by Andrea Jones
With a casual thrust, Peter replaced his dagger. “I already told you, you worry too much. Even with five boys flown.” He sent her a quick dark look, then just as rapidly, he lit up. “Now that we have fewer boys to look after, we can go on more adventures! John can watch these two and we’ll go out tonight like real mothers and fathers, the way you always wanted.” Moving closer, Peter brushed her cheek with his. It was smooth, she noticed, with not a hint of a man’s whiskers. He whispered in her ear. “You can wear the eagle feather in your hair.”
Surprised, Wendy drew back to consider him. “That will be lovely.” Maybe he was beginning to understand, a little? A little too late.
“The Fairy Glade, that’s where we’ll go first. And tomorrow, the waterfall!”
“Peter… you’re right to accept that things are changing. It isn’t clear yet what will happen. But we’ll talk about it later. For now, let’s just think about this morning.” Hook would be watching, she knew it. She wouldn’t cross his will, nor her own. And the endless circle of the question looped around her, and it was no longer what did she want, but what did she dare? If only—
John nudged her. Peter was standing by the entrance in his usual posture, bold and poised to fly, but staring at her with doubting eyes.
“Wendy? Where did you fly off to? I said goodbye!”
But she couldn’t bring herself to say it. She smiled instead and watched him as he ducked into the tree and shot up and out of sight. He was far too clever. How much had he guessed? And what would he do when he learned the rest?
John had been bursting with curiosity, and he seized his chance. “Did you see Nibs and Tootles? I thought you might bring them home last night.”
“No, but I heard news of them.” Hurriedly, she turned to include Curly and Michael. “Get ready to go as soon as Tinker Bell comes back.”
“Go where?”
“Home, to London.”
Michael whooped in excitement. “I’d forgotten about London, it’ll be a new adventure!”
“London! Today?” Curly brightened. “I’ve wanted to see it since Peter first hunted there!”
All expression fled from Wendy’s face. “He hunted there?”
“Oh, yes! He boasted about finding you, and he told us all about you and your stories.”
“You were right, Wendy, it has to be today.” John’s look was alarmed but unyielding.
His sister nodded earnestly. “It has to be today. It’s not just the pirates. You’re much taller than Peter now, almost as tall as Slightly, and Peter has your last tooth! I wish we had news of Slightly— but you’ll be fine, I’ve arranged it all.” She sat down and gestured the boys nearer. “John saw me leave, but everyone else was asleep when I slipped out last night. I held parley with Captain Hook, and we agreed on terms of an accord.”
Curly and Michael gasped while John shook his head. “I wish you’d let me come along. Did he call you Jill again, and ask you to join him?”
“Yes. But in the end he ordered me away.” Wendy’s heart quickened at the memory, and warmth rose within her as she said, “But there will be no war. If we do as I promised, Captain Hook will grant us safety.” Looking toward the willow throne, she lowered her voice. “Even for Peter.”
“Wendy… you’re the best mother ever!”
“Soon you’ll have a new mother, Curly. My own mother.” She untied the end of her sash to free the hoard of teeth, then poured them in his pocket. “These are Michael’s and John’s, I saved them for her. Give them to her from me. You’ll have to explain because… I won’t be coming with you.”
The excited expressions vanished, and Michael clutched her hand. “No, Wendy! If we have to go, so do you!”
John leaned forward, frowning. “We can’t leave you here, or Nibs and Tootles, either.”
“Don’t worry. I’ve worried about everyone all along, and Peter’s right. That’s enough. But Nibs and Tootles must stay behind. Hook demands that they join ship’s company on the Jolly Roger.”
The three boys dropped their jaws. Michael stammered out, “Pirates— in the family?” and Curly’s wide eyes filled with disbelief.
“You couldn’t get Captain Hook to let them go?”
“I made my best offer, and he refused it.” The pang of his rejection shot through her again, and she barely heard Curly as he persisted.
“Can’t they just fly away?”
“As it turns out, they want to be pirates. But I’ve been thinking about Nibs and Tootles.” She understood now, and she faced it, the truth Hook had recognized at once. “They were brought up to piracy, weren’t they? They simply decided to go on that way.”
“Won’t you be lonely?”
“Yes, I’m learning how Mother and Father must feel since we left home. They’ll be so glad to have you back! But I’ve already made friends with the Twins’ new mothers. Now get ready, and I’m sorry, but you can’t say goodbye to Peter. He’d never let you go if he knew. He’s still expecting to battle Hook.”
John looked as grave as if he were already a grown man in London. “It isn’t right for us to leave you.”
“John.” She addressed the man, and her eyes communicated a message she didn’t want the younger ones to hear. “I need you to stay with Curly and Michael. Your first responsibility is to make sure the window closes. Keep it barred for a while, but only until you think the time is right.”
“But what shall I tell our parents?”
“Mother and Father are grown-ups. They can handle the truth.”
Michael, with plenty of time left to grow, bounced with enthusiasm. “We’ll have lots of stories to tell them!”
“Yes, Michael,” John said, and he turned to face his sister. “But the one they’ll want to hear most is Wendy’s story, about why she can’t go home.”
“You made me see it in the mirror.” Wendy’s kiss played along her smile. “The Neverland is my home.”
Tipping his head, Michael peered at her. “I can see it, too. I doubt our other mother would recognize you any more.”
With a wise look Curly said, “You’ve grown up.”
“Almost. And I can’t go backward. But you’ll finish growing up in London. You’ll be fine men, if you always remember being children… in this colorful place.”
Curly took his mother’s hand and bowed over it, and then he laughed. “We’ll always remember the Wendy lady!”
John grinned, a boy again, but knowing the answer before he asked. “And is it a great adventure, Wendy?”
“Yes, it is! Curly, John, Michael.” She gathered them up and gave each one a helping of her kiss. “Don’t ever be afraid. Just follow your hearts, on whatever side of the window you choose.”
* * *
The young men looked at each other in the limp green sunlight. They heard it. Lightly’s voice was hushed. “It’s louder than before.”
“Shall we climb up the tree and watch?”
Lightly shook his head. He crept to the stream and searched it for a stone. It left a trail of damp circles from the water to the wall where, drawing aside the curtain of greenery, he pitched it into the opening. They listened, tense. The rock thumped. They heard ticking, and nothing more.
Rowan slipped his pack from his back and held the bowl of embers to the torch. “We won’t know until we see.” The glow leapt to the pitch and hissed into fire.
Lightly dropped his bundle, too, and gripped the torch above Rowan’s fist. “I’ll go first. Get your arrows ready.” He bent down, thrust the torch in the entrance, and elbowed through it. Rowan slithered after, weapons in hand.
They recoiled from the stench but kept their eyes open. The tick echoed in the chamber, bald and inexorable. They bunched their bodies to spring upright, while the torchlight dimmed and flickered, gasping for air in the reek of the cavern. Lightly held it out, hardly breathing, spreading the feeble light in a half circle. Its aura revealed only two things. Neither was the monster they dreaded.
“The clock!” Lig
htly crouched, holding the torch above it. His voice bounced back from the walls. “It’s lost the clock!”
“Now there will be no warning of its coming.” Urgently, Rowan’s spirit probed the darkness, but sensed no life there.
But there was magic. The flame jumped, illuminating it. “Look what else.” The glitter sparked to life in the torchlight. Lightly’s face lit up as well. “Fairy dust! Just what we need.” He scooped it up, filtering the dirt through his fingers and hoarding the gold in his pocket. “Now you can be a bird, too!” Then his smile faded. Their eyes met. “But you’re not the only one.”
Rowan’s face hardened. He understood. “I have an obligation to fulfill. Without question, we must move quickly now. Let us find our weapons.” They surged into the dank recess where the mat lay rotting. Rowan grabbed up his tomahawk, Lightly his own bow and quiver. Pressing their hands to their mouths and noses, with no time for reverence or horror, they kicked at decaying remnants of many kinds. But they found no hint at all of the remains of a knife before the torch died, too, and became part of the refuse.
* * *
Contrary to the captain’s mood, Neverbay lay becalmed. Hook felt a need to keep moving today. He ranged the deck of the Roger, fencing in shirtsleeves with Gentleman Starkey.
“As you see, Mr. Starkey… one must keep up one’s skills.… Swordplay with boys has made you rusty.” He aimed his final thrust. “It’s too easy.” He nailed Starkey, figuratively, to the mast, to the acclaim of the men around him. “As I know from recent experience.” He yanked the rapier free, hanging it to dangle from his claw as he tidied his throat with a handkerchief. Near to hand on his belt reposed his finest pistol, one half of a perfectly matched set.
“Yes, Sir.” Starkey touched a respectful hand to his forehead, then addressed his pupils. “Listen to your captain, mates! Wise words. Take my sword, Mr. Tootles. Now, Mr. Nibs, fetch Mr. Smee’s needle and thread.”
“Aye, aye!” With his orange kerchief bobbing, Nibs dashed down the deck. His clomping feet halted as a cry escaped the crow’s nest.
“Ahoy! Two approaching, starboard, Sir! In the air!” Swiftly, all deck hands moved to defensive positions. Returning his sword to his grip, Hook raised his gaze eagerly and squinted at the sky. No… but not boys, either. A dark form, and a light.
“Hold fire! Let them board.” He saluted the pair, and the sailors backed from the rail. The rare birds flew nearer and touched down, accompanied by an unsettling cadence. The Indians’ gazes darted around the prickly sea of swords, exchanging astonishment with the two youngest crewmen before settling on the captain, where he stood darkly inspecting them. He spied the tomahawk even as his head jerked up and his eyes widened. He cocked his ear to catch the abominable noise. The crew fell silent, fingering their weapons.
There was no mistaking it. The relentless beat of Time. And the source of the beat lay wrapped in a blanket in Rowan’s arm. Mindful of their peril, he and Lightly jumped to the deck. Hook held his sword ready and strode across the boards to tower over them.
“You have news for me.”
Rowan ventured, “News, and a messenger.” He unwrapped the bundle and held out the timepiece. Hook snarled, baring his teeth.
Everything about the thing was offensive, from the overloud ticking, to the stench, to the coating of sludge obscuring the face. Hook seized the handle with his claw, ripping it from Rowan’s grasp. His sword clattered on the deck and he flung the clock into the air, drawing his pistol. The crewmen covered their heads and backed away, their gazes locked on flying Time. The gun exploded, the young men cringed, hands over ears, too late. As the shot assaulted the senses and its echo repeated over the water, the clock burst into a hundred metal shards, pelting the deck and crunching under Hook’s enraged boots. The messengers held their elbows over their heads and stared wildly, uncertain of their own fates. Hook rounded on Rowan.
“What do you mean by this? Where is that infernal croc?”
Rowan salvaged his composure, all eyes upon him as, shaken but unblinking, he faced the captain. “We found your clock in its lair, but the beast was gone. I repay your life-service. You are warned.”
Hook studied his face suspiciously, then thrust his gaze at Lightly. “You were Wendy’s boy, the first to grow up. I advise, for her sake, that you both get back to the mountain. And tell your council I am aware of the proposed pact with Pan.” His earring swung as he turned to glower at Rowan. “You are warned.”
But Lightly squared his shoulders. “There’s more news, Sir. The crocodile is no longer earthbound.”
Hook looked him up and down. “Well? Explain yourself!”
“We think Peter gave it the power of flight, Sir. You’re not safe anywhere.”
Hook froze for one moment, his knuckles whitening on the stock of his gun. Then he pivoted, shouting. “Smee!”
“Aye, Captain!” Smee shoved his way through the company toward his commander’s side.
Hook’s eyes burned. His every muscle seizing, he rasped at Smee through gritted teeth, “Take the girl! Now!”
Smee never stopped moving. “Aye, Sir, right away!” He sprang to his duty, signaling two mates to follow him to the dinghy where they began its launch, working together in practiced motions.
“Triple the watch! Roll out Long Tom!” His eyes were red now, aiming at the Indians. The hook raked the air at their bellies. “And get them off my ship!”
His men scrambled to obey as Hook whirled and shot toward his cabin, mounting the steps three at a time. Gentleman Starkey winced as the door slammed, then picked up the forgotten rapier and goggled, red-faced, after his captain, running a finger around his collar— and hoping to hell he’d given satisfaction.
* * *
Jewel chimed in impatience, but kept her promise. She arched over the treetops like a shooting star, eager to snatch these last growing boys from the Wendy. Time for them to go! Her orders were explicit: only boys. He had been in uncertain temper this morning. She wouldn’t dare help the Wendy escape.
Wendy waved them off, carefully not telling them to be careful. Blinking tears away, she sent kisses flying along with them, then tossed her care for them after the kisses. She would never have to fear for Curly, Michael, or John again. When the boys had sailed too far to call back, she breathed easily, until she began to consider the next move and the most cunning way to tell Pan the situation. It would have to become his own idea.…
She turned to slip down the tree trunk, then stopped, surprised. Her hand flew to her pistol, but her expression had no time to change and her hand no chance to draw. As the fairy’s trail faded to memory, Wendy crumpled to the forest floor, dazed by a brutal blow.
* * *
She could see his shadow on the wall, twisting together with her own.
Wendy lay on the bed, her arms behind her, his arms around her. Her breath came shallowly. She felt the tickle of his beautiful hair at her cheek. She ached. His shadow was whispering in her ear, satisfied at last, his anger assuaged.
“We’re alone. Alone together now. Your boys are all gone, aren’t they? Nothing more to distract you.” Warmly, he pressed against her back, cradling her. His scent surrounded her, like his arms. The razor-sharp blade began to toy with her hair. Her eyes rolled toward it, but she didn’t dare turn her head. Nor did her shadow.
“You belong here, with me. I swear that I’ll go right on protecting you.”
She willed her body to lie still. Only her lips moved. “You don’t have to do this. I won’t fly away.”
“I’ll have to make sure of that.”
Singing softly, the metal withdrew from her hair. She felt the bed resettle itself as he rolled off of it. He pulled her shoulder, shifting her to lie on her back, on her hands. Then he mocked her, his eyes laughing. “I spent all morning working out how to get you to take this.” He held the bottle up, toasting her. “Then I remembered how much you like kisses.”
The room spun around her. He took a long swig and set t
he bottle down. With one knee on the bed he bent over her, his lips pressed together. Resting on his elbows, he held her face between his arms. She wrenched her head to one side, grimacing, but his pursued. Her legs began to flail, and he stretched out to lean his whole weight upon her. He shoved her face upward and then his fingers forced her lips apart and his mouth pressed down hard over hers.
The fluid flowed into her and trickled warm down her face and neck, moistening the scar at her throat. She spluttered and choked, pushing it out with her tongue. He bit her tongue and lifted his face, his lips wet.
Amused, he shook his head. “You’ll never grow strong like Jill Red-Hand if you don’t take your medicine, my Wendy. Once more!” And she turned her face away from him, only to watch with her eyes wild as his shadow reached for the bottle and filled its mouth and then he forced himself down on her and did it all over again, imposing his will on her, and his body, and his liquid, and she swallowed and gagged, her stomach retching.
He raised himself off her then. He stood, spat the dregs from his mouth, and wiped the moisture from his lips on his naked arm. “But it’s only water, isn’t it? Nothing to harm you, or heal you. Just make-believe.”
Wendy twisted her head to the pillows to dry her face. They smelled like him. She struggled to sit up. Her head hurt. Bitterly, she swallowed again. The tone of her voice matched the taste in her mouth. “What do you think you’re doing?”
He sat on the bed and leaned toward her. “The question is, what did you think you were doing? When you were with him last night? I can’t have you flying off like that again.”
“I wanted to talk to you, you wouldn’t allow it. You didn’t have to hit me!”
“You know I’ll never hurt you again, Wendy. I’m your family. Your only family, now.”