Unhooked(49)

“I’m not going with him,” Olivia says from where she’s been watching our conversation unspool.

“Then stay,” the Captain tells her without ever looking away from me. “Come, lass. Before it’s too late.” He has offered me his hand but nothing else.

“But it’s already too late, Captain,” Pan says from the open doorway.





The boy warmed his hands so no one would see how they trembled on his gun. His brother never shook before battle—just closed his eyes briefly and then faced whatever was to come. As though his brother had found a way to accept the pointlessness and the waste of the lie they found themselves trapped in. And the boy hated his brother for it, just a little, the way that only brothers can hate. . . .





Chapter 22


EVEN THOUGH HE SPEAKS TO the captain, Pan’s pale blue eyes are fixed on me. “Gwendolyn, my dear, perhaps you’d be so kind as to step aside?”

The Captain’s sword is drawn, and in a blink he’s in front of me, blocking me from going to Pan.

“I’ll not let you have her again,” the Captain growls.

Pan gives him a bored look. “Then again I shall have to remind you, the choice is not yours to make.”

The Captain steps forward, his blade at the ready. “I’ve heard you’ve been spinning your tales, Peter,” he says, snapping out the syllables of the name with a mocking cadence.

“Don’t, boy,” Pan warns, his voice dangerous.

“Still playing at your fairy tales, I see,” the Captain taunts as he lunges with a swift step forward. Pan parries easily, though, avoiding his dagger without much effort at all.

“I don’t play at anything. You know that well enough.”

“Aye,” the Captain says, pushing me back toward the bed, away from the fighting, as he circles left. “I know a great many things about you. I wonder, though, if you’ve bothered to tell Gwendolyn your secrets. Or if you’ve just tempted her with your many lies.”

Pan follows the Captain’s movements easily. “I’ve no need of lies.” Pan swipes savagely, and again the Captain meets him, their blades crossed, face-to-face. “Gwendolyn chose me, Rowan. She’ll choose me again.” He pushes the Captain back viciously. “And again.”

“And if she doesn’t?” The Captain’s face has gone murderous, but his voice remains calm as he rights himself, ready for Pan’s next move. “Will you leave her to die like you leave the rest that cease to be of use to you?”

“Why wouldn’t she choose me?” Pan drawls, circling farther to the right. “I saved her from the likes of you, didn’t I? And I can give her anything she wants.”

“Not anything, apparently,” the Captain says, baring his teeth. “You haven’t taken her back to her world, have you?” he asks, following Pan’s movement and preparing for the next attack. “Does she know that you could?”

I’m moving before I can think better of it, before the Captain can stop me. “What’s he talking about?” I ask Pan as I step in front of the Captain, between the two of them.

Pan shrugs. “They’re the desperate words of a desperate man, Gwendolyn. You saw with your own eyes who the Dark Ones work for, did you not?”

When I turn back to the Captain for some explanation, I see his expression has gone stony. Before he can say anything, Pan grabs my arm and pulls me safely behind him. In a blink Pan has the Captain’s back against the open doorway. Pan lunges and the Captain parries, but the heel of the Captain’s polished boot catches on the edge of the floor and he bobbles, his arms flailing to catch himself.

Pan lunges again, his dagger lashing out viciously, knocking the Captain back again.

But there’s nowhere to go. The Captain’s foot finds air, and he stumbles backward, only barely catching himself on the edge of the floor before he can fall to the hall far below.

He’s still clutching his blade in his hand and struggling to pull himself up from his precarious hold on the ledge when Pan approaches him. The Captain goes still when Pan crouches down, looming over him, but only for a moment. “Is this how you imagined you’d meet your fate, boy?” I can’t see Pan’s face, but I can hear the anticipation in his voice.

The Captain’s jaw goes tight as he struggles again to pull himself up.

Pan simply shakes his head. “I must admit, this isn’t nearly as amusing as I thought your demise would be,” Pan says, feigning disappointment. “And not nearly as satisfying as I hoped.” He raises a booted foot and brings it down, crushing the Captain’s hand—his real hand.

The Captain howls, his face contorting as his hand lets go of his blade, and his whole body slips farther. Pan picks up the Captain’s sword, examines it for a moment, and then brings the point to the Captain’s throat. “Ah, that’s better,” he drawls, amusement tinting his voice. “Done in by your own blade. Quite poetic, isn’t it, Rowan?”

The Captain’s dark eyes meet mine, and I see real panic there. And fear. The expression is so foreign, so strange-looking on the sharp lines of his face, I’m moving before I can think better of it. And before I can think through the implications of what I’m about to do, I grab Pan’s arm and pull him back. “No!”