The Fae Princes (Vicious Lost Boys #4)(31)

I can sense the magic within, some of it bright and poppy, other magic dark and sinister.

If pressed to describe the way my wings or magic would feel, I’m not sure I could put it into the right words. It’s just one of those I-know-it-when-I-feel-it scenarios.

The next aisle produces several leather-bound books, then a pointed hat, a single cobbler’s shoe. I weave around the aisles, holding up the lantern so the light spreads far.

“Anything yet?” I call out, voice echoing into the dark.

“Nothing,” Kas answers back.

The worry sets in once we’re halfway through the vault. I was hoping I could just home in on my wings and the vessel they’re held in, like an elephant homing in on water several miles away.

But there’s nothing. Just the buzzing background noise of magic that is not my own.

Kas and I near the back of the vault, with just a few aisles left to search, when we meet up in the main aisle.

“This is making me anxious,” I admit.

The lantern light flickers over my brother’s face. He doesn’t have to say anything for me to know he feels it too.

“Just a few more aisles,” he says and disappears down the next one.

I grumble and keep searching.

I go down one aisle, then the next, passing treasure after magical treasure, but nothing rings out as belonging to me.

When Kas and I meet up again at the back wall, there’s no more hope left to suspend us.

Our wings are not here.

“Tink probably knew we’d look,” Kas says. “I did find one empty spot on the shelves, but I don’t think our wings were there.”

“Show me.”

He takes me back three shelves. The third shelf from the floor is empty from end to end. There are hooks embedded into the wood, like several duplicate items used to hang there.

“What used to be here?” I ask.

Kas shrugs. “I’m drawing a blank, but the lingering magic doesn’t feel like ours.”

I’d have to agree. It has a harder edge to it.

“I suppose it couldn’t have been this easy, huh?” I laugh, but it’s edged in worry.

There’s a bad feeling crawling up my throat.

“We should get back,” Kas says and lets his lantern hang limply at his side as he makes his way for the entrance.





18





PETER PAN


I’m drunk and Vane is pissed, but I don’t fucking care.

Nothing matters anymore, does it?

Everything is a fucking lie.

Now with Darling back in our midst and the Crocodile gone, having slithered back to some dank hole, no doubt, Vane drives me from the throne room and into the dining hall. The music is quieter here, just a low drum and twang across the room. The voices carry farther—laughter and cajoling and merriment.

Their happiness makes me want to scream.

To think I was some child birthed of a primordial Neverland power…

Pathetic, now that I think about it.

My thoughts turn darker and I snatch a glass from a passing server. I sling back the wine before Vane realizes I’ve gone rogue.

“Would you fucking stop,” he says to me and yanks the glass from my grip.

“Why does it matter?” I ask him.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

I gesture wildly at the packed dining hall. The ceiling is domed and vined here too, just like in the throne room. But there’s no dais, no majesty to the space other than its size. More lanterns hang from the vines, casting pulsing light over the room.

“Pan.” Darling takes my hand in hers and squeezes. “What did Tinker Bell tell you?”

I scoff and drop into the nearest empty seat at a long dining table. There’s a centerpiece of flowers and moss, forget-me-nots and firecrackers and star lilies.

Vane takes the seat across from me and Darling sits on my right, her hand still in mine.

“More wine!” I yell at anyone who will listen and a server darts over with their tray.

“No,” Vane says. “No more wine.”

The server hesitates, unsure of who’s in charge here. Clearly I am. I snap my fingers at him. He comes closer. Vane makes his violet eye go black, the bastard, and the server darts away.

“Why do you vex me?” I ask him.

“What did Tink tell you? Why are you acting like a whiny twat?”

I grumble and sink against the back of the chair. I can’t tell them. Either of them. The mighty Never King is not so mighty. Without the shadow, I am nothing, just as I feared.

The spirits’ words echo in my head again.

Drenched in darkness.

I don’t deserve the shadow. That’s what they were trying to tell me.

Maybe I should end all of our suffering and give Tink the shadow. Let her do what she pleases. It’s what she wanted all along, isn’t it? Teach me a lesson because I wouldn’t bend to her will. I clench my teeth, thinking about what lesson she might try to teach me now if I don’t give her what she wants.

And what Tink wants… is that ultimately what the spirits want? If they sent her back, did they give her a mission? Wrestle the Neverland Shadow from Peter Pan and give it to someone who will actually do some good with it.

Darling takes my hand and places it on her bare thigh. The heat of her skin, the smooth touch of it snaps me out of my misery.