Shadow (Wendy Darling #3)(78)
“Peter.” She turned, suddenly feeling very shy. “This is lovely, but we probably shouldn’t be here so late.” She gulped and added, “Alone.”
Peter tucked a piece of her hair, curling from the humidity, behind her ear. “Why wouldn’t we want that? You are so innocent and good, Wendy. It’s made it so hard to be near you—I am drawn to you, you must know.”
Wendy blushed. “I do know. I . . . feel similar.” She paused. “But I don’t feel like I know anything about you. I want to know you, Peter.” She touched a hand gently to his face before he turned away. “What question do you want to know? Ask me anything.” He seemed unsure of himself in this moment, disarmed by curiosity.
Wendy thought for a moment. “Where did you come from? When did you get to Neverland. HOW did you get to Neverland?”
Peter laughed. “That’s three questions.” He frowned quickly. “It was so long ago, I hardly remember myself. The details are spotty.”
Wendy smiled reassuringly at him. “I’ll take anything. I feel you know everything about us, and yet, we know nothing about you.”
He took a deep breath and looked up at the pointed ceiling. “I grew up on a farm in Wick. Wick was in Scotland.”
Scotland. Wendy tried to remember if that was near the place she had lived, which was . . . which was . . .
“ I was the youngest of seven children. We were very poor. A family like you Darlings would have scoffed at us, or perhaps taken pity on us. There was never enough to eat, only herring and bread on the good days. We would sometimes play at Vikings, or Norse Gods, but there was always the fear that tomorrow would bring an empty plate, and so we fished, all day, every day. No time for play, or dreaming, just an endless stretch of nothing and backbreaking work.” His voice grew angry with emotion, his eyes flashing navy. “There was nothing, nothing on that godforsaken island, just endless green and craggy rocks, a cold, angry sea, and bitter winters! My family lived in the long shadow of Old Man Wick, the castle on the sea, our Lord of the Manor, and we his pitiful serfs and slaves! The landowner was cruel, taxing us to death, helping himself to all we had, even though he had everything. And though we hated him, we dreamt of living there, in Old Man Wick, buried amongst such riches, such food, such wealth!
“My father, a selfish coward, drank himself to death when I was very young. I barely remember him, a useless waste of expanding flesh, but I remember seeing him beat my older siblings, and in turn, they beat on me. My mother had no interest in being a mother. When she could bother to feed us, she would slap down some food, remind us of what she could have been if it hadn’t been for us wretches, and leave, a new baby always on her hip, one that she would later resent and stave. It was a paltry existence, but sometimes late at night I would untangle myself from my brothers and sisters and sneak out of our tiny cottage of mud and rock, just to gaze up at the stars, so bright there at the edge of the world. I knew I was bound for something different. Something better. I was meant to rule the stars, not gaze at them from under our poverty. Every night for years, I watched the sky, asking whoever was up there for something more.”
He took a deep breath and turned away from Wendy so she could not see his face. “I was thirteen years old when my older brother pushed me into the River Wick, after I had the gall to suggest keeping the fish I had just caught.”
“Oh, Peter.” Wendy’s eyes filled with tears.
“It had already been a strange night. The sea next to our town was violent and angry, and a full harvest moon rose over Wick, its orange light bathing the town red. I fell into the river and was pulled under. My body was dragged down deep, deep into a crag that lay under the river, deeper than a river should be. It was bottomless, like the ocean. I sank down, lower and lower, as the water grew dark around me. I passed deep into what seemed like an endless current, and then I remember seeing blue and lavender lights swirling under the water, the same lights you passed through when we came here through the portal. The next thing I knew I was swimming upward, and I came out of the sea just beyond the beach of Pan Island. I swam to shore, instantly fell asleep, and I woke a day later to a beautiful Neverland morning—and quite a bad sunburn!”
Wendy giggled. Peter turned and faced her. “I’ve never looked back. I am not that child, and that was never my life. I never speak of it, because it has no relevance to who I am now.” Peter looked down at her, his emerald eyes shining as he took in her face. “Everything I have ever wanted is here. Especially now.”
Wendy looked at the darkening green walls of glass; the directness of Peter’s gaze made her uneasy. “Thank you for telling me.”
Peter flew to the top of the lantern and poked his head out through the open star. “Ooooh. It’s starting.” He flew down and stood beside her, shyly taking her hand. “Wendy, I wanted to take you here to show you something extraordinary. Something you would never see in that other world. Darling, you haven’t seen anything yet of Neverland. I will show you every treasure, every secret pocket of this land. There are so many beautiful things here.”
He reached out and brushed her cheek with the edge of his finger. “Such beauty. Now, sit . . . here.” He settled Wendy down on a stack of blankets that was piled on the floor. “Just wait. And while we wait . . .”
He reached deep into the pocket of his long coat, patterned with autumn leaves and cobwebs, and his hand emerged holding an exquisite set of pan pipes, etched with golden vines. With a coy smile, he began playing a melody that seemed to weave its way right through her skin—low and lilting and penetrating, the music was a soft caress of notes that she felt in every part of her. The strange trill of the pipes, like reeds weeping in rain, filled the lantern up with its forlorn sound. She felt as if she were floating above herself. Her headache subsided, and any thoughts of doubt or guilt disappeared into the wholeness of the music, Peter rendering her into nothingness with just his gaze.