Shadow (Wendy Darling #3)(56)

She followed the branched wall of notes until it stopped about halfway around the Nest, ending where the weapons began. Axes, bows, swords of every shape and color, wooden bats with jagged metal spikes, daggers, butter knives, and spears were stuck within the branchy tangle, jammed in between its crooked arms, the weapons looking so out of place in this natural wonder. A bounty of weapons, real weapons, Wendy noted with a shock. She reached out and touched a line of dried blood on the end of a sword, pulling back when crusted red dust came off on her finger. The quiet of the Nest was broken when the boys began cheering wildly.

Wendy’s head jerked up. Peter was landing in the middle of the Nest, his adoring boys all around him. His wild beauty took Wendy’s breath away, a violent tug on her heart. Gone were the forest-like clothes he had donned before; he was now wearing armor—if you could even call it that—over his white tunic, black pants, and short brown leather boots. The chest armor was made of tiny, glossy, mirror-like tiles that wrapped tightly to his muscular form, each meticulously sewed together so that the armor flowed with his movements. A black sash dashed across his shoulders and around his waist, holding his golden sword up against his hip. His red hair glittered with the same dust that had fallen around Wendy last night on the bridge. He had been with Tink. Flitting silver light darted in between his hair follicles and around his face, which was curved up in a naughty smile. As she gazed at him, he reminded Wendy of a fire on a cold winter evening—warm, radiant . . . and dangerous. A different sort of fire was burning its way through her chest as she looked at him, a desire to be close to his glistening skin, hoping that he would notice her. As she gazed upon Peter and he upon her, John entered the Nest through a small hidden ladder on the west side of the curved branches.

“John!” Wendy cried. He turned his head away from her and began talking to another Lost Boy who had picked up an axe.

“Don’t ignore me, John!” She grabbed his arm. “John! Please! I just need a minute.”

John rolled his eyes to the boy next to him and gave a snicker. “Women.”

Wendy resisted the urge to slap the smile off his face and pulled him into a corner.

“John, I need you to promise me you’ll be careful. Please! I’m sure there is nothing to worry about but . . .”

“I’m sure I’ll be fine, Wendy. Go away.”

“John! Why are you behaving this way?”

He gave an easy grin, tossing his dull brown hair off his dull face. “Because nothing you say matters here. I’m a General; you’re not. I imagine once Peter tires of your frilly dresses and puerile charms, that you will be our cook . . . or nanny, perhaps?”

“What would our . . . our . . .” Wendy couldn’t think at the cruelty of his words. She struggled to reprimand him. “Those people, the people who cared for us, what would they say if they heard you speak to me that way . . .”

What was she trying to say? John stared blankly at her and then turned to grab a sword off the wall. He considered his options for a moment before finally settling on a short, fat sword with an emerald pommel.

“I don’t know what or who you are talking about.”

Wendy felt a coil of anger unspool on her tongue. “You don’t even know how to use that, John!”

John looked over his cloudy glasses at her. “You’re trying to upset me before the raid. I have an important job to do, unlike you. Keep being oh-so lovely. It’s what you are good at.”

Wendy stepped back from him, disgusted at his words and attitude. Peter walked over and put his arm on Wendy’s waist.

“Is everything okay here?”

She stepped away. “Peter, please, please don’t let him go . . .”

“John may do as he likes here. He is an intelligent asset to our Generals.”

“Or just an ass,” Abbott remarked as he walked past the arguing siblings to grab a well-worn spear off the wall. John’s eyes narrowed, but he said nothing, obviously intimidated by the other General. Abbott twirled the spear in his fingertips, flexing its tip. “Don’t worry, Wendy, your dear brother is just pushing a ship to the side. That’s all. There’s no danger in that. Those who are going to steal bounty have a much more difficult job.”

John’s face flushed red as Abbott playfully nicked him behind the ear with the tip of his spear.

“Boys, Wendy, play nice.” Peter chuckled.

“John, you take a seat here. Abbott, begin packing up for our departure. Wendy . . .” He looked her up and down, trying his best to figure out how to quench her growing frustration with John.

“Wendy . . . you’re coming with us.”

“What?” John practically jumped up from the bench. “She can’t come! She’s not a Lost Boy or a General! She’s not even a boy at all!”

“And you weren’t a General until you arrived and I gave you the privilege,” Peter snapped, his eyes clouding navy and then returning to green. “If I say Wendy goes, then Wendy goes.”

Abbott stared silently at both of them, his eyes darting to Wendy and then back again. He wisely decided to say nothing.

Peter cleared his throat.

Wendy stared hard at John and then looked back at Michael. “Michael . . .”

“Michael will stay here with the other Pips. He’ll be safe. Thomas?”