Unhooked(41)

“A hunting party went out earlier—Olivia went with them. I realize now I shouldn’t have allowed it, but she was rather distressed after your time together yesterday and . . .” His voice trails off as he gives me a look that is part question, part accusation.

My stomach sinks. I spent most of the day yesterday trying desperately to convince her we needed to find a way back to our own world. At first she just pleasantly dismissed what I’d told her—the little I could remember of our lives before—but by the time evening came, she closed me out completely.

“You were quite exhausted from your ordeal, and still sleeping,” Pan continues. “So I thought it might soothe her to get away for a bit, perhaps find some new blooms on her own. A few moments ago, one of my boys returned alone. He said they’d been set upon.” His jaw tightens. “I should have been prepared for some sort of retaliation.”

We don’t waste any time. After I lace up the heavy boots I got from the ship, Pan scoops me up, and this time, I don’t even hesitate to wrap my arms tightly around his neck. With a leap, he plunges toward the floor of the Great Hall, pulling up just in time to sail over the chaos below. As we make our way toward the entrance, a couple of the bright orbs join us and follow at his side.

Once we’re through the tunnel and out over the deep trench that separates Pan’s fortress from the rest of the island, he turns and sails over the clear waters of the cove I glimpsed from my window, out toward the rocky landscape of the other end of the island.

The ground passing beneath us is rugged and parched. Because it’s completely bare of any vegetation, the never-ending motion of the island is more starkly visible and erratic. More violent. The rugged terrain ripples, its rocky surface cracking and recracking like waves crashing into shore.

Pan’s eyes are focused on the horizon and the dense, shadowy fog that rises up in the distance like a wall.

“What is that?”

“It’s where we’re headed, a place called the End,” Pan says darkly. “Once, the Dark Ones were banished there by the Queen. Though they escaped long ago, that part of Neverland has never quite recovered. I don’t usually allow my boys to go so far—it’s impossible to know what dangers await.”

As we approach, I can see a small group of people waving wildly at the edge of the fog. Their silhouettes are barely visible against the gray mist. Pan speeds on, descending to where the group of boy waits, bloodied and beaten.

“They took ’er, milord,” one of the larger boys tells Pan as he settles me to the ground. The boy’s speech slurs through a fat lip. “We tried to chase ’em down and stop ’em, we did, but it weren’t no use.”

“How long ago?” Pan asks, not bothering to concern himself with the boys’ injuries.

“Not long,” the boy says, flinching as a high-pitched scream echoes from within the fog.

“Olivia,” I say, recognizing her voice.

“They must still be close.” Pan nods to the boys. “Let’s go.”

But none of the boys moves. The taller boy shakes his head, his swollen lip trembling. “I ain’t going in there,” he says, his eyes wide.

Pan takes a menacing step toward him. The boy can’t be more than twelve, and Pan is so much broader and more than a head taller. The boy casts his eyes to the ground, but his head still shakes slightly as he nervously refuses the order.

“I think I must have misheard you,” Pan says far too pleasantly to match the stiffness in his expression.

“P-please, milord. N-not in there,” the boy stutters. “You know the Dark Ones haunt that land.”

Pan draws a dark dagger from his belt and lifts it to the boy’s neck, tilting his chin up with the tip. The boy won’t look Pan in the eyes, though. “Let me put it simply: you may take your chances in there, or you may take them with me. Do you understand?”

A few yards away, the gray mist swirls and swells, inching closer. The day is cool, but a drop of sweat trickles down the boy’s temple as he swallows hard and takes a shaking breath. Finally he gives an unsure nod.

“Go on, then,” Pan directs, the dagger still in his hand.

The boys raise their weapons, holding them at the ready as they step hesitantly through the curtain of mist. For a moment we can still see them, but then they disappear completely.

He holds out his hand to me. “Stay close to me, Gwendolyn.”

“Me?” I shift back again, away from the fog and from Pan.

“Of course. I can’t take the chance that this is a trap. Even now the Captain could be waiting to have off with you the moment I’m gone. I won’t leave you here in the open, unprotected.”

“But . . .” The fog looks like a living thing. It’s already swallowed up Pan’s boys. I’m not in any hurry for it to swallow me.

Another wailing scream that sounds too much like Olivia comes from deep within the fog before I can find the words to refuse him.

“Come,” he says, grabbing my wrist before I can stop him. Pan’s hand is like a shackle as he pulls me through the curtain of mist, and a moment later we’re inside.

Behind me, I can just make out the slightly brighter light of the day, but this fog is not like the one that hangs over London. There’s nothing natural about the dry, dusky air around us. There’s no warmth here. No thick dampness to explain the murkiness around us. It’s like stepping into a vacuum, a cloud of nothingness. Like we’ve left Neverland behind.