Shadow (Wendy Darling #3)(62)

“Quite a sight, isn’t it?” Peter whispered to the boys. “I can’t wait to see the inside.”

He rubbed his hands together greedily.

“Finally. The Vault. It’s ours. Boys, this is going to be great.”

Wendy thought quite the opposite as a panic rose within her. At the peak of the massive skull, a single guard stood watch, marching left and right, the tick-tock of a clock in his hand loud enough to hear from the silent trees, his eyes going from the sea to the land and back again. His lean muscled arms rested on the huge scabbard at his waist and the pistol in his other hand. At his feet sat a copper cannon that faced out to sea, its black string trailing between his legs.

“Idiot,” Peter mumbled. He turned back to his troops, trailing silently behind him in the trees.

“It begins.”

“Peter, no!” Wendy whispered as she reached out for him, hoping to try and convince him to reconsider this folly, but her arm fell into empty air.

“Peter?”

He was gone, and she watched in silent horror as he flew straight upward, out of the jungle, disappearing into the low clouds. She looked back at the pirate, who had turned toward the jungle, his hand twitching, his eyes narrowed.

She turned to Abbott. “But where . . .”

“Shut up, you stupid girl!” he hissed at her, and Wendy was reminded of why she thoroughly disliked him.

She turned her head back to the sky, and that’s when she saw Peter. Nothing had prepared her, and she felt a cold hand of regret tighten around her throat. He plummeted downward through the clouds, feet first, the soles of his feet flexed out in front of him, his body hurtling down toward the guard with a staggering speed, a bullet in the air. Peter let out a happy crow, and the pirate turned his face up, raising his pistol in the air, but it was all for naught. Wendy watched in horror as Peter landed hard on the man with one foot on each shoulder, crumpling his body into the ground as if he were made of paper. Loud snaps filled the air as the man’s bones broke one by one, his life snuffed out in seconds, his body contorting as it was ground down into the rock by Peter’s speed.

The pirate’s head snapped back hard against the roof of the cave, and then there was no sound, just the quiet cheering of the Lost Boys beside her. She covered her mouth with her hand as nausea rose up inside of her throat. Peter stood on the rock and waved happily toward them. Then, with a laugh, he kicked the pirate’s body off the top of the skull. It fell a few feet before crumpling lifelessly against a large rock. Then, leaving a smear of blood on the rock, it rolled into the foamy river, where it turned over and floated faceup. With a whoop, Peter leapt down off the skull and flew toward the jungle, hovering above his troops.

“Come on, boys, the way is clear! Let’s go!”

The Lost Boys grabbed their weapons and began flying down out of the trees, landing in a small patch of jungle that sat quietly at the edge of the Vault. Lost Boys swarmed down all around her, their swords and axes drawn as they quietly pulled themselves out of the jungle to float alongside Peter. Wendy willed herself to move and finally propelled herself down, landing gently on a tree branch. Following Kitoko’s lead, she stayed low, her eyes on the thick jungle below, her mind swimming with the image of the pirate dying, again and again, a relentless battering memory. She must have stopped moving for a moment, because suddenly Peter was before her, a smile on his handsome face.

“Wendy! Are you all right?”

Wendy shook her head. Peter touched her face.

“Poor girl. That must have been the first time you’ve seen death. It gets easier. And I promise, we’ll talk later. But for now, I need you to be brave.”

His words shook something loose inside of her. A flood of images whirled in her mind, jumbled and confusing. She saw a building of stone, a pile of books, suspenders, and a wool hat. A hand pulling off a glove. A ladder. She shook her head. What was happening?

“Wendy!”

Peter was in front of her again, lovely Peter, his golden sword drawn.

“Are you here?”

Her eyes found his face. There was a small spot of blood on his ear, not his own.

“Yes, yes, Peter. I’m here.”

The warm and wet jungle pressed around her on all sides.

“Good.”

He cradled her cheeks, and Wendy remembered the way he had kissed her, his warm, wanting mouth.

“Now, Wendy Darling, let’s have ourselves a grand adventure!”

Peter flew up from her tree branch and flew down toward the skull, landing in the river with a splash. He walked toward the open mouth, the jagged teeth churning with angry white waves. Peter’s feet brushed the top of the river until he hovered in front of the open mouth, which looked as though it wanted to swallow him whole. For a moment, Wendy worried that it would. Peter spun in the air until his feet were facing the sky and he could look upside down through the wooden teeth, his body rocking ever so slightly. The Lost Boys and Wendy held their breath. Then Peter righted himself and curled his finger toward the jungle. Come. The platoon of Lost Boys emerged from the jungle, flying silently up to Peter. Wendy stayed in the trees, still battling the barrage of images in her head—blue eyes, a dog barking at a window, the pirate’s head exploding with a splat against the rocks.

Wendy felt an arm wrap around her elbow. It was Abbott.

“Come on, girl. You can’t stay out here alone. Keel cats.” Without warning, he flung her harmlessly into the air. She floated down to the ground and gave him a nasty stare.