Lost in the Never Woods(95)

“Allow me to help explain,” the shadow said. “After all, I’ve been completely honest with you since we’ve met,” it pointed out with a lift of its eyebrows. “Peter guides the souls of dead children to the afterlife. When they’ve died in a particularly horrible way”—the shadow made an exaggerated cringe—“he takes them to Neverland.” It was talking so plainly, so simply. Loss fell on her like a heavy weight, threatening to pull her to the floor. “It’s like a sort of limbo, really. Where dead kids go and come to terms with what happened to them, and then they can cross over.”

The shadow leaned forward, catching Wendy’s chin in its icy grip. It inhaled deeply and its eyelids fluttered, savoring the fear as it poured from her. It spoke slowly and deliberately, savoring each word as it hit her. “Which is exactly what he did with your brothers. When he saw you next to their bodies, begging him to let you go with your brothers, he caved in. But live girls don’t belong in Neverland, Wendy,” it said.

“Your brothers have been stuck in Neverland ever since, unable to move on, too worried about you.” It released her chin and gave her a gentle pat on the cheek. “So, here we find ourselves. Peter, without his magic, and you, without your brothers as they spend the rest of eternity stuck between this world and the next.” It steepled its fingers together and looked back and forth between the two, simply beside itself with glee.

No, this wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be true. Peter wouldn’t lie to her. He’d told her they were trapped, that he and Wendy only needed to defeat the shadow and they would be released. Her eyes searched out Peter’s for answers. “Is it true, Peter?” she asked. Her voice broke. Her vision blurred. “Are my brothers dead?”

The shadow snapped its fingers and the gag around Peter’s mouth disappeared. He gulped down air. He could barely meet her gaze. His face was racked with guilt, his eyes glassy. It was impossible to tell where the pain in his voice came from. “I’m so sorry, Wendy.”

The words hit her like a final blow, knocking her to her knees. She couldn’t stand, she couldn’t think, she couldn’t breathe. The ache in her chest was catastrophic, like being ripped in half. The hole gaped, and all of her grief spilled forth with uncontrollable force. The shadows swelled over her bowed shoulders. “How could you?”

“You have to understand, I needed your help to save those kids—to protect them,” he pleaded, the words tumbling from his lips. “You were the only one who could help me, you—”

With another snap of its fingers, the shadow returned the gag to Peter’s mouth. “And there you have it,” it announced triumphantly.

Tears flowed freely down her cheeks.

They’re dead.

The words repeated themselves in her head, over and over. The shadows cascaded around her like a blanket of oil. She could feel them reaching up her neck. “The missing children?” Wendy managed to choke out the question through her grief. Were they all dead, too?

“Oh, no,” the shadow said dismissively as it examined its long fingernails. “They’re still alive, but not for long.” That terrible smile cut across its face. “Now that I have what I want, with no Peter to stand in my way, there’s no need for them anymore.” It sighed wistfully. “It will be delicious,” it purred. “While your suffering is also quite delectable,” the shadow’s voice whispered in her ear, “I’m afraid Peter and I have some other matters to attend to. Good-bye, Wendy Darling.”

She couldn’t move, but she didn’t need to look up to know that Peter and his shadow were gone. Wendy lay curled up on her side. The feel of the rough carpet against her cheek told her the shadows had vanished with them. She remained on the floor and wept, heavy sobs shaking her body. Her fingers dug into the carpet, trying to ground herself while everything around her spun out of control.

Her brothers were gone. John and Michael were dead. She would never see them again. There was no hope for their return. And she had seen their bodies. She had been next to them when Peter found them.

What had happened? Why couldn’t she remember?

Tears spilled across the bridge of her nose, trickling across her cheek.

A part of her must have always known, even if it was her subconscious. Whenever she got close to the truth, a part of her always pulled away. Was that what her mother had meant? She didn’t remember because her mind had made her forget? Her body was trying to protect her by hiding the memory away?

She couldn’t keep hiding.

With a shaky hand, Wendy gripped the acorn around her neck, pressing it into her palm. She squeezed her eyes shut.

She needed to remember.

Wendy was in a different place and time. She was in the woods, but surrounded by a haze. She was running through the trees, searching.

“John, Michael!” Wendy could hear the words of her younger self from her own mouth. “Where are you?”

“Over here!” John answered back.

Branches slapped lightly against her palms as she pushed them out of the way. Up ahead, she should hear her brothers’ voices. She entered a clearing to find John and Michael, exactly as she remembered them. They chased each other around the base of the old, pale tree, which was still gnarled and gaunt as it loomed over her brothers.

Nana, their old St. Bernard, loped around them in circles, her tail swishing, her jowls flopping with thick drool.