“Your sister,” I murmur, glancing towards where Cal watches us. She’d taken notice the first moment Atlas stepped forward, always worried about her brother. It’s admirable, really. To have someone care so much, it must be endearing. “In my experience, titles aren’t claimed. They’re thrust upon you. I’d bet Calypso knows that.”
Atlas grins at me. “So wise,” he teases, mocks, and I frown at him. When was the last time anyone teased me? “Anyways, don’t beat yourself up too hard about everything going on,” Atlas says. “It does no good to escape this place or save it if you’re a shell of the pixie you were before, you know.”
Atlas takes another sip of his tea and winks before turning away, off to do whatever it is he does. I’m not surprised when he sits down with Aniya, happily joining another tea party with his crudely carved cup. I stare a little too long, and when I look away, my eyes catch on Calypso, where she narrows her gaze on me. I don’t pretend to be frightened—I’ve long since stopped fearing anything—but I understand her worry.
I find myself drawn to the Berserker, though I know it for the disaster it is. He’s a puzzle, and I want to find out what exactly he is, but I won’t. It’ll do no good to make an enemy of those who came to help us.
Even if I find myself looking at the Berserker a little too often.
Even if I haven’t felt so strongly in thousands of years.
I can’t trust myself with only one taste, so I resign myself to none, though something inside me revolts against the decision. I shove it away.
A Pixie Queen is always in control.
Chapter Two
We all sit on the stumps that have become our makeshift neutral zone while all together in the Coven. The eleven stumps are formed into a misshapen circle, a few of them not quite perfectly placed, but it does the job. We try not to focus on the empty stump, on where Peter used to sit, but I know Tiger’s eyes drift to it often. I can’t blame her. It’s hardly been any time at all since Peter sacrificed himself, nearly three weeks, and we still haven’t figured out anything except for knowing where the door is. This meeting I plan to speak on the difficult things we’ll have to face, instead of just wondering back and forth.
The others all talk rapidly over each other, trying to come up with a plan. The ideas range from Tiger flying Wendy in and stealing the door—not probable—to everyone storming the Dark Side and hoping we can get as many people as possible to the door, but none of those address the real problem. They’re still thinking in terms of getting through the door and finding something to save Neverland, something to save the heart, rather than leaving Neverland behind forever.
“It doesn’t matter,” Hook growls. “Flying in and expecting a door that you can carry out is ridiculous. We know nothing about it. What if it’s a giant thing? What if it’s sealed to the earth? What if moving it kills its power?”
“Then we can send someone in to study the door first.”
“Alone? That’s as terrible of an idea as carrying it off!”
Cheshire shakes his head. “She’s right. It’s a stupid idea. How many people do we need to get off this rock? That’s going to take time to get them through. Which means storming into the Dark Side might be just as dangerous. We know he has a bunch of Lost. If we all get picked off, how will that help?”
“We can’t destroy the door either, or no one will be able to come back once it’s safe.”
“Foolish. This is all the fucking stupidest idea—"
Tiger, Wendy, and I all sit silently listening to the others go back and forth. It’s amusing really, that we all seem intent on listening first, but when the discussion gets heated, when the insults start flying, that’s when I speak up. We don’t need more animosity between us.
“Stop,” I murmur, and they all turn to look at me, curious to what I’m going to add. They won’t like it. I know they won’t, but the more I think about it, it’s the only option available. Every day, the heart ebbs more. The clock is ticking. We don’t have time for arguments and plans that won’t work. “It’s time we stop thinking about saving Neverland and worry about saving ourselves and our people.”
Wendy watches me closely. “You’ve been watching the heart. What does it tell you?”
I sigh. “Every day, it ebbs more. It’s a slow death, but a death nonetheless. Neverland will perish, and we must make sure we’re not on it when it does so.”
White frowns. “We saved Wonderland,” he insists. “We can save Neverland, too.”
“Not every world is meant to be saved,” I point out, and as the words leave my lips, they ring true. Sometimes, a world just can’t continue to exist. Sometimes, it’s meant to die. “As long as we escape it, that’s all that matters. The land isn’t our home. The people are.”
“You really think we can’t save it?” Hook asks, his eyes on me. He’s shirtless today after having helped the others gather wood for the fires, and all his tattoos are there for all to see. I don’t miss the small sparrow he has inked on his collarbone. I know exactly what it stands for.
“The heart is dying,” I say, the words harsh but true. “The only reason we’re still alive is because of Peter’s sacrifice. If we continue trying to save the land, his sacrifice will be in vain.”
“Speaking of Peter,” Wendy murmurs, glancing over at Tiger with sadness in her eyes. “We never got the chance to ask Peter why his crystals were red and mine are clear.”
The March Hare holds Tiger’s hand tightly, offering his comfort. It’s unique to me, that Tiger’s two soulmates both struggled through darkness and yet one came into the light, and the other chose not to. Fate can be a cruel mistress when it comes to matters of the heart.
I nod. “I have a suspicion for that, too.” Everyone falls silent and leans in, listening. “It’s a theory, nothing more, but the longer I sit in my green room and think on it, the more it makes sense.” I meet Wendy’s eyes. “I think Peter’s were red because he was the blood of Neverland. I think that’s why he was able to sacrifice himself in the first place, and why my power did nothing to give us time. His magic came directly from the core of our world. He’s the only other one who’s been here as long as I have, and I know him from when he was first created. Peter has always been carved from the land.”
This time, it’s Tiger Lily who speaks, who asks the question everyone else is wondering. “But if Peter was the blood, wouldn’t that mean Neverland can’t survive without him?”
“That’s my theory, yes. The moment Peter sacrificed himself, it was both a blessing and a curse. It gave us more time to find a way off, but it also doomed Neverland to never be salvageable.”
For a moment, no one says a word. Silence hangs heavy between us as those words move through our minds. It isn’t until the Berserker speaks up that the moment is broken.
“Well, damn,” Atlas says, shaking his head where he sits sprawled on his seat. “Talk about the cruelest ultimatum.”
I almost smile at his words, but I hold it back.
“So then, if Peter was the blood, what does that make me?” Wendy whispers, raising her eyes slowly to mine. She’s already figured out the answer in her mind, but she wants to hear me say it, to make sure she’s figured it out just the same.
“The door to Neverland, of course. Your crystals aren’t red because you’re not the blood. They’re clear because you’re the key, the light, the escape. Your tears are pure for a reason. How it all works, I don’t know.”
Hook sighs. “We know the door is on the Dark Side but—"
“But getting to it is suicide,” Tiger Lily finishes, frowning. “There’s no way we can get all our people through without heavy losses, especially when we don’t know how to open the door or where exactly it is.”
“There is that,” Hook murmurs, grimacing.
“So then, we need to make a plan,” Atlas says, leaning forward. “And if the heart is dying, we need to make one quickly.” His eyes dance over toward me and linger, and I try my hardest not to react. I c
an’t stop it when my wings shuffle, a tiny bit of pixie dust sprinkling to the ground. The smile that curls his lips makes me both want to bite him in punishment and bite him. . .for other reasons, but I pull my gaze away instead.
Now really isn’t the time for tempting Berserkers and angry sisters attempting to chop my head off. No, now certainly isn’t the time for that.
Chapter Three
The earth hasn’t stopped shaking.
That’s the first thought that crosses my mind when I stand in the early hours of the morning and look out over the Coven. The gentle shaking is what woke me up, the trembling deep inside, and though I feel them heavily, I’m not sure if anyone else does. Perhaps, I’m so in tune with the earth, my toes always digging into the soil, that I’m just able to feel the trembling better. Maybe Tiger Lily’s trees have spoken to her about it? Maybe she knows something and hasn’t connected the pieces?
Aniya’s creatures have taken to remaining in the Coven and though it makes me wary to see them hovering in the middle of the camp without her, they haven’t attacked anyone yet. Before, there had only been a handful of creatures—a few birds, a snake, a rodent. Now, the trees are full of the creatures that find their way to Aniya, and some of them I don’t recognize. I’ve certainly never seen the tiny monkey-like creature resting in the branches before. Aniya had cooed in excitement when he showed up, but the rest of us. . .the rest of us are worried.
Aniya is getting stronger, and she’s still just a child. Right now, she appears like any ten-year-old, her eyes far too clever, her powers far too strong. I worry what the worlds have in store for a child like her, what she will face one day.
Besides the shaking and the strange animals, Neverland itself feels as if it’s changing. Just standing here by myself, listening to the sounds of our land, they sound different. The creatures that howl and screech, they’re not all from our world, and I’ll have to warn the guards to be on the lookout for dangerous creatures Aniya doesn’t control. I have a feeling she won’t be able to control a whole heard of whatever sounds like a dying woman among the trees.
As if in answer to my worry, I feel my magic flare in my veins. It would have made me stumble if not for the fact I’d already had a firm grip on the edge of my porch railing, my other hand curled into the soul of the plants I grow there.
The flares come at the worst times, and I’m not sure what to tell the others about them. I don’t know if the flares correspond with the heart or if they’re because of Neverland changing. I don’t know how to describe them even.
I don’t know if it means I’m too much a part of Neverland to live when the land dies.
If it comes to it, I know I’ll keep that knowledge to myself, help the others escape first, help my people get off this damned rock first. I won’t let them see my weakness, won’t let them focus on helping me rather than getting out of Neverland.
A single pixie is hardly too much to pay to save everyone else.
My magic flares again at the same time as another tremble vibrates beneath my feet, throwing everything off center. My vision slams with red and I stumble under the force of it, of the feeling. I blink rapidly, trying to clear it, but it won’t go away. Panic takes hold of my heart as I try desperately to push the tide back. The red vision is a side effect of bloodlust, and it’s been a long time since I’ve been in such a haze. I can’t afford one now. I can’t afford to put everyone else in danger. I shake my head violently, as if that’ll dislodge the feeling, but it doesn’t work. My eyes zero in on one of the guards standing at the fence, staring off into the trees, a Tribe member. He’s watching for threats outside. He doesn’t realize the biggest threat is behind him.
I can hear his steady heartbeat, can practically taste his blood on the air. My claws rip into the wood I cling to, cutting through it, mutilating the railing in a way that’ll be difficult to explain to anyone who asks.
I love you.
I love you, too.
I could never live without you.
We’ll be together forever, one way or the other.
The happy thoughts slam into me and I gasp under their weight. They feed the bloodlust until I’m panting, my eyes riveted to the pulse in the guard’s neck. One bite. Just one bite. That’s all I need. I have enough control to stop in the middle of my bloodlust.
Lie, my mind whispers. That’s a lie.
I cringe. There are too many happy thoughts slamming into me, urging the bloodlust higher. I’m going to crack. I can feel the control slipping in a way it hasn’t in a long time. I take a step back, trying to force myself inside and to my green room but I can’t make myself move any further away from the easy meal. Tiger Lily will never forgive me. The others will see the monster I truly am.
I growl under my breath, fighting it, twisting my neck this way and that in the hopes of dislodging the happy thoughts feeding the bloodlust. This is why the happy thoughts are so dangerous. This is why no one should think them, but there are too many people finding pairings now, and they’ve forgotten what happens when too many happy thoughts come at once.
“Hey.”
I jerk toward the voice, toward the being who somehow manages to sneak up on me even while my senses are heightened and tense, the sharp teeth in my mouth poking at my lips. Atlas stands on the other end of the porch, his hands in his pockets, completely at ease. He has to sense what I’m going through—I have no doubt my eyes are blacker rather than their normal pink—but he doesn’t outwardly react. His chin-length hair is mused from sleep but otherwise, he looks wide awake, his axe strapped to his back as usual, even while wearing just jeans and a t-shirt.
“You okay?” he murmurs, watching me closely.
Everything about him is painted in red, and his pulse, his pulse calls to me. He’s so much closer than the guard, so much easier to reach. I can taste the power in his veins. I want to taste it, to see if he tastes as good as he smells, as good as he looks. I want to do other things, too, which surprises me. I should only care about blood, but something in me wants more from the man in front of me. Something in me wants something else.
It takes everything in me to keep my feet planted, so much so, my body begins to tremble.
I nod in answer to his question and look away. He must know I’m lying. My hands are clenched too hard against the wood, my claws digging in. My sharpest canines poke from the corners of my lips. My eyes are probably black. I probably look like some terrifying monster and it saddens me. I never wanted to be such a monster. I only ever wanted to be just Tink.
“Your wings are glowing,” Atlas points out, taking a step closer, and I tense.
“Leave it, Berserker,” I hiss from between sharp teeth, looking at him from beneath my lashes, watching his pulse.
“I think it’s pretty,” he whispers, and I blink at him in surprise. “The way they glow. I can feel your power, can feel how you vibrate with it.” He takes another step closer.
“Stop,” I rasp, my shoulders tensing so hard my bones pop. “I might hurt you.”
“I’m immortal,” he points out. Another step.
“That doesn’t mean you should suffer what I would do to you.” When he takes another step, now far too close for comfort, a low growl tickles my throat.
“Would you just drain me of my blood?” he murmurs softly. “Or would you fuck me?” I jerk my eyes to him. “It’s an important distinction to make.” A grin spreads across his face. “One I might consider. The other, I’d offer myself up freely for.”
“Which one’s which?”
His grin widens. “That’s the game, isn’t it? A bit like roulette. Spin the wheel and see where we end up.”
I don’t know what roulette is, but if it keeps him talking, if I can keep hearing the honey in his voice, he can keep speaking nonsense for all I care. “I’ve never been much a fan of games. That was Peter’s domain.”
Atlas takes another step. There’s hardly any distance between us now, a few more steps and he’ll be right in front of m
e. “Oh? Tell me more.”
“More of what? More about Peter, or more about the games I don’t like to play?”
“How about you tell me what you think of me?” he offers, taking another step.
I frown. “What I think of you? Why would I think anything of you?”
“Ouch,” he says, holding a hand over his heart with a smile. “You wound me with your words, Pixie, but that’s fine. You don’t have to think of me at all. I think enough of you for the both of us.”
I tilt my head, watching him closely as he closes the distance, standing right before me. It would be so easy to reach out my claws and wrap them around his neck, to strike before he even knows what’s happening, but somehow, I curl my hands into fists at my sides.
“You do?” I murmur.
“I do. Would you like me to describe the thoughts I have of you, Your Majesty?”
It’s only then I realize the red haze is gone. I’m standing before Atlas, looking up at him, and he’s in full, normal color, as if I’m not in bloodlust at all. I run my tongue over normal teeth and my heart kicks up. What is happening? It’s only when I look over my shoulder to check my wings that Atlas reaches out a hand and cups my chin with rough, tantalizing fingers. He shouldn’t be touching me this way, shouldn’t dare touch the Wicked Queen, but I let him.
“They stopped glowing right around when I asked if you would fuck me,” he murmurs, a smile on his face.
“You stopped it,” I whisper with wide eyes. “How. . .”
“I’m no stranger to power that gets to be too much. Most of us in Wonderland suffer from the problem. I’ve even had to talk down Cheshire when he was ready to maul a guy for complaining about a smudge on his motorcycle at the shop. Honestly, it might as well be a superpower at this point.” Atlas shrugs his shoulder, as if he doesn’t realize what’s he’s even done.
“I—” I don’t know what I’m about to say, but Atlas must sense it’s something different. I don’t know if I was going to tell him he’s too dangerous to be around, or I’m too dangerous, but he cuts me off before I can get any words out.
Wicked as a Pixie (Daughters of Neverland Book 3) Page 2