It was a bad idea when James wanted to do it and it’s a bad idea now. Magda wondered if James still intended to build his army in order to overthrow The Magistrate now that there was a chance he would be granted sole responsibility for both The Neverland and The Other World. There was a good chance he might, just as a backup plan should things go awry here, but if Magda had to guess, he was more concerned with retrieving Remy and ensuring her safety than anything else.
They docked their boat and stepped on the wooden dock. Nick pulled her up and they waited until no one was left.
“Ahola,” a man greeted them. He wore those strange green uniforms she remembered seeing aboard Pan’s ship. Everything on him appeared pristine, every dark lock was in place. “My name is Christoph Alvarez and I’m here to escort you to the manor. Are we waiting for anyone else?”
Both Magda and Nick looked to James for guidance, keeping their mouths shut. They would not speak unless James expressly told them to.
“No,” the captain replied. “It will be just us.”
The man – Spanish, if Magdalena had to guess – nodded his head and offered James his hand. “Your crew is welcome to use our facilities at any moment,” he said. “Should they need anything, anything at all, please have them ask.”
“It is a wonder what environment can do for relationships,” James commented. He allowed Alvarez to pull him up to the docks, and once he was stable, turned back around in order to assist Magda. “Especially considering the fact that I remember you in battle that day in the storm. You are a talented fighter. The Magistrate is lucky to have pawns like you to do her killing for her.”
Magda shifted her eyes from James to Alvarez. That was how she recognized him. He had been part of Peter’s crew that fateful night they were attacked and Remy was taken. At that moment, she felt Nick’s hands on her waist, pushing her up, and with her hand in James’s, she managed to spring up like a spite and land on her feet without a problem. Nick pulled himself up afterward, without assistance from anyone. Not because no one offered, but because he was too stubborn to accept it from anyone else.
“I suppose you are right,” Alvarez said in response to James’s statement. “Considering it is your annual masquerade to celebrate another year in The Neverland, I look at you as though you are my friend, not my enemy.”
Magda watched James smirk. “Is that what you think this Masquerade is?” he asked, raising a condescending brow. “A celebration of The Neverland?”
He was trying to bait Alvarez, and Alvarez seemed to know it. Despite the obvious attempts at attaining a reaction from him, Alvarez kept a light smile on his face and words firmly in his mouth. He turned east and headed toward the grand mansion, longer than two man o’wars. It was only one story but that did not take its grandness away.
Without warning, Nick reached out and grabbed Magda’s hand, giving it a squeeze. She looked up at him, curious, but he shrugged. It was almost as though he wanted an excuse to hold her hand, and since they fell behind James and Alvarez, it would seem they were free to do so, at least right now.
“How are you feeling, Tink?” Nick asked, pushing his brow up and glancing at Magda with curious brown eyes.
Magda shrugged. That was the question, wasn’t it? She didn’t feel nervous – her stomach wasn’t twisting and turning like it normally did – but confident was also not a word she would use to describe herself either.
“I’m not sure,” she replied, casting her midnight blue eyes up at Nick.
He nodded, as though he knew what she meant. And perhaps he did. He did not, however, let go of her hand, and chose to keep it close to his body as they made their way to the mansion.
Alvarez led the company of James and his men to the mansion, Magdalena holding onto Nick the entire way there. It was only a couple of minutes uphill to the back entrance to the manor - the docks were just outside, a walking distance. Magdalena had never seen a house this grand before. It had two stories and stretched out the two ships placed in front of each other did. There were balconies that wrapped around the house, one for every room on the second story and one that comprised the bottom backyard. Some had chairs and a small round desk while others had nothing on them. The color of the house was a dark brown, almost as though the manor got tan after being in the sun too long just like the majority of the men in James's crew. Just like Nick.
The doors to the back entranceway were both opened by two finely dressed older men - butler or servants, if Magda had to guess. They did not smile as the crew walked through. In fact, they did not even look at them. The butlers kept their gaze straight ahead, out at sea, yet Magda had a funny feeling they could see exactly what would happen from their peripheral. A shiver slid down her spine as she walked through the doors and before she could stop herself, she inched even closer to Nick.
The first thing Magda saw upon entry was that the floors were all made of fine oak, a light, rich brown color similar to that of Nick's eyes. The walls were cream, which made for an interesting but not an unpleasant color combination. The back entrance led straight into the grand dining room, which had a long table in the center of the room and high ceilings that housed one grand glass chandelier. She could hear it twinkle even though there wasn't a breeze. Even though there wasn't a reason for the glass to push softly into each other. It was eerie, to say the least. Magda kept her eye on the chandelier the entire length of the dining room.
“You all right?” Nick asked in a hushed whisper, his lips gently grazing her ear.
She suppressed a shiver, but this one had nothing to do with the chandelier or the odd, inexplicable way it moved. “Of course,” she said, her voice cracking. She shut her eyes tightly before opening them so she could see where she was going. She was a fool, an utter fool. “Why wouldn’t I be all right?”
He smirked at her reaction to him like he knew – which he did. Why wouldn’t he? “Just asking, Tink,” he said. “No need to get defensive.”
Magda swallowed, a gesture that required effort on her part. She did not like how out of her control her body acted whenever Nick accidentally or purposefully touched her or talked to her or even looked at her. She was not used to it and she did not appreciate how her body reacted without her permission.
Yet, there was a small part of her that enjoyed it, that enjoyed the feeling Nick gave her. She liked the butterflies, the skip in her heart, the breathlessness, the dry mouth. It reminded her that she was in love with him and that he was worth being loved. That despite his ridiculous nickname for her and despite her resistance to loving him, she did. She would die for him, and that realization scared her more than anything.
“For now, The Magistrate requires you to retire to your assigned bedroom until supper,” Alvarez announced as he reached a long hallway. Candles hung down the walls, casting intimidating shadows out of innocuous objects. Magda felt herself straighten at the sight of it, and once again, she subconsciously moved closer to Nick. “You have a few hours before the food is served so I suggest you take that time to rest and get ready. The Masquerade is important and it’s necessary to dress to impress.”
He turned and pointed to the first door. “Captain Hook, The Magistrate picked this room specifically for you,” Alvarez said, glancing at the captain from the corner of his brown eyes. “In her opinion, it is the best guestroom here and she wanted me to give it to you.”
Magda watched James clench his jaw. “Where is Remy?” he asked before he could stop himself. It was a question that made him vulnerable, that revealed his feelings, but he did not seem to care, not when it came to finding Remy, ensuring her safety, and getting her back.
A small, knowing smile touched Alvarez’s face. “You will see her at supper,” he said.
James looked like he wanted to argue, like he wanted something more from Alvarez, but he kept his mouth shut by clenching his teeth once more and entered his assigned bedroom without looking back.
“Captain Nicholas Grey,” Alvarez said, fixing his eyes on Nic
k. Magda felt herself straighten, already defensive of Nick. Alvarez closed his eyes, that same small smile on his perfectly chiseled face. “So it is true. I can hear your heartbeat from here. How easy would it be to take it in my hand and crush it to ash.”
“Much more difficult than you think,” Nick said with a growl as Magda unconsciously reached to her hip. Except there was no weapon; they had confiscated those before they walked through the door.
“I hope I’ll get the privilege of trying,” Alvarez said. “Your room is next.”
Nick nodded but did not go in. Not yet.
“Is something the matter?” Alvarez asked.
“I’ll wait until I watch her go in her room,” Nick said, his eyes narrowed.
Magda normally would have bristled at the fact that Nick did not trust that she would be able to handle Alvarez herself, but she appreciated the gesture. She knew he was just trying to protect her.
Alvarez smiled. “So it’s true then,” he said, looking between the couple. “Nicholas Grey has a weakness.” He opened Magda’s door to her room – on the other side of Nick – and stepped back.
Magda glanced at Nick, who gave her a small nod. Magda walked through the door and Alvarez closed it behind her, but not before Magda decided she did not wish to be known as a weakness.
Fourteen
The Masquerade would begin this evening. Remy was both nervous and excited. She had a plan that still needed to be tweaked and reconfigured but at least it was a starting point. More than that, she would get to see James again. Just the thought of that caused her entire heart to swell until she worried it might burst straight out of her chest. She tried not to let that affect her ability to keep focused on the task at hand - coming up with some sort of escape plan that would assist her in not having to take part in a blood oath - but it was difficult when the manor was in such a fuss due to this event.
She hated to admit it but Remy herself got swept up in the excitement. She looked at the dress she would wear for the evening and felt a little kick of excitement at the prospect of James seeing her in it. Which was silly and probably the last thing that should be on her mind, but she could not help her selfish desires that slipped through the armor she had placed around herself in order to remind herself that this wasn't important, that this was just a façade, until she was able to escape.
For now, she needed to shift gears and start figuring out what she planned to ask Peter Pan. The Magistrate promised she would bring the boy to her at some point today but gave no specifics on when that would occur. As such, Remy wanted to make sure she was prepared. There was a list of questions sitting on her desk she had written out late last night as well as a couple she had thought of this morning. In fact, the side of her right hand had ink still smudged to her skin. She wasn't terribly concerned; she was due for a bath a few hours before the event and she could wash it off then.
At that moment, there was a knock at the door. Without waiting for instruction from Remy, it opened and Pam walked in. She didn't look particularly pleased about being there, especially after Remy was forced to put the young woman in her place, but The Magistrate required her to wait on Remy as a handmaiden and Pam could not refuse The Magistrate anything. It was something Remy was well-aware of and tried to use it to her advantage whenever she could.
"Mum," Pam said with a small nod.
Remy arched her left brow. "Yes, Pam?" she asked.
"I just wanted to inform you that James Hook and his delirious crew of miscreants has arrived," Pam said with a small smirk. "As such, The Magistrate wanted me to inform you that as of this moment, you will be locked in your room to prevent any socialization with them. You will only be allowed to see them at the Masquerade."
Remy inwardly rolled her eyes at the glee currently on Pam's face while delivering this news.
"What of my interrogation of Peter Pan?" Remy asked.
Now it was Pam's turn to clench her jaw. It was clear she still had feelings for him, even though he didn't acknowledge her presence or even apologize for inadvertently causing her death. The girl was a fool.
"He will be brought to you shortly," she said in a tight voice.
"Thanks, Pam," Remy said with an overly bright smile. "That's all."
Shortly meant fifteen minutes and fifty-three seconds, at least by Remy’s count. She was sitting at her desk, having already prepared a chair for her guest directly across from her. There was a mail opener hidden underneath her thigh – she did not have access to any other weapon, and though Pan would run the risk of The Magistrate’s wrath should he lay even a finger on her, she wanted to be prepared either way. Truth be told, she did not know if the mail opener would prove to be a good weapon or not, if it would actually cause any damage, but she was comforted by the fact that she had something at the ready.
There was a knock on the door that made her heart jump, though no muscles in her body actually flinched. That was something, at least.
“Come in,” she called, trying to make her voice come out strong.
The door opened and Pam came in, clutching Pan’s upper arm with her fingers. His ankles were chained together, as were his wrists. This made Remy pause, and she swallowed, attempting to moisten her throat, which had gone dry. Why was he in chains? Did The Magistrate not trust him? Had he done something wrong in the time from delivering Remy to The Magistrate to the point of containment?
“Why is he indisposed?” Remy asked, her eyes sharp on Pam, going over the young girl’s face to ensure she wasn’t even going to attempt to lie to her.
“Peter is known to be slippery, even with The Magistrate,” Pam said. “She has compelled him to answer all of your questions honestly but she can’t compel him to physically stay stationary so she decided to take precautions. I can remove his bindings, if you’d like?” She raised a brow that was meant to challenge Remy.
Remy clenched her jaw. If The Magistrate had him locked up for a reason, there was no point in defying her. “No,” she said, and then gestured at the seat in front of her. Her eyes were on Pan when she said, “Please, have a seat.”
Peter did not look particularly pleased to be here. He wore his green uniform and hat, his copper hair sticking out at the ends. It wasn’t combed the way it had been before and Remy wondered if he had been interrupted in order to attend this interrogation. Literal interrogation, considering the chains. His eyes were narrowed at Remy, knowing that this was all her fault, but Remy did not take it personally. Pam led him to the chair and eased him into it, so gentle with the boy responsible for her death. Infatuation really was a beast.
“Pam,” Remy said, keeping her eyes on Peter, “please fetch us some tea and biscuits. I want to make sure my guest is taken care of. Thank you.”
When the door closed, Peter’s face scrunched up into a snarl. “What do you want?” he asked through gritted teeth.
Remy leaned back in her chair, all while keeping her posture rigid. “I shall be asking the questions, Peter,” she told him. “I’m going to call you by your Christian name, if that is all right with you. Considering you kidnapped me and tortured me, I do believe we’re more than acquainted with one another.”
To be honest, Remy had no idea how her voice remained steady during that speech. She had no idea how she was able to look at him with a level stare, keeping eye contact with him throughout, without flinching. She had no idea why she was able to do this, when, inside, her entire body was hanging from the end of a noose, fluttering in the wind while the crows pecked at her flesh.
She was deathly afraid of Peter Pan, and she didn’t realize the sort of effect he had on her until he sat down right across from her. Even though he did not physically harm her, he ordered his minions to do it, and stood there watching, standing there, this man wrapped up in the skin of a boy. It was so eerie, just thinking about it now caused a shiver to slide down her back.
However, despite that, Remy refused to show him anything. Not a flinch, not a swallow, nothing that would reveal her fear. S
he learned a lot from both Giselle and Adele about keeping her emotions hidden under lock and key during crucial moments. She would not play her hand, not when her answers were sitting right in front of her, looking at her like a challenge, like a naughty rebellious schoolboy who wanted any reason to argue, any reason to say no.
“The Magistrate informed me that you had to tell the truth,” Remy said. “What will happen if you lie?”
She watched as Peter clenched his teeth together and looked away.
“I’m doused with a particular type of fairy’s blood,” Peter replied. “If I lie, the blood will heat up and burn my back.”
Remy pushed her brow together. There were about five questions that jumped to the tip of her tongue that had nothing to do with her interrogation. Until now.
“I did not know fairies were real,” she commented.
He was quick to reply with, “They are.”
“Why your back?” she asked. “And not, say, your feet since you use those every day to walk.”
Peter tried to hold the answer in but seemed to think it was not worth it in the end, not when there was a good chance he would burn. “Because my wings are on my back,” he explained in a tight voice. “And I use those more than my feet.”
“Your wings?” She raised a brow. She felt her heartbeat start to pound, echoing throughout her mind. A tug inside formed a connection. Pieces were falling into place. “I don’t see your wings.”
“No one can,” he said. “I know how to conceal them.”
“You know magic?”
“I know some,” he said, “but relying on magic is like relying on a cutlass or a pistol. They can backfire. I rely on my wings, on myself, more than I rely on anything else.”
“Why do you have wings?”
Peter’s brown eyes flashed into hers. “Because I am a fairy,” he said.
“You’re what?” Remy blinked once, then twice. She didn’t realize fairies were actually real. Fairies were fantastical things that made up children’s fairytales as characters and props to add magic to an already-mundane life. Fairies were not real, they could not possibly be real.
Life in Neverland: Book 3 of The Neverland Trilogy Page 10