Their Vicious Darling (Vicious Lost Boys #3)(19)

I am not a man that lives in the past, but hearing Wendy’s name yanks me back anyway by years and years and years and makes me feel things I’d rather not feel.

She’s dead now. Mortals die quickly on mortal soil after all, but even dead, she lifts the hair along the nape of my neck as if she were a ghost in the room, exhaling on my skin.

If I am endlessly fascinated by women, I was in total awe of Wendy Darling.

She is the only person to ever beat me at a game of chess.

In the beginning, I fucked around with her because I knew Peter Pan wouldn’t.

But in the end, I realize she was fucking around with me because she could.

I wanted to hate her. Even more so when she denied me and told Peter Pan to take her back to her insufferable mortal land.

But eventually I came to respect her for the magic she wielded over me.

There are not many people I would allow to put a collar around my neck.

But Wendy Darling would have been an exception.

“So what do you propose?” Giselle asks. “Use the Darling in a hostage scenario?”

“Threaten Vane’s life?” Holt suggests.

The cool fingers of dread claw into my heart.

I had not intended for this island visit to get messy, but if Holt so much as lays a hand on my brother, I swear to fucking god, I will cut off his hand like I did Hook’s. But unlike Hook, I’ll make Holt eat his. One knuckle at a fucking time.

“You won’t be able to get near enough to Vane,” Tilly says and some of the anxiety eases out of my shoulders. “But the Darling…”

“What’s the name of this one?” I ask and keep circling the room.

“Winnie.”

“She anything like Wendy?”

The queen lifts a shoulder in a half shrug. “She’s feisty. Smart, too, I suspect. She did help Peter Pan get his shadow back.”

“The fuck?” Holt says. “You could have fucking told us that before we came here.”

Tilly grits her teeth. I can hear her molars grinding together from clear across the room. She takes a breath and then says, “He only just now reclaimed it, which means if we are to strike against him, the only time to do so would be now, when he’s still remembering how to harness the magic.”

Giselle clucks her tongue. “Or we can forget about the Darling entirely and use our most potent weapon.” Her greedy gaze lands on me. “This is why you hailed for the Crocodile, is it not?”

I stop when I reach the dais where the throne sits in the center.

“Roc?” Giselle asks. “Let’s hear your contribution to the predicament.”

Without an invitation, I step up on the dais and go to the throne. It has a sunburst at its back with vines twinning around the rays. There are insects and squirrels and other woodland creatures cast around it with the arms curved over to look like talons.

When I go around to the backside, I spot a familiar maker’s mark stamped into the metal—wings with a circle in the center.

The Myth Makers.

There are several societies in the Seven Isles older than the cities and villages themselves.

The Myth Makers.

Death’s Hand.

The Ancient Order of Shadows.

And my favorite, and one I happen to belong to—The Bone Society.

I wonder if the fae queen knows her throne is likely imbued with the supposed dark magic wielded by the secret society.

I could tell her.

But I probably won’t.

“What is the secret?” I ask and come off the dais. “You promised me.”

The queen clasps her hands behind her back. “As you know, I can get inside most mortal minds without much effort at all and up until recently, Peter Pan tasked me with using my power to root around inside a Darling’s head to find the location of his shadow.”

“Yes, yes. This we know.” I pull a peanut out, crack it between my fingers. “Please do get on with it.”

The queen narrows her eyes at me. I suppose I’m pushing her authority with my tone. Sometimes I forget to pretend to be submissive.

“Getting inside the heads of the Darlings has borne fruit,” she says. “Secrets of Peter Pan’s.”

“Go on,” Giselle says.

I pop a peanut into my mouth.

Tilly’s wings shift from green to turquoise and I sense that what she’s about to reveal excites her more than it should.

This better be good or I’m eating the fae queen for wasting my fucking time.

Tilly sucks in a breath and says, “Peter Pan never returned Wendy to the mortal realm.”

I swallow bits of the peanut and look at the fae queen searching her face for a game.

And then the chess pieces start moving in my head.

“If Wendy was never returned, then how did the Darling line continue?”

The queen’s wings buzz back and forth. “That’s where it gets interesting.”

I dust off peanut shell from my hands. “Show me.”

“Excuse me?”

“If you can get inside a head, you can show me the memory. Don’t deny it.”

She clamps her mouth shut, ruby red lips thinning into a frustrated line.

I go to her. She backpedals.

“Show me.”

“I can’t—”

“You want this island, do you not? That’s why you called me here. You need my help. You want my help, you give me proof.”