The Fae Princes (Vicious Lost Boys #4)(48)

My grip on Pan is sure as I force him underwater. He is not stronger than me. Not when he is without his shadow, and defeat has already seeped into his veins, spreading like an infection.

He flails. Water splashes around us. His nails dig into my flesh as he scrabbles for purchase.

I catch the last moment he is alive, when his eyes search for me through the lace of water, when his mouth pops open and the water floods in, and his body gives one final jerk.

I give him a 3 out of 10 for effort.

For good measure, I hold him under for another minute. I can practically hear the seconds ticking by in my head.

Tick-tock, tick-tock.

And when I let him go, he does not float to the surface.

Instead, he sinks.

Down.

Down.

Down he goes.

Until the darkness swallows him up.

Still a theory. But as the seconds turn into minutes, it becomes a much shakier theory.

I return to the shore, get dressed, shake out my jacket and slip it back on. I snack as I wait.

The more that time stretches on, the less confidence I have. But really, if Peter Pan dies, I win. If he lives on, then he’ll thank me for helping him and I win again.

I find a spot along the wood’s edge where a tree has fallen, the thick trunk nestled perfectly in the sand and the moss.

I get comfortable, peanuts in hand, and wait.





28





BALDER


Then



The wolf watches as the Mother crosses the beach, a giant, curled leaf in one hand, a squalling baby in the other.

He is a troublesome boy, restless and hard to please.

The sand squeaks beneath her bare feet as she makes her way to the water’s edge. The lagoon comes to life with a bright shimmer of light as if to welcome her.

The Mother smiles first at the water, then turns up to the sky where she smiles at the darkness and the pinpricks of light that dot it.

The baby wails. The Mother frowns down at him.

She places the leaf on the water’s gentle surface, then lays the baby down. The leaf sinks with his weight and the baby cries louder as the water sloshes in.

“I’m sorry,” she tells him and then gives him a push. The water carries him away.

She waits there, watching him, and then finally calls out, “I can hear you breathing, brother.”

The wolf rises to all fours and trots out from the underbrush.

The Mother is still watching the boy, the spirits of the lagoon turning him in a circle, and his cries fade into laughter.

“Am I making a mistake?” the Mother asks the wolf.

The wolf has no words to match hers, but he can speak to her mind.

You cannot save one to sacrifice them all.

She nods, folding her arms over her middle. She’s wearing a dress of a fabric finer than silk. It glitters with the barest shift in light.

The leaf turns again and the baby raises his arms, reaching for the stars.

“I wanted to give him a home,” the Mother says.

He’ll have one someday.

“Not if he lets his ego get in the way.”

The wolf chuckles.

The lagoon grows choppy. The leaf tetters. The Mother inhales.

And then the baby rolls and sinks below the surface.

“No!” the Mother yells and she races back to the water, but the wolf stops her, a length of her dress caught in his teeth. “I have to save him! I should have known better. He needs his Mother. He’ll drown if he—”

Just wait, the wolf says. The lagoon will give him what he needs.

A boy breaks through the surface, gasping for air.

The Mother and the wolf hurry to the forest, finding cover in the shadows as the boy swims to shore. He’s aged by years in a matter of seconds.

A breath catches in the Mother’s throat.

“He’s beautiful,” she whispers.

Like his Mother, the wolf says.

The boy looks around and when his gaze finds their spot amongst the forest, they duck out of sight.

“I should go,” the Mother says. “If he sees me, I fear I will never leave him.” She circles her arm around the wolf’s neck. “Watch over him for me, brother?”

As much as I can, the wolf answers.

“You watch from the earth,” she says. “And I will watch from above.”

The wolf nods and the Mother flies off, returning to her place in the sky.

She’s easy to spot if you just look up.

She’s the brightest shining light in the dark. The second star on the right.





29





ROC


I’m not sure how long I wait. Longer than I thought I would.

And then…

A faint flicker of light deep in the lagoon, at the heart of it.

I get up, dust the sand from my ass, and make my way down the beach.

The light pulses like a beating heart.

Whump-whump-whump. I can practically hear the electric drum of it in the stillness.

“Well, go on then, Peter Pan,” I mutter. “Don’t make a show of it.”

Whump-whump…

The hair lifts along the nape of my neck.

BOOM.

The light explodes. I bring up my arm, using it as a shield as the lagoon heaves.

The water crashes to the shore.