Lash thorn manacles

I lay prostrate on some cold, hard surface-concrete, at a guess. My arms were held up above my head, my wrists bound in something cold that prickled with many tiny, sharp points. Thorn manacles, then. They were meant, along with the gag and blindfold, to keep me from using my magic. If I tried to start focusing my will, they would bite and freeze. I didn't know where the damned things came from, but Crane wasn't the first bad guy I'd met who kept a pair on hand. Maybe there'd been a sale.
I'd heard one person claim that they'd been invented by a two-thousand-year-old lunatic named Nicodemus, and I'd heard others claim they were of faerie make. Personally, I figured they were more likely a creation of the Red Court, material for their war with the Council. It would certainly be to their advantage to make sure as many people as possible had a set of restraints with no purpose but to render a mortal wizard helpless.
Hell, if I was in the Red Court, I'd be giving the things away like Halloween candy. It was a scary notion, and for more than one reason.

Proven Guilty Chapter 26, Page 200


"Lasciel," my image-self said quietly. "I seek counsel."
She appeared at once, stepping into the circle of light. She wore her most familiar form, the functional white tunic, the tall, lovely figure, but her golden hair now appeared as a waist-length sheet of deep auburn. She bowed deeply and murmured, "I am here, my host."
"You changed your hair," I said.
Her mouth flirted with a smile. "There are too many blondes in your life, my host. I feared I would be lost in the press."
I sighed. "The manacles," I said. "Do you know of them?"
She bowed again. "Indeed, my host. They are of an ancient make, wrought by the troll-smiths of the Unseelie Court, and employed against those of your talents for a thousand years and more."
I blinked at her. "Faeries made those?"
I was dimly aware that, in my surprise, I had spoken the words aloud. I clenched my physical jaws shut and focused on the image-me, briefly wondering just how badly cracked my engine block was going to get by trying to keep track of my own personal internal reality in addition to the actual, threatening reality where Rawlins and I were in deep trouble. Hell, for that matter, I supposed it was entirely possible that I already had snapped. It wasn't as though anyone but me had ever seen Lasciel. Perhaps, in addition to existing only in my head, she was all in my imagination, kind of a waking dream.
For a minute, I thought about abandoning the wizarding biz and taking up a career that would let me crawl under rocks and hide, professionally.
"You needn't attempt to keep your inner self separate from your physical self," Lasciel said in a reasonable tone. "I should be happy to advise you from the outside, so to speak."
"Oh, no," I said, keeping all the conversation on the inside. "I've got problems enough without adding a sentient hallucination to the mix."
"As you wish," Lasciel replied. "You are, I take it, seeking a way to overcome the bindings of the thorn manacles?"
“Obviously. Can it be done?"
"All things are possible," Lasciel assured me. "Though some of them are extremely unlikely."
"How?" I demanded of her. "This is not the time to get coy with me. If I die, you're coming along for the ride."
"I am aware," she replied, arching an eyebrow. "They are a crafting of faerie make, my host. Seek that which is bane to they who made it."
"Iron," I said at once, nodding. "And sunlight. Trolls can't stand either." I opened my actual eyes and glanced around the interior of the garage. "Sunlight's out of town for a few hours yet, but we've got lots and lots of iron. Rawlins has a free hand. If I get a tool to him, maybe he could shatter a link of the manacles' chain. Then I could break his cuffs or something."
"Point of logic," the fallen angel pointed out. "Given that you are not free to retrieve a tool, getting one to Rawlins seems problematic."

Proven Guilty Chapter 26, Page 205-207