Unhooked(79)

“Look at the ceiling. This is it.” I can’t shake the sense that the Queen is here . . . somewhere.

I let go of Rowan’s hand and step away from him, beyond the light of his torch and to the smooth walls of the cavern. These walls aren’t damp, and when I press my hands to them, they feel almost warm. If I focus, I can feel the heartbeat of the island racing at a dizzying speed, faster than I’ve ever felt it before. But it’s softer than I’ve ever felt it too, as though it’s buried somewhere deep below.

Show me. I channel the demand—not the request—through myself, into the rock. Rowan stands near me again, the heat of his torch warming my face as I concentrate on speaking to, listening to the world beneath my hands.

As I’m listening, my heart beating in time to the distant pulse of Neverland, I hear a noise in the darkness of the cavern behind me. A sharp plinking sound, like a penny striking a table, and the echo of the sound rings in the silence.

“What was that?” Rowan whispers, holding his flame aloft.

I don’t let myself look. I don’t let myself do anything but focus on the feel of the stone beneath my hand, on my desire to see the Queen. I allow myself to let go of all my fear, all my misgivings, and to want.

To free her.

To free all of us, because if we can do this, I can go home—I can get Olivia home. If I can do this, I can make everything right.

But a voice inside me whispers, Not everything.

The heat building beneath my hands falters, and for a moment all I feel is the coolness of the rock and the certainty that I can’t save him—No matter what I do, I won’t be able to save the boy beside me.

I shove that thought out of my head. I won’t let myself be distracted. Not even for Rowan.

Plink. The sound comes again, and again it echoes. Plink, plink.

“It’s the ceiling,” Rowan tells me. He holds up the torch again, and in its flickering light, I see what he means. The glittering crystals in the ceiling are falling one by one, a solid, steady shower of stone. “Get back,” he says, pushing me against the wall as more fall.

Rowan covers me with his body as the noises steadily increase, rising in speed and volume, but still I concentrate on my task, calling to the world. Asking Neverland to heed my desire. As the crystals fall like dying stars, they throw debris into the air around us. I can smell the metallic, almost mineral scent of the dust they kick up from the floor when they land. I can taste it—the heart of Neverland coats my tongue with its bitter taste.

Then the falling crystals slow until, finally, the cavern is quiet. Nothing else tumbles from the ceiling, and after a long moment we right ourselves and shake the dust from our hair.

“What was that?” I look up at the ceiling, thankful it hasn’t collapsed completely, but it’s pockmarked now and no longer flickers with diamondlike shards.

I start to step toward the center of the room, trying to figure out if anything else has happened, but my foot falters when the ground beneath it crumbles away. Where once there was flat, solid rock, the ground is now carved out into a deep crater. The floor is gone, and in its place a narrow path winds down, spiraling into the center, and in the center of that crater someone or something is huddled, a clumped mass of dirty rags that seems to be moving.

I step back as something within the pile of rags moves again. It can’t possibly be the Queen. There is no way this crumpled bit of blackened fabric is what we need to save ourselves and this world.

“Bring the torch.” I turn to Rowan, but before he can reach me, the world explodes in light.





Sometimes, though not often, he had dreams, unlike the other lads who slept deeply, like the dead. On those nights, he could not raise himself from the horrors held in his sleeping hours, though he wailed piteously in them. But when he woke, he could not remember the things he had forgotten. . . .





Chapter 36


I SQUINT AGAINST THE BRIGHTNESS that saturates the cavern, until my eyes adjust to the unnatural glow lighting the space. When I can finally see again, I notice that a figure stands in the center of the crater—a woman.

I know at once I’m in the presence of the Queen. Like Fiona, she is tall and slender, with long, graceful limbs and skin that glows like alabaster. Like Fiona, her face is both beautiful and terrible to behold. Her eyes are alert and, while they are the same deep, glossy black of Fiona’s, the irises glow as though they’re ringed in fire.

Her voice, when she finally speaks, is also similar to Fiona’s, but where Fiona’s voice had the threatening buzz of a hive of bees, the Queen’s voice is purely feral, wild and almost unintelligible.

The world around us throbs—once, twice—then the steady, heartbeat of the island begins again.

I thought Neverland had been teeming with life before, but I’d been wrong. Now even the air seems alive, brushing against my cold skin like an electric current. Like the world itself is welcoming the Queen back.

Unbidden, a pulse of excitement and anticipation races through me.

The Queen tips her head back and inhales deeply, rolling her neck on her narrow shoulders, stretching and reveling in her new freedom. Behind her a flash appears, like a flame leaping from the ground, and when the light eases, Fiona stands there. Then another flaming column of light, and another of Fiona’s brethren appears as well.

Rowan steps forward to protect me, and the movement catches the Queen’s attention. She turns her terrible, beautiful face to him, her glossy black eyes narrowed in hate. Her lips pull back, exposing her wickedly sharp teeth, and she lets out a chilling hiss of warning. But before she can strike, she notices me.