Fierce as a Tiger Lily (Daughters of Neverland Book 2)

by Kendra Moreno

  He doesn’t answer my unspoken question, turning away to focus on his directions, and I don’t speak again, not while he’s flying.

  When the Hollow comes into view, I take a deep breath and grab March’s hand. I don’t know what Peter plans for us after saving us from the chimera storm. He could never keep me in his Hollow like he’d done with a too-human Wendy, but I wouldn’t put it passed him to try. At least this time, I have March with me.

  The moment we pass over the Hollow, Peter drops the cage.

  Chapter Fifteen

  I don’t scream. It would be senseless to bely my unease as the cage plummets to the ground. March wraps himself around me as a protective barrier, not allowing me to push him off. When the cage slams into the crystal-covered ground, it cracks wide open, even with the enchantments on it. I would have gone rolling with the impact if it weren’t for March’s hands on me. With his strength, we both land on our feet, only jolted from the impact.

  Peter lands at the door to his Hollow and opens it. “Are you coming?”

  “You could have hurt her,” March growls, narrowing his eyes on Peter’s back. I curl my fingers into his forearm to stop any further words. March doesn’t understand how Peter is, doesn’t understand that he’s broken.

  “I knew she wouldn’t be harmed,” Peter throws over his shoulder and steps inside, ignoring the glare on March’s face.

  March stares after him for a few seconds before he turns to me. “This is your Peter Pan?” When I nod, a muscle ticks in his jaw. “I expected something more.”

  I take March’s hand and lead him towards the red door, the crystals under our feet crunching as we move. Because Peter is the one who put us here, the skulls stay thankfully still, no green haze leaking from them. I really don’t want to face them right now, so I push March inside quickly, just in case they change their mind.

  Inside the Hollow, it’s dark, the only light coming from a flame that never burns out in a makeshift fireplace. It’s damper inside than I remember, the air not musty but stale, yet humid. It’s mostly bare except for a table and a few chairs, and a wooden cot that I know Peter sleeps on.

  Today, Peter has foregone a shirt at all, revealing all the scars and cuts on his body. His muscles strain, and he moves almost as if he doesn’t understand his own body when he turns his back on us and begins to pick through a bucket of fruit. His curly hair hangs over his forehead, the beard still neat and trimmed along his jaw, ruggedly attractive. It figures Peter can still look like that as he grows up, that his appearance is another weapon at his disposal.

  March closes the door behind us, studying the man who turns and tosses us fruit. I grab the one he tossed to March and toss it back, narrowing my eyes. March raises his brow when Peter grumbles and tosses a different fruit, one I know is as safe as the one he threw me. Even with everything going on, Peter still wants to play games. Annoyance tickles the back of my throat, urging me to say something to him, what I think of his games, but March speaks before I can.

  “Your shadows are too loud,” March says, taking a bite of the fruit as he stares at Peter. I glance at March in surprise, seeing the cleverness in his eyes as he studies Peter, as he watches a long line slice into Peter’s chest before healing. It makes it so Peter seems to always be leaking blood. Even as he wipes the blood away with a red-stained towel, another line opens on his arm.

  Peter tilts his head. “I don’t know you.”

  “He’s from Wonderland,” I say, and Peter’s eyes flick to mine. “Wendy’s friends appeared, and we need your help.” Taking a step forward, I make sure Peter’s listening before I continue. “Wendy’s the key to getting out of Neverland, though we don’t know how, and her powers are somehow like yours.”

  “I know.”

  I clench my fists, forcing back the brief flash of yellow my anger evokes. “You know?”

  Peter points to two large buckets stacked in a corner, both full of glittering white tear-shaped crystals. They overflow the buckets, some scattered along the floor around them, catching the light of the fire and scattering it around.

  “Are those from when you kept her a prisoner?” I whisper. “From when you killed my brother?”

  Peter tenses, his shoulders bunching from my words, but he doesn’t answer. I don’t expect him to. This isn’t the same Peter who killed Wolfbane, who held Wendy captive. Sure, he’s capable of those things still. Hell, he’s still playing his old games, but he much prefers to stay here in his Hollow and waste away than go and make mischief.

  “Just how many secrets are you keeping, Peter?” I ask with a growl, annoyed he won’t even answer the question, that he won’t face it.

  His eyes narrow and he takes a step toward me, back to the infuriating man he is, in his zone. “About as many as you, Chieftess,” he says, peeling back his teeth in a snarl. “Which would you like to reveal first?”

  March sighs, interrupting the tension that’s only growing worse the longer we stay here. “Your shadows are getting louder, boy. Perhaps, you can come with us and we can help you while you help us?”

  Peter snaps his teeth. “You can’t help me, beast.”

  Strolling across the floor, his movements far more animalistic than anything I’ve seen of him, March stops just in front of Peter, his held tilted unnaturally. I watch at him closely, studying him, trying to determine just what sort of beast I’ve imagined taking into my bed.

  “I suffered years in my own darkness,” March murmurs. “Locked inside my mind, locked inside my home, cursed, enchanted, ripped to shreds. So, you grew up? That’s hardly darkness, Peter Pan.”

  Staring at him, Peter flicks his eyes to me as I stand silently before returning them to the threat before him, the one asking him to explain without forcing. Clever, clever Hare.

  “It’s not the growing up that destroys me,” Peter admits, and my heart beats in my chest at the answer he’s finally giving. “It’s the conscious that comes with it.”

  “Ah, yes,” March nods. “That destroys the best of us. I find it easiest when you pretend you don’t have one.”

  “I can’t pretend. There’s too much.”

  Ears twitching, March growls low and threatening with those words, his eyes narrowed on Peter where he stands uncomfortably before him. “You’re choosing not to fight it. You’re choosing to turn your back on her.” March jabs his finger in my direction and I stiffen in surprise. “I can see the history between you two. I can smell it. Can you look her in the eyes, hold it, and tell her you’d rather die than face anything else with her?”

  “That’s none of your concern,” Peter growls, but he flinches, and that’s something.

  “Perhaps. Her past is of no consequence to me. The Pretty Lily doesn’t need me to worry about her past. She has that handled just fine. But I plan on being a part of her future. Do you?”

  “That’s my decision to make,” I growl, annoyed they speak of me as if I’m not here. “I decide my future.”

  “I know,” March smiles. “But I have a . . . knack for certain things. Especially when it comes to reality.”

  “What happened to the rhymes?” I ask, a distraction really. The discussion is getting too real, too close to everything happening, and I’m not sure how much more I can take of Peter’s eyes flicking to me, studying me, studying how March seems to gravitate toward me.

  “Just because they don’t always flare, doesn’t mean they’re not there,” March parries back immediately, his ears twitching. It’s as if me bringing attention to it makes it stronger, and I regret bringing it up. I know all too well the pain of something taking hold, of claws digging in.

  Peter, realizing I want to change the subject, drops it hard. He never wanted to touch it, didn’t want to call attention to his shadows, so he easily switches. “We can’t leave for a few hours safely, not until the deepest darkness ebbs.”

  March looks between Peter and me, studying all there is hanging in the air between us, and nods. He grabs a chair and sits down on
it backwards, folding his arms on the back and grinning at us. “Then we wait, I suppose. We could play strip poker to pass the time.”

  I stare at him in confusion the same as Peter does. It seems neither of us know what ‘strip poker’ is to know if we’d want to play it or not but I get the feeling March means something far more sensual than a simple game.

  “What?” I take my headdress off and set it on the table, taking a seat in the other chair.

  March sighs and frowns dramatically, putting on a show that makes me laugh softly under my breath. Poor Peter doesn’t seem to know how to handle March. I don’t tell him there’s no handling him, only accepting.

  “Fine, fine,” March grumbles, winking at me. “We can just sit here silently and stare at each other with the tension hanging heavy in the air between us. We could be having fun, but instead, you two want to ignore your feelings.” March raises his brow. “Whichever you want to do.”

  I fight the smile hard, but in the end, the corner of my lips quirk up. Peter, to his credit, doesn’t seem to care about March’s teasing. Instead, he takes a seat on the edge of his cot and stares at me.

  “Silent tension seems to be the route,” I admit, meeting Peter’s eyes. There’s so much anguish there, so much agony, I nearly look away. I don’t, letting him see at least that he’s not alone, but it’s difficult to let his pain wash over me.

  Another small line opens across his cheek and heals.

  March frowns, his ears twitching, and then he does something I don’t expect. He stands and grabs the stained towel, handing it to Peter. “Try thinking of the light. It might slow the wounds.”

  Peter looks up at him, his face as hollow as his tree. “I don’t even know what the light looks like anymore, beast.”

  And that, I think, is the saddest admission of them all.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Five Years B.C

  “Peter is up to no good,” Bane murmurs, staring off into the trees. His arms are crossed over his chest, the most apparent sign of his agitation. The second sign is the tick in his jaw, the way it flutters.

  “Peter is usually up to no good, Bane. It’s best to just let him be.” I don’t have time to worry about Peter’s antics. If I do that, I’ll never be able to complete my own duties. We’re all rulers of our own domains. Just because Peter only has himself and his skulls to worry about doesn’t mean we should encroach on his territory any more than I would expect him to encroach on mine.

  Bane’s eyes flick to mine, the brilliant blue of his eyes as clear as anything I’ve ever seen. If it weren’t always dark in Neverland, I’d imagine they’d look like the sky. As it is, I think they probably would put the sky to shame regardless. Sometimes, I tease him about his pretty blue eyes that make him almost too beautiful for a man. He usually responds with how manly he is when I tease him. “He’s keeping someone prisoner in his Hollow.”

  I frown. That is unusual, indeed. “How do you know that?”

  “I saw her.”

  Sighing, I turn to my troublesome brother. “What have I told you about sneaking around the Hollow, Bane? If Peter catches you, you’ll be dragged into some sort of game he decides you should play.”

  “As long as it’s not the games you two play, I’ll be fine.” I shoot sharp eyes towards my meddlesome brother, but he only laughs at the look on my face. “It’s not my fault you’re hardly secretive when you run off.”

  “That’s none of your business.”

  “But this is my business, Lily. He’s keeping a girl in the Hollow. And he’s keeping her prisoner. A human girl.”

  My frown stretches wider. Why would Peter have a human girl in the Hollow? Why would he keep her? “You said you saw her. How did you get that close? And why were you that close in the first place?”

  “I climbed the crystal tree. I heard her singing and went to investigate. You should have heard this song, Lily. It was so sad. . .”

  “I want you to stay away from The Hollow.” Sudden images of Peter and his games, trapping my brother in a net, setting his skeletons free, pass through my mind. Peter isn’t all bad, but he lacks certain qualities.

  Like decency.

  “I told her I’d come back and help her. She’s only wearing a dirty nightdress. I don’t think he’s feeding her. She’s nothing but skin and bones.”

  “Stay away from the Hollow, Bane.” Clenching my jaw, I narrow my eyes on him, intent on convincing him to let it go, to leave well enough alone. Peter isn’t causing trouble for us at the moment. We may have our own strange relationship, but those feelings don’t extend to my people, and they certainly don’t to Bane. I don’t know what Peter will do if he catches Bane. Best case, he drops him to tangle with the skulls. My brother is an excellent fighter, as good as me, his powers matched by mine, but his heart is too big. He could easily follow his heart instead of his brain, and that would be his downfall.

  Bane’s face hardens. “I thought you’d tell me you’d help me free her.”

  “I don’t know anything about a human. I don’t care. I care about my brother.”

  “Aren’t you supposed to be the Chieftess? Aren’t you supposed to take care of people?”

  “Our people.” My fingers curl into fists at my side. “I’m supposed to take care of our people, and I’m only Chieftess because you didn’t want to be chief, didn’t want that responsibility.”

  We didn’t have the luxury of being born somewhere else and Peter dropping us into Neverland. We were born of the land. Neither one of us remember a time before we were simply at the perfect age for taking over. Neither one of us remember anything but how we are now. We both appeared sixteen, twins someone had once said, but how can we know if we don’t remember being anything else? Just because we look the same age means nothing. We only know we’re siblings, and that’s it.

  “Lily—”

  “I said no.” My voice is hard, and I know it. I don’t want Bane thinking he can get away with everything. I don’t want him to decide things still need to be taken care of when it puts his life in danger. He may have the animals that drop in from time to time, called there by his powers, but Bane is full of empathy. It would be easy to take advantage of that. The human girl could not even be human. She could be some sort of evil creature Peter is taking care of. “You will stay in the tribe. If I catch you going to the Hollow again, I’ll lock you away just for attempting it.”

  Bane’s face twists, and I know his image of me has shifted, as well, but the fear of losing my best friend and my brother nearly chokes me. I can handle Bane’s anger. I can even handle his disappointment. It’s far better than his death.

  “Some Chieftess you are,” he snarls, and the words hit me right in the chest.

  “I didn’t want to be Chieftess, remember? If you don’t like it, you should have become Chief.” It had been a sore spot when we both argued. We both are equal in power, both are powerful enough to protect the tribe. But when neither one of us wanted to be forced into the position when it came time, one of us had to give. Because of who we are, because Bane follows his heart more often than not, it was me who eventually stepped up and claimed the title, because someone has to do it. Even if it’s me, even if I don’t want the position, I can’t deny I like the power that comes with it.

  “So you expect me to just let her die?”

  “I expect you to care as much for your tribe as you do for a stranger. I expect you to care for your tribe as much as you care for a human girl. We are your people, Bane—”

  “Stop.” He holds up his hand. “I don’t want to hear your reasoning anymore. It’ll only twist my image of you worse.”

  I watch as Bane looks at me once more with hard eyes before he moves away and takes a seat at the fire, his jaw clenched as he stares into the flames. The fire dances in little figures, the Old Mother putting on a show, but I’m willing to bet Bane doesn’t see a single one.

  I grab Bear as he walks by, catching him off guard as he carries wood towards the fire
. “Keep an eye on Bane. Let me know if he leaves.”

  “Yes, Chieftess.”

  I stare at my brother for a moment longer before I lose myself in my duties, before I help my people gather wood. We move too often to keep a large stash somewhere. In the end, we have large piles all throughout our portion of Neverland, so we can choose from them when possible. The weather never changes on land. The seasons don’t change; it’s always the same humid temperature, always the same frustrating darkness that blocks out the sun. I’m in the woods for an hour helping gather the wood, but the moment I come back, I know something’s wrong.

  My eyes go to the spot where Bane had been sitting.

  It’s empty.

  “Bear?”

  The boy cringes when I call his name, but he comes forward. “I took my eyes off him for only a minute, Chieftess.”

  I drop the wood in my arms and turn, staring off into the trees. How long has he been gone? How long has it been since Bear lost sight? How far can he be?

  I run. I push into a sprint and launch myself through the trees. Behind me, I can hear a few of my warriors doing the same, sensing danger, sensing my urgency. I don’t know why I feel like Bane’s in trouble. Peter won’t hurt Bane. He knows how important he is to me.

  But does he care?

  The words whisper through my mind and I push myself faster, the trees bowing out of my way at my insistence, tucking their roots in so we don’t trip. The girl, the human girl, could be nothing more than a monster in disguise. She could be the true danger, and Bane has gone to save her.

  Faster, faster, I push myself, forcing myself to run as hard as I can. I’m fast, fast enough that my warriors slowly drop back, not by choice, but because I’m simply swifter.

  An awful screech fills the air and I feel the power shift in the ground. The trees begin to whisper. Peter’s skulls have been triggered, but I’m still too far away. Bane knows the rules. Get to the other side of the river and he’ll be safe from the skulls. But will he be able to do so with a human in tow?