by Dee Garcia
What’s most disturbing of it all is that every door I came across on my way here was the same dark paneling of the walls. Nothing out of the ordinary. This one, however, is starkly different. Either genuine silver or perhaps steel. Solely the door, too. The framing matches the rest of this place.
A dungeon.
It has to be. And yet here my sister was joking about its existence. I scoff in disappointment, ire washing over me at who she’s become. I shouldn’t jump to conclusions, but I can’t help myself from wondering if she knew and brushed it off to keep the Captain’s little secret underwraps.
Now isn’t the time to dwell on my sister, though. I need to be in and out.
Pushing all thoughts of her aside, I lay a hand on the knob and turn it out of habit. I’m surprised to find it open, turning without a single kink. Another coast-clearing glance to cover my ass and I’m pulling it open, meeting nothing but a long, dark way down.
How the hell am I going to get out of there?
“Somebody, please,” a weak, thoroughly spent whimper breaks free at the very bottom. “Help.”
“Fuck it.” I’m moving, pushing rationality aside to get to this woman, whoever she may be. I can’t bear another round of her screams and I sure as hell cannot walk off this property knowing she’s down here.
I’ll never sleep again.
Shutting the door behind myself, I stick close to the stone wall of the stairwell and make my way down the steps. It’s dark as fuck, but the further I trail down, rays from the sun beam brighter and brighter, illuminating the way.
Clearly, we’re not that far down then.
So why does it feel like I’ve descended to the seventh circle of hell?
Doesn’t matter because the moment I clear the last step, I see her. The sight of her all curled up nearly knocks the wind out of me, halting every move I could possibly make.
Every sound that could possibly escape my lips.
With her knees hugged to her chest, forehead pressed against them, she can’t see me, and I don’t know whether to make my presence known or just move. I don’t want to startle her, but I suppose that’ll be the outcome regardless.
A strange man she’s not met just appearing from nowhere; of course she’s going to startle.
Who are you? I wonder to myself. She’s a fair-skinned little thing, long, dark, mussed up waves hanging over her arms.
That’s when I notice the shackles, the chains I’d heard clanking keeping her restrained to the stone wall at her back.
Who are you? the thought hits me again. Why is she here? What could she possibly have done to deserve this?
Answers you don’t have the time to unmask. Hurry!
I’m moving again, following my instincts with careful steps towards her. Not careful enough, apparently. Her head snaps up, these sky blue eyes widening in nothing but pure fear, mouth popping open to belt out another hoarse cry.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” I whisper-hiss, holding my hands up in surrender. I make it a point to stop, too, just so she can take a good look at me with the few feet still separating us.
I’m still expecting to hear her scream, but it never comes.
Wordlessly, she observes me. Wary. Unsure. I can’t blame her for it, either. I’d be wary of anyone who came within twenty feet of me if I was chained to a wall, too.
“I’m not going to hurt you.” I keep my hands where she can see them. “I just want to help you.”
Still nothing, but I take both the silence and her fixated stare as a good thing rather than a bad thing. Bracing myself for the worst, I make way to take a single step. She recoils only slightly which still stops me in my tracks. I don’t want to elicit more fear than I already feel emanating off her.
If this is as far as she’ll let me come, so be it.
Crouching down slowly, I drop all the way to my haunches instead, offering a soft smile. “What’s your name?”
♫ Paint It, Black - Ciara ♫
Such kind brown eyes.
That’s the first thing I notice.
The tux is second, then the body encased in said tux, and lastly, that smile. It’s a small one, soft, yet still lethal.
I know, all the things I shouldn’t be observing, but I can’t help it. He’s handsome, and I haven’t seen a friendly face in how many days now?
Is he really friendly, though?
He looks like it. Something tells me I can trust him, too. Don’t know why—I haven’t a clue who he is.
Is he one of them? My knowledge on immortals doesn’t extend very far, but he doesn’t look like one of their kind. Then again, he’s as good looking as they all seem to be, so perhaps he is.
I can’t seem to form words. I want to, I just can’t. So I nod instead, hoping whatever he sees reflected within my eyes will tell him some of what he needs to know.
The man tips his dark head in understanding, his bowed lips setting in a grim line as he continues regarding me. “I know you have to be scared, and I get it. But we don’t have a lot of time, Miss. If I don’t make my way back out there within the next five minutes, my sister will tear that party upside down in search of me. Or even worse yet, Hook will. I’ve already been gone long enough. That said, I need you to talk to me, tell me anything—what your name is, where you came from, how you got—”
“W-Wendy,” I grate, my voice trembling. “My name i-is Wendy. Wendy Darlington.”
I guess him reminding me of how limited time really is finally springs something free. That and he might truly be my only way out of here.
“Wendy Darlington,” he repeats huskily, rubbing his stubble-dusted jaw. “It’s nice to meet you, Wendy. I’m Tavi.”
Tavi. What a different type of name.
“Tavi, what?” I blurt.
Not that it matters. I’m just intrigued, that’s all.
Tavi flashes me what looks like a knowing smirk. “Lobo.”
Lobo. The way he said it sounds so exotic. His tongue caressed the L so luxuriously, kind of like Hispanics when they roll those decadent R’s.
“That’s so different,” I muse aloud, prompting him to chuckle.
“It’s an acronym, really.”
“An acronym? For what?”
“Lost Boy.”
My head jerks back a fraction. “Lost Boy?”
Tavi nods. “It’s what this island refers the pack as, but that’s irrelevant right now. How did you get here?”
Right.
We’re not speed dating.
“Tinksley and Hook,” I answer, all the while slightly embarrassed for asking so many questions.
“So it was them,” he scoffs, shaking his dark head. “And what do they want with you?”
“Answers.”
“Answers? About?”
“Peter.”
Tavi’s brow quirks, his mouth popping open to reply when his head nearly snaps off his neck, pivoting toward the stairwell. With widened eyes, he turns back to me and sets a finger to his lips, motioning for me to keep quiet as he scurries off into the darkness before me.
Where exactly, I don’t know. I’m more concerned about what he heard and the fact he’s down here. I’m not sure how vast this room is, but I can’t see him or anything else, so it must be deep.
Deeper than I’d imagined.
“I thought you’d offed yourself.” Tinksley chuckles as she hops off the last step, cutting my eyes away from Tavi’s hiding spot.
She probably thinks she’s real funny making light of my situation like that. Seriously, how the hell would I kill myself while changed to the wall?
My heart thunders at the sight of her approaching form. Not so much in fear for myself, but again for Tavi. If she catches him, I have no doubts she’ll end him right in front of me, and I could do without seeing that gruesome performance. Between Clara, my father, granddad, and Peter, I’ve seen enough dead bodies to last a lifetime.
“W-what?” I stammer, struggling to keep my stare in line.
“Yo
ur screams, they stopped so abruptly I thought you’d offed yourself. That’s why I rushed down here.”
“Oh…No.” I shake my head. “My throat hurts, that’s all.”
Tinksley exhorts the smallest scoff as she inches closer, the diamonds encrusted in the bodice of her ebony lace dress reflecting all around like a disco ball. “Serves you right for screeching like a banshee while we’re trying to celebrate.”
“Can you blame me? You have me shackled to a wall. I’m all but bursting at the seams to relieve myself,” I retort.
The more time passes in which they just leave me down here, the more I find myself snapping back.
She’s unfazed by my tone, her face scrunching up dubiously. “Has Violet not come down to assist you with that?”
“Yes, with a bucket.” The bucket in the corner I’m currently pointing at.
Tinksley steals a peek at it, then flicks her stare back on me like I’m the crazy one. “So what’s the problem?”
“Are you serious? It’s a bucket!”
“It’s better than nothing.”
“It’s. A. Bucket,” I enunciate in outrage, “and I’m chained to the damned wall! Do I look like a—”
I’m cut off by her hand at my throat, my head hitting the stone wall behind me as she straddles me, keeping me in place.
An unnecessary show of brute force, if you ask me, considering I can’t get very far in my bindings as it is.
“If I were you, I’d watch your tone with me, Wendylocks. I may let you show your claws every now and then, ensure you’re fed and have somewhere to relieve yourself, but that doesn’t mean I won’t snap your bones in half one by one. Don’t. Test me.” Her lip curls in a sneer.
Has she always been like this?
“Why are you so mean?” Probably a stupid question, one that comes nearly choked around her grip, but it’s one I would’ve asked eventually.
“Mean? You think I’m mean?” She laughs almost cynically. “Honey, you haven’t seen a thing yet. And for the record, if your brother had deflowered you and allowed you to fall in love with him, you’d be a mean little bitch, too.”
Her admission nearly brings tears to my eyes. It’s not even an admission at this point. It’s the ugly truth, a reminder that Peter really is to blame here.
The monster she’s become is all Peter’s doing.
His fault.
And ironically enough, although I’m not an immortal myself nor was I related to him in any nature, I understand the anger she feels more than she’ll ever know.
I should be immersed in grief, out of my mind in another heart-shattering depression filled with PTSD after watching his violent demise, but I haven’t a shred of sadness to spare his vile soul.
It’s because of him that I’m here.
It’s because of him I’ll die here.
Whatever sadness I feel is for me.
“I’m sorry that happened to you, that he put you through that, but why am I being punished for his transgressions?” I dare ask.
“Because you’re a liar, acting like you didn’t know anything when I know he—”
“I swear to you on my father’s grave, I knew nothing!” The desperation in my voice is clear. I need her to hear me, to really hear me and understand.
I’m innocent.
“This again? Really?” She says it like she can’t believe it. “Even caught in my clutches and you’re still lying?”
“I’m not lying, Tinksley, I swear to you on everything, on my life, Peter told me he was abdu—”
“Stop lying, goddammit!” Her eyes flare in time with an agitated roar. I’m shaken, too, head smashing into the wall a second time.
And then she’s yanked off me.
“Enough!” Hook’s voice booms.
My eyes snap open in time to find him thrusting Tinksley into the wall beside me. Both their chests heave as they stare each other down. “It’s bad enough I’ve had several of our guests ask me what all the ruckus is about. Now they can hear the two of you bickering, too, and this is certainly none of their business.”
“You can blame her.” Tinksley cuts her eyes at me in a deadly side glare. “She refuses to—”
“Cooperate? I can’t fault her for that, my love.” The Captain’s fingers seal around her jaw, forcing her attention back on him. “You need to unshackle her and move her to a room. Perhaps then she’d be more willing to give you the information you seek.”
“I’m not moving her anywhere. I’ve already told you, I’ve told Violet, she’s not a guest.”
“And yet keeping her locked up down here isn’t working out so well, is it? Need I remind you what happened with Cassius?”
“No, but should I? You did the very same to him.” Her tone is utterly condescending, and still Hook doesn’t deny it.
In fact, he nods. “Worse, actually, which is exactly what I’m trying to spare you of considering there’s a Fae you’re trying to keep within bounds.”
“He’s right. ” I catch his eye. “If you let me out of here, I’ll cooperate.”
I’m lying out of my arse, and it’s not until after I’ve said that I realize what a terrible mistake I’ve made.
Tinksley turns her head, very slowly dragging her gaze down to me. “So what you’re saying is, you have been lying this whole time?”
“No, I just…I-I mean…”
“You mean what?!” She’s out of Hook’s hold, lifting me onto my feet.
“I never lied!” I whimper, more so as my back scrapes against the stone. “I just want to go home. Please, let me go! Please!”
“I should kill you, you little—”
“ENOUGH!” The deadly baritone of Hook’s growl seizes every sound, suffocating us in silence as he rips Tinksley away a second time, cornering her against one of the support pillars several feet away. Her chest heaves wildly, gaze fixated on her man.
“That’s enough, love. Breathe for me.” His voice his softer now, one Tinksley seems to respond to.
She inhales deeply, prompting Hook to do the same. Hell, even I do, too. My breaths echo all the more around the rabid tempo of my heartbeat as I watch them.
“You need to calm down or you’re never going to get this thing under control properly. Those answers you want...they aren’t worth it.” He cups her face, boring into her with a gentleness I never would’ve expected to see.
“You’re right,” she agrees, inhaling another deep breath. “You’re right, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize to me. I’m not the one you pinned to the wall.”
“I’m not apologizing to her. I owe her nothing.”
She doesn’t. She doesn’t owe me anything except my freedom. I could live the rest of this life without hearing the words “I’m sorry” and I’d be fine.
I just want a life to live.
“Then let’s get back upstairs,” he suggests. “Lingering down here isn’t going to solve anything and I’m sure there’s guests who’d like to see you. I will say, and let me be quite clear...you’re going to remove the shackles later. You don’t want to move her upstairs? Fine, but the shackles have to come off. The constant clanking is doing my head in.”
“I’ll think about it,” Tinksley hums surely, making way to flee from Hook’s hold.
He doesn’t let her, pressing her flat against the stone surface before cocking his head aside. “That wasn’t a request, love. They’re coming off once the festivities are over.”
“But how will—”
“They’re coming off,” he repeats. “She’s not going anywhere with the door secured upstairs.”
Tinksley looks over at me for a split-second, then back at the Captain with a roll of her eyes. “Fine, they come off, but that door needs to be double and triple checked. I don’t want Violet forgetting during one of her sweeps.”
Hook slides an arm around her shoulders and nods, whisking her off toward the stairwell. “We’ll discuss all of that later, okay?”
They’re gone after
that, their conversation trailing further and further away from earshot as they head upstairs. Seconds after the door shuts and the lock clicks in place, Tavi comes scurrying out from the shadows, reminding me he was there all along.
After Hook showed up to fend Tinksley off me, I forgot all about him.
He bounds up to me and cages me in without a single reservation, hands flattening against the wall on either side of my head. My stomach flips at his proximity, at the intensity of his stare, and all I can think to myself is thank God the old woman dressed me when she came down with the bucket.
I’d be mortified otherwise.
“It’s going to take a few days, but I’m going to get you out of here, Wendy, I promise you,” he vows.
I want to believe him but...
“How?” I ask.
“There’s a door back there. It’s only slightly boarded up and I have a feeling I know where it leads. I’m going to take that way out now and—”
“Why do you want to help me?” The question flies from my mouth before I can stop myself.
This man knows nothing about me, owes me even less than Tinksley. Why would he ever want to jeopardize his own life for me, a perfect stranger?
One of his dark brows quirks in a perfect arch. “Should I not want to help you?”
“No, I just mean that you don’t know me, you don’t really know why they have me down here other than Peter. For all you know, I could be the bad guy.”
Tavi chuckles and reaches out, tucking a wayward strand of hair behind my ear. “You look more like a lost girl than a bad guy, Miss Wendy, which is why I can’t leave you here with them. Especially after what I just overheard. Once I find out where that door leads, then the pack and I can devise a plan. Shouldn’t take very long; a few days, I’d say—a week at most.”
I could be out of here in a week, perhaps even sooner. My heart sings with hope all while my subconscious blares in warning. “How do I know I can trust you?” I hold his stare, my body basking in the safety that seems to seep off his person.
“Because immortals and wolves are two very different creatures,” he answers evenly, flashing me this heart-stopping grin.
Wolfish and suave, and just—Wait. Did he just say he’s a...a wolf?