Shadow (Wendy Darling #3)(91)

Wendy looked over at Tink, her heart breaking for this sad creature, a piece of herself, forever shattered. “You belong to no one. He cannot own you.”

Tink shook her head. “All I want him to do is love me. We are going to be together forever, he and I, my Peter Pan.”

Wendy let her fingers cinch a knotted bandage on Tink’s ankle, swollen and bruised. She thought about how Booth looked at her, so worshipful and respectful all at once. “You should believe me because I’ve known real love. And it doesn’t come with bruises.” Wendy remembered the fury in Peter’s face when she had rejected him. She had thought Peter was a consuming fire, but it turns out he was just the flame, turning her skin to ash. She was so afraid of him. “Here, let me help you.” Tink lifted her arms, and Wendy managed to drag her to the edge of the pond, silver shale slipping down the small bank. She dipped Tink’s swollen ankles under the water, then used her palms to wash the dried blood off Tink’s arms, legs, and face.

Tink began crying. “I can’t understand why you are helping me.”

Wendy leaned forward and kissed her white-hot burning forehead, her lips feeling that same wave of heat that she had on the bridge. Remembering the powerful Tink and seeing this pathetic, broken creature who clutched at her arm tore at Wendy’s heart and hardened her growing hatred for Peter.

“I do it because that’s what my mother taught me to do. I forgive you for the poison and the walkway.”

At those words, a bit of the angry Tink returned, jerking her head back. “I don’t need your forgiveness. Who are you to forgive me? I am a fairy, one of the oldest creatures in Neverland. The flowers and the trees bow to my song. In fact, you shouldn’t even be here. This is where I come with Peter.”

Wendy nodded. Peter. “Tink, I need you to tell me something.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What?”

“How do I get home?”

Tink shook her head. “I can’t tell you, I’m sorry. Only Peter can open the passage voluntarily. Otherwise, it opens every thirty years. You’ll have to ask him.”

Wendy remembered falling through the air. “I did. And it didn’t go entirely well.”

“Wendy . . .” Tink said hesitantly.

The pond gave a jolt, as ripples of water began parting and rolling toward Tink’s ankles. The two women watched as tiny ripples of water crinkled down the pond, previously so lovely and still. Then they heard the drums. Tink turned her head. “Oh, no. Not again.”

Wendy leapt up to her feet. “What is that for?”

“Peter must be readying the boys for another raid. Or an attack.”

“So soon?”

Tink turned her starry eyes upon Wendy’s face. “What did you do?” She began wringing her hands. “The boys, we can’t lose more of them. Kitoko, Darby . . .”

Wendy stood up. “I have to go, I’m sorry. I’ll come back.”

“Wendy.” Tink was suddenly beside her, her feet brushing the ground. She leaned in close to Wendy, her breath grazing her face, her voice pleading and fractured, confused and discombobulated. “Listen to me. He’ll kill you if you try to leave. He will. Please, you have to believe me. You don’t know him . . .”

Wendy looked Tink straight in the eye. “I know him now.”

Tink turned away from her, her ear tilted to the ground. Then she whirled on Wendy, her voice returning to its normal razor edge. “Get out of here then! You’ve spoiled my haven and my pond with your selfish pity.”

Wendy stared after Tink for a moment before pushing her way past the reeds. Everyone here was insane. To Wendy’s surprise, she ended up stumbling into a cluster of branches that hovered a few hundred feet above the Table. Pan Island was a labyrinth, an elaborate maze of winding branches and concave spaces. She didn’t understand it completely, but she had the feeling that it had to do with the same sort of memory loss that had come upon her once she was in Neverland.

The Lost Boys were gathered in a large circle at the base of Centermost, a teeming heap of sun-kissed skin, sweat, and dirty clothes. Peter was at the front. Wendy could barely bring herself to look at him, though she felt the weight of his eyes on her, pushing her down into the ground. Peter started strutting back and forth.

“Boys, I’ve decided it’s time. It’s time for a change in our way of life.” The boys fell silent, a relentless tapping of some boy’s foot the only noise in the hushed crowd. “Since Kitoko’s death, I have been doing some soul-searching. I’ve come to realize that taking the pirates’ wine wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough of a lesson. The pirates, they kill us. That’s what they do. We raid their treasure, and they kill us, or we sometimes kill them, right, boys?”

The boys cheered, one boy yelling out, “I love you, Peter!” Peter grinned down at him, but his eyes stayed on Wendy.

“Well, I’ve decided that we need more than wine. We need more than treasure. We need provisions.”

Confusion broke out among the boys. “What does that word mean?” asked one of the boys.

Peter smiled with a glint of malice in his eyes. “It means . . .” He gestured behind him. “Bring ’em up, boys!” Four larger boys were struggling to carry a large linen sack, the length and size of a body. Wendy’s breath caught in her throat, fearing the worst, but when the boys dropped the bag down, there was a distinctly metallic sound. The Lost Boys were climbing over each other to get a look at the package.