Unhooked(75)

When the still-unformed shadows reach us, there’s nowhere to go. They blanket us with a layer of damp darkness that smells of decay as it slides along my skin and brushes softly at my face. I freeze, unable to keep climbing as long as they are touching me, unable to do anything but cling to the rock and wait for whatever will happen next.

But this time no memories assault me. I have no vision of a dark forest. This time, the darkness feels electric—raw and pure and almost exhilarating.

A voice whispering that sounds so very much like the one I hear inside me. This time it urges me on.

The shadows continue to flow over us, but they never form into the dark Fey. They never attack. They slide steadily down the face of the cliff, leaving us untouched.

When they reach the monstrous beasts, they are not so kind. In a matter of moments, the two creatures are overwhelmed by a blanket of shadow. With snarling growls, the beasts swat at the creeping darkness with their terrible claws, their mouths open to try to consume it. But the shadows never fully form. They swirl and creep, wrapping themselves around the beasts, taunting them. As the monsters try to pull the wisps of darkness away, they lose their balance and tumble one by one to the rocky floor of the clearing below.

“Go,” Rowan urges again, and this time I don’t hesitate.

I climb faster now, clinging desperately to the flinty rock whenever I lose my footing, and when I reach the top, I hoist myself over with my last bit of strength. Rowan is next, collapsing beside me, his chest heaving with the effort of his own climb. He rolls over and looks up at the sky, and then he looks over at me, his dark eyes steady and too perceptive.

And then, all at once, he’s laughing, long and hard.

I join him, the overwhelming relief of making it to safety coursing through me and spilling out of me in halting, gasping laughter. But then, suddenly, I’m crying even as I laugh—hot tears of relief and amazement. And fear.





The place he found himself was not heaven, and still, it was also not hell. It was a cruel land filled with nothing but want. A place where boys ran and ruled and sated every desire at the point of the sword. The boy could not help but think that perhaps he had been to a place so much like it before. . . .





Chapter 34


WE DON’T LET OURSELVES RELAX for long. Neither of us trusts that we won’t be attacked by some new horror. Rowan sits up and examines the gash in my arm. Without a word, he tears a piece of fabric from his shirt and binds the open wound for me, his dark eyes avoiding mine.

He doesn’t ask me why I did it or what I cut from my arm, and that one kindness is more than I could have hoped for. Because even though I’ve admitted to myself what my mother did, I’m not ready to say the words out loud.

When he’s done wrapping my arm, he offers me his hand and hoists me to my feet, and then we continue to make our way into the heart of the island, the center of Neverland.

The land at the top of the cliff isn’t so thick with jungle growth. From here the terrain eases down into smaller hills, and as we walk, I hear the soft rush of flowing water in the distance. In silent agreement, we follow the sound, and when we breach the top of a gentle rise, we look down to see a valley spread out below us.

Wordlessly, I follow Rowan down the sloping hill and into the valley’s basin, but my heart sinks. We’ve arrived at the falls Pan first brought me to after he took me from Rowan’s ship. It’s another dead end.

When we finally reach the edge of the clear lake, I turn to Rowan and tell him what I’ve been worrying about ever since I saw the falls: “I don’t know if I have enough energy right now to get us over those.” My body aches, and I feel absolutely drained from the effort it took to move the last mountain.

“We’re not going over.” Rowan’s eyes are sharp, assessing the space for danger. “We’re here, lass. From here,” he says, pointing to where the falls cascade over the stepped rock, “the water flows from that point, down and out to the sea, filling it constantly. This is the center. The heart.”

“That can’t be,” I tell him, certain he’s wrong.

He quirks a brow in my direction.

“He brought me here,” I say, confused. “Pan, I mean. When he took me from your ship, this is the first place we came. He told me to call the island. Why would he do that if this is where he hid the Queen?”

“Cocky bastard,” Rowan mutters, but there’s a hint of admiration in his tone. “He always did enjoy showing off, lass, but he most likely brought you here to test you. If you’d have shown any indication that you sensed the Queen’s presence, I’m thinking your stay at his fortress would have been a mite different than it was.”

“Test me?” A feeling of unease creeps across my skin as I remember Pan pressing his hands over mine, tempting me to call Neverland my home. I had sensed something that day, but I’d felt stupid about trying to explain it to Pan. So I hadn’t said anything.

He glances down at me. “He needed you to trust him, lass. It’s what he does—seduces those who follow him with promises of pleasure and power, and then, when they give themselves to his keeping, he takes from them all he can. They sacrifice themselves to him and for him. It’s what he would have done to you as well.”

I rub my arms, suddenly chilled with how true and right Rowan’s words feel. Didn’t Pan himself tell me that power requires sacrifice? Isn’t that what Fiona said as well—Pan allowed me to see what he wanted me to see? He told the tales he wanted me to believe, so I would trust him. Give myself willingly to him.