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

Outside, Neverland is covered in a blanket of fine snow, and beyond the house, the beach is gray, the waves crashing against the shore.

The dread winds around my ribs like a snake.

I look up at Kas. “Have you ever seen Neverland like this?”

His eyes are narrowed on the horizon, brow furrowed. “Never,” he admits.

“What does it mean?”

And then I hear it, the distant sound of fighting. And there in the woods, a flash of golden light.

I know it’s Pan.

I’m in only a tank top and panties, so I yank on the first piece of clothing I can find—a pair of cut-off shorts. Bash is already out the door and I follow him through the loft and across the balcony and down the stairs.

The seagulls squawk in the distance, and the waves roar on the beach.

The dread beats at my breastbone.

Something is wrong.

Something is wrong.

The dread isn’t mine.

I realize that now as I cross the backyard, the snow biting against my bare feet, numbing my toes.

The dread is Peter Pan’s and somehow I can feel it thumping across the roots of Neverland.

Something is very, very wrong.

And when Bash and I come to a clearing in the woods, we find Peter Pan is not alone.

“Holy fucking shit,” Bash breathes out.

There is a woman with a shining black blade at Peter Pan’s throat. She’s got him pressed against the thick trunk of an oak tree. Blood trickles from a break in his skin, and it runs down his naked chest.

“Who is that?” I ask Bash. “What do you want?” I ask her.

And then she turns to me, full lips pulling back into a wide smile.

And I know right away, because I’ve seen her in a vision, the one where she killed my ancestor, the original Darling.

“Tinker Bell.”

She steps back from Pan and with a flick of her wrist, the knife disappears. “What a pleasure to meet you, Winnie Darling.”

Her wings flutter, lifting her from the forest floor. She holds herself aloft just a few feet in the air as golden dust swirls around her, driving away the gloomy grayness to the morning.

“This can’t be real,” Bash says.

“My handsome boy.” Tinker Bell flies over to him. He stumbles back.

“Don’t come near me.”

She pushes out her thin bottom lip. “Is that any way to greet your mother after so many years?”

“There’s no fucking way.” Bash straightens his spine. “This is a fucking joke. Is Tilly doing this?” He scans the nearby forest. “Enough, sister. This isn’t funny!”

Tinker Bell comes back to the ground and her wings go still. She takes a step toward Bash, but I cut her off.

“You heard him,” I tell her.

She’s a few inches taller than I am, but I have half the Neverland Shadow, and there’s no way I’m backing down.

“Darling girl.” She holds out her hands to display her innocence. “I merely miss my son. Can a mother not embrace him after spending half an eternity in the dark?” She sends a pointed look at Peter Pan and his jaw flexes.

Footsteps sound down the trail and a second later, Vane and Kas join us.

“What the—” Kas starts.

“I know,” Bash cuts him off.

They start talking in their fae language, bells chiming erratically between us.

“I promise I’m real,” Tink answers. “Flesh and blood.” She holds out her hand. “Go on. I taught you both how to identify an illusion. Test me against it.”

Kas steps around me and my gut twists.

I don’t like this.

Kas reaches out for her and places the large palm of his hand against her cheek. She leans into him, and my anger takes over the fear.

I already know she’s playing him, trying to pretend she is full of a mother’s love.

Kas yanks his hand back like he’s been burned.

“See?” Tink’s wings glow brighter in the gray light.

Kas rubs his fingers together as if he can’t quite believe it, as if he’s looking for the trick.

“How is this possible?” Bash asks.

“Neverland has always been a place of magic and impossibility, hasn’t it, Peter Pan?” Tink turns back to him where he’s still leaning against the oak tree, blood running down his chest. He looks stunned. More than I’d like to admit.

“You were the first bit of magic and impossibility,” she goes on. “Weren’t you, Peter Pan? All that time I spent down there with the spirits of the lagoon, you hear many curious things about myths and men, and men who think they are myths.”

Pan goes rigid.

“Enough.” Vane steps into the clearing. “What do you want? Speak it and then fuck off.”

Tink tilts her head to gaze up at Vane and my territorial inner bitch nearly topples the trees.

“I know you,” she says. “The Dark One. The spirits of the lagoon loved you.” She reaches out for him as if to trail a finger down his chest, but he snatches her hand before she makes contact.

“Careful,” he warns.

“Or what?” she asks.

“Or I’ll send you back to the bottom of the lagoon. No questions asked.”

“You could try.” She twirls away, wings opening and closing, then opening again. “Peter Pan already spoke the unspeakable words.” She tut-tuts her tongue. “I don’t want to fight,” she adds. “I came to make amends. To extend an invitation.” Her voice rises as she spreads out her arms. “Come to the fae palace for a feast and a celebration of my resurrection. We can all be friends.”