Lost Girl

by Chanda Hahn

Fox looked up and waved.

  Wendy politely waved back.

  Tootles ran upstairs on the far end of the great hall and knocked on a door.

  “It’s not much,” Slightly said, “but it’s home.”

  Wendy studied him. It’s not much? It was fantastic.

  “Tink has a security system in place with infrared cameras and motion detectors, so no one can track us when we’re within the walls.”

  “So…is the door password just fun for Tootles?”

  “No, Tink shorted something out yesterday, so security’s down at the moment. She’s up there now getting the system back online.”

  Wendy glanced up at the booth just as Tink slammed her fist down on the table. Bells sounded loudly. “I almost had it.”

  “She’ll get it,” Slightly said. “She’s a genius, it’s in her blood.”

  Wendy was about to ask about the relative, but Slightly led her back to the foyer and up the marble stairs.

  They stopped at a beautifully crafted set of double doors, carved to resemble a forest. Her hand reached out and touched the base of a tree. “It’s gorgeous.” She had never seen doors so big. It looked like she was about to walk into a wooden painting.

  The forested door opened with a jerk, and a kid with a surly expression strode out. His dark, irritated eyes widened in shock before looking away. He pushed past her roughly.

  “Excuse you,” Wendy gaped at the boy who had ignored her, as if she were a fly on the wall.

  “Hey, I’m talking to you.” Wendy yelled after him, but she was met with silence and his retreating back. “Who is that?” Wendy asked Slightly.

  “Oh, that’s Jax.”

  “What’s his problem?”

  “Oh…ah,” Slightly pondered for a second and then shrugged his shoulders.

  Slightly didn’t seem inclined to elaborate on Jax’s disposition but instead ushered her into the room before him. The door closed with a soft click, and she was alone in an office, surrounded by books.

  Oh, not alone. Peter stood with his back to her, leaning against a mahogany desk. His shoulders looked tense, and he was muttering angrily to himself. He hadn’t noticed her.

  Wendy cleared her throat.

  He jumped, turning to face her, and his right hand reached up to swipe at his hair.

  She had surprised him and that made her smile, but she was done with waiting for answers. “So you didn’t come back with lunch.”

  “Yeah, I got caught up chasing shadows. I’m sorry I sent Tink. I would have sent someone else, but she was the only one you knew.”

  “She changed her mind about me staying here, huh?”

  “I’m afraid we don’t have a choice anymore. You’re not safe out there.”

  She tried to let what he was saying sink in, but it was easier to just ask. “When am I going to get the truth?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Oh, come on, I’m not some naïve kid. I know what I saw that night. Quit hiding the truth from me. I deserve answers.”

  “Wendy, wait.” He moved toward her, but she backed away from him, so he held his position. “We haven’t been lying…exactly. We’ve been trying to protect you.”

  She laughed at the idea, but then her humor trickled away as her voice became raw with emotion. Her hand started to shake. “I tried to tell my parents the truth—what I saw—but they planned to send me away again…to protect me. I had to run away from home, from them, because of you.”

  Her voice rose in pitch and volume as her anger took over. “I’ve been living on the streets because of you. I lost everything…because of you! I think I’m done with being protected.”

  “Shh, Wendy,” Peter spoke softly from his spot in the middle of the room. He dropped his gaze toward the antique rug he stood on, and it was a few moments before he met her eyes again. His own eyes filled with guilt. “If there was some way I could have prevented all of that, I would have. We didn’t want to take you against your will, but you weren’t awake for us to ask. And then you disappeared—from the lab and from your house, and we didn’t know where you went.” He took a tentative step toward her.

  Then another one.

  Wendy studied Peter’s face and saw only sincerity. Of everyone she’d met so far, he was the one who displayed his emotions openly.

  “I looked for you, I swear. I assumed the worse. That you had been taken by them.”

  “I don’t understand any of this Peter…who’s them?”

  “The Red Skulls. The shadows seek out kids, and then the morphlings hunt them down. You saw what a morphling can do, and the Red Skulls can barely control the beasts.”

  Wendy’s world crumbled around her as two planes, real and imaginary, suddenly collided. For years she’d struggled. What she’d seen and felt argued with what she knew had to be true, and she was desperate to cling to what she’d grown up believing. “I was really hoping that I hallucinated that morphling, thing, whatever. In fact, I’m still kind of hoping that I’m dreaming. That at any moment, I’ll wake up at home and all of this,” she waved her hand around, “will just be a bad dream.” Her voice sounded childlike to her as she formed the words, but deep down Wendy already knew the answer.

  “Hey,” he came over to her. “I told you, I keep the bad dreams away. Those smaller shadows don’t seem to be much of a nuisance. You only have to worry about the morphlings. We use these”—he held up a pair of digital goggles with blue lenses and handed them to Wendy—“to see them. We’re still not entirely sure whose side the shadows are on, though. For the most part, they’re harmless. They tend to gather whenever a morphling is about to appear.”

  “A morphling—I can’t forget what it looked like, but—what is it really?” She couldn’t find words to describe the beast she saw, so she tried to use her hands.

  Peter smiled, “Uh, they’re hard to categorize. Part shadow, part shape-shifter. Very deadly.”

  “And you hunt them down?”

  He nodded. “Each of us here has a talent that makes us uniquely qualified to hunt down the morphlings and protect the innocent.”

  She shivered at the memory of her own confrontation. “And where does it come from?”

  “From a place that shouldn’t even exist anymore. A place we saw burn down years ago. Somehow it survived, and these things are coming from it.”

  “Where?”

  She could see the fear deep within his eyes. “Neverland.”

  Her hands shook as she took the specs from Peter. Something wasn’t right. Why would that word scare her as much as it did? She didn’t know what it was, but she tried to convince herself she was just picking up on his own fear of the place.

  She pulled the specs up to her eyes and looked through them. Not much changed except for the blue tint it gave the room.

  “But you see them without the special goggles.” He made it sound so significant.

  “What I wouldn’t give to never see them again.”

  Peter’s eyes suddenly filled with sadness. “I knew one other person who could see the shadows without the specs, although I didn’t believe her at the time.”

  “Really,” Wendy felt a moment of excitement at the thought of meeting someone else like her. She had so many questions. “Can I meet her?”

  Her question clearly caught Peter off guard. He shook his head and turned away. “No…you can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  He rubbed a spot on his chest and stared off into the distance. After a moment, he closed his eyes and sighed. “Because she died a long time ago.”

  Wendy felt horrible. Guilty. From the look on Peter’s face, he mourned her passing. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

  “Her ghost taunts me.” Peter’s voice was firm, his fists clenched angrily at his sides, his eyes burning with fire. “Like a constant reminder of my failure. I can’t outrun my past. I couldn’t save her…or the others.”

  “What do you mean, Peter?” Wendy asked as the pounding began in her head. The floor
felt like it was moving beneath her, and the room started to spin.

  “The kids left behind at Neverland.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Wendy’s face went white as a sheet at his admission, and she looked like she was about to collapse. She stumbled back, retreating from him. He reached out and caught her arm, then led her over to a chair. Her hands were clammy between his warm ones.

  “I shouldn’t have shocked you like that. It’s my burden, not yours. Your first day here, and I’ve already frightened you.” He swallowed. He wanted to punch something.

  Self-loathing was taking over again. Peter was blowing it…not explaining things right. Jumping in and telling her things out of order and confusing and scaring her in the process. This is what Jax had warned him about. He never thought before he spoke. He jumped to action when the situation called for caution. He didn’t guard his emotions, was too easily shaken.

  It’s why Jax wanted Peter to step down as their leader and support him as the new one. He thought Peter wasn’t being firm enough, couldn’t rein in the boys, because he couldn’t even rein himself in.

  And here he was about to drive a wedge between Wendy and himself and scare her off into the night again, where she could be snatched by the morphlings. How in the world she’d made it this long on the streets astounded him.

  That’s why he’d arranged the job for her—where he could keep an eye on her. Just that afternoon, the shadows had been stalking her again—in broad daylight. The number of them hovering around! She was a magnet.

  Still, for some reason, they never took her. They always seemed to be waiting.

  For what exactly, he didn’t know.

  When he’d “gone for lunch,” he chased the shadows back to the river where they dove under water, where he could no longer follow. He hadn’t realized how much time it had taken, but one glance at his watch reminded him he had left Wendy alone. He sent Tink to bring her to Neverwood, where he could truly keep her safe.

  And now he was about to chase her away.

  His jaw hurt from clenching his teeth, but then a gentle hand reached out and touched his shoulder. He closed his eyes and breathed in her scent. Just the feel of her hand touching him was calming.

  He opened his eyes and saw the worry etched in her face—in her blue-green eyes. Her eyes were like the deepest part of the night sky, where mysteries hid within the stars. Peter desperately wanted to know the depth of Wendy’s soul. Already, he saw her insecurities and doubts, and he wanted to chase all her fears away.

  She was hiding things from him, too, but that was okay. He would be patient with her—if he could convince her to stay.

  Here he was, telling her horrifying things about his past—giving her every reason to walk away—and she was trying to comfort him? She was incredible. Maybe Jax was right, and he wasn’t fit for the job.

  “It’s okay, Peter. I’ve been through a lot, and yes, I’m having a hard time believing what I’m hearing, but it’s not scaring me. In some ways, what you’re saying is a relief. It means I’m not alone.” Her words lifted his heart. She was a fighter. He just needed to give her the tools to survive.

  “You’ll never have to be alone again, Wendy. You can stay here with us. I’ll teach you everything you need to know about how to fight the shadows.” He held out his hand to her.

  Wendy looked back at the door.

  Peter held his breath, waited for her to make her decision. She turned uncertain eyes back to him, and he smiled at her, trying to hide his disappointment.

  But Wendy placed her hand in his and breathed out softly. “Yes, teach me to fight the shadows.”

  Peter’s heart soared, and he felt like flying. He couldn’t hide the smile that crossed his face. “Of course, and I promise I’ll take it slow.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “When do we start?” Wendy asked, feeling exhilarated.

  “Let’s get you settled, and then I’ll get a schedule made up and assign you some instructors. We’ve got to get you up to speed.” Peter moved over to the desk and ruffled through some papers.

  “What exactly do you do here, Peter?” He wasn’t in charge, was he?

  “I…uh…I run the Neverwood Academy.”

  “What? You’re way too young for that.”

  “Well, I only run it when our founder is away. Which has been more and more often lately.” The laughter she’d seen in his eyes was replaced by sadness and worry. His brow furrowed, and she stepped around the desk and gently touched his arm.

  “I think…he trusted the right person for the job. He wouldn’t have given it to you if he didn’t think you could handle it.”

  Peter glanced at the door and sighed. “Thanks, but not everyone has the same faith in me that you do.”

  Wendy wasn’t sure what to say. Peter opened the doors and stepped out, and she had to run a few steps to catch up to him. He turned down a hall and stopped at double metal doors decorated with two crossed fists—one holding a ball of light, the other a knife. They opened to reveal a large three-story room with a climbing wall, ropes, an obstacle course, and various locked weapon cabinets.

  “This is our training gym, where you’ll learn self-defense and combat techniques.” Two boys with boxing gloves sparred on the mats in the center, while another climbed the rock wall, and a third ran laps.

  They kept going, passing a door with a flower and snake design.

  “That’s our medical center.”

  “So far, the two rooms you’ve shown me aren’t really convincing me to stay,” Wendy said lightly.

  “Well, most of the medical center visitors are only there because of injuries they get in training.”

  “Oh,” Wendy said in relief.

  “Field injuries are much more severe—done by the morphlings. Those boys don’t usually make it back to Neverwood.”

  “Ohhhh.” The weight of that explanation made her stomach sink.

  The next room had long wooden tables and chairs facing a large screen. “Our younger kids take online classes with tutors. We don’t allow many outsiders into our academy—it’s safer for everyone. Those who do work here have been with us since the beginning. They know who we are, know our cause. You’ll recognize them by an N tattooed on their wrist.” He turned his own wrist over and showed her where to look. It was part of a compass rose with only the N highlighted. “We’re not alone like you might think. There are many outside the Academy who will always help a lost boy. Look for the Neverwood symbol, Wendy.”

  “I see,” Wendy said. Everything seemed so dire.

  Peter continued the tour, showing her the kitchens and the rec room which she had already seen. Wendy absorbed as much information as she could, but she found herself wearing down. She yawned.

  “Hey, let’s get you to bed. You’ll start tomorrow with lessons.”

  Wendy nodded. “That sounds wonderful.”

  “You’ll be in the girls’ hall. And besides Tink, you’re the only one, so you’ve got the hall to yourself.” Wendy eyed the closest door, which was covered with crime scene tape.

  “Let me guess,” Wendy pointed to the door. “That’s Tink’s room.”

  “Yep,” Peter rocked on his heels, arms crossed over his chest, and chuckled. “As well as the next one…and the next.”

  Wendy looked at the next door down and saw My Little Pony and Hello Kitty stickers on the door. “I think when it gets too messy, instead of cleaning it, she moves on.”

  “Isn’t that what parasites do?” Wendy laughed.

  “I heard that, you *&%@!” Loud, ringing bells chimed from behind the taped doorway.

  Peter made a pretend scared face. “Oh no, we’ve awakened the monster.” He gestured to the hall of beautifully carved doors. “Pick one. Any one.”

  At each of the rooms, the doors were carved with different symbols or scenes. She saw clouds in the night sky, a mermaid in a lagoon, a flower.

  “Who carves these?”

  “They’ve just always b
een, since the founders built the house. Each lost boy has found one of the doors significant to their life in some way. Choose the door that speaks to you.”

  Wendy studied every door and found herself reaching for one with a squirrel. It wasn’t so much the squirrel but the acorn in its paws that made her feel a connection to the room. Her hand reached for the iron door handle and turned it. The door swung open easily.

  She reached inside and felt for the light switch. Wendy’s breath caught as the room illuminated. Everything about the room was something she would have picked, given the choice. A white four-poster bed with a soft white and rose duvet. A white vanity with silver mirror. A bookcase filled with heavy hardbound books.

  She walked to the bookcase and picked up a book of fables. She’d read this book hundreds of times. How could the architect have known?

  “Is it a match?” Peter asked. He stepped into her room and looked around.

  “Are all of the rooms like this one?”

  He shook his head. “No, each one is unique.”

  “What’s in your room?” Wendy asked.

  He smirked at her and raised an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

  Wendy put her hands on her hips, and he grinned.

  “Get some sleep, Wendy. Your first class is early tomorrow.”

  As he shut the door, Wendy panicked at the thought of being alone in a strange house and strange room by herself. “Peter wait,” she called before she could stop herself.

  Her door opened, and his head peeked inside.

  “I’m…I’m…” She couldn’t bring herself to say that she was scared of her nightmares again, of what she would see in her head.

  “Don’t worry,” Peter answered. “I’ll watch over your dreams.”

  As soon as the words fell from his lips, she relaxed.

  The door closed again, and Wendy looked around. She found that the dresser already had clothes. Not a lot, but a pair of pajamas and socks, which she donned. She went to the window and opened it, feeling a soft cool breeze come through. She looked out into the night and shivered.

  One day, she’d feel safe enough to sleep with an open window. But tonight would not be that night. She closed the window, locked it, and pulled the curtains.