by Kara Swanson
I eye the angry water we’re going to have to swim through. If memory serves, the rock should split into a wide, bony smile a few feet down. If we can swim through that opening, there should be a cavernous space on the other side and steps to climb up inside the rock.
As long as we don’t run out of air or get slammed against the Skull.
The familiar thrill of danger warms my clattering limbs.
“I’m a stronger swimmer. I’ll take the pack,” I tell Tootles. He tries to disagree, but I take it off his shoulder and sling it over mine. “All right, ready?”
His expression closes off, and he nods, voice flat. “Yep. I’ll be right behind you.”
I churn my legs to stay above another arching whitecap as I stick the breathing tube back inside the pack and clutch the bag’s strap as strongly as I can. “Okay—here goes!”
I dive beneath the water. I kick fiercely, pushing through the slam of violent water and aim straight down. The sea tries to toss me toward the deadly curve of the rock.
Not a chance, mate!
I force myself deeper and deeper, then twist my body, squinting through the salty water that stings my eyes. The shadowed shape of the toothy rock smile appears ahead of me. I focus on the darker portion I think is the gap where I can swim through.
My lungs burn, but I keep striking forward. I aim for the opening, kick hard, and burst through the dark suction of water. The pull of the current fades away as soon as I’m inside the submerged lower portion of Skull Rock. My body screams for air as I push upward.
I break the surface and chug down a massive gulp of air. Wiping my eyes, I wait for my vision to adjust to the darkness.
I’m not alone in this echoing cavern.
And Tootles isn’t here yet.
He has to come up any minute. Maybe he couldn’t get through the wall of waves. But then there is a low, rumbled laugh from two massive pirates I now see opposite me. They’re standing at the top of a carved stairway that recedes into a dark tunnel leading deeper into the rock.
One of the burly men holds a lantern, and he swings it out, trying to get a better view of me.
The other cocks a gun. “Well, well. Looks like the information was right after all. Go tell the cap’n that the boy is here, just like they said.”
The first pirate hangs his lantern on a rusted hook sticking out of the rock and lumbers up the walkway to disappear through the tunnel. The other one aims the barrel of his large gun straight at me.
“Cap’n will be here soon, but in the meantime . . . I think I’ll shoot myself a Pan.”
My gut drops to my numb toes.
Tootles set me up.
I can hardly believe it.
I’m going to strangle that little wretch—
All my senses jolt alert as the pirate goes for the trigger of his gun.
I duck back under the water just before the first bullet cuts through the surface closest to me. Cursing, I desperately swim down, trying to get deep enough that the next spray of bullets that slices through the water doesn’t end up lodged in my cranium.
I narrowly manage to get deep enough, swallowed in darkness but aware of the ripple of the bullets cutting through the water above. But I can’t hold my breath forever. And I can’t swim back out without coming up for air first. My limbs feel heavy, but I force myself to swim toward the corner of the cavern. My only chance is to find someplace shadowed enough that I can go up for air without getting a bullet to the face.
But the bag slung over my arm is pulling me down.
Wait! That’s it!
Despite the cold and the barmy circumstances, I grin. I cut silently through the icy water and reach the edge of the cavern. The need for air is dire, but I ever so slowly raise my head above the surface. I inhale quickly, hands fumbling under the water with the bag.
It takes the pirate on the steps a moment to catch sight of me, and then he snarls, lifting the gun again.
I raise a hand, gripping one of Tootles’s round explosives, and chuck the heavy little bundle at the pirate’s blasted face.
Take that, you blithering cad!
He ducks, but the small sack slams into the rock behind him. A loud popping sound erupts, followed by a flash of light and heat. Scorch marks mar the rock.
That’s more like it.
The cavern suddenly fills with the sound of footsteps clambering forward. A light appears at the tunnel opening behind the pirate, and within seconds a certain crimson-coated captain bursts into view, a dozen large goons on his heels.
But I’ve already got more of Tootles’s explosives in my hands. I heft one after another, tossing them at the pirates. Bam! Bam! Bam!
One of the explosives hits a pirate’s shoulder, snapping to life with a burst of heat, followed by the stench of singed flesh. Another slams into the curve of the rock above their heads, and they all duck at the flash that follows.
I keep tossing the homemade bombs, trying to keep enough coming that the pirates don’t have time to aim their weapons. I skirt toward the side of the cavern closest to the underwater exit through the rock’s gaping jaws. Tootles might have tossed me in here to be fish food, but at least he didn’t leave me defenseless.
Hook is cursing up a storm, firing his pistol into the cavern, but he’s unable to aim clearly from trying to avoid the explosives.
Ha!
I’m about to dive for the exit when a piercing scream cuts through the air. Followed by terrified voices and more screams.
I know those voices.
They’re my Lost Boys.
My throat closes up.
At the screams, even the pirates stop. The bomb clutched in my hand drops away to sink into the water as all eyes are drawn toward the entrance to cavern.
Tootles stumbles forward, blood leaking from a nasty gash on the side of his face. Nibs—looking a bit older and more weathered than last time I saw him—is just behind Tootles, shoulders slumped. They’re both shoved forward by a tall, gaunt figure dressed all in black.
“Give me space!” Connor hisses to the pirates, and the handful surrounding Hook immediately dart out of the way. Hook even steps back, posture going rigid as he watches Claire’s brother kick Tootles to his knees and shove him toward the very edge of the step just above water. Salty spray kicks up and hits Tootles in the face, mixing with the blood dripping down his jawline.
My mind reels, trying to puzzle this out. What is happening?
Connor pushes Nibs forward also, although he manages to keep his footing.
Hook takes the lantern off the holder behind him and hands it to Connor. I can finally make out Claire’s brother’s features.
“Come out, come out, Peter . . .” He lifts the lantern in front of him, and the light thrown back brings his expression into focus. I cringe, sinking deeper into the water and pushing back against the cool wall.
I hardly recognize him.
Dark veins have taken over his skin, and they seem to be cutting into his flesh, making chunks of his skin appear broken apart and craggy. Like a shattered mirror reflection.
But it’s his eyes that are the most haunting.
The blue color is almost indistinguishable. All I see is darkness there.
He holds the lantern out over the water, his gaze raking across the surface. “I know you are out there. In fact, I’ve known you were here from the minute you landed on this island yesterday.”
He suddenly kicks at Tootles, and the boy gasps sharply. “I knew you’d have some kind of plan, but I never expected the Lost Boys would be daring enough to use you as bait for a distraction.”
Ouch.
I would have thought I’d have at least been some better use than just bait.
Connor rounds on Nibs, who has sidled as close to the edge as he can without falling into the water.
Connor just shakes his head. “And they almost managed it too. Almost managed to unlock my sister’s cell and smuggle her out.” He scoffs, flicking a hand, and a spray of water rips up
, smacking across Nibs’s face like the crack of a whip. “Stupid. Although, I can understand it. That sister of mine is something special.”
The splintered young man turns back toward the center of the cavern, and this time looks directly at where I’m doing my best to hide. “But you already know that, don’t you, Peter? Why don’t you come out so we can do this the easy way?”
Yeah, not blooming likely.
I cross my arms over my chest, gaze skittering toward the underwater exit again.
Connor shakes his head. Behind him, Hook’s face pales. “All right. Harder way it is, then. I guess I’ll just kill off each of your precious Lost Boys until you give me what I want.”
Connor looks down at Tootles, still on his knees at the edge of the lowest step, and the water rises, snaking like thin tendrils up Tootles’s arms and toward his neck. The threads of water wrap around his neck, and Tootles chokes, clawing at the water noose around his throat.
“No!” Nibs says it before I do. He launches forward, reaching for Tootles.
Connor’s shadowed eyes narrow fiercely. He flicks his hand again, and the tendrils of water fall away from Tootles. The Lost Boy collapses, gasping. Then Connor turns on Nibs, and clamps a hand around the boy’s neck. Nibs’s eyes go wide.
“Fine. We’ll start with you then, Nibs. The little goody-goody who somehow convinced Hook you were the most trustworthy of all of Peter’s boys.” He gives a humorless laugh. “The one who first got close to Claire.”
His grip on Nibs tightens, and the water around me thrashes, thrown from side to side by an invisible hand. It spills up the steps, and the water climbs Nibs’s legs.
How is Connor doing this?
This is something far different than just being connected to Neverland.
Tootles manages to scramble up a few steps as the water continues to rise around Nibs. Connor ignores him, leaning in closer to turn his razor-sharp glare on Nibs. “You were the last person I expected to turn on us. Even Hook was rather fond of you.”
The captain lurking in the tunnel entrance opens his mouth but says nothing.
The water continues to climb up Nibs, creeping over his waist and up his chest.
Connor’s shattered face leans in close, spittle flying as he hisses, “But no one likes a traitor, Nibs. I doubt even Peter is fond enough of you to risk his own neck.”
A shiver carves down my spine. I’ve never seen Claire’s brother this heartless—not even when he first snapped, lashing out at me for my careless words that seemed to start all this.
Nibs’s brown eyes are bloodshot and panicked. I don’t blame him. The Lost Boy manages to dart a desperate glance my direction.
“P-please, Peter.”
Connor rolls his eyes. “Yes, please, Peter. Why don’t you come stop me before I suffocate this little traitor. Oh—wait.” He gives another hollow laugh. “That would mean you’d have to care about someone other than yourself.”
The water is up to Nibs’s shoulders now, and Connor releases his grip on the young man’s neck, letting the water climb from there. Nibs’s face pales and then turns blue, as the liquid slides over his skin, tightening. Cutting off his air, his circulation.
My whole body is shaking in the water, watching—not sure what to do.
If I get close, Connor will drown us all.
Tootles slumps against the curve of the cave, staring at me, face white with panic. “Peter,” he pleads. “Do something.”
Connor steps back in morbid fascination as the water reaches Nibs’s face and spills into his gasping mouth. “Yes, better do something quick, Pan. His lungs are filling.”
I scramble for one of Tootles’s bombs and chuck it as hard as I can, but Connor simply flicks a hand. A spray of water bats aside the charge. I try to find another, but the bag is empty. I watch Nibs helplessly hacking as the water forces its way down his throat. Watching him slowly drown.
I bob about, panic and desperation filling my chest. Do something! My head screams as I watch Nibs’s eyes roll back in his head, body wracking.
Terror fills my pulse, I spread my hands out in the water, reaching out for that tether to Neverland that has always been there. Draw on my connection this island that still pulses faintly through the water. Pulses through my fingertips. Pulses with my desperation.
“Stop!”
My overwhelming panic poured into that single word.
The island screams with me.
The Neversea swells around us, the entire rock shuddering as a large wave bursts into the cavern. It slams into the room like a small monsoon, knocking me to the side and flooding over Connor, Hook, Tootles, and Nibs.
Everything is wiped away as the water tosses me about. I tumble, over and over, submerged, trying to right myself. I strike for the surface while the water continues to roil and swell. Rising. I catch sight of Tootles swimming toward me. He’s holding onto Nibs.
Hook and Connor fight to keep their own heads above the surface. Connor leverages the water to push them up the steps and into the tunnel, out of reach of the main wave.
I get to Tootles and grab for Nibs. Everything spins and swirls, and Tootles’s face is streaked with blood and sorrow.
I try to hold Nibs up, but his body seems impossibly heavy.
“I can get him out!” I scream at Tootles, but the Lost Boy reaches for Nibs wrist, then his neck, feeling for a pulse. And then Tootles’s face goes very, very pale.
“Peter . . .”
No.
The water thrashes again, and I go under for a moment. Clinging onto Nibs, I force us both back above the surface, teeth chattering. “If he can hold his breath, we can get him out.”
But Tootles shakes his head, white as a sheet and almond eyes drowning in grief. “Peter . . . we can’t.”
My eyes burn. “No—no, he’s going to make it.”
I stare down at Nibs’s blue face. At how cold he is. How heavy. How I can’t see any rise or fall of his chest.
Still, the water rages. I hear the crack of thunder.
I hear the thunder of my own pulse in my ears and Tootles’s desperate pleas.
“Peter, if we don’t go now, we’re all going to drown. We have to let him go.” Tootles is shaking me, voice cracking as he pleads. Tears drip down his face.
I choke on a sob.
I glance up, past the roiling water, to find Connor standing silhouetted by the tunnel entrance, lantern in hand again. The water begins to shift direction and drag us toward him.
Beside me, Tootles begins kicking and shouting, “Peter, you have to let him go! We have to get out of here!”
I stare down at Nibs’s limp body, the weight that makes my arms ache. My fingers are frozen in place from clenching his shirt. He almost looks like he’s asleep. He almost looks like he could blink at any moment. Blink those glazed eyes and challenge me like he always used to.
But Nibs isn’t blinking. He isn’t waking up.
Tootles is right. Connor is going to drown us all if we don’t get away now.
I pry my fingers from the Lost Boy I’d brought to Neverland all those years ago. Nibs’s body slides beneath the waves. Disappearing into the dark, churning water. Everything burns.
This has to be some kind of nightmare. I feel like a part of me is sinking with him.
Tootles grabs my arm, pulling me with him as he dives under the water. My body goes numb as we strike out for the edge of the cavern, toward the submerged portion that will lead us out.
The world is a blur, but I somehow manage to get past the pull trying to force us back to Connor. Tootles and I narrowly make it to shore and drag our shivering bodies across the harsh sand.
“We can’t go back to the hideout,” Tootles pants. “Too easy for Connor to find now.”
Especially now that he knows I’m here. And that he is much stronger than I am.
We start to walk, but my legs just blooming stop moving as we pass the sand into the jungle. I don’t even care as they give out and I collaps
e to the ground. Twigs crunching, packed dirt hard beneath.
I just stare at my shaking hands.
Hands that had held Nibs. Hands that had let him go. Let him slide back under that water. He wasn’t breathing, no pulse. He was dead when I let go.
So why do I still feel like I drowned him?
I slam a fist into the dirt so hard that the skin on my knuckles shreds. But I don’t feel the sting. Only the deep, piercing ache ripping open my chest.
This isn’t make-believe.
Nibs is dead. And if I can’t find some way to stop Connor and set Claire free, the death of Neverland will be on my hands too.
Neverland
I’ve never felt this cold.
Tootles and I hide within a deep thicket of skeleton trees hedging a rocky cliff face, and after I help him patch up the gash on his forehead the best I can, I wander away to sink down at the base of one of the ashen trees.
I pull my knees to my chest, leaning my head back against the rough bark of the tree trunk as a shudder sweeps my damp limbs.
My hands, the ground beneath my feet, the breeze needling across my skin. It’s all so cold. As hauntingly chilled as Nibs was when I was holding him in that water.
My eyes fall closed and, for the first since I can remember, I just sit in shock.
I don’t know what to do next.
While Nibs was never my closest mate, he was still one of my Lost Boys. He was family. He’d tried to help save Claire. And he saved Tootles.
And Connor killed him. Like that. Like it was nothing.
I press my fingers against my aching temples. I’ve seen death before. Seen Hook kill his own men in cold blood. But this time, the death rips through me like an arrow. Grief plunges in deep and fast—and takes a much bigger chunk when I try to pull it out.
This time it was someone I cared about.
And this time the island can’t erase the loss from my memory.
I cave forward, curling into a ball, wanting to scream. Wanting to rage. Wondering if maybe this is how Connor feels. So filled with darkness and shattered thoughts that he can’t escape. That not even this island can carve it away.
No wonder he’s thrown this entire blasted place into chaos.