Wicked as a Pixie (Daughters of Neverland Book 3)

by Kendra Moreno

  “I know we talked,” I murmur, stepping close. “But once we step into camp, you’re not going to disappear on me, are you?”

  “Where would I disappear to?”

  “Inside your shell of sharp teeth and a vicious crown.” My lips quirk to the side. “I’m not opposed to coaxing smiles from you when needed.”

  She stares at me for long seconds, considering my words. But when she smiles, it’s me who feels like I’m melting. “From what I understand, you like my sharp teeth,” she whispers, before running her tongue over the sharp teeth in question.

  “I do.” Grinning, I turn, and we start walking again. “I just don’t want you to suddenly label me a bad idea and ignore my jokes.”

  “You’re definitely a bad idea,” she says, glancing up at me. “But I’ll take your advice and assume you can handle yourself if I get a little. . .”

  “Blood thirsty?” I bump my shoulder against hers, teasing. “If you start looking at me like spicy chicken wings, I know to switch from thinking how badly I wanna lay you down in flowers to survival.”

  Her cheeks flush golden glitter over her dark skin and I want to keep making her do that.

  “Do you ever stop flirting?” she asks, raising her brow.

  Winking at her, I hold a branch out of the way for her to step passed. “Nope. You’re stuck with this unfathomable dorky charm.”

  We step through the trees then, back into the Coven, and I tense at the eyes that find me and narrow. “Fuck,” I grumble, glancing at Tink.

  “She looks angry,” the Pixie Queen muses. “Do you think it’s because you’re with me or because you wear my pixie dust all over your skin?” The tiny smile that curls her lips is one of the sexiest things I’ve ever seen, but then her words register, and I glance down.

  “Christ, I’m a fucking disco ball!”

  A husky laugh escapes her lips and she turns away. “Have fun explaining it.”

  “I’m gonna get you back for this, Pixie. Just you wait.”

  Tink saunters away, laughing under her breath, leaving me to the anger of my sister as she storms across the Coven. Quickly, I try to brush the pixie dust off but the more I wipe at it, the more it spreads, like goddamned magical herpes. What in the actual fuck? How badly do I glow?

  The closer Cal gets, the more I can feel her power whipping out in angry tendrils. I knew it would come eventually; I just hoped it would be a little further down the road. I should have known she’d catch sight of us right away.

  “What in the ever-loving hell do you think you’re doing?” Cal hisses when she gets close, her hands going to her hips in the ‘I’m trying to be an adult’ pose.

  “Walking with a pretty girl,” I grumble, giving up on the pixie dust. We are one now. There’s no other option. “What’s the problem, sis?”

  “She’s dangerous, Attie!” she hisses, glancing around to make sure the pixie in question is nowhere close enough to hear. I don’t tell Cal that Tink probably already knows what she’s going to say, that it’s similar to what Tink herself said, but Cal still thinks of me as her little brother even though we’re both adults. I’m twenty-five now, old enough to make my own mistakes. And Cal, she keeps forgetting I’m not fifteen, anymore.

  “Yeah, you’re right,” I growl. “She’s dangerous, and so is Cheshire, and so is White. You’re dangerous with the power in your veins. Hell, I’m fucking dangerous now. Dangerous isn’t a good enough excuse.”

  Cal crosses her arms. “That’s not the point, Attie. This isn’t our world. You could get hurt.”

  “You know,” I cross my own arms. “You sound like a real hypocrite right now, Cal. I’m not a kid anymore.”

  “And I’m trying my hardest to keep you alive despite everything we’ve been thrown into! Galivanting around with a deadly pixie in Neverland isn’t exactly safe.”

  I relax, because despite my sister’s anger, she’s worried more than anything else. I know that. After she stepped up and raised me, after she struggled to feed me some days and went without herself, I know she’s just trying to take care of me. But I don’t need the same care anymore, and though she knows that, I know Cal is only looking out for me.

  I smile sadly at her and take her hand. “Cal, you know we aren’t guaranteed safe anymore. I came to terms with that the day I realized I wasn’t human anymore, when I realized I would always belong in some part to Wonderland. You know better than anyone else we weren’t made for false illusions of security.”

  “That doesn’t mean I don’t wanna protect you when I’m able,” she argues, wrapping her arms around me. I forget to warn her about the dust, and when she pulls away, it’s smeared all over her clothing. I grimace but don’t point it out.

  “I know, Big Sis. And I love you for that. But there’s no protecting me from this.” I frown. “Fate, destiny, and instincts have always been leaders in these worlds, and something tells me to get close to Tink, something draws me to her. Isn’t that how you felt with Chesh?”

  I can hear Cal grind her teeth and it nearly makes me cringe. “Yes, but we fought it every step of the way. In the end, it was our decision, not the world’s.”

  “So then let this be mine, Cal. Let me make my own mistakes. I’m immortal, so I can’t die. I’m the Berserker and a Son of Wonderland. Let me find out what that means.”

  “Being immortal doesn’t mean you can’t get hurt.” She meets my eyes, and the telltale signs of that immortality flashes in my sister’s irises. Though we’d both been blessed with ordinary brown eyes, we now have strange rings and designs in our irises that flash and glow. Growing up, it was one of the things that girls liked, my pretty eyes, but they’ve always unnerved me. They feel more animalistic than anything else.

  “I know that,” I murmur. “But a broken heart can be healed. It would be far worse to wonder what if and never try it at all.”

  For a moment, Cal looks at me, studying me, and then she shakes her head. I know I’ve won before she even speaks. “If you end up dead, even temporarily, I’m going to murder you.”

  “I’ll be fine,” I tease. “What’s the worst that can happen?”

  Cal scoffs. “Is that really a question you wanna ask here, Attie?”

  “Oh, you’re right. I take it back.” I suck in air as if I’m literally taking it back and Cal laughs, but the words? They’re already hanging out in the world, a question, a few innocent words. . .

  . . .a challenge.

  Chapter Six

  “Didn’t Flam and Doe say they were coming?” Atlas asks, staring curiously at what Hook is doing.

  I watch as everyone gathers around the makeshift table when Hook spreads a hand drawn map of Neverland wide. It must be the map he used on his ship, the thing littered with holes around the edges where pins had once been stuck through. Though the map is obviously hand drawn, it’s well-done, though I shouldn’t have expected anything less from a pirate.

  “They have a knack for showing up at exactly the right time,” White grumbles. “It’s both admirable and annoying. The two of them are far more prophesy than people.”

  “Considering they’re on our side, I’d say it’s more admirable,” Jupiter points out even as she studies the map closer.

  I have to admit, when the Wonderlandians first arrived in Neverland, I assumed Jupiter was a weakness, her personality distracting me from the power she carries in her veins. I was ashamed of myself when I realized it, because what better weapon than the weapon of people underestimating you? Jupiter will always be underestimated, simply because she’s always smiling, but she’s just as strong, if not more so, than the others. In addition to the power in her veins, to the life that burns in that power, her cleverness is another weapon. She’s far smarter than anyone has given her credit for, and I find myself often not understanding the words coming from her mouth. The other day, she asked me for a sample of my pixie dust, without worry for her safety at all. Her White Rabbit stood further away, watching carefully, but he didn’t try to stop h
er question. In the end, I’d sprinkled the dust for her, because she’d been polite, and the excitement in her eyes made me want to add to it.

  She’s another person I’d like to wrap in a protection blanket despite her power. Her excitement is almost as wholesome as the strange shirts she wears. Today, it has a strange symbol on it and the words, “Never trust an atom. They make up everything,” emblazoned on it. I’d ask what it means, but I’m certain that’s a lecture I won’t be able to follow. Yesterday, the shirt had simply said, “Yeah! Science, bitch!” and I’d suffered a long conversation about what exactly a bitch is in her world, complete with wild hand gestures and drawings in the dirt. Regardless, I’d gifted her a sample of fae blood from Swift for the information. A trade is a trade, and Jupiter’s eyes had popped wide when I’d handed over the vial. After a few seconds of trying to hand it back, even at my insistence that it was a fair trade, she’d added the vial into a whole backpack full of samples she’s been taking while here.

  “We’re right here,” Wendy says, pointing to a part of the map marked with a pair of fairy wings. “The Coven is this whole section marked with a dotted line.” She runs her finger over the map, to the opposite side of the island, a few hours walk, and tapped it. There’s a rather well-drawn depiction of a Lost skull there. “This is the Dark Side, this whole section.”

  “The whole area is a death trap,” Tiger murmurs. “When March and I were there the last time, it looked worse than the other times I’ve seen it. The trees are rotting. Nothing is alive. Everything is black with decay.”

  “So, I take that to mean there isn’t much cover?” Wendy glances at Tiger, trusting her assessment.

  “No. The moment you step into the Dark Side, you’ll be exposed.”

  “Besides the Lost and the Croc,” I add, “the Dark Side is where all the darkest creatures of Neverland hide, including the Shadows.”

  “What are the Shadows?” Jupiter asks. “Literally shadows of objects, or a creature?”

  “They look just like a shadow of a person, almost look two dimensional,” Wendy murmurs.

  “But they’re whole enough to rip you to shreds if you’re not careful,” Tiger finishes. I don’t miss the way she rubs her thigh, as if remembering what it feels like to be trapped in the jaws of a Shadow.

  “Great,” Cal grumbles. “Is there a way to hurt a creature that’s all shadow?”

  “Light,” I whisper. “Shadows fear light.”

  Cal looks over at me, studying me, but there was no longer any anger there like she’d held when she saw Atlas and I together. Whatever Atlas said to her must have put her at ease, because she hasn’t said a word about it since. I don’t expect her to threaten me, of course, but I wouldn’t put it past her. Calypso seems like the sort of woman to willingly fight a shark to save someone she cares for, whether the shark is bigger than her or not.

  “You know,” Tiger interrupts my inner musings. “Peter used to have a Shadow attached to him for the longest time.”

  “They can attach to you?” Cheshire growls. “Fantastic.”

  Atlas leans forward. “What happened to it?” Because he knows there wasn’t one attached to Peter when he last saw him. Everyone knows that, but no one answers right away.

  They don’t know what happened to Peter’s Shadow, but I do, because I was there.

  “He got rid of it,” I admit, but I don’t meet their eyes, because I don’t really want to talk about it. I barely want to remember it at all.

  TWO YEARS B.C.

  I’m sitting in my green room, soaking in the living breath of the plants I’ve cultivated here, when Peter finds me. As usual, he doesn’t care for manners or permission to walk into my home. Instead, he simply appears behind me, sitting sideways on an upholstered chair that took me days to make.

  “What do you want, Peter?” I grumble, desperately soaking in the warmth of my plants. Peter always sets me on edge. Even though it’s been thousands of years since we first met, he always elicits the same reactions. Disdain, annoyance, the hints of my bloodlust dancing at the edges of my vision.

  “I need your help.”

  I turn, because Peter’s voice sounds warped and thick, so unlike his usual playfulness that it surprises me. What I see sitting in the chair isn’t the Peter I’ve always known. Though he still wears the same face, his features are twisted with something far fouler. The shadow he’s had attached to him for years tugs at his feet, fighting to get away, to attack me. Peter stands, and even his posture is curled in on itself, his shoulders slumped forward, his curls hanging over his forehead in disarray.

  I raise my brow. “You need my help?”

  “I know nothing is free in the Coven,” he rasps. “I agree to whatever terms. I’ll owe you a favor. I don’t care, but I need your help.”

  “Why not ask Tiger or Wendy?” It’s strange Peter would come to me rather than either of the others. We haven’t had much of a friendship over the years, have mostly avoided each other since our first meeting so long ago. I would think he’d have better relationships with anyone else but me.

  “I tried to drown Wendy recently,” he admits, limping forward. “And I don’t want Tiger to see me like this.”

  How curious, I think. Does Peter Pan have a heart after all? “What exactly do you need help with?”

  “The Shadow. I need to get rid of it.” He stops before me, and I get my first good look into his eyes. The normal blue of his iris is leeching into black tendrils, as if the Shadow reaches inside him. “I didn’t think it was a big deal before, when it attached to me, when it claimed me, but now, I can feel it sinking it’s teeth into my aura.” His shoulders shake with the force of the shadow dragging at his feet. “If anyone can help me, it’s you, Tink.”

  “Why would I know how to get rid of it?” I eye the shadow as it growls and fights. “I know nothing of getting rid of Shadows, only what they do.”

  “Look,” Peter rasps. “I’ve always been dark, Tink. You know that. I know that. But this? This is different, suffocating, and I feel corrupted, like something else is pulling my strings at times.”

  “That’s the point of a Shadow,” I murmur. “The stories say it’s like a loss of conscious.”

  He shakes his head. “It’s not a loss of conscious. It’s a loss of control. I woke up yesterday covered in blood.”

  “So?” It’s not uncommon for some of us to be murderous creatures.

  “I have no memory of harming anyone or anything. I don’t know whose blood I wore on me.”

  “Loss of memory?” I frown. “That’s not a symptom I’ve heard of before.”

  “Exactly. I need to get rid of it. And I need your dust to do it.”

  I take a deep breath and consider my options. I’m tempted to tell Peter to leave, to fend for himself, but something tells me Peter Pan without control is a bad thing for all of Neverland. It wouldn’t do well for my reputation for anyone to realize I helped Peter Pan, helped Neverland as a whole, but imagining Peter Pan coming through the Coven with no control and in bloodlust worries me. I have to at least try to help him. Besides, being owed a favor by Peter Pan will be an asset indeed.

  “Okay. If I help you remove your shadow, you’ll owe me a favor of similar proportions at a later date.”

  “Deal,” he grunts, the black tendrils in his eyes stretching. “We have to do it quickly.”

  I nod and step back. “Lay down in the soil. I’ll need the strength from the plants to do this probably.” I’ve never removed a Shadow before, hardly know what it entails. Peter said to use my pixie dust, so I assume my magic will help in some way, but that’s the extent of my knowledge. There’s a chance I won’t be able to help him at all. There’s a chance Peter will lose control either way.

  Peter slowly lowers himself to the ground and lays on his back, looking up at the ceiling covered with vines over his head. He’s shirtless today, revealing his lean muscle and the thin black veins slowly spreading across his skin. If you’re not looking close
ly, you would hardly see them, but my sharp eyes pick them out immediately. My eyes flick back up to his and his shadow starts to fight harder, sensing what it is we’re about to attempt. “When you touch me, be prepared,” Peter warns.

  “For what?”

  “I don’t know,” he admits. “But I know it’s going to be bad.”

  I kneel by Peter’s head and hover my hands over his forehead, hesitating. If Peter knows it’s going to be bad, then it’ll be bad. I just don’t know if I’m prepared fully. I don’t know what I’m doing.

  “This is probably going to hurt,” I warn.

  “Just do it.” Peter grits his teeth and digs his hands in the soil beneath him, readying himself.

  Slowly, I reach forward and place my hands on his temples. The results are immediate, the black tendrils of the Shadow trying to latch onto me, but I flare my wings wide, pixie dust exploding from them with the movement to sprinkle over the both of us. I grit my teeth at the sudden sucking sensation, as if Peter is trying to swallow me whole, but I fight against it, pulling back. I refuse to let this monster make me in its image. I refuse to be controlled by anything other than my own senses.

  Blood. Gore. The entrails of my enemies hanging from the trees.

  Lost being strung up like trophies. Sacrifices. Blood dripping down the walls and my face.

  Peter begins to scream, and I’m not sure if I join him or if it’s the sudden wind swirling around us. The Shadow screams violently, making my ears bleed with the resonance of it, but I don’t remove my hands. I can feel it; if I don’t pull this Shadow from Peter, we’ll lose him forever, and there’s no Neverland without Peter Pan.

  With everything in me, I shove my light into Peter until his eyes glow with it, until his mouth opens with the brilliance I pour into him. His fingers dig holes into my green room, the same as I push myself deeper where I kneel.

  Blood splattered flowers. Gore dripping down my face. Agony.

  This time, I know I scream as I pour enough light into Peter to light up the green room despite the darkness outside, pushing with all my strength. The shadow shrieks again, rattling my soul, fighting hard to keep its claws on Peter, but then my light slams into him completely, and with a final screech, the Shadow dissipates beneath my light, disappearing as if it was never there. Tiny black flecks hover in the air like dust, swirling, before vanishing altogether.