by Xavier Neal
“It’s personal,” I press my lips together. “Did you look through all of my journals?” A crooked grin slides onto his face, and I shake my head, “All those pictures of…”
“I let it go,” he smiles as I roll my eyes and return to stroking Nick’s hair. “And let that go. He’s not a lost, sick puppy. He’s not even hurt.”
“Still, I feel guilty.”
“Guilt is absent when the act is justified.” The quotes cease my action. I assume that’s what he intended.
“I…” is all that slides out of my mouth.
“Shall we?” he slips his head in the direction of where the replica is being kept.
Following him across the living room, I watch as he presses the keys before the door creaks open. We stroll into the library, and I watch Justin pretend to be looking for the magic shelf, leaving a trail to appear as if we’ve tried to steal it. Justin strolls over casually, with an annoyed, bored look on his face, and pulls on the right book for the shelf to pull out the display.
Pleased at the sight, he pulls out a decoy camera and sighs softly, “Looks stunning. Wouldn’t even guess it was a forgery.”
“Exactly,” I whisper as he zooms in on the different security features he would need to disarm if we were actually going to steal it. “Impressive. Makes the idea of hiding it in plain sight even more realistic.” After a moment, the shelf slides back into place. “Nothing should be that sensitive. It’s like it’s overcompensating.”
“I see your point,” Justin’s tongue grazes his lips, while his hand fiddles around in his pocket. The two of us head back to the door we entered, “This might just go off without a hitch.”
“Has anything ever gone off without a hitch?”
“Where’s the optimism?”
“You know,” I start but stop as my attention drifts to the window I unlocked to notice it’s slightly opened. Game time. Immediately, I point, “Wasn’t that window closed?”
“Yeah, but…” is all that manages to come out of his mouth before a bullet soars between us straight into the door only to bounce off.
“Bullets don’t bounce,” I declare before looking at Justin, who yanks me out of the way as another bullet soars our direction. Justin pulls a pen out of his pocket, turns it, and slides it on the ground, resulting in a thick gray smoke for us to disappear into. Falling to the ground beside the recliner, we slide the camera into what will be the Dark Watchers’ line of sight as we avoid further ammo being sprayed in our general direction.
“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” a familiar, high-pitched voice chants.
“I’m glad you don’t just have fans. You have stalkers.”
“Plan wouldn’t have worked otherwise,” Justin croaks in a whisper.
As the sounds of footsteps move closer to us, we crawl behind the furniture in an attempt to remain out of sight. Behind the couch closest to the window, we peek over the edge to see Lola standing in a pair of black lace-up boots, jean shorts, and a white tank top looking less than pleased. Why do she and Belle have so much leather in their wardrobes?
“You said you shot them!” she snaps at a Dark Watcher with a thick scar above his eyebrow.
“I did, but…”
“Then why am I not looking at passed out injured bodies?”
“Well, I…”
She holds a hand up to cease him from talking. “Useless.” Her eyes scan the room, so we hunch back down before she starts to move again, this time toward the camera. “And what’s this?” The two of us slide around to the side of the couch just as she lifts up the camera. “Oh, Justin. You are magnificent.”
Beaming, he shrugs his shoulders and bobs his head. Disgusted by his cockiness, I pop him in the shoulder. Quickly, he shrugs and mouths, “What? I am.”
I point a stern finger at him as he starts to send a text to Aiden to sound the alarm, “We’re having a serious talk later.”
“You…” Lola’s voice is cut off by the shrieking sound of the alarm. Shook up by the unexpected sound, she tornadoes her finger, “Go! Go! Go!”
I watch as six Dark Watchers cloaked in black jeans and black tank tops file out, Lola last.
Instantly, Justin pops up, “Ready?”
“Can’t you go by yourself?” He tilts his hat at me before a smile escapes him, which hits me like a sucker punch. Mockingly, I follow him to the sill, “Oh, right! You can’t hit a girl.”
The two of us float up slowly behind Lola, who is trailing behind as she fidgets on her phone, I assume to alert Alex of her bad yet good news. With very clear hand motions, Justin informs me that he will take out the six and I need to “attempt” to get the camera back from Lola.
“Sure,” I whisper harshly. “Give me the hard job.”
Trying to restrain his chuckle, he rolls his eyes and points that he’s going around to the other side. I nod in understanding and float silently behind Lola until she lands on the rooftop.
Carefully, I float behind her right above the ground until she mutters, “You really don’t think I know you’re following me?”
Lola’s body stops, and she slowly turns to face me, “You are like the worst Lost Boy in the world. I mean, how desperate were they?”
“Not desperate enough to recruit you.” She glares at me. “Now, you have something that belongs to me, so if you could just make this easy and…”
“You’re really going to try rationalizing with me?”
“Fine,” I snap, forgetting for a moment this is all supposed to be a con. Quickly, I stomp my foot, and a small dagger hops into my hands. “You know the drill.”
“In case you forgot, princess, I almost killed you the last time we were in this situation.”
After a slight chuckle, Lola tosses something that looks like a throwing star at my face. Leaning back to barely dodge it, I realize it’s not a star but a skull with Xs through the eyes. She tosses another and another, aiming for various vital parts, my heart, my temple, my eyes, but clearly missing. To take advantage, I get close enough to swing the blade only to have her arm come down like a hammer on mine, the dagger flying out from my grip. With a swift kick in the chest, I toss her backward and make a run for my weapon. When it’s almost within my grasp, I feel a brief gust of air on my leg. Distracted, I look down to notice another flying skull that missed my leg but managed to cut my pants.
Angry, I reach for the dagger and bounce back up to my feet, prepared to continue once more. Lola storms at me, which is when I storm back at her, but to my surprise, she actually runs past me and jumps to the next building.
“You’ve got to be joking!” I let my shoulders drop.
Lola gives me a small three-finger wave before I take off after her, flying between buildings rather than jumping. Unfortunately for me, I have to give the girl this, she damn sure can jump. The chase ensues until I realize where she’s headed. Her jumping becomes an annoying pattern of two buildings straight and one to the right, two buildings straight and one to the left. I finally make a show of stopping the chase but instead fly lower around one of the buildings where I know she’ll land.
Predictably, Lola stops on the roof I knew she would, but instead of preparing to jump, she turns around, searching for me. It’s the perfect chance to float up and grab her from behind, with the side of my blade touching her very warm skin.
“Gotcha,” I whisper in her ear cockily. I didn’t used to be this way. Is cockiness woven into these Lost Boy tattoos?
Lola merely presses her lips together as my other arm grabs her and twists it firmly behind her back. With a smirk, she says, “Feels good, doesn’t it? To have the power to kill the one person you can’t stand to look at with one clean cut?” I don’t respond. “I know it does. So why don’t you do it already and kill me?”
My dagger digs deeper into her skin. I’m overwhelmed with a feeling to slice her the same way I would any other Dark Watcher when Justin lands on the roof in front of her.
“Because what separates Lost Boys from Da
rk Watchers is your lack of heart,” he says before making eye contact with me. “Let her go.”
Doing my best to let the rage go, I do as I’m asked, which is when Lola shakes her head, “What separates us is your weakness.”
Lola slips away from the two of us and runs to make a jump to the next building, camera still in hand. She blows Justin a kiss and continues racing away from us.
I look deep into his eyes, and he shakes his head, “Murder is always a mistake. Oscar Wilde.”
“Killing all those Dark Watchers is…”
“Self-defense.”
“She’s always trying to kill us.”
“No, Peyton, she’s not. She’s always trying to take something from us, steal from us, one-up us, scare us even, but murder is not on her agenda, no matter what she makes you think.” An uncomfortable pause sits between us before a whistle howls like a reminder. “Nick has five minutes before he wakes up. You need to be back in his arms.”
It’s an odd request but one I understand. Justin grabs me by the hand and turbo flies us at a speed that I have no idea if I can handle, let alone ever tap into. I land in Nick’s bedroom window, which I lock tight after waving sweetly to Justin.
My heart races as I crawl in bed beside him and put my face directly beside his. His face leans slightly toward mine as a yawn escapes.
“Whoa,” he grumbles, groggy. “Did we fall asleep?”
“Yeah,” I snuggle my face down to his chest as if just waking up myself.
“Really?” His arms wrap around me tightly. “Just talking?”
“Yeah,” I innocently smile. “You were going on and on about the hotel I’m staying in, and your voice slowly started to fade, and I realized you had fallen asleep.”
Nick chuckles and pulls me in closer, “Sorry.”
Doing my best to pretend I’m not out of breath, I sigh, “Don’t be. Felt good to rest.” It would have felt good to rest. I really am looking forward to getting a long night’s sleep when we get to Neverland.
His soft lips press against my forehead as he reaches for his cell phone. Suddenly, he shoots up, knocking me off, causing me to be paranoid. I raise my eyebrows as he scrolls through a text, panic painted on his face.
“What?” I ask, actually slightly terrified.
“Security system alerted me. Somehow, I slept through it,” he looks at me.
“I didn’t hear anything either.”
“Message says they tried to alert Arnett, and he didn’t respond. Tried to alert Dubs. Didn’t respond.” Slightly disturbed, Nick drags himself out of bed and looks at me, “I have to tell the company that I’m fine. Says they’ve contacted my parents as well. Let me just make a few phone calls.”
“Go ahead,” I pull my knees up to my chest, pretending to be freaked out as well.
Nick presses a few buttons and heads to the back living room. After a moment, he yells at me, “Peyton! Come here!”
Rushing to his side, I panic, “What? What?”
“This window,” he moves to it, shutting it quickly and locking it even faster. “Did you open it?”
“No, I…”
“Windows are never to be opened or unlocked,” Nick points a stern fatherly finger at me.
“I didn’t,” I fold my arms across my chest, “and I resent the accusation.”
“Hello,” he says into the phone. “This is Nick Mathews.”
Annoyed, just liked I’m supposed to be, giving me the perfect exit strategy, I shake my head and storm off. Looking for my purse, unsure of where I dropped it during my search for the actual perfume, I allow Nick to have the conversations he needs to. As if on cue, he leans against the doorway as I stand up with my purse in hand.
“Wait,” Nick holds a hand up at me. “Peyton, I didn’t mean to…”
“Well, you did,” I don’t let him finish. “You know, I came over here because ... because I like you. I mean I really like you and wanted to spend time with you, and instead, you accuse me of opening windows? Seriously?”
“It’s a long story,” he shakes his head. “One I could tell you, but I’m not even sure you would believe it.”
I put my purse on my shoulder, “Try me.”
“I’ll tell you,” he cocks a grin, “if you stay.”
I contemplate if his story is worth not rushing straight home. With a sigh, I nod, “OK. Only to hear the story.”
“And have pizza.”
My smile grows again, “And have a slice of pizza.”
“Two slices.”
“Fine. Two slices.”
“Good,” he strolls over to me, placing his arms around my waist. “Sorry for accusing you. It’s just ... it’s just those windows are NEVER to be opened. Emergencies only.”
“There was a guy in a fireman suit leaving when I arrived. Did the fire inspector come by today?”
“Might have while I was in the shower ...” his voice trails off.
“Or maybe Arnett opened it while on the phone. It was a heated conversation he was having…”
“He knows better.”
“Every once in a while, people slip up.”
“True,” he sighs in relief. “Nothing else looks tampered with or stolen, so ...”
“Now, back to that story,” I wrap my fingers with his as he we stroll back around to his bed, where we crawl back in to cuddle.
“You know that story about Peter Pan?”
As my head lands on his shoulder I smile, “In more ways than one.”
Chapter 9
I tiptoe through the front door, hoping not to disturb anyone. After all, it is six in the morning. Quietly, I shut the door and place my shoes on the other side of it in a desperate attempt not to be heard. My feet lightly graze the floor as I clench my teeth tightly.
“Early bird catches the worm is taking on a new meaning for you, isn’t it?” Peter’s voice croaks, scaring me half to death.
A sharp gasp escapes me as I watch him lean against the wall outside the kitchen and peel an apple slowly, his perennial plastic cup a couple feet in front of him. “You scared me!”
“I see that.”
“What are you doing up so early?”
“Could ask you the same thing,” his dagger points at me before slicing off some skin from the fruit. His tongue grazes the apple before he slips it into his mouth, “Let me ask you something, Peyton. How many times did Justin spend the night with you?” My eyes stay locked with his, and he shakes his head slowly, “There’s a reason for that.”
My jaw drops to open when a groggy voice joins us, “Peyton?” I turn to look at Justin, silky black pajama pants barely hanging onto his hips, shirtless, and his hair all over his head—a look I’m not sure I’ve ever witnessed. Scratching the back of his neck, he grunts, “You just getting in?”
“Yeah,” I exhale slowly. “Got caught up with some information Nick was glad to share, you know, once he got past accusing me of trying to break into that perfume case. Speaking of, could we…”
“Yeah. I’ll call them together,” Justin nods and jogs out of the room, announcing there’s a team meeting to be happening now.
Peter strolls over to me, looks me up and down, takes a large whiff, and whispers in my ear, “Smell like him. Wonder, if Justin kisses you, will you taste like him too?”
My hand touches the tip of my lips ever so lightly as Nick’s kiss slinks back into my mind. I was just doing my job, right? Keeping up my end of the deal? Putting in the same time and work Justin would, right?
“Thirsty?” The word rolls off his lips before a cynical grin creeps across his face, and he heads into the living room. My mind starts racing back in time to the night where Justin confessed everything to me thanks to the Nocturnal Peter slipped in his drink, desperate to expose him. If he would do that to his own best friend, his wingman, his most valued piece of the Lost Boys, what’s to stop him from doing that to me? Do I really have anything to hide? You know what? I don’t want to find out. From this moment on, I am only dri
nking tap water straight out of the sink.
My fingers run through my hair as I turn to Justin, who plops down on the couch, insisting I sit next to him. Then Aiden comes trailing down the stairs, laptop in hand. Belle slinks out of the bedroom, barely covered by her hot pink robe that’s still managing to expose her bra. And Eiden looks even less awake than his brother. Once everyone has taken their respective seats, they turn to me, exhausted eyes trying deliberately not to be angry that they were woken up but finding it hard.
“Any time now, double agent,” Peter waves the knife around, the apple still his victim of choice. “You can skip the part about Justin not being able to steal the damn bottle. He already explained his failure.”
“Oh, uh,” I stutter, trying to focus, though it feels like Nick’s arms are still around me, neck still nestling against mine. I shake off the feeling and clear my throat, “Um.” Aiden taps on the computer, which sounds louder than normal.
“Today.” Peter stops cutting, his eyes now slicing into me.
“What happened after I left?” Justin tries to push me toward the planned-out story, but all I can imagine is Nick resting his forehead against mine, preparing to go in for another kiss.
Defensive, I snap, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Are you OK?” Justin asks cautiously.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” I snip again. With a deep breath, I meet his eyes. Get it together, Peyton. You can do this. Turning back to Peter, I put on my best poker face, a card game I am still not very good at, no matter how awesome my face is, “Last night, after Justin’s attempt, I stuck around and hung out with Nick. Turns out he’s not a big fan of you, Peter.”
“Most people aren’t,” Justin adds.
“I’m like fine wine. I’m an acquired taste.” Peter tosses a bit of apple in his mouth.
“Apparently his distaste comes from a story about a girl named Lily,” I start. Peter accidentally drops the knife. “Turns out she was the Indian chief’s wife to be.” The storybook joke falls flat.
“Back on topic,” he insists.
“Once Nick fell asleep, I had a chance to do some digging. Turns out that perfume bottle locked up is a forgery, a world-class kind, but a forgery nonetheless. I studied those photos time and time again, and something just kept bothering me about them. So I did a little digging and ended up finding the real bottle, the one that’s an identical match to the one on my card.”