It was the only way.”
“Yes, it was,” Jeb says from beside me.
“Damn right it was,” Morpheus agrees. His gaze flicks to the piles of ash, making it clear that he understands I’m talking about so much more than their plan. I’m glad Jeb wasn’t here to witness my rampage. It’s enough that he saw me in Red’s chains.
Chessie erupts from a pile of soot, propelling Morpheus’s dust-covered hat like he did the robe at the inn yesterday. The hat zigzags through the air, Chessie refusing to give up his prize. His head peeks out and his mischievous smile spreads when Morpheus scowls.
I purse my lips, one more question niggling. “So Manti . . . you attacking him on stage. That was part of it?”
“Yeah,” Jeb says. “About that.” He cocks his head at Morpheus. “You laid it on a little thick out there.”
Morpheus clucks his tongue. “I performed masterfully,” he answers, at last managing to claim his hat from Chessie.
“Right,” Jeb scoffs. “Pretty sure my mistreatment wouldn’t have sent you into hysterics, drama queen.”
Morpheus smirks. “Fair enough. On the other hand, your portrayal of a brainless wind-up numbskull was spot on.”
Jeb’s lips quiver, as if he’s fighting a smile himself. “You know, I still have enough paint to make that flyswatter.”
“Tut. No need for violence.” Morpheus taps the dust from his hat and places it on his head. “I’m simply giving credit where it’s due.”
Their eyes glitter with levity, just like when they tease me. They’re enjoying the banter. There’s even an undercurrent of respect where there used to be little more than tolerance.
My heart swells, both sides of it, so proud of how they worked together, saw past their resentments for the greater good. The sensation is beautiful, but it causes another rip—a visceral pop behind my sternum.
I gasp.
“Al, you’re white as a sheet.” Jeb throws a concerned glance to Morpheus. “Maybe she’s losing too much blood.”
“Perhaps.” Morpheus catches my left wrist to check my pulse. I can tell by the suspicious crimp of his brow that he’s thinking about my anemic spell in Hart’s playroom.
I pull away. “I’m fine. Really.”
Jeb turns my other arm over to assess the damage. I cringe as my wounded skin stretches.
They tricked everyone. Including me.
I shake my head. Chessie launches from Jeb’s shoulder and flutters in front of me. His whirling, all-knowing eyes recount everything: Morpheus finding Jeb in the dungeon; the two of them in private, coming up with the plan and sneaking into Manti’s chamber in simulacrum suits; Manti agreeing to everything as long as he got to play the loyal king to salvage his reputation in his queen’s eyes; Jeb painting and animating the miniature hookah that triggered my human memories; and last of all, Jeb touching up his doppelganger’s face to flawless perfection before painting bloody streams under the blindfold and gag, then masking his own ears and face with elfin features, harlequin face paint, eye patch, and gaping holes.
Chessie smiles again, tiny teeth glinting. I open my palm for him and he rolls to his back so I can rub his tummy. With a contented grunt, he leaps into flight and makes a beeline for Morpheus, who puts him to work looking for his hat in the ashes.
I turn to Jeb, still shaky. “CC’s image. His face. I thought you couldn’t complete him.”
Jeb rubs his labret with his thumb. “Because I couldn’t see inside my heart. Ever since I can remember, I measured my worth against who my old man was, or how successful my art was. You’ve been telling me all along that I chose to be better than my dad. It was a choice. It finally hit me that you were right. Every time your life was at stake, my first thought was to help you. Like today, even if I couldn’t have painted a way, I would’ve found another. That’s the one good thing that came out of my childhood. Having seen the worst is what helps me choose the best. This place let me face my demons. But you . . . you always had faith I would beat them. And now I have. Thanks for that, Al.” His green eyes shimmer with a self-possession they’ve never had. Complete and total acceptance.
The rain stops, and reality hits full on.
Jeb’s alive and whole—in every way. Morpheus didn’t betray us. And all the horror I just witnessed was a brilliant, twisted lie.
Jeb twines one of my blond dreadlocks around his finger. “You okay?”
I’m tempted to scream at him for letting me believe such terrible things about both of them. But I’m too happy to have him alive, standing here and talking to me . . . touching me . . .
I want to leap into his arms and hug him tight. Since my dress is a killing machine, I settle for pressing my palm against his chest. His heartbeat thumps from the other side of his clothes. I will never take that rhythm for granted, or the fact that he still has a life-clock.
“Never scare me like that again,” I say.
He lifts an eyebrow. “Hey, that’s my line.” Using my dreadlock, he draws my face close and brushes his lips and labret across my forehead, then down my temple to my mouth in a gentle peck.
Morpheus makes a huffing sound. “Well, that’s just jolly beautiful. I’m the one who got a bump on the noggin and half strangled.”
Jeb releases me, rolling his eyes.
Morpheus brushes futilely at the ash clumped on his clothes. “Sucking up all her sympathies when you had the easy part. Follow Chessie out the gate, and lead him to her father and uncle’s hiding place. Oooh, so scary.”
Fighting a smile, I study the raw red marks along his neck that look like rope burns.
I take his hand and squeeze it. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
His thumb rubs raindrops from my knuckles. “You couldn’t know. From the moment Red inhabited you, everything you knew, she knew. We had to concoct a plan to get the medallion and make you remember your strength and get angry enough to tame her spirit, all without her knowing. Without you knowing. It was the only way.”
The only way . . .
The phrase triggers my dad’s advice when we first arrived here: You’ve never murdered anyone, Allie. Be sure it’s the only way. Otherwise, it will haunt you . . .
I look again at all the death in my wake. My stomach turns. “It was the only way.”
“Yes, it was,” Jeb says from beside me.
“Damn right it was,” Morpheus agrees. His gaze flicks to the piles of ash, making it clear that he understands I’m talking about so much more than their plan. I’m glad Jeb wasn’t here to witness my rampage. It’s enough that he saw me in Red’s chains.
Chessie erupts from a pile of soot, propelling Morpheus’s dust-covered hat like he did the robe at the inn yesterday. The hat zigzags through the air, Chessie refusing to give up his prize. His head peeks out and his mischievous smile spreads when Morpheus scowls.
I purse my lips, one more question niggling. “So Manti . . . you attacking him on stage. That was part of it?”
“Yeah,” Jeb says. “About that.” He cocks his head at Morpheus. “You laid it on a little thick out there.”
Morpheus clucks his tongue. “I performed masterfully,” he answers, at last managing to claim his hat from Chessie.
“Right,” Jeb scoffs. “Pretty sure my mistreatment wouldn’t have sent you into hysterics, drama queen.”
Morpheus smirks. “Fair enough. On the other hand, your portrayal of a brainless wind-up numbskull was spot on.”
Jeb’s lips quiver, as if he’s fighting a smile himself. “You know, I still have enough paint to make that flyswatter.”
“Tut. No need for violence.” Morpheus taps the dust from his hat and places it on his head. “I’m simply giving credit where it’s due.”
Their eyes glitter with levity, just like when they tease me. They’re enjoying the banter. There’s even an undercurrent of respect where there used to be little more than tolerance.
My heart swells, both sides of it, so proud of how they worked together, saw past their resentments for the greater good. The sensation is beautiful, but it causes another rip—a visceral pop behind my sternum.
I gasp.
“Al, you’re white as a sheet.” Jeb throws a concerned glance to Morpheus. “Maybe she’s losing too much blood.”
“Perhaps.” Morpheus catches my left wrist to check my pulse. I can tell by the suspicious crimp of his brow that he’s thinking about my anemic spell in Hart’s playroom.
I pull away. “I’m fine. Really.”
Jeb turns my other arm over to assess the damage. I cringe as my wounded skin stretches.
