Shadow (Wendy Darling #3)(48)

Wendy did remember them from their flight in: uninhabitable, sharp, deadly cliffs that jutted violently out of the surf.

“The water pounds so hard against the base of the Teeth that not even the mermaids dare to venture there. There was not a stitch of anything there, not a person, nor a glint of anything along those rocky crags. Until . . .”

He leapt off the top of the throne and settled down into the seat, his legs crossed, his body floating inches off the chair. Showoff, Wendy thought with a warm smile.

“Until I flew up to the sides of the cliffs, so close that I could brush their razor-sharp edges with my fingertips.”

He trailed his fingers down through the air, and in that dark room, Wendy swore that she could almost feel the jaggedness of the cliffs.

“As I flew, I felt a strange, warm air brush my fingertips, so unlike the coolness that radiated off the Teeth. I turned back and followed the warm air upward a dozen feet. There, disguised by a crudely painted whitewood slab, was a . . . a hole.”

The room gasped. A Pip with a jagged scar over his eye leapt to his feet, unable to control his excitement.

“What was in it, Peter? What was it?”

Peter grinned in his direction. “Would you like to know, Will?”

The boy was practically bouncing. “Yes! Yes!”

Peter turned to his adoring crowd.

“Would you all like to know?”

Shrieking pleas filled the Teepee. The boys were practically whipped into a frenzy. John was grinning from ear to ear, looking ridiculous. Only Michael seemed immune to Peter’s charms, as he had fallen asleep on Wendy’s lap. A large pool of drool had formed at the corner of his mouth, one arm outstretched over his head. Wendy looked up with a smile to see Peter’s eyes trained on her, and she felt a flush of pleasure run over her skin. Peter began to walk about the room, his arms stretching wide as he continued the tale.

“I couldn’t imagine what was inside the Teeth. An ancient burial ground? A monster? There was no way I could know, and so, with my sword clutched tightly, I entered. At first it was simply a wide cavern inside, the whitewashed walls of the cliffs surrounding me on every side. Seawater dripped down from several cracks in the wall. I had gone several feet when I heard a strange sort of chirping sound and looked up. Over my head were hundreds of white bats with their illuminated clear eyes, the kind I had seen when flying at night. This was their home, inside giant black nests that lined the walls and ceiling, the veins of the Teeth.”

He gave a grimace.

“I walked a bit quieter after that, to tell you the truth. Those bats creeped me out a bit!”

He bent down to emphasize walking in the tunnel.

“A shallow trail of water trickled at my feet, making its way back to some unknown source. After about a mile or so, the cavern narrowed, and I began to hear a foreign sound—the sound of men. The sounds . . . of pirates.”

The entire room hissed. Peter snapped his fingers, and the noise silenced immediately. He continued.

“It was also the sounds of labor: hammers, nails, clinks and clangs that echoed up through the cavern and out to where I was. Slowly, I crept closer, now on my stomach so as not to be seen, sliding along like a snake until the cavern opened itself up before me into an enormous white room, carved out of the Teeth themselves. The room, I tell you, was almost as wide as Pan Island, and deeper than any room I’d ever dreamed possible. The natural walls of the cave curved up and met in the middle, a cathedral of whitewashed stone. With fear in my throat, I looked down, and what I saw . . .”

He shook his head sadly, a red lock lingering on his forehead. Wendy’s fingers twitched. She longed to brush it out of his eyes.

“What I saw chilled me to the bone. There were two ships sitting in the water in between the great white walls. Directly in front of me was a ship that I was very familiar with—Hook’s ship, the Jolly Rodger. The Jolly Rodger, that old girl, a relic from another time, creaking in the soft waves that pushed it up and down inside the cave. You wouldn’t have known it then, worn as she was, but the Jolly Rodger was a ship that had carried countless riches. From my perch, I could see the naked mermaid at her bow, a sparkling red gemstone glistening in her forehead, the cherry wood that flanked her sides. And below, the pirates, humming their familiar tune.”

Peter tapped his chest and cleared his throat before letting out a gorgeous lilting tenor that filled the room, his rich sound swelling in the Teepee, filling Wendy. Slowly, gently, he sang:

A-rovin over the sea

Give me a career as a buccaneer

it’s the life of a pirate for me

Then, without a beat, he continued, “They were loading chests off of her deck and onto the white rocks below, a pearl necklace or a gold coin occasionally dropping down into the water with a plop. Honestly, there are probably untold riches in those waters.” The smile on his face became more somber, his voice dropping. “The Jolly Rodger nestled up on one side of the cavern, and behind it a net, separating the ship from the black ribs of what must have once been a gigantic whale. I had to look at it for a few minutes to truly understand what I was seeing, for it was so large: Long timbers stretched out from their arches, the base of the ship. On the sides of the whale ribs were long pieces of wood, each sanded down and painted black, nailed into jagged rows to create the sides of the ship. To the side of the behemoth, all sorts of projects were being undertaken in the flickering light of sea and fire. I saw a man stringing a black net across two harpoons, then latching it to what looked like a rotating platform that was on some sort of rudimentary wheel. Another man was melting metal down for swords. When they were completed, he was mounting them on a long black board that ran the length of the ship. A string was drawn across them and pulled taut. When the man released the string, the swords leapt out vertically, so as to impale someone who was approaching from the water. When I saw that . . . I knew.”