The Untold Stories of Neverland: The Complete Box Set

by K. R. Thompson

  The thought of the tiny golden pixie made Jack hesitate. Instead of climbing up the ropes, he stopped, his hand finding the small patch sewn into the bottom of his shirt. The only things he’d brought with him to Neverland were the clothes on his back and a small golden necklace with a charm shaped like a compass. His clothes had been ruined early on. Crawling through underbrush and briars had taken a toll on the nightclothes he’d been taken in, so Peter Pan had fashioned clothing out of animal fur, complete with hat, and outfitted Jack in them. The Neverlings accepted his presence easier once he looked like the rest of them—that is, until they spotted the gold necklace resting on top of the fur shirt. Things had gotten extraordinarily nasty. They had gotten jealous and taken it from him, then taunted him with it, holding it just high enough that he couldn’t reach it. The teasing had lasted a good while before Tink had flown into the fray, snatched the necklace, and zipped away. She’d come back with it that night as he lay crying in a tight ball as the others slept. She patted his hair in an attempt to soothe him, and then set to sewing a small patch on the inside of his shirt that no one else could see, creating a perfect hiding place for his one precious possession. The one thing that was truly, only his.

  Then he joined Hook’s crew and grew up. Though some of the pirates sported golden jewelry of some type, Jack hadn’t wanted anyone to know about his necklace. He’d spent far too much time protecting it not to continue doing so, so he had borrowed one of Smee’s needles and sewed another small pocket in his new clothes, and sealing up all of the corners with the necklace carefully tucked inside. The stitches weren’t nearly as tiny and tight as Tink’s had been, but so far they had kept his secret.

  Jack patted the small lump at the bottom of his shirt, noticing that a single thread had come loose at the corner. The pocket would have to be re-stitched soon. The last thing he wanted was to lose his necklace.

  Tomorrow, he promised himself. Once this business of making everyone recall their memories has been taken care of.

  “Standin’ there all day, Pritchard?” someone sneered, bringing him back to the present.

  Murphy glowered at him. A ray of dying sunlight caught on a thin cut, scabbed red with dried blood that ran from his forehead, through his eyebrow, luckily skipping across one brown eye to continue its path down his cheek.

  When had that happened?

  As if he’d read Jack’s mind, Murphy grumbled, “A mistake of being too near the captain and his hook.”

  Likely the result of having an attitude with the captain, Jack thought. You’re lucky that is all he did to you. Murphy pushed past Jack and started up the rigging.

  “Get to it, Pritchard!” Beckett called down from the upper deck. “Sails won’t loosen themselves while ye stand there and gawk and we don’t have all night to waste.”

  “Aye,” Jack answered as he grabbed the lines and started up.

  “Murphy, stay up there once ye’ve finished,” Beckett shouted. “Ye be the lucky soul as gets to keep a lookout in the crow’s nest this night.”

  A string of curses met Jack’s ears the entire way to the yard arm, then Murphy quieted long enough to concentrate on the task at hand. A moment later the sail was freed and the wind caught, and Jack made his way back down as Murphy made his way to the nest. The cursing resumed and became more colorful, said loudly enough to make it clear to everyone on deck precisely how unhappy he was to be up there.

  Jack grinned and kept moving. As wound up as Bob Murphy was now, he’d have no problem staying awake all night. Beckett had chosen the right man to keep watch.

  Now that the Roger was on her way, Jack sat back in his previous spot across from the boys, propped up against a large coil of ropes and readied himself to settle in for the night. Within moments, he heard fiddle music coming from below as the crew not on watch began their nightly routine. Even though they’d been trapped in this place for who knew how long, the pirates always managed to find something to celebrate at night. The most common things were the newest attempts at tattoos, and crude jokes made into songs, but each day always ended on a hopeful note of sorts.

  Patch and Beetles were quiet, listening to the song being chanted between the thumping steps of a dance. It was different here than on the island. At night, the Neverlings huddled together. During the day, they would fight and quarrel, but at night they stuck together, piling up under a heap of furs to stay warm and safe. There weren’t any songs or dancing—for Neverland was always silent at night.

  JACK AWOKE WITH a start, nearly bumping his head against the wooden railing behind him. Somewhere between listening to Smee’s deep baritone voice sing of Maddie Lee and watching the stars twinkle above him like small, sparkling diamonds, he’d drifted off, his dreams taking him back to the night Pan had taken him from his bed—the last night he’d spent as a boy and the first he’d spent as a Neverling. It had been more of a memory than a dream. He remembered the long, soft wisps of his mother’s dark hair as she leaned over and kissed his forehead, her quiet, calm voice reassuring him there was nothing to fear when he bolted up from his pillow, insisting something was just outside the window, watching him.

  He’d forgotten the terror he’d felt that night, knowing that something was waiting for him just out of sight. As he remembered it, the memory woke him.

  He sat up, his heart pounding in his chest. It had been so long ago, it had faded from his mind, but now the horror of that night was fresh in his head and he felt like the child he had been instead of the young man he now was.

  Nothing to fear now. I’m safe on the Roger, he reminded himself. Still, his hand went down to pat the charm nestled like a hidden secret in the bottom of his shirt. He took a deep breath, instantly feeling calmer. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. The singing below decks had gone quiet. No doubt the pirates were fast asleep; hopefully their memories returning.

  He glanced over at the two Neverlings tied to the mast. They were asleep, huddled against each other as close as they could get, their heads resting against each other. The stars were larger now than they were earlier, as if they’d dropped down from the sky a good distance to bathe the ship in an eerie, magical, silver light.

  Something about the two boys looked different. Jack slowly crept toward them on his hands and knees, being careful so as not to wake them. He stopped mere inches from their feet and leaned forward to look at them closer. Beneath the fur caps, their faces had gone translucent and pale. He looked down, searching for some other part of them not hidden in fur, in case his eyes—or the light from the stars—was playing tricks on him. He spotted Patch’s hand lying on his lap, just under the rope, away from the light. He bent down to get a better look. The boy’s fingers looked as if they could pass through the rope. Without thinking, Jack reached out and touched his hand.

  Instead of touching, his fingers passed through it. The only thing Jack felt was coldness where his skin should have been.

  Stunned, Jack sat back and rested his chin on his knees, staring at the Neverlings, while his mind raced, trying to make sense of it all. Patch and Beetles hadn't grown up as he’d done when the ship sailed away from the island. Instead, they appeared to be fading away.

  Jack stayed motionless, his eyes never leaving the boys’ faces. Beetles moved his head into a more comfortable position against the mast, which caused Patch to frown in his sleep. Neither seemed to know that anything had changed.

  They aren’t dead, he thought, relieved. Another long moment passed. And they don’t seem to be getting any more see-through than they already are.

  Still, he watched them, waiting for any other change.

  When it seemed that the two Neverlings were going to be safe and not fade from sight, he looked up long enough to look at Beckett on the upper deck. He looked the same as he had earlier, gazing out at the sea, his hands firmly on the ship’s wheel, seemingly oblivious to the happenings to the children below him on the lower deck, as he guided the Jolig Roger along her course. Jack glanced farther up
and caught a glimpse of movement between the sails. Murphy appeared to be fine in the crow’s nest, too.

  It seemed the only ones who had changed were the two boys in front of him. Jack wrapped his arms around his knees and continued watching them while his mind wandered, trying to figure out why this trip had affected them so strangely. Who had they been before Peter had brought them to Neverland?

  Peter Pan had been the one to name his troupe Neverlings. Tink, however, tended to ignore his name and instead called them her “lost ones.” Jack tended to trust the pixie more than Pan, so he found himself wondering why Tink had named them so. Then he remembered the night Peter Pan had flown into his room and plucked him out of his bed. Tink hadn’t wanted him to take him.

  Her tiny, chime-like voice echoed in his memory, fresh, reminding him that he hadn’t really remembered everything that he’d thought he had. His blood ran cold.

  “But you can’t take him! He isn’t dead!”

  Looking at the two Neverlings now, Jack realized the reason they hadn’t aged.

  To grow up, you must first be alive. These two boys weren’t—and they hadn’t been for a very long time.

  AS THE SUN rose, the stars faded into the sky, and Patch and Beetles began to look like normal boys again. As they woke, the two both yawned, then glared at Jack when they noticed him staring at them. The ship came alive as the pirates below decks came up to begin the day’s work.

  Jack watched as each man came up the steps. He was always worried how time would affect the crew once they came back to the island, but they all seemed fine.

  The captain arrived, took one look at the faces of the two boys who hadn’t grown up in the slightest, then arched a single brow at Jack before stalking off to the upper deck, shouting orders along his way.

  “Bring in the sails! Lay anchor! We have arrived at this cursed island.”

  Hook spun, his crimson coat flaring out as he turned and glanced upward. “Why didn’t Murphy call out when he spotted land?”

  As if in response to the captain’s query, something tumbled from the crow’s nest. It fell heavily against one sail, slid along the length of it, then plunged to the deck in a crumpled heap, directly beside of Jack. It took a second for reality to kick in.

  “Murphy?” Jack gasped. The cut on the man’s face that had been fresh only the night before had healed into thick, white scar that peeked out from beneath the man’s thinning gray hair. If not for that scar, Jack wouldn’t have recognized him at all.

  “What be this?” Smee materialized beside Jack, slowly turning Murphy’s body over to take a better look. He brushed the stringy gray hair from the man’s face. “Saint Brendan,” he hissed, his voice catching. “He aged o’er night. If I’d be a guessing sort, I’d say he be ninety years old now.” He looked up, long enough to call out, “He be dead, Cap’n. Don’t know whether the fall did him in or the sudden change, but he be gone, just the same.”

  Jack looked from Murphy to Smee and back again. The elderly ship’s doctor hadn’t aged a day, yet one of the youngest of the crew had gained decades in a matter of hours. Fear clutched at him as he thought of the other pirates who hadn’t come up yet. Time always affected the pirates randomly each time they had left, but never had someone died from it.

  As if he’d read Jack’s mind, Hook looked past Smee. “Pritchard, head below. Check on the rest of the crew. When you’re done, and if you find nothing amiss, come back up. Our guests will need their escort back to the island.”

  THE HUMANS WERE back. Lorelei smiled, watching the shadow of the ship pass over her head. She’d woke up first thing this morning, and rushed to the surface, hoping they would return. They always did, but something felt different as she watched them sail away the evening before. It felt as if they were on some special quest—one that might take them away from the Never Sea for good.

  She felt silly for thinking that. No one had left Neverland for a long time, but still, she was glad to see them return. Her mind wandered to the one she had saved in the rowboat. He’d had a kind face and didn’t look at all like the monsters that her mother had painted humans out to be.

  Still thinking about the man, she swam toward the front of the ship, wondering what adventure he was having now. After she’d righted him from falling into the sea, he’d taken two of the Neverlings from the island and the ship had sailed away. She wondered if he’d brought them back.

  The ship slowed as it came nearer the island, its wooden underbelly groaning in her ears, as if the effort to slow down was quite a chore. A sudden loud splash echoed and a hand grasped hers, jerking her forward.

  A long curve of metal whizzed by, narrowly missing her. It disappeared into the darkness below as it headed for the ocean bottom.

  “Lori, you’ve got to watch where you’re going,” Odin scolded her, giving her hand one final squeeze before letting go. “If that thing would have fallen on you…”

  That would have been the end, she acknowledged. She shivered, watching the long, thick chain snake through the water, following the anchor down. The chain pulled taut and the ship above them quit moving. She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and a small puff of bubbles rose to the surface.

  “What are you doing up here, anyway?” her cousin asked. “The surface is forbidden, you know that.” His brow furrowed and his gray eyes looked serious, as if he was contemplating using his authority as the sea prince to send her back down to the castle, where it was safe.

  “I get bored staying below. There isn’t anything new to explore down there.” She shrugged, knowing he’d understand. How many times had the two of them romped through the seagrass on the ocean floor as merchildren, openly wishing for some sort of adventure to find them? Too many to count. “Besides, I needed to get away from her for a while,” she added quietly.

  A look of compassion taking the place of the authoritative one on his face. He reached out and patted her shoulder. “Annalise means well, Lori. She just wants to keep you safe. Besides, you’re all she has now.”

  Forcing a smile onto her face, she asked, “What are you doing up here?”

  Realizing she wished to change the subject, he grinned. “I saw you rushing up here and I wanted to check on you. Now that I know you’re okay and not going to get clonked in the head by humans, I’m off to visit with Nerida for a while.”

  Lorelei’s smile faltered and the shiver she’d had earlier came back. A visit with the sea witch on her enchanted, spooky isle was the last place she’d ever want to go, yet Odin seemed to be looking forward to seeing his aunt, who had been cursed by the water sprites.

  “Oh, quit worrying,” he chided as he saw the look on her face. “You didn’t use to think she was all that scary when we were little.”

  She hadn’t. In fact, she, Odin, and a few other merchildren had been the first ones to see Nerida return from the old ocean. At first glance, Lorelei hadn’t been impressed with the sea witch’s dark, tattered wings that fluttered behind her in the sea like those of a water sprite. Nor by the dark, nearly black, scales that swirled around her skeletal torso while two human-like legs stayed in the place where a mermaid’s tail should be. None of that had frightened her at all as a child.

  What did, were her mother’s ramblings of the enchanted isle that held the essence of the sea witch’s soul. According to her, every drop of evil magic possible was trapped in that small bit of land and mirrored the darkness that was in Nerida herself. After listening to her mother for so long, Lorelei found herself staying as far away as possible from the north of the island, evading the sea witch’s isle—and the sea witch herself—at all costs.

  “Promise me you’ll be careful,” she asked Odin solemnly. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

  “You know I will.”

  “Promise anyway.”

  “Okay, I promise,” he said. The current brought his blond hair forward to brush his forehead. “But you have to promise me you’ll be careful if you come up here
. I might not be here to save you next time.”

  “Okay. I’ll be careful,” she promised.

  “Sure you don’t want to come with me?” he joked, brushing his hair back from his eyes.

  She shook her head and pointed up at the ship. “I’d rather take my chances here, thanks. I appreciate the offer, cousin.”

  He nodded, still grinning. “Okay, I’ll see you later then.”

  She watched as he dropped a good distance below before swimming away. As far as she knew, she was the only one who came to the surface anymore. Everyone else was either old enough to be content to stay near the ocean floor or too frightened of the danger that floated on the surface. Her mother had made sure of that.

  “Lorelei, you don’t know what the humans are capable of,” her mother had said once when she caught her coming back from the surface, her hair full of wildflowers she’d managed to pick at the edge of the shore. Her mother’s eyes had been wild as she recounted harrowing ordeals of mermaids from long ago, but instead of frightening her, those stories had made Lorelei want to explore the surface even more.

  No doubt she’d be in trouble again if her mother found out where she was now. She swam a little closer to the ship and listened to the voices of the humans above her, wondering which one of them belonged to the one she had saved.

  She waited a few moments and found herself shivering again. The water was always cooler near the top of the sea, nothing at all like the ocean’s bottom. A stray beam of sunlight made the water in front of her sparkle.

  The sun would feel really good if I broke the surface, she thought. But I can’t here or I’ll be seen. The shallows near the island will be warmer. I’ll go there.

  Her decision made, she dropped deeper into the ocean and followed along the sandy bottom as it rose toward the island. Odin wouldn’t be happy if he knew she was heading even farther up—and her mother would likely die of fright if she found out—but she’d already broken the rule by being so close to the surface. What would it hurt to sit on the shore and be warmed by the sun?