Veiled in Stars and Silver

Copyright © 2024 by J. Ann Curtis

First edition, published under the ENEMIES EVER AFTER series.

Published by J. Ann Curtis

Dust jacket cover design by Blue Raven Book Covers

Case cover illustration by MageOnDuty

Reverse dust jacket design by Jo Holloway Books

Proofread by Magnolia Author Services

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the copyright holder.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

To Marea,

Adventure awaits beyond the second star.

Contents

Map

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Of Curses and Moonlight: A Swan Lake Retelling

Chapter 1

Acknowledgements

About the Author

Other Books By

EEA Set

Prologue

Wendy held her kiss in her palm—the little acorn button that had saved her life when the Lost Boys tried to shoot her from the sky. She sighed and dropped the acorn, which was bound to the necklace she always kept tucked under her dress, and stared at her cross-stitch, her mouth twisting in disappointment. It had been a year since she’d returned from Neverland with her brothers. She was already thirteen. And yet, some days, she’d give anything to return to the world of magic, to fly through the air with the boy that never grew up.

But she hadn’t seen Peter Pan since the day they’d returned. Not once.

She picked up her cross-stitch and tried to focus on the butterfly pattern. Had he forgotten her? It certainly seemed like it. At first, she’d told stories to her brothers every night, religiously, hoping Peter might return to listen. But as the months passed, and there was no sign of him, she went to her brothers’ room less and less.

It became too painful.

Of course, Neverland wasn’t all fun and games. There was a much darker side to the land of adventure. Pirates, and death, and… Hook. A shiver ran over her skin. But there was no reason to worry about him anymore. The Crocodile had gotten Hook. He was long dead.

And they were all better for it.

A pounding shook her wall, then her desk, coming from the hallway. The dark liquid in her inkwell sloshed threateningly. She rolled her eyes and moved it an inch away from her, then tried to keep a steady hand on her project. John and Michael were playing cricket in the house again. Ever since they returned from Neverland, their activities had become much more rough and tumble. They were driving Mother and Father insane. Not to mention Nana, who chased them around barking on such occasions, as if that would do anything to stop them.

On cue, the low woof of the Newfoundland reverberated through the house’s thin walls. She’d have to do something. Their parents were both in bed with a fever and weren’t up to reigning in her brothers. And Nana’s barks only made the neighbors angry.

She set down her cross-stitch and smoothed her hands over her dress, glaring at her poorly sewn project in triumph. “Guess you’ll have to wait.”

“Watch out!” The shout came too late. The cricket ball rammed into Wendy’s inkwell, the stopper flying off and upsetting the jar. Her heart sank as the liquid spread over her half-finished cross-stitch. A low growl emitted from her throat, and she snatched it up, but it was useless. Her project was destroyed.

Wendy’s breaths came fast as she pictured the caning she’d surely get from her teacher, Mrs. Crowley. Her knuckles were already red and sore from her last beating. She spun toward the doorway where her brothers stood with wide eyes.

“It wasn’t my fault.” John, ten-years-old and ever the coward, pointed at his younger brother, Michael.

“Hey!” Michael shouted, crossing his arms over his small six-year-old chest. His blond hair flopped too long into his eyes. “That’s not fair. You were supposed to catch it! And if Wendy didn’t insist on having her own room, her desk wouldn’t be there, and this wouldn’t have even happened.”

John adjusted his spectacles. “Good point, Michael. I guess Wendy is too grown up for us.”

She threw her cross-stitch onto the floor and let loose a roar of rage, rushing for her brothers. They squealed and retreated down the hallway to their room. Wendy, who was taller, gained on them both. When they cleared the doorway, Michael jumped on his mattress, throwing his covers over his head as if it were a safe place. Wendy tackled John just as he was attempting to clear his own bed to put an obstacle between them. They landed hard onto the carpet.

“Ow, Wendy! Get off! We didn’t mean to!”

“You think Mrs. Crowley cares if you didn’t mean to? What is wrong with both of you? Ever since Neverland, you two have been acting like wild monkeys.”

“And you’re so mature, are you? Always staring at the silly button and crying over your precious Peter.” He fanned his face with his hand, his eyelashes fluttering. “Oh, why won’t he come and visit me? Doesn’t he care about me anymore? What I wouldn’t give to see Neverland one last time.”

Her cheeks warmed. “You little leech. You read my diary!”

He continued to mock her, pretending to cry over Peter. Wendy clenched her teeth. He was doing it to make her appear weak, like a helpless little girl.

She rose and jerked him to his feet. “That’s it, John.” She dragged him over to the window. “You believe you're such a brave, tough kid? Climb down the hedge. I dare you.”

John trembled, peering down at the lengthy drop to the garden below. “Now Wendy…”

“You think you’re as brave as Peter? You think I’m nothing but a sobbing girl? Do it.”

He squared his shoulders. “Fine. If you insist.” He reached out and grabbed the hedge, lifting his scrawny legs into it. The lattice work groaned. John’s face went white as a sheet, and he scrambled back onto the window’s ledge.

“Are you trying to kill me?”

Wendy gave him a nasty look and climbed out onto the lattice. The wood groaned under her weight. Focusing, she scurried downward. When the lattice pulled from the wall, her heart rose into her throat. She held onto the frame and jumped at the last minute, landing on the cool cobbled stone and leaping out of the way before the lattice hit the ground with a loud crash.

Mother and Father wouldn’t be happy.

“You’re insane!” John shouted at her.

She looked up and shook her fist at him. “If you ever read my diary again, you’ll regret it, John Darling. Do you hear me?”

With that, she marched through the back door of their home and stormed off to her bedroom.

Wendy lay in her bed a few hours later and took in the stars painted on her ceiling, each little pinprick a diamond sparkling in the night sky. If she shut her eyes, she remembered what it was like to fly up and feel as if she could touch those stars. She could do anything. She pulled her heavy, warm comforter to her chin and recalled the destruction she’d caused to the lattice work. Worse than a ball hitting her inkwell. Perhaps Neverland had a lasting effect on her as well.

But John’s teasing had left her seeing red, and she couldn’t let his violation go unchallenged.

The clock next to her bed said it was just past eleven. She turned over. Mother and Father hadn’t even come to check on the commotion in the backyard. A wave of cold worry slithered through Wendy.

A shadow crossed over her window.

She bolted up, sucking in a shaky breath. For a moment, her mind leapt to Peter. But no, the shadow had been much too large to be that of a boy. Closer to that of a man. Her eyes darted around the room as a thick trepidation curled inside her veins. Her sweaty fingers dug into her covers.

She shook her head. She must have been seeing things. Lying back, she forced herself to relax.

What had I been thinking about? Oh, yes, my brothers and the hedge.

She lay there and watched the window, returning her thoughts to where they belonged. John and Michael. She supposed she shouldn’t be so hard on her brothers. A tentative smile crossed her lips as she pictured Michael hiding under his covers. They were both upset with her for choosing to move rooms and she did feel bad about it, considering everything they had been through together. And yet, having a young lady’s room was part of growing up. Though presently, she would much rather be in the room at the end of the hall with her brothers.

And she supposed John wasn’t that horrible either, despite her anger remaining over the diary. Still, he hadn’t tattled about the lattice work.

Wendy twined the chain with Peter’s kiss on it around her finger. No shadows had passed by her window in the past few minutes. And yet, the disquiet hadn’t fully left her. Perhaps she should apologize to her brothers for acting out today. She kicked off her covers and sat up.

Feeling like a child, she stared at the window. She had chosen to grow up, but sometimes that seemed an awful long time in coming.

A loud banging shook the house. Wendy didn’t move, listening. It came again from her brothers’ room at the end of the hall. And again. She jolted to her feet. It’s John and Michael roughhousing, she told herself. Yes, that was it. And in the middle of the night. What did her brothers think they were doing? Mother and Father were in no condition to—

The sound of shattering glass pierced through her thoughts, drawing out the dread she had fought to suppress.

The screaming started.

John and Michael were screaming.

Wendy careened into the hall, her heart slamming against her rib cage. She gazed into the open doorway at the hall’s end, the nightlights giving off the dimmest glimmer.

And froze.

A man stood in the doorway. She might not have recognized him due to the shadows playing across his face, except that the outline of his left hand curved into an elegant point. The sickly silvery hue glowed in the dull lighting.

Nausea gripped Wendy. That couldn’t be right. Peter had defeated this man. He was supposed to be dead.

And yet he stood there, his form filling the doorway. In one smooth movement, he stepped back into her brothers’ room and slammed the door. Wendy heard the scrape of a large object being moved.

John and Michael continued to scream.

“No, no, no!” Wendy raced down the hall.

Her parents’ bedroom door, next to her brothers' room, swung open. “What is going on? Is everyone all right?”

She barely noticed her father’s words through her terror.

Twisting the doorknob, she threw herself against the white painted wood of her brothers’ door. “It's Hook! We have to get in there, now!”

“Hook? How is that possible?” Wendy’s mother huddled near her father, somehow growing whiter with fear, bracing her weak body against the doorpost to their bedroom.

Her father came up behind Wendy. His shoulders were slumped and illness colored his cheeks a deathly pale. “Move.”

Wendy stepped away, tears gathering in her eyes. Her mother watched, a hand over her mouth, trembling. “My babies, my babies.”

Wendy’s father slammed his shoulder into the door. It didn’t budge. He did it again and again. Over and over, his body shuddered, about to collapse after each hit. The screaming on the other side stopped, but her father continued, determined to get into the room. When the door finally cracked open, he fell to the floor, exhausted. Wendy rushed forward, climbing over him.

The place was in shambles. Her brothers' sheets were torn and ripped. Feathers lay on the floor from the lacerated pillows, the bedding strewn over toy swords and spears and little painted soldiers. An icy breeze blew across Wendy’s neck, causing her to turn toward the window.

It was shattered to pieces, small slivers of glass glittered in the carpet. Wendy picked her way, needing to make it to the opening, ignoring the shards that embedded into her feet and left bloody footprints. She gazed out the window into the night, wishing against hope she saw some sign of her brothers. That this was some sort of trick. Some sick game thought up by Peter. How she wanted that to be the case so badly.

The frigid air whipped her hair about her face. She wrapped her arms around her middle and tried to stop the sobs that rose in her throat. They drove her to her knees among the wickedly sharp shattered glass, slicing into her shins. She stared out into the night, one name on her lips, ripping out of her in an uncontrolled cry, like a bestial howl.

“Hook!”

Chapter 1

Wendy

(Seven Years Later)

I made my way through the bustling marketplace of downtown London. The streets were filled with stores and open-air stands, selling everything from watercress and home remedies to exotic spices and fine fashionwear. Hawkers and peddlers moved about the street, and despite the lateness of the evening, a paperboy stood on the corner shouting the latest news of the day. Everyone was hoping to make their last sale before they closed up shop.

I pulled my cloak close, trying to fade into the shadows, and hurried along. Twilight colored the city streets an unusual orange-ish color, and a chill bit the air, announcing the onset of winter. It wasn't particularly late. But even at the age of twenty, it was odd for a woman of my station to move about this time of day, unaccompanied.

And if my uncle were to find out... I frowned. My uncle couldn't find out.

I slipped down a much less busy, narrow side street. Here the stores and stands showcased ever stranger oddities. Instead of the more traditional medicines based in morphine, mercury, or arsenic, the products hawked on this street included remedies from a time long forgotten. Powders from ground-up body parts, potions and cures made from animal dung to solve, as one sign put it, “weak hearts, weak blood, and weak nerves.” There were also various tonics for women's monthly pains and other female complaints.

The people who moved up and down the stands were of a more shady character, with raised hoods and dark looks cast to any person who drew too near. I fingered the skull-handled dagger belted to my waist. A habit of reassurance. If I ever needed a weapon, I preferred to use the throwing knives I'd sewn inside my cloak. When I first came here six years ago, young and untrained, I'd nearly fainted. But this street held the least of the questionable characters that I would engage with tonight.

Seven years I'd been trapped here in London, in this land of non-magic, while my brothers were stuck in Neverland at the mercy of James Hook.

My hands balled into fists.

Halfway down, I paused in front of a large open tent, with a shawled figure selling remedies of a more sensual nature. They no longer elicited a blush when I saw them.

The bent woman with weathered skin and wrinkly hands stared up at me. “Can I help you?”

I took a breath and forced my fists to relax. “I seek for that which the soul yearns,” I recited the passphrase.

The woman peered up and down the alley. Nobody else lingered near the booth. She motioned for me to follow.

“You must give payment.” She lifted a pin and pricked my finger, drawing a spot of red. The old woman pressed a vial against the welling blood. I watched, trying not to think about how she might use my payment.

When she was done, the old, shawled figure put away the vial in a small box. I trailed her hunched body to the back of the tent. A smile crossed the gnarled old face as she split the fabric of the hidden rear flap. “Hope you find what you are looking for, young lady.”

“Thank you.” I slipped between the folds of fabric, pushing through it until it opened. Behind the inconspicuous front of a remedy stand was another long, narrow alley butting up against a line of old, dilapidated buildings. Rotted wooden stands dotted both sides of the potholed alleyway. Here, the world took on an even darker hue.

There were spells to curse your neighbor with unrecoverable illness. Potions to poison a lover or enemy. Staffs and cauldrons filled with magic. Powders and dusts that could wreak havoc from making one disappear to melting the skin from one's bones.

Most, if not all, were rubbish.

Except for the dagger in my belt. I again ran a finger over its jeweled hilt, two rubies set in the face of a skull. A year ago, I'd come across a man who claimed that the dagger could detect real magic. I'd seen it work only once, when it detected a talisman that made one appear younger. It had been demonstrated on the woman at the sexual remedy tent and had done wonders. Too bad the woman couldn't afford the talisman. Still, the blade had glowed a brilliant blue, identifying its magic. When I beheld its effectiveness, I had used all my money to purchase the dagger.

I moved past a stand that promised potions that could enact ill will on others. The young lady at the booth shivered in the cold, pulling a thin shawl around thinner shoulders. A reed about to snap. She had that ghostly look on her face. That look that always broke me, despite the knowledge that her merchandise was useless. The haunted, starving desperation that told me this woman was on her last leg.

“I wish to buy a potion,” I said.

“What would you like, miss?” A wan smile stretched across her narrow face. “I carry everything from potions to get yourself a lover, to potions that curse your worst enemy.”

The dark image of the man who had haunted my nightmares for the past seven years crawled into my mind. “I'll take the curse.”

“Ah, good choice, miss. All you have to do is drink it, think of your enemy, and mutter the curse you wish.”

I placed two sovereigns into her hands. “Keep the change.”

The woman's eyes grew round, and tears filled them. She clutched the money to her chest and handed me a tiny glass bottle of violet liquid. “Thank ye, miss.”

I gave a reassuring smile and pocketed the small potion. I continued along the row of stands.

A large shadow loomed behind me, and meaty hands clamped onto both my arms, pinning me in place. “Now, what is a delicate flower like you doing in this rat's den?” a deep voice drawled. He leaned forward and took in a large whiff. His scruffy beard grated against my skin. “Do you know what we rats do to delicate flowers caught in our traps?”

My stomach knotted, and I tried not to gag at the stale alcohol on his breath. My lip curled.

The man chuckled, and his fingers squeezed tighter. “Whatever we wish.”

In a flash, a throwing knife appeared in my hand. With a flick of my wrist, I pressed it against the man's groin. He gasped and stiffened.

“If you'd prefer to keep your manhood,” I said evenly, “I'd recommend unhanding this delicate flower this instant.”

He didn't release me at first, so I jabbed the point of the knife a little harder, prepared to follow through if necessary. The brute staggered back, his hands falling away. He looked me over with a mixture of uncertainty and anger. They always stared at me like that after threatening to remove their source of power and pleasure from them.

He sneered at me. “Ain't worth my time anyway.” And with that, he turned and took his drunkenness with him, staggering down the street.

I let out a breath. I hadn't been attacked here often. At least during the last six years it had happened a lot less than I might have suspected. But it had occurred enough times that I was more angry than shocked when some self-absorbed man stumbled upon me and assumed he had a right to whatever he pleased. One time, I’d had to give a man more than just a warning, though a small nick was all it took to send him howling to the ground, clutching his crotch.

I pretended to browse but watched out of the corner of my eye until the drunk with meaty hands was too far down the alley for me to see. Then I tucked the throwing knife into my cloak.

Now, I’d return to my search for the one thing that would help me reach Neverland.

I moved forward, examining every vendor and sighed with disappointment. Nothing new or out of the ordinary. I had hoped sneaking out of my home this time of night might be worth the risk. The cold bite of winter had recently made its appearance, sinking its teeth into the people of southern England with a vengeance, bringing a surge of travelers and migrant workers into London’s streets. That meant a fresh assortment of newcomers peddling their wares. Including in the backstreets of London’s magic and macabre black markets. But my faith that tonight I might find what I’d long been searching for was dying a swift death.

As I neared the end of the alley, my shoulders fell. Another day of failure. Another day my need for hope and revenge went unfulfilled. Another day my brothers were trapped in Neverland. If they were even still alive. Trying not to dwell on that, I turned to head back up the alleyway.

And blinked. A stand with a large colorful tent loomed where I swore none had stood before. A man with graying hair and a peg leg lingered outside its opening. He stared straight at me.

“Hello there, young miss. May I interest you in any of my wares?”

“Where did you come from? I didn’t see you on the way down.”

The man bowed. “Just a demonstration, miss. I only carry wares that the most determined seeker may find. And I can tell that you, miss, are the most determined of the determined.”

I pursed my lips. I glanced at the jeweled dagger in my cloak and lifted it slightly from its hilt. A blue hue shone from its blade. My heart skipped a beat. There was magic here.

I took a step toward the man. “I am looking for something quite particular. Do you perhaps carry powders or dust?”

“Dust? Why yes, I carry dust! The question is, what do you want it to do? I have dust to make you taller, dust to make you fertile or sterile, as you wish. Oh, and of course, fairy dust for flying.”

My fingers trembled with anticipation. At last. But I schooled my emotions, keeping my face smooth. It could be fake. I needed to be careful. “May I see your assortment?”

“Yes, yes. Come inside.”

I entered the tent and sat on a wooden stool. The space was filled with traveling trunks standing on their sides and opened to show bottles of potions and elixirs. He brought out a variety of powders and dusts in bags and laid them before me on the brightly woven rug.

I could pretend no longer. “And your fairy dust?”

“Ah, I see you want nothing but the best.” He stepped to the tent’s rear and lifted the lid of a trunk, pulling out a small brown drawstring bag.

I took it from him and peered inside. Though the lanterns in the tent only offered a dim lighting, the dust gave off its own golden glow.

My breath caught. “I should like to test it.”

“Not in here, are you insane?” He snatched the bag back. “If you want it, you must buy.”

I surreptitiously checked my dagger again. The blade still glowed. I’d take the chance. “Fine. I shall pay you eighteen pounds for it.”

He raised an eyebrow. “That is all? This is fairy dust, miss. Not some homemade concoction to cure your granny’s warts.”

My heart sank. Eighteen pounds was a decent sum to offer. I now wished I hadn’t bought the potion. Then again, I doubted adding the sovereigns I’d paid that woman would change his mind.

The man watched me, tugging on his colorful robe. “Have you nothing else to pay… or trade, perhaps?”

My dagger. But if the dust was real, then the blade had served its purpose, and it would be well worth the trade. If it turned out to be fake…

Gritting my teeth, I pulled out every one of my throwing knives, a complete set, and laid them out on the small table next to the stool on which I sat.

The man snorted. “You think I want lame kitchen knives in exchange for magical fairy dust? How about that dagger you have tucked under your cloak? Now that is worth trading for.”

“How did you—”

“Is it a deal or not?” The way he tapped his foot belied his impatience.

I had no choice. He was the first person who had the very thing I was searching for. I unstrapped the dagger from my waist and laid it out on the table.

The man smiled and clutched his prize, while pushing the bag of fairy dust toward me. “Pleasure doing business with you, miss.”

As soon as the trade was complete, he grew more impatient. I tried stashing my throwing knives in my cloak, but he scooped up the rest and shoved them at me, motioning for me to leave.

“I’ve more customers to tend to before the end of the evening,” he said.

I stowed the last of my knives as I stepped out of the tent, the little bag of fairy dust tied securely around my wrist. A smile crept across my face. I was about ready to explode. Finally, finally. Six years of searching had paid off. Barely ten steps outside, and I had to take another look. I drew the drawstring back and peered inside.

Something was wrong.

The golden shimmer that the dust had given off mere moments before was a plain, dusky brown. It appeared as if someone had scooped soil from one of the street plants into the bag, chunks and all.

My smile faded. No. My plans. My revenge.

My brothers.

I scrunched the bag and threw it to the ground, a rage gathering in my stomach. That scroungy so-called salesman. He'd tricked me.

And he’d taken my one tool to detect magic. The cool metal of my throwing knives brushed my arm. That swindler didn’t realize who he was dealing with. I spun around and raced back to the tent.

When I entered, I paused in shock. Everything was gone. He couldn’t have packed up and left that fast. I ran to the rear and found an exit. Pushing through, I saw the man running down the back alley. I plowed ahead, my wide-brimmed hat catching the wind and flying from my head. My skirts tried to ensnare my legs. Luckily for me, he was old, and his peg leg slowed him. Its dull thudding echoed off the cracked concrete. I pulled a throwing knife, feeling the familiar weight as I gripped it between my fingers. Taking aim, I released it, and it sailed past the man, nicking his ear.

He gasped and picked up his pace.

I drew another knife. “The next one goes between your shoulders.”

The man paused, raising his hands. He turned, the jeweled dagger clutched in his fist, a sheepish expression on his face.

I walked up to him, my knife still at the ready. “Give it to me.”

“I ain’t never seen a woman throw like that,” he said as he handed over the dagger.

I took it, strapping it securely to my waist, before also stowing the throwing knife in my cloak.

The man’s face clouded. “Ah, miss. Are you sure we can’t work out a deal? Now I’m gonna lose all that money.”

“Money?”

“From my buyer.” The bright robe he wore faded, revealing dirty and ragged clothing that hung off a wiry frame.

I reached into my money pouch and drew out a pound, dropping it into his palm. “For information. How did you do magic?”

The man’s eyes gleamed, and his fingers closed around the coin. “There’s a man. He cast the spell on my clothes and the tent. Told me he’d pay me handsomely if I brought him the knife with the skull and jeweled hilt that belonged to the girl in the cloak seeking fairy dust.”

“That’s oddly specific.” My mind tried to pin down what it could mean but came up empty. “Describe how this man looked.”

“Oh, he was a fine gentleman. Very rich. Ancient. Older than me. Nice clothes. He had a long scar running over his face…” His head tilted in consideration. “Although, he could have used magic to conceal his appearance.”

Dammit. He was right.

“I don’t suppose he gave you a name?”

“Sorry, miss. These gentlemen making backroom deals like to be discreet.”

“Fine. Where were you supposed to meet him?”

“Damned if I know. He always found me, miss. Reckoned he would again.”

“Tell your buyer that if he wants this dagger, he can come get it from me himself.” I jabbed a finger at the man. “And you think twice before trying to cheat me again.”

He gave me a toothy grin. “Of course, miss. I quite enjoy my ears where they are.”

I walked down the London streets in defeat. I’d retrieved my hat and the last throwing knife before starting the walk home. The cold air nipped at me. Though the pavement was bare, I expected the penultimate sign of winter would show its face soon. I rubbed my aching fingers, wishing I hadn’t forgotten to put on gloves.

My thoughts churned with curiosity. Who was the mysterious man who wanted my dagger? And how did he know I was searching for fairy dust?

I sucked in a deep breath, grateful I’d chosen not to wear a corset, and even more grateful, as I walked past men and women in their finery, that my cloak hid that fact. The constricting apparel forced my body into an unnatural S shape that restricted my movement and made me feel lightheaded.

When I reached the wall that surrounded my backyard, I took out two throwing knives and stuck them into the tiny holes that I’d dug into the grout between the bricks. My uncle had moved into my childhood home almost seven years ago, not long after I had lost everything. If he found me scaling a wall, he’d skin me alive.

I hiked my skirts up to my knees before scrambling to the top and dropping into the yard. I refused to glance at the spot where Nana’s old kennel used to sit, avoiding the memory of my brother’s joyful shouts echoing in the yard as Nana barked and chased them. It was a recollection from another time. One I tried not to think too much on.

I came to the back wall of my home and again utilized my knives to leverage myself up to the third story, climbing over the grate and ducking through the open window into the room that used to belong to my brothers. Stepping into its darkened confines, I stepped past my brothers’ empty beds, pulling on the strings of my cloak. Even after all this time, I hadn’t changed a thing, only moved my bed back in.

The hairs on my neck stood on end. I sensed someone in my room. My mind flashed to the night Hook had stolen my brothers. My muscles tensed. A dark figure lounged on my bed. My heart slammed in my chest as I grasped a throwing knife in my hand, ready to throw.

Chapter 2

Wendy

“Did you have an enjoyable night out?” The voice that sounded from the shadows was familiar, yet it sent a shiver down my spine.

Uncle Reuben. He was home early from whatever social gathering he’d engaged in. I ground my teeth, wishing it was Hook, a burglar, or even Meaty Hands from the alley. Someone I could sink my blade into.

Or at least someone who fought fair.

“Good evening, Uncle. I was feeling restless. Went for a little stroll.”

“Did you now?” He rose from the mattress. His every move set me on edge. With the lithe movement of a predator, he stepped over to the lantern next to John’s bed and lit it. The reflection of the light highlighted his square jaw and stone-hard eyes. “Open your cloak.”

He approached as I reluctantly did as he bid me.

“Now why would a young lady feel safe enough to go on an evening stroll unaccompanied, and yet need to bring every single one of her throwing knives?”

I lifted my chin. “That is why I felt safe. You know you taught me well.”

His gaze fell to the jeweled dagger at my waist. He reached and pulled it from its sheath. I lifted a hand, wanting to stop him, but caught myself, forcing it back to my side.

But not before Uncle noticed.

The blade glinted darkly as he examined it. “And what have I taught you about lying to me?” he asked.

I let out a fast breath. “Uncle, I—”

“This is quite the specimen.” He held up the dagger toward the light. “Where did you get it?”

The challenge in his steely gaze dared me to lie to him. I was caught. If I told him a lie, he’d know right away, and I’d be punished. If I told him the truth, I’d be dead. Uncle didn’t care for me. He simply didn’t want me to be a nuisance, which I had a tendency to be. But I understood how he worked.

Tarnish his good name, and he’d end me.

Better punished than dead. “I found it.”

“Where?”

“On the road near Kensington Gardens.”

He didn’t react, which made me more worried. Lying straight to his face while we both knew I was being untruthful was defiant even for me. I might as well have spat on him and stated outright that I wasn’t telling.

“I think I will keep this.” He slipped the dagger into his pocket and turned away.

“No, Uncle. Please—”

When he spun to look at me, the angry threat in his eyes made me recoil. “Get changed. We are going out to practice.”

I swung my blade and danced back as my cousin, Ezra, counterattacked. He was bigger and stronger, but I knew enough tricks to offset his natural advantage. Ezra, however, also knew my tricks. He pressed me, not allowing me the time to capitalize on his slower movements. Our swords clashed in a series of swift strokes.

Uncle, with his frosty glare observed from the sidelines, noting every poor execution, every mistake. He leaned on an unopened umbrella he’d requisitioned as a few flurries had struck the carriage on the ride out. “Whoever loses gets fifteen lashes.”

That sent me on high alert. Uncle was in the mood to hurt.

Ezra also became much more concentrated in his hits. But he wasn’t as good as me. My cousin enjoyed books and arguing about biology with his academically-minded friends. He hated fighting, and it showed. Some nights, when I felt particularly bad that he had a father like Uncle, I’d take the fall, and the lashes, for him.

Not tonight. Tonight, I had something to prove.

I lunged, taking advantage of an easy opening. Ezra was unable to parry. One more move and I’d have him.

Uncle stuck out his umbrella, smacking it against my shins. I gasped, hitting the ground hard. Ezra lunged to strike at my prone form, but I rolled, knocking his sword to the side and sweeping his legs from under him, laying him out on his back. I jumped onto him and pressed my blade to his throat.

“Y-yield,” he panted.

Anger coursed through my veins, and I turned to Uncle, ready to accuse him of cheating. The red mottled look on his face stopped me, as I realized too late that tonight of all nights I should have taken the defeat. Uncle wanted to punish me, and instead, I’d humiliated his son.

“Go work on your throwing,” he said through clenched teeth. He marched over to the weapon rack and pulled down the whip before pointing at Ezra. “Shirt off.”

I felt sick. Only when Uncle was in his worst moods would he strike us with our shirts off. I cast an apologetic glance toward Ez, guilt curling in my stomach. Uncle’s mood was my fault. But both of us knew better than to question his demands, so I picked up my throwing knives while Ezra took off his shirt.

I walked through the field, flinching every time I heard the whip snap across my cousin’s skin. The healed over marks on my own back stung with each hit. He took it silently. We always took it silently. If we didn’t, Uncle didn’t stop at five, or ten, or whatever number he doled out. He kept going till we learned to shut our damn mouths.

A lesson about life, he usually said. Complaining doesn’t do shit. So shut your mouth and take your dues.

The targets for the throwing knives were near the trees farthest from Uncle’s manor. We were at a small estate outside the city, about a two-hour ride by carriage from our home in London. When my parents had died a few months after John and Michael disappeared, Uncle Reuben had taken over my home, and taken charge of me as well. Now, except for when he took us to the countryside, we spent most of our time in London, where Uncle more easily maneuvered among the social circles of the semi-elite. Ezra and I were only along for the ride.

I pulled the first knife. The lanterns hanging off the surrounding trees gave the only light. Throwing at night made hitting the target more difficult, but if I could throw in the darkness, then reaching my mark in daylight would be all the easier. The blade struck wide of the bullseye, landing several rings out. A breath of frustration escaped. In my mind, Hook’s blue eyes mocked me.

I saw him in every target. Tonight, I was particularly infuriated, and not just because Ezra was getting whipped on my behalf. No fairy dust. No dagger. All these years of practice to take on the evil kidnapping son of a bitch, and still I wasn’t any closer to achieving my goals.

Fly to Neverland. Find my brothers. Take revenge on James Hook.

Drawing another knife, I aligned my throw more carefully before releasing. It hit only an inch outside the bullseye. I frowned. Close. But close wasn’t good enough to face off against the dread pirate captain of Neverland.

I adjusted my large boy’s coat and cap, shoving up the sleeves of my buttoned shirt that had rolled too far down before grabbing another knife. Uncle only let me practice at night, dressed like a boy, even though I swore there was nobody around to tell. But a girl learning how to fight was about the most improper thing imaginable.

After being a whore, that was.

My next throw hit the bullseye. I straightened, a small smile coming across my face. “You’re dead, Captain.”

The only way I’d convinced Uncle, the esteemed naval commander, to agree to train me was because I behaved better when he let me fight. Not even the threat of sending me away to finishing school had gotten me in line. It would only be another place where I’d embarrass Uncle and most likely get kicked out. He’d tried using the lash on me when I was younger to control me, but despite the horrid pain, I’d seen it through. It had become our deal. He’d teach me to fight, and in return, I’d put up with parties and prospective suitors—be the perfect, controlled lady in society.

That meant giving up my friends and those that he deemed unworthy of our elevated station, which in either a logical or sadistic sense included getting rid of Nana.

Even though I still lived in my childhood home, when Uncle came along, he’d uprooted my life just as thoroughly as if he had moved me across the country. I flipped the next knife in my hand. It was a worthy trade. I’d primp and preen and be whatever he wanted as long as he let me train.

A shadow loomed behind me. Needles pricked my skin.

Uncle was watching.

Releasing a slow breath, I focused on the target, pulled back on the blade, and released. Another bullseye.

“Throw the last two with your left hand.”

So I did. They landed wide of my mark. Disappointment gathered in my gut. I wasn’t as good at throwing with my non-dominant hand. When I turned to face Uncle, his large form towered behind me. A clicking sound made me freeze as he lifted a revolver, the end of the barrel an inch from my face.

I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe. Uncle’s eyes glittered with blackness.

“Do you realize how easy it would be to stage your death?” he asked, his voice cold, emotionless. “Stupid, careless girl gets in the way, in a training accident. That’s all it would take, and everyone would believe me.”

I trembled. It would be too easy for him. He could do it right now, and who would care? Who would miss me?

The pistol didn’t waver. “This is your last practice. I’ve arranged for you to marry a war friend of mine who lives in St. Ives. Joe Rafferty is his name. I’ve spoken with him at length. He assures me he will keep you in line.”

My tongue had gone dry, and a sour taste rose into my mouth. Uncle’s gaze held mine. “What will you do?”

Nausea roiled in my stomach. “Uncle, I’m sorry. From now on—”

“It's too late for that. I’ve given my word. Did you think this deal between us was going to last forever? It’s time you take your place in society. What will you do?”

The look on his face told me there was only one answer.

“I’ll accept.”

He lowered the gun, and I sucked in a breath of relief, my eyes burning. I pressed a hand to my chest as if that would stop its erratic beating.

“Good girl. We leave tomorrow following noon tea to travel to St. Ives. Come. We’ll return to London for your last night.”

I wanted to scream. Or cry. Or simply voice my objections, but the revolver at Uncle’s side kept me silent during the entire journey back to London. I wasn’t sure if Ezra saw Uncle pull his gun on me, but he was quiet, too. Perhaps he sensed the tension or was smarting over his beating and didn’t want to set off Uncle.

Perhaps he was irked at me for not taking the fall.

I didn’t care. Ezra didn’t hate me. But he’d never stand up for me, either. Another thing I’d learned in our close to seven years of living with Uncle Reuben’s cruel tendencies.

When we returned to my home, I raced up to my room and shut the door. The old nursery was both comforting and filled with painful memories. After my brothers were taken, my mother had sat in there day after day, staring out the window, wasting away.

Until the day she died.

My father had followed not long after.

Swallowing the pain in my throat, I stepped up to the toy soldiers that guarded the window. I touched the smudges of dirt on their smooth painted wood that my mother would never again clean.

My fingers drew into fists. I couldn’t leave London. It was the only place that had a black market where I had hope of finding fairy dust. Or had a chance of Peter returning to me. So many years of planning and training. This couldn’t be the end.

I looked around the room at the paintings on the walls—of stories I told as a child.

Of Neverland.

I reached into my shirt and pulled out the acorn button. For so long, I’d thought that Peter would come to get me to rescue my brothers. Or at least might have rescued them himself and brought them to me. At first, I’d waited by the window with my dying mother for that possibility. I still waited by the window for that possibility. But if I left to marry some Joe Rafferty, there’d be no hope.

What a pathetic, naïve child. I yanked the chain off my head and hurled it across the room. What was I thinking? Peter wasn’t coming.

The carpet in the room was old, worn. I still made out traces of bloodstains on the rug from that night, when I’d walked across thousands of pieces of tiny glass. I grasped the small bottle of potion I had bought from the woman at the market off my bedside table, popped the lid and swallowed.

I curse James Hook with a rotten, torturous existence, I thought.

It tasted of watered down berry juice. As I suspected. Fake.

Dropping the vial, I moved to the window and pressed my forehead against it, my breath gathering on its panes, and sank to the floor.

The light winked on in the upstairs bedroom of the home across from mine, catching my attention. Through the sheer gauzy drapes, the outline of a woman stepped into the room, followed by a man. Mrs. Blackwell was a widow of several years, but after her husband died, instead of remarrying, she’d taken to having various late-night visitors.

He came up behind the woman, wrapping his arms around her. I watched as Mrs. Blackwell lifted her arms, grasping the man’s neck, and rolled her hips. The man’s shoulders fell, releasing tension as she moved against him again. Her knees bent and this time she moved up and down, shoving her backside along the length of his body. The man moved with her, his hips churning with small thrusts.

I expelled another breath and reached for the window, shoving it open. Winter cold blasted my face, but I didn’t care.

They shed each other’s clothes as if they were no more than tissue paper. When they were completely bare, he slid a hand under her chin and kissed her, moving her back onto the bed. Mrs. Blackwell went willingly.

The familiar changes in my body took hold as I watched them rock, thrusting together in an impassioned heat. My heart raced, and an ache built in my breasts, a steady pulsing beating between my thighs. For a moment, I imagined the man inside the curtains looking at me like he wanted me, moving against me like that.

The first time I’d watched Mrs. Blackwell through the window, I’d felt guilty as hell. Not to mention the strange feelings it elicited in me had sent me scurrying to my bed, determined never to look again. But inevitably, my curiosity had gotten the better of me and I’d returned. I tipped my head against the grate, accepting my urges for what they were, letting them run their course, leaving me gutted and hollow.

And so alone.

I didn't watch every night, even though I half suspected that Mrs. Blackwell had put up the sheer curtains because she wanted to teach me the pleasures of being a woman. I was the only one with such a view. But tonight, I found myself considering an idea for the first time in my life. Maybe I'd run away, stay in London, sell my body for survival. The desire raging in my veins as Mrs. Blackwell and the mystery man made love right in front of me almost convinced me that I could do it.

But I wasn't ignorant. The way Mrs. Blackwell ran things differed greatly from the way I would be treated on the streets. Yes, perhaps I'd end up with lovers like the men my neighbor cultivated, but I'd also have to face brutes like Meaty Hands. Men who thought, if they paid, then they could do whatever they wanted to me. And if I was desperate enough, I'd have to let them.

Still, was what I had awaiting me any better?

He assures me he will keep you in line. Uncle’s words told me that Mr. Joe Rafferty was as bad as my uncle. Or worse. A shudder ran through me. Uncle had been confident when he said that, like this man would be the final thing to break me.

I looked up at the stars where I used to fly. They used to wink at me. They used to be my friends. What I'd give to escape into them now. But they only stared at me as they had every other night. Not winking.

But then, one light moved. I squinted. Perhaps a shooting star? I'd made plenty of wishes on those, to no avail. The light shot toward me, growing larger.

I rose to my feet. If it was a shooting star, it was headed straight for me.

It careened past me and into the room, lighting up the space much brighter than any of the lanterns. A familiar tinkling sound, like bells, drove my heart into my throat.

“Tinker Bell?”

The fairy landed on the top rail of the window grate. Her diminutive figure revealed a form covered in leaves and tree sap. Her hair was twisted up in a bun and she had a tiny pocket and dagger strapped to her waist. The wings on her back sparkled and fluttered with the smallest of movements, as if she couldn’t bear to stand still.

“My god, Tinker Bell. You’re here! My brothers, are they alive? Do you know where they are?”

Tinker Bell made large gestures and tinkled. I had forgotten. I didn’t speak fairy language.

I grabbed my cloak, pulling it on, checking to make sure my throwing knives were in there. Walking over to my bed, I pulled out a belt filled with sheaths designed to hold my knives against my thigh, strapping it on my trousered leg. “I need your dust to get to Neverland.”

The fairy nodded and gathered some dust from her pouch. She blew it, and the golden specks settled around me. It was happening. Before I rose into the air, I walked over to where Peter’s kiss lay on the ground, picked it up, and put it on. He’d sent help. Seven years late, but he’d sent for me.

My chest filled with relief. I was leaving my uncle and his atrocious marriage arrangements behind. Finally, I could go to Neverland. My heart burned with the strength of my desires. I’d find my brothers.

Then I’d kill the captain of the Jolly Roger with his own hook.

I shut my eyes and let those thoughts fill me. When I opened them, I was floating in the air.

“Lead the way, Tink.”

And with that, I followed the little fairy out the window and up into the sky. Second star to the right and straight on till morning.

Chapter 3

Wendy

The sun was high in the sky when I arrived in Neverland. A few sparse, white clouds floated lazily about. Despite the determination ablaze in my chest, wonder filled my veins as the land of adventure and magic spanned before me.

It was buzzing with life. There was Hangman’s Point, the highest pinnacle where Peter first brought me to overlook the magical island and the surrounding waters.

To the east of that, I barely made out the inlet that led to Marooners’ Rock. Peter had once rescued Princess Tiger Lily from the clutches of Hook and his pirates there. I recalled the thrill of the eternal boy of Neverland first teaching me how to wield a sword right before he flew off into the face of danger.

Too many trees blocked the actual rock, but I assumed that on such a fine day the mermaids must be out, sunbathing on the warm stone, their beautiful aqua scales catching the afternoon light, giving off a glistening hue.

To the north, a soft glow drifted up from the jungle. My, the fairy population of Neverland had expanded. They took up the whole northern tip of the island. I had never seen so many. Last time I was here, only a couple hundred dotted the island. Now, there were thousands at least.

To the east lay Princess Tiger Lily’s territory. Ever the fierce warriors and skilled hunters. I hoped for the chance to see my old friend.

But first, I had work to do.

I switched my gaze to the left. The pirate port of Swindler’s Cove was where the adults lived, supplying Hook and his crew. The town was overrun with pirates, a few merchants, and the women of the night that worked at Madame Pearl’s. No ships were in port.

Out on the waves of the sea drifted the Jolly Roger, where my nemesis resided.

Hook.

My hand brushed my knives under my flapping cloak. I wanted to go now, but needed information. I flew up next to the little fairy leading the way. “You’re taking me to Peter, yes?”

Tinker Bell only tinkled. I supposed I’d have to trust the tiny creature.

We came to a collection of upside-down treehouses built into the underside of a cliff. Pathways carved into the stone made it possible to walk between the small homes. I raised an eyebrow. This was much more intricate than our previous hideout in the base of a tree. But of course, Hook had destroyed that one when I was here last. Tink led me to the largest treehouse, squeezing between the spaces in the moss and leaf-covered door of his home.

I paused outside, a small thrill of nerves gathering in my stomach. My hand wrapped around the acorn on my neck. Inside was the boy I had wished for so long would come back to me, first because of infatuation, and then out of desperation. I’d have to push aside whatever lingering resentments I had toward him. I was here for my brothers.

Pushing the door open, I entered.

The floor was covered in autumn leaves and the furniture was woven from the resources that Neverland offered. Weapons and other tools lay scattered among the foliage. I squinted into the dimly lit space. A boy, several years older than the one I expected to find, perched on a small alcove carved into the cliff face, wearing dyed green animal skins.

“Peter?”

“Hello, Wendy.”

Instead of the innocent youth of eleven or twelve that I remembered, a boy of about fifteen or sixteen crouched before me, studying me. Despite his advancement in age, I recognized his golden hair and laughing eyes. This was Peter. My mind spun. But how? Why?

His head cocked to the side as he looked me over, curiosity in his face. “Aren’t you happy to see me?”

I gave a tentative smile. “Of course I am. It's only that… my brothers. Do you know where they are?”

I had so many questions, but that could wait. For Seven years, I’d desired to find out what happened to John and Michael. This question had burned on my tongue, pounded in my mind. I’d ask it first.

Peter alighted from his perch. He stood almost to my full height. “How old are you?”

“Twenty.”

His face scrunched in surprise. “Has it been that long?”

Bitterness and annoyance raced through me. How dare he act like he didn’t remember. As if my brothers and I were people to be forgotten. I shut my eyes, reminding myself that Peter was Peter. But deep down, he was good, and he’d help me. “Yes, Peter. It has been that long. Now, my brothers?”

His head dipped, and his shoulders sagged. “I’m sorry I have to tell you, but your brothers are dead.”

I nearly doubled over at the news. No. My arms wrapped around my middle at the nausea that filled me. No. No! My throat constricted painfully, and my hands curled into fists even while my eyes stung with tears.

Michael with his floppy blond hair and John with his lopsided know-it-all grin. They couldn’t be gone. They couldn’t.

The searing in my throat intensified. “Are you sure?” I croaked.

Peter nodded. “Forgive me for not coming and telling you, but Hook killed them not long after returning to Neverland, and I couldn’t admit to you I’d failed.”

Tears spilled down my cheeks. My breaths came in short gasps, the pain in my chest shattering me, breaking me apart and searing through every part of my body.

Hook.

He’d killed them. He’d done this. Damn him. Damn Hook! I would gut him alive. I would—

I nearly leapt as I felt Peter’s arm across my shoulders. “I wish there was more I could do.”

I moved out of his hold, every part of me raging with an inevitable fury. “Where’s Hook?” My voice shook even as a cold certainty took over.

“Where he normally is. On his ship.”

I turned to go.

“I need your help,” Peter called after me.

I tensed but twisted to face him. Whatever it was, it could wait. I had a pirate captain to bleed out across the deck of his own ship.

But Peter stared at me with an earnestness that was almost too intense. “Hook has gotten his hands on the spellbook of Stardust. It has the power, when combined with another artifact, to drain the magic from Neverland. If that happens, everyone and everything will be destroyed. I beg you to help me retrieve it from him.”

“That’s going to be rather difficult as I am on my way to murder the captain of the Jolly Roger,” I said.

“I need that book. It is dangerous, not only in Hook’s hands, but if any of his men got ahold of it after his death…” Peter shook his head. “If you could get him to talk. Trick him. Use your… feminine wiles on him.”

My eyes widened, and I wanted to ask if he even knew what feminine wiles were. But then I clenched my jaw. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you, Wendy.” He grinned at me, showing off his straight white teeth. “Beware, Hook will tell you all kinds of lies to get you on his side, right before he turns on you. Oh, one more thing.”

My lips pressed, and now both eyebrows were raised. I bounced a little on my toes. The coldness wrapped around my heart urging me to leave.

“Me and my Lost Boys can’t go after Hook. You see, he’s cast a spell that makes him immune from the attacks of children. We’re unable to injure or harm him. You must do this on your own. But I can send Tinker Bell ahead to scout out the best way in.”

“Thank you.” On a last thought, I moved my knives from my cloak and into the holder on my thigh. Then I untied my cloak. “I’ll leave this here.” I left it on the floor of his hut before spinning on my heel and heading for the door.

The captain of the Jolly Roger was about to meet his fate.

There would be no mercy.

Chapter 4

Wendy

I sat in the boughs of a giant Nevertree, waiting for Tinker Bell to return from her scouting mission. The green leaves were larger than any I had ever seen in London and did an excellent job of obscuring me from view.

Vengeance burned inside me, and I checked my knives. Having left my cloak behind with Peter, they were now in sheaths strapped to my thigh. How good it would feel to plunge them into the captain of the Jolly Roger. My hand trembled, and I forced it to steady, not allowing myself to think of John and Michael. I could fall apart later. It was time to act.

I peered through a gap between the foliage, catching sight of Tink’s glow as she streaked through the air.

Alighting onto a branch next to me, the little fairy tinkled. I shook my head. “Sorry. I can’t understand you.”

She stamped her feet, her hands on her hips.

Maybe this was a mistake. Tink had never really liked me.

The fairy shot straight up into the sky.

“Hey! Wait!” I flew after her. We went up so high, we were above the clouds and the vast stretch of sea laid out before me, the sun beating down, the breeze whipping at my braid. The Jolly Roger was moored out among the rolling, choppy waters.

Tink dropped close to the cloud and pointed toward the pirate ship, no more than a toy model I and my brothers used to play with from this height. “It looks as if the rear window is open?” I looked at Tink for confirmation.

She gave me a mock hand clap. I assumed that meant I was on track. Then the little fairy curled her finger and shook it.

“Those are Hook’s quarters?”

Tink clapped her hands again. Then shook her curled finger again at me.

“And Hook is in there?”

Another hand clap.

I squinted at the ship. I didn’t see any movement on deck. “What about the watch?” If I dropped below the sparse smattering of clouds and approached the Jolly Roger, I’d be seen.

Tink folded her hands and pressed her head against them, pretending to snore.

“They’re asleep?”

Again, she gave me a hand clap.

“And Hook?”

She pretended to snore some more.

“He’s asleep, too?”

More clapping.

“I guess now is a good time to go.”

The little fairy tapped her foot and gave me a look that seemed to say. “What are you waiting for?”

“Thanks, Tink.”

She rolled her eyes in response and zipped off. I took a deep breath and double-checked my knives. This was it. I dropped beneath the clouds and descended to the Jolly Roger.

Part of me was tense, waiting to be spotted and the alarm to be sounded any moment, but I made it to the ajar window with no noticeable sign from the tenants on board the ship. The opening was large enough for me to slip right through.

I landed, near silently, onto the wooden floor.

Hook’s quarters were spacious. I saw a bed through a small door, but the main area comprised a large wooden desk, an armoire with a mirror, and walls made of drawers and other compartments. A length of rope knocked steadily against the one wooden post in the middle of the room, timing the rock of the ship.

And there he was. Hook lay on a thin chaise longue, out cold, a cup of ginger-colored rum in his good hand, resting on the floor. His ruffled shirt was split open, revealing a tattooed chest and his hook rested gently on his stomach, rising and falling with his breaths. A small earring pierced his left ear, and a golden chain bunched around his Adam’s apple, the end disappearing into his shirt. He was tall and a little lean, though the thickness in his neck, not to mention the thin fabric covering his torso, revealed he possessed plenty of muscle.

I crept toward him. He was… handsome. In my mind, I always remembered Hook as a man so much older than me, but as I gazed upon him, I noticed his unblemished face, and his disheveled locks, as black as night, with not one gray hair. A light shadow covered his cheeks and chin. He appeared to be somewhere around the age of twenty-five. Neverland stopped time for everyone. It was only I who had grown and matured in the eight years since I’d been gone.

I paused right next to him and glared down at his still form. Matured enough to be more than a match for the man before me. The coldness rose into my veins. An icy anger that went beyond anything I’d felt before. Forget trying to get on his good side. I’d give him one chance to reveal the location of the magical book Peter wanted, and if he refused, I’d end him. Reaching to my thigh, I pulled my first throwing knife, clenching it in my palm.

Hook’s eyes flew open, and he jolted up from the chaise longue. I had barely enough time to realize I’d been played before I found myself in the arms of the captain of the Jolly Roger. He held me pinned against his chest, his good arm spanning across me to keep both of mine trapped at my sides. A cold metal point pricked against my throat. Somehow when he stopped moving, we both stood in front of the full-length mirror on the outside of his armoire.

I saw the flash of fear in my own green eyes as I took in the tip of his hook against the soft skin of my throat, ready to rip me open. He loomed behind me, and held me so tight against him, there’d be no way of ramming the knife in my hand into any sensitive spots. I’d be lucky to nick his leg. His forget-me-not blue eyes watched me in the glass with a cavalier triumph.

“Don’t you know a captain must always sleep with one eye open? I wondered who Pan might send to take me out.” His voice was deep and velvety in my ear. “Welcome back to Neverland, Wendy Darling.”

He was a whole head taller than me, and I hated how he bent it toward me, how his cheek grazed my hair. My anger morphed into a frustration that grated in the pit of my stomach. I’d come this far, and he’d gotten the best of me in a matter of seconds.

Well, I didn’t need to play fair either.

I dropped my gaze and looked up through my lashes like I’d often seen other girls do when flirting. “You are mistaken. I’m not here to kill you.”

He raised a brow. “Am I? What, pray tell, is that knife doing in your hand?”

I forced a smile, taking on a wicked tint, the mirror helping me know I’d nailed it. “I heard you like to play rough.”

I thrust my shoulders back into him and let that movement roll down my body all the way to my hips, which I pushed into him with a sudden grating force. I did it again, grateful for the mirror as I mimicked the movements I’d seen Mrs. Blackwell’s outline do from across the street through the woman’s sheer curtains.

Hook’s eyes widened in shock. “What are you doing?”

Doubt filled me. Maybe I was being foolish. But his grip on me loosened to let me move against him more freely. And I did, bending my knees to drag up and down over his form. His gaze took on a tinge of gray, the clear blue giving away to the tempestuous waves of the sea. On the next roll of my body, his hand dipped to my hips, and he pressed me back against him. His arm kept my knife hand pinned as he moved with me.

“Is this what you really wanted?” he murmured, his voice unyielding and yet seductive.

My heart pounded. A raging heat combined with my anger moved in my skin. I fought through the muddiness of his warmth that surrounded me. His scent, some heady mix of the sea and a light tinge of sweetness. I could see in the mirror how flushed my skin had become, my eyes glittering with a darkness I’d never seen before. His hook dipped away from my throat. It traced a cold light path over my chest, traveling beneath the line of my shirt. He thrust against me, and a ragged breath slid out of him. My plan had worked. I should move now, plunge my knife into his black heart. Instead, I watched our reflection as my body moved with his, experiencing something it had never experienced before. Something new and unexpectedly dominating.

With the man who had killed my brothers.

The thought was like a blast of sleet to my face. My teeth grit together, and I grabbed his hook and jerked away, raising my knife. It sliced into his shoulder. Hook looked even more surprised by the swiftness of my actions. The thin fabric of his shirt ripped. He tried to stumble back, but my blade snagged on the brace near his shoulder. I gave extra effort, yanking it hard until it gave, and we both fell away from each other. His hook caught the side of his large mahogany desk to stop his backward momentum. I slammed back into the mirror, his blood dripping from my knife onto the paneled floor.

Hook ran a finger along the jagged line I’d torn into his flesh. Even I could tell it lacked depth. A smirk crossed his lips. “You managed to wound me, which means you must not be under his power.” He took in the gash in the fabric over his shoulder and disappointment crossed his face. “You ruined my favorite shirt.”

Oh, I was going to do more than that. I lunged forward, gripped his hook, and yanked hard. He shouted in surprise as the whole brace, straps and all, pulled away from his arm, like a hidden snake pouring out of his shirt sleeve. I threw it to the floor, revealing the leather strap I had cut that allowed me to de-hook him. With a cry, I rushed him with such force he stumbled back, hitting the wall. I pressed my bloodied knife against his throat.

For the first time, concern rose in his eyes. “You don’t want to kill me.”

I pressed the knife harder, and a bead of blood slid down his skin. “I really do.”

“Look, lass. I didn’t want to kidnap your brothers. I had no choice. Pan—”

“You killed my brothers,” I snarled.

Hook blinked. “Your brothers are alive. I saw them with the Lost Boys only last week.”

The shock of his words pierced me, and a burning stung behind my eyes. “You lie.”

“I swear on my life. They were out playing with the never birds around Mermaid Cove. Now, I don’t know what happened after that, but I’d bet my good hand they are alive, somewhere on that island.”

The knife in my grip trembled at his throat. Could my brothers be alive? The spark of hope battled with my distrust of the man in front of me. “Peter said—”

“The Neverland you remember as a child isn’t the same as the one you’re going to experience now that you’re grown.” His expression grew dark. “That cocky boy isn’t the noble hero you think he is. Pan is the tyrant master of this world from whom Neverland must be freed.”

I let out a derisive laugh. “You were better off claiming my brothers were alive.”

“You don’t understand everything he has—”

“Why should I believe a single word you say?”

“Other than it’s the truth? Besides, you won’t kill me, yet. He sent you looking for that precious spellbook, didn’t he?”

I gripped his wrist, which was slipping toward the throwing knives on my thigh, and shoved it against the wall, digging my knife deeper into his throat, eliciting a worried sound from him.

“It was optional,” I said.

He swallowed. Much of the haughtiness from earlier was gone. “How about we make a deal? You give me the jeweled dagger you carry belted at your waist, and I’ll help you find your brothers.”

I willed my hand to remain steady as I fought to hide my surprise. He was trying to catch me off guard. “What jeweled dagger?”

His brows drew together, and he stared at me as if I were crazy. “The dagger with the skull hilt and ruby-encrusted eyes that you wear, nestled right above your beguiling hips…”

I released him and stepped back so he could see my entire form.

Hook’s gaze raked over me. He paled. “Wendy, where’s the dagger?”

“It was you.” I pointed the bloody knife at him. “You hired that man to swindle me out of my magic blade in return for fake fairy dust.”

Desperation took over his face. “Tell me you know where it is.”

“Why do you want it?”

He ran his hand through his tousled hair. It fell, short black tendrils curling around his ears. “That dagger is everything,” he said, his eyes filled with a barely contained panic.

I raised my chin. In that moment, he didn’t appear like the evil captain I had long pictured in my worst nightmares. He looked like a man, frantic to keep some semblance of hope alive.

“This is the deal,” I said. “You help me find my brothers. If we retrieve them alive, then I will give you the dagger.”

He nodded, his messy hair bobbing. “Fine, lass. We’ll do it your way.”

I stepped up to him and wiped his blood from my throwing knife onto his trousers—an easy form of vindictiveness. But Hook didn’t even respond, and this close to him, I could see that he was shaking.

He pushed off the wall, stepping away from me. He cleaned his bloody fingers on a cloth on his desk, then picked a rolled parchment out of a box which sat on the floor. By the time he straightened, the easy arrogance was back in his movements. Turning, he held it out to me. “If you will?”

Casting a glance at his missing hand, I took the parchment and unfurled it on the desktop, revealing a map of Neverland.

“Wait.” He stepped over to the open window and jerked it shut, latching it, and pulling the drapes. I raised an eyebrow as he struggled to light a lantern. Was Hook paranoid?

He reached into his pocket and drew out a small vial of aquamarine liquid. “When I signal you, speak your brothers' names.”

“I’m sorry?”

He sighed. “I’m going to cast a spell to find your brothers. Do try to keep up.”

My mouth fell open. “You. Cast a spell?”

“What? You thought I’d collected that spellbook so I could gaze at it?”

My mouth snapped shut. My heart leaped in my chest. Dared I hope? No, it must be a trick. But why would he go to such lengths for his lie? “And you can find my brothers?”

He bit the stopper out of the vial, spitting it onto the floor, and began chanting in a language that I didn’t understand. My hand, still pressing the map open, tightened on the hilt of my knife. I didn’t stop him, though I felt vulnerable leaning over the desk, holding the unfurled parchment. He motioned toward me.

“John Darling. Michael Darling,” I said.

Hook repeated the names and then leaned forward and poured the potion over the map. I watched in amazement as a thin trail of liquid slid along the old paper, not soiling it in the least. He continued to chant and pressed his handless arm against the parchment, trailing the path beneath the line of liquid. I tried not to flinch at the sight of the jagged, scarred skin pinched together unnaturally where his hand should have been.

The trail stopped at Marooners’ Rock.

I sucked in a sharp breath. I knew Marooners’ Rock from when Hook had kidnapped Tiger Lily and chained her there to drown. If my brothers were there…

“When is the next high tide?” I asked.

Hook’s brows drew together. “Sometimes the Lost Boys play around that point. There may be nothing wrong, but…”

Fear lanced through me. “But?”

“But if for some reason they are chained to the rock, then we are short on time.”

“So, we go to Marooners’ Rock and rescue my brothers.”

“Not yet.”

My eyes narrowed. “I thought you said we are short on time.”

“We are.” He bent and picked up his arm brace and examined the broken strap. “Brimstone and gall, Wendy. I only have two of these.” He held it out to me. “If you’ll unscrew the hook.”

I set my bloody knife on the desk and took the brace from him. It secured his hook with straps and braces that wrapped around both shoulders for stability. I had cut the one strap that held everything together. “Then what are we doing?”

He headed over to his wardrobe and threw one side open. I unscrewed the hook, watching his every move. Did I believe what he said? Peter had warned me Hook would say anything to trick me. But if there even was a chance that my brothers might be alive, I had to explore it. At least if he did only have two braces, I could easily de-hook him again.

He pulled off his shirt with one hand, revealing skin covered in inked illustrations. The intricate swirls trailed up his back, though they were oddly formed, with no predictable pattern. The mirror on the wardrobe door showed the tattoos continuing onto his chest and abdomen. In the left corner over his breast, two names were scrawled in flowing ink. Arabella and Clare.

My lip curled in disgust. What was the point of tattooing two lovers on his chest?

He lifted out another brace, which he fitted over his left arm, and pulled tight on the straps. Then he stuffed a cloth into his still bleeding shoulder, tucking it under the leather to hold it in place.

“Hook?” I clenched the curved weapon between my palms, my jaw clenching at his unresponsiveness.

He pulled on a fresh white linen shirt, working the left sleeve over the contraption that fitted the hook to his arm. “I am going to get dressed and then I’m going after your brothers.” He noticed the blood on his pants and threw me a dirty look, but didn’t change them. He grabbed an intricately sewn blue overcoat with golden threads and put it on, leaving it untied.

“And what about me?” I asked. “Do you think I’m just going to wait here without you? Because that’s not happening.” I wasn’t even sure if he was telling me the truth. But if there was the slimmest chance that he was, then I had to try.

“Right now? You’re going to attach my hook.” He held out his arm with the missing hand and raised an eyebrow expectantly. I grit my teeth, then aligned the metal and twisted. He watched me, a small sardonic smile on his lips. I took a breath as I spun his hook. There was an intimacy to what I was doing, and I couldn’t help worry that I was sharpening the claws of the beast.

When it clicked in place, I gazed up at him. “And now?”

“And now…” He moved so suddenly, I didn’t have time to react. Before I knew what was happening, he had a rope around me, binding my arms to my sides. He tied the length off behind me, and I heard the clink as he pulled my throwing knives from their sheaths and dropped them to the floor one by one.

He spun me to face him, his expression cruel and dangerous. “I’m throwing you the hell off my ship.”

Chapter 5

Wendy

It was all a lie.

He’d told me what I wanted to hear, getting me to lower my guard. My brothers—alive? At Marooners’ Rock? Just sit here, Wendy, and watch me cast this fake spell to find them. I was such a naïve fool.

I jerked against my bonds as my captor forced me from his quarters and out onto the main deck. The ship’s mast rose like a massive monolith in front of me, the stark white sails rolled up tight.

“Drop canvas and weigh anchor,” Hook announced to his men. “We’re moving.”

Pirates lounging about stirred and moved to comply. Smee, Hook’s first mate, a short, round man with rosy cheeks and a grin on his face, approached.

“Say, captain. What have we got here?”

“An assassin sent by Pan to kill me,” Hook said as if it were any other afternoon aboard the Jolly Roger. “We are throwing her overboard. Get the weights.”

“Aye, captain.”

He kept a tight hold on me, dragging me over to the opening in the rail.

“She looks familiar, captain,” said another pirate with only one leg, eyeing me.

“Why, tis the Wendy Lady,” exclaimed another. “An all grown up, Wendy Lady.”

We stopped at the opening. Waves lapped against the ship’s side, a darkness lingering under the cool green surface, revealing the deep beneath us. Hook pressed into me from behind, his fingers digging into my arm.

“See the water, lass. It is a breathtakingly easy death at the hands of the sea. The sudden cold will shock your mind. Drowning will almost be a mercy because within two minutes you’ll be dragged to the depths of Davy Jones’s locker where the very pressure will crush you.”

My heart pounded in my chest. The strands of my bonds binding my arms bit mercilessly into my skin. I wanted to struggle, but feared he might shove me off right there.

Smee came lumbering back with a boulder. A length of rope circled the stone. He dropped it to the deck with an enormous thump.

Hook shoved me toward him. “Attach it to her ankle. And make sure it's tight. Can’t have her flying away.”

“You. Come tie this on her ankle,” Smee commanded a nearby man with a long beard that reached to his belly button. The pirate came forward and tried to tie the rope around my ankle, but I kicked the man in the face. He fell onto his ass, holding a bloody nose. The salty tang of satisfaction gathered on my tongue.

Hook only looked amused. “Hold her down, boys.”

More pirates suddenly surrounded me. Their rotten breaths blasted my face and their fingers dug into my skin as they gripped my arms and pinned me on my back against the deck. I struggled, but they gripped my legs and held me still while they wrapped the scratchy rope around my ankle. When they finished, they dispersed, and Hook hauled me to my feet.

I glared at him. “I should have killed you.”

“Oh, Wendy.” His hook traced the line of my cheekbone, brushing a stray hair from my face. “What I am doing here is much bigger than you or me. Today, I am afraid I must be the villain you’ve always believed me to be.”

I let out a defiant laugh, though it sounded hollow even to me. “If you kill me, you’ll never fi—”

He lunged and smothered my words with a kiss, shoving me back into the railing, pushing my shoulders past the ship’s support so that he had me off balance, leaning precariously over the side of the ship. Only the flat of his hook pressed against my shoulder blades kept me from toppling overboard.

Fury built in me. If I shifted my weight to my right leg, I could knee his groin with my left. But that would leave me dangerously unbalanced. I could slam my head into his, breaking his nose with my forehead. But while that would be painful, it could also blind him with rage, and he might push me overboard.

His lips were hard, his touch claiming. His good hand traveled over my body. It dipped into my pocket, and I jolted a little as something sharp pricked the outside of my thigh. A weight fell into my pants.

One of my throwing knives.

He withdrew from my pocket and gripped my hair, breaking the kiss and lifted my braid to his face, breathing in, then he rubbed his cheek against mine as if he were savoring me, the harsh stubble of his face grating against my skin.

“If you wish to see your brothers again, do not mention the dagger to Pan.” His voice was deathly soft in my ear.

He stepped back, dragging me with him, dropping me so my feet steadied on the deck, his smile cold and devilish. “I guess I am a rotten codfish.”

His crew gave a boisterous laugh.

My head spun, and a fire curled in my chest. His threat and his sudden kiss raging in my bones. For a moment, the knife in my pocket didn’t mean a damn thing. I spit in his face. “I hate you, James Hook.”

The spittle slid down his cheek to his chin, but he didn’t make an effort to remove it. A strange heat stirred in his gaze.

He kept a firm grip on my arm, so I was unable to go for the knife, and spun me around, my feet at the edge of the opening between the ship’s rail. The water rolled against the barnacle covered siding far below, dark and uninviting. “Two minutes, then death.”

He kicked the stone tied to my ankle overboard before giving me a healthy shove, right off the ship into the churning sea below.

I hit the water’s surface, feet first.

The shock of the frigid water froze me in place. A thousand icy needles dug into my veins, slicing into my thoughts so sharply I nearly released the breath I held. The weight pulled me deeper and deeper, the light of day darkening into nothing but an impenetrable blackness. My thoughts muddled around me, and I struggled to clear them.

One thing rang in my mind. I latched onto it. Two minutes. I had two minutes before I died.

I needed to move.

My hand slid into my pocket, and I lifted out my throwing knife, working it up under my bonds, which I was surprised to find already loose. I shifted it around and forced the blade between the frayed fibers, splitting it with ease. Then I went for the rope that jerked me into the sea’s depths. Despite Hook’s orders, it was tied so loosely I didn’t even need to cut. One tug of the knot and it came undone.

By the time the boulder dropped, my lungs were screaming for relief, but I was free. I pulled myself upwards, a desperation gripping me as I felt like my chest was about to explode. My head broke into the light of day, fresh air filling my strained body, and I gulped it down greedily.

Hook’s ship was sailing away from me. The sharp breeze made me shiver. He’d helped me, warned me about how much time I had. Maybe even swiped at my ropes as I fell to loosen them. What game was he playing? For whose benefit had that little show been?

The freezing sea lapped at my face as I treaded water. What he really wanted was the dagger, and I couldn’t retrieve that for him if I was dead. That was the only thing keeping me alive. I thought about flying after the departing ship, of burying my blade in his damn arrogant tattooed chest. Keep everything simple and follow what Peter had told me to do. I couldn’t actually trust Hook.

But if my brothers turned out to be alive, perhaps it was Peter I shouldn’t trust. Then again, Hook might have some sort of elaborate trap that he was leading me into with this so-called deal. After all, he’d kidnapped John and Michael in the first place.

My brothers could be at Marooners’ Rock. I had to check it out. And I needed to get there before the tide rose. I’d settle my score with Hook later. Besides, if he was headed that way, I’d see him there, and then I would figure out who I should trust and who deserved a knife in their heart.

Because I was bringing Peter Pan with me.

Chapter 6

Hook

Hook stood on board the deck of the Jolly Roger and watched until Wendy’s head broke the surface of the water. Well, that was done. He released his hook that he gripped tightly behind his back and turned to look out over the waves. The sun glistened off every gentle crest.

“Where are we headed, captain?” Smee asked.

He cast his first mate a suspicious glance. “For now, due east.”

Smee wasn’t to be trusted. Nobody was to be trusted. He couldn’t reveal their destination. Turning, he looked out over his crew, going about their duties, their motions mechanical.

He shut his eyes, all the times he’d plunged his hook into one of his crew members playing through his mind, gutting them wholly, their innards spreading over the deck of his ship. Sometimes he felt nothing in the moment. Other times, the horror rang in the back of his mind as he inevitably finished the job. But always, the anger—the seething rage—would come after.

There was a darkness inside him that he didn’t know if Pan put there, or if he’d had his humanity ripped out of him over time with the demise of every Lost Boy, crew member, or person he’d killed.

But James Hook would do whatever it took to get what he wanted. Nobody, not even the pretty-eyed, fierce blonde he’d just tossed off his ship, would stand in his way.

He stalked across the deck and shouted orders at his men, knowing it did little good. They’d do as they pleased, but he needed a distraction from the emotions raging through him. Of the memory of her body rolling over his. Of how he’d wanted to drop the pretense, drop everything, and lay her out on his desk and take her right there.

Except she hated him. She wanted him dead.

She had good reason to loathe him. He had kidnapped her brothers.

No, he couldn’t have her. She was a distraction. And a dangerous one, he knew, from the way she’d so easily de-hooked him and pressed a knife to his throat.

Why didn’t she have the damn dagger? Fear ripped through him at the thought that maybe she’d already turned it over to Peter Pan. Dammit. He should have asked.

It didn’t matter. He wanted that dagger and he’d get it. Whatever deal he had to make, whoever he had to cheat, or kill, he’d get it.

There was only one thing that mattered to Hook.

And Wendy Darling wasn’t it.

Smee approached. For once, the eternal grin had fled from his face. “Captain, we have a problem.”

Hook tensed, wondering if he finally had to deal with the mutiny he knew was coming. “And what is that?”

His first mate motioned toward the sea. It had taken on a much darker hue and writhed with a movement he’d only seen caused by one kind of creature. The flow of the water countered the push of their breeze, stalling them in place.

“Mermaids.”

Chapter 7

Wendy

Peter and I flew through the jungle toward Marooners’ Rock. A thickness lingered in the air that clung to my skin.

“It's probably a trap.” Peter smiled, his blue eyes sparking with excitement as he moved from tree to tree, alighting upon branches before pushing off again. I followed him, flying and weaving between the foliage. The Lost Boys were a short way behind us, spreading out to come at Marooners’ Rock from every angle.

“I don’t care,” I replied. “If any chance exists that my brothers might be alive, that I might save them, then I have to try.” I straightened my shirt, grateful that it was beginning to lose its dampness.

Peter paused on a branch, looking askance. “This isn’t how these games are played.”

“This isn’t a game. Not to me.”

Despite his prudery about how one was supposed to go about such affairs, it had been ridiculously easy to convince Peter to come with me. Marooners’ Rock? A possible rescue, or even better, a trap? I didn’t know what we would find at our destination, but he was sure it involved pirates. The forever boy of Neverland lived for these adventures.

“Of course it isn’t!” he said, now getting into character. “This is serious business. Hook has convinced you your brothers are alive so he can kill us all. But do not fret, Wendy Lady, I shall protect you.” He drew his sword and brandished it.

I held in a growl at his assumption that I needed him to protect me, at the way he acted like this was simply another game for him to show off. Not to mention, the way he held his sword was atrocious.

Tinker Bell flitted up to Peter, tinkling about his head.

“Hey, Tink,” Peter sheathed his blade and puffed out his chest. “We are going to rescue Wendy’s dead brothers.”

I frowned, unsure whether he was being condescending or serious.

Peter nodded. “Thanks.” He turned to me as tink flew off. “She says there are pirates up ahead.”

“Not sure she’s the most reliable scout,” I grumbled under my breath. The fairy’s insistence that everyone on the Jolly Roger was asleep, including its captain, was what had gotten me captured and dumped off the ship.

Peter landed on the ground and motioned for me to join him. He looked at me in all seriousness. “From here on out, we walk. Don’t make a sound.” Creeping forward, he faded into the brush. I hunched down, trying to follow and not lose him as he moved a little too well with the surrounding vegetation. It was disconcerting. Sometimes he acted like an unassuming child, but when he showed such easy skill, I remembered that Peter may be a boy, but he was hundreds of years older than me. Was he also secretly clever enough to manipulate me?

I shook off the thought. Was I really letting Hook, the vilest pirate known to man, get into my head? Peter—an evil tyrant.

Not likely.

He crouched low and snuck up behind a large boulder before turning and motioning for me to approach. I crept up next to him, my hand resting on the pommel of the sword Peter had loaned me that was belted at my waist. Hook had taken most of my throwing knives, so I only had one stashed in the holder that was wrapped around my thigh. I felt strangely bare without the complete set. Leaning forward, I peeked over the rock.

The ground sloped away from us, descending toward the glassy inlet and the large flat stone that jutted out of it known as Marooners’ Rock. Five pirates stood on the shore, not too far from the massive stone, which was already surrounded by water. And tied to the rock, up to their necks in sea water, were two young boys.

My breath caught.

John. Michael. Not a day older than when I last saw them. My shoulders sagged and tears pricked my eyes. There they were, alive.

Peter pointed excitedly. “Hey look, Wendy. Your brothers.”

I pressed my lips. “You said they were dead, remember?”

He quirked his head to the side. “Did I? Well, Hook must have tricked us, ‘cause there they are. Let’s go rescue them. I’ll call the Lost Boys.” His hands cupped around his mouth, and he crowed.

I ground my teeth. All that effort sneaking, and now he’d announced our presence.

The pirates on the beach looked around in alarm. Peter drew his sword. “Wait here. The battle has begun!” And with that, he darted out of the bush and flew off to the shore.

Like hell I was going to be left behind. While Peter engaged the pirates, I would get my brothers. I stepped out from the protection of the bush, dropping into the sand that led to the water.

A hand grabbed me from behind.

I struggled, slamming my elbow into whoever held me. A large grunt sounded, and he flung me onto the sandy ground. I flipped onto my back to see my attackers.

Three men loomed over me. One of them, a thin, tall man, pressed his foot onto my hair, pinning my head to the sand.

“Ah, there she is.” A man with a scruffy beard and huge shoulders glared down at me. “Just like the captain said. All gift wrapped and delivered.”

My heart sank and my hands curled into the sand, something ugly snaking inside my veins.

Hook.

I drew my knife and rammed it into the shoe of the man standing on my hair. He let out a wild howl, his face contorted in agony. I yanked the blade free and moved to my feet, drawing my sword.

The two other men roared with laughter. “She get you, Gray?” They guffawed as the other man rolled in pain.

I looked toward my brothers, and my heart rose into my throat. The water was up to their chins. I met their eyes and relief flooded my veins. I tried to send them a message through my gaze. I’ve got you. I’m coming. Filling my head with thoughts of being reunited with them, I lifted into the air.

“Ah, no ye don’t.” Broad Shoulders grabbed my ankle and whipped me back onto the ground. Sand filled my mouth.

My hands tightened on my weapons. Fine then, if they insisted, I’d deal with these men first. I got up, spitting grainy particles, and faced them.

“Look at her, acting like she can fight,” Bulging Eyes said.

Rage boiled in my blood. I stood, my blade at the ready. “I’ll give you one chance to turn around and leave. Let me rescue my brothers.”

“Come, girlie, put the weapons down,” Broad Shoulders said.

I could try flying off again, but I needed to get my brothers off the rock, and that would take some time. In the water, I’d be much more vulnerable. I couldn’t have these men trying to stop me.

The bulging eyed pirate took a step toward me. I dove for him, dropping to my knees, and dug my blade across his thigh in one powerful slice. Then severed the tendon behind his ankle with my knife. He gasped, gripping his leg and raging.

“Bitch! You bitch!” he spat.

I came to my feet behind him and shoved him into the sand. Then danced out of reach. “Stay down.”

The man with the injured foot hopped over to his fallen comrade, both looking at me with fear and anger.

These pirates didn’t understand. I’d been trained by a man ten times more skilled and cruel than any of them.

The last man snarled at me, drawing his sword. He was bulkier than the other two, and from his stance, he might’ve had some training. He came at me, and I jerked out of reach, blade in hand, watching for an opening. I needed to end this quickly.

He came again, and I didn’t move in time. The man’s sword sliced through my shirt, barely missing my skin along my stomach. I spun, coming around on his backside. I pressed the blade of my saber against the side of his throat. Shifting, I turned my head to check on my brothers.

“Drop—”

But the man roared, jerking my attention back to him, his sword about to ram into my abdomen. I reacted. My blade dug into his throat, tearing a clean, deep line into his skin. Blood flowed over my blade.

The sword slipped from his grasp.

The man dropped to the sand. A shocked expression etched onto his weathered face. His lips moved silently, and something human and fearful entered his gaze. I didn’t want to feel pity for him. Still, the blood on my blade, the agony in his eyes. I bent to see what he was mouthing. He reached up with sudden strength and grasped my neck, forcing me down over him. I bared my teeth, and my fist tightened on my knife, but his grip relaxed as his eyes pleaded with me to understand… something.

And even though he couldn’t speak, the movement of his lips became distinctly clear.

Pan.

I jerked out of his grasp as his hand fell away, motionless for the last time. Dead. The man was dead.

I’d killed him.

Pan. The name reverberated inside my head. What did it mean? Why was Peter’s name the last on this man’s lips? Like he was identifying his murderer. But it wasn’t Peter. I had done the deed.

I looked toward Marooners’ Rock, and every thought fled from my mind. The water was covering my brothers’ heads. I gripped the knife, throwing the bloody sword away from me, and raced for the water, diving into it.

The world beneath the surface was a murky green. The cloudiness of the deep ate what little light existed. I swam, my eyes stinging.

I took to the surface, making the last few strokes to Marooners’ Rock before taking a breath and dunking under to free my brothers.

My fingers scraped across the stone where they should have been.

They were gone.

No. They were right here, I thought. My heart thudded in my ears as I desperately searched the murky water for any sign of them. Squinting, I saw a graceful scaled fin disappearing into the haze. A mermaid.

Mermaids were drowning my brothers.

I squeezed the hilt of the knife in my hand and kicked off the rock. Whether or not I found my brothers alive, I was going to skewer some mermaids. The burning in my throat and chest was merely my anger fueling me onward. I dove deeper.

Something broadsided me. Strong arms wrapped around my body and jerked me toward the surface. I twisted and tried to get my knife into whatever had me, but a sharp metal object met my arm and yanked it to the side. Damn it. Hook. We broke the water’s surface, and I gasped for air, the burning in my chest receding, but not my fury.

“Mermaids have my brothers. Let me go, you foul, black-hearted git.”

He dragged my struggling body up onto the shore and straddled me, pinning my hands into the sand. The cold metal of his hook trapped my left wrist, the tip buried into the ground. “Unless a mermaid has kissed you, you’ll drown long before you catch them.”

“I don’t believe a damn word you say. These pirates who attacked me are your men. You—”

He pressed his face so close to mine, I saw the outline of a small scar along his jaw. “I swear to you, no matter what anyone has said, this wasn’t me. Now, either I can hold you here and argue, or I can go try to discover what is happening to your brothers.”

He wanted to help? No, this had to be a trick. But the look in his eyes…there was worry there.

“Wait here.” He released me and rushed for the water.

I went for my knife and sat up, catching his back in my sights. I lifted the weapon, ready to bury it between his shoulder blades.

I hesitated, and he disappeared under the waves.

I let out a hiss and rammed the knife into the wet sand. Why had I stopped? I didn’t believe him. I didn’t. And what if, on the off chance, the mermaids were saving my brothers? I had just sent an enemy after them.

“Wendy?” Peter appeared from the trees, sword in hand, dripping with blood, a dejected look on his face. He came and sat next to me, his shoulders hunched and leaned on his knees. “I couldn’t save your brothers. I couldn’t—”

“Mermaids took them, Peter.” I motioned toward the water. “Hook has gone in...” I paused, realizing too late that maybe I shouldn’t finish.

His brow furrowed. “Hook? But it was his men who put them on the rock.”

I groaned and pressed sand-covered hands to my face. What had I done? “I don’t know. Nothing makes sense anymore.”

Peter gazed up at me, the same boy who had brought me to Neverland so long ago on the back of the wind. “He must be trying to get on your good side. He wants something from you. But what?”

My eyes narrowed. That was shrewd, even calculating of him. I wasn’t used to him being either.

I thought of the jeweled dagger and shrugged.

“I’ll go in after your brothers.” He stood and laid a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t worry, Wendy. We’ll find them. Which way did they go?”

I pointed out over the water. Peter took off and flew in that direction for a little way before diving in. Apparently, everyone here had been kissed by a mermaid except me. I only hoped that my brothers were also counted in that number.

So close. I’d come so close to reuniting with them, and now they were gone. Again. Sand scratched against my skin and clung to my soaking clothes. After sheathing my throwing knife, I tried to brush myself off, but eventually gave up.

The beach was eerily clear of any pirates or Lost Boys. The two men I had wounded were also gone, though they must have taken my sword with them, because it wasn’t lying where I’d left it. I unbuckled the casing and dropped it into the sand.

With nothing to do but wait, I settled for pacing across the shore. I should have told Peter about the dagger. Hook hadn’t come until after my brothers had conveniently been taken, and then he’d stopped me from rescuing them—admittedly saving my life. But why lure me into a trap when he’d had complete access to me on board the Jolly Roger? Why the schemes?

And Peter—his story kept changing. But perhaps that was to be expected from the boy who thought the rules constantly shifted according to his whims. Was that the genius behind his act? Or was he simply a child trying to keep up in an adult’s game?

Pan. The last name on the dying man’s lips. I looked up the hill to see his dead body still laying in the sand. He could have been saying anything. I was mistaken. Hook had gotten into my head more than I wanted to admit. I trembled at the sight of his corpse but pushed the regret and shock aside. There was nothing I could have done.

Peter came back first, flying over the inlet. A small glow floated next to him. Tink. Suddenly, she zipped off into the afternoon light. The boy touched down on the bank and I rushed up to him. “What did you find?”

Water dripped from his soaked golden locks. “These.” He grinned, holding up my five other throwing knives and a saber. “Found them in an abandoned rowboat.”

I gasped and took them from him, fitting them into the sheaths on my thigh. I strapped the saber to my waist. “Thank you, but I meant about my brothers.”

“Ah, yes. Hook and the mermaids are working together. They delivered them to pirates waiting on the shore along Princess Tiger Lily’s borders. I saw Hook. He told his men to keep them away from you.”

“That makes little sense,” I said. “If he did that, he wouldn’t get his…” I stopped too late, glancing at Peter.

He watched me carefully. “Hook said he could get what he wanted from you without them.”

I threw my hands up, releasing a frustrated cry. “Why does he even want them? What are they to him?”

Peter shrugged. “He’s Hook.” As if that were the definitive explanation for everything to do with the elusive captain.

I drew my hands into fists. “He wants a dagger. A jeweled dagger with a skull on the hilt. I used to have it until recently.”

Peter’s eyes grew wide. “You mean the Dagger of Forgotten Souls? That is the artifact needed to destroy all of Neverland.” He flew right up to me. “Tell me where it is. I will get it.”

“I thought it was the spellbook that could destroy Neverland?”

“You need both. They go together. Where can I find it?” There was an eagerness in his expression.

Perhaps too eager? “It was taken from me. I’m not sure where it is.” True enough. Even though I had a sneaking suspicion of where Uncle kept it.

His shoulders slumped and his head bowed.

“But I may know how to get it,” I said.

Peter looked up, hopeful.

“I’ll distract Hook while you retrieve my brothers. Then, when we return to London together, I will procure the dagger for you.”

“Why not kill Hook when he surfaces?”

I shook my head. “If he has my brothers and I kill him, what’s stopping his crew from killing them in retaliation?”

He scrunched up his face and nodded. “Good point.” He drew his sword and flailed it through the air. “I like this. The game is on, Wendy!” He took off flying into the sky until the clouds obscured him from sight.

Mere moments later, Hook broke the surface, sputtering and cursing mermaids to high heaven. Water dripped from his black hair and off his stubbled chin. His shirt clung to his chest, revealing the outline of his tattoos. I hated the warmth that pooled in my stomach watching him. He wiped water from his face and took me in with his forget-me-not eyes as he stood on the shore. “Are you all right, lass?”

So far from it.

“My brothers?”

He turned and pointed out to the sea. “Taken toward the shores to the east. That’s Princess Tiger Lily’s land.”

“What took you so long?”

“Well, that’s rather rude, considering the distance I swam on your behalf.” He swiped a lock of hair out of his face. “But if you must know, mermaids attempted to stop my progression—”

“No. You said that you’d rescue my brothers. You should have been here way before now. And your men were—”

“Those men were not under my orders.” His gaze traveled past me to the dead man on the hill. He paled, and something dangerous swirled in his eyes. “And I tried to get here to retrieve your brothers, but again, mermaids blocked the inlet. Tied up our rudder and wouldn’t let us through. I managed to lower a dinghy and paddle partway, but the mermaids, again, stopped me. So I dove in and swam the rest of the way.”

I snorted. What a load of rubbish. “If they were so determined to stop you, why didn’t they kill you once you were in the water?”

“They couldn’t.” He reached into his shirt and jerked out a silver stone held within a golden casing attached to a chain around his neck. His breaths came fast, and he glared at me. His voice sounded rough. “This is more than a pretty bauble. It affords me protection from anyone that is under Pan’s power.”

I tensed at the darkness gathered in his expression. “What do you mean?”

A coldness raged in his eyes, something wild and verging on violence. I felt for my knives. But he turned to the east and stalked for the woods. “Come. This day is far from over.”

“Where are we going?”

“To discover where Pan took your brothers.”

Chapter 8

Hook

Hook stalked ahead through the jungles of Neverland, anger seething in his belly.

She’d killed a man.

She’d killed his man.

From the looks of it, he was Aaron Devonshire, a newer recruit to Neverland. One who actually had a family to return to. A wife and two kids, he recalled. Aaron had put his trust in Hook.

And now, like so many others, he was dead.

It wasn’t Wendy’s fault. He knew that, and he couldn’t really blame her. Not to mention he’d killed his share of his own men before realizing the full strength of his immunity. And yet, losing another good man stung. His hand balled into a fist, placing the condemnation where it should go. For all of it. For the one who had forced Hook to turn into a desperate monster capable of anything.

Pan.

“I don’t understand.” Wendy pressed after him. “You should have died long ago. Peter said that the Crocodile got you in the end.”

“Sorry to disappoint.” He grit his teeth. Damn her for bringing up an event he’d rather not relive. “It wasn’t my time.”

The surrounding jungle was green and deep. Vines hung suspended from branches and the large leafy bushes reached out to block their progress. Whereas the shores of Neverland were cool and pleasant, the farther a person traveled into the island’s interior, the more the air became damp and humid.

He glanced back at Wendy. She followed, but at a distance, a wariness in her expression, keeping a hand near her knives. Pan must have found where Hook had left them in the dinghy and given them to her. His saber was belted at her waist. Forcing his fingers to unball, he paused. He shouldn’t allow her to walk behind him. Her lack of trust meant that any second, he could find a blade buried inside him.

And then Hook would have failed. Everything.

“What do you mean that the rock around your neck provides protection against Peter’s power?” she demanded, her green eyes narrowing. Every movement she made was the epitome of suspicion.

His hand dipped into his shirt, and he pulled out the silver stone. A black cloud of differing emotions ran through him as he held its coolness in his palm. “Everyone brought to Neverland becomes Pan’s mind slaves, forced to act out his morbid games to fulfill his sense of adventure.” A storm raged in his chest. So many memories. So many years of pain. “He controls this entire island, everyone and everything surrounding it. Even my crew.”

Her emerald eyes narrowed even further. “Except you… and me.”

He nodded. “Pan rarely commands everyone at once,” he said. “Sometimes, when his attention is off somewhere else, others get… free time. They can’t leave Neverland, but they get some sense of autonomy.”

His fingers hardened around the silver stone, and he tucked it back into his shirt. He continued walking, with Wendy at his side. Her teeth sank into her lower lip, her glare constant, and he could tell that she doubted every word that left his mouth.

“So everyone here are his slaves?”

“That is correct, lass.”

A breeze blew, ruffling her clothes, making her shiver. Sand covered her limbs and damp hair, and her fingers brushed a few stray strands aside. Her blouse clung to her breasts, showing off her round, supple skin. The sight was affecting Hook’s concentration. She peeled up the fabric, no doubt to avoid the impropriety, only to notice too late that Hook watched her as she did. Damn, she was beautiful. She clenched her teeth and shot him a murderous glare.

She plowed on ahead and Hook followed. Despite the seriousness of the conversation, a grin split his face.

“A few weeks ago, I received a package with a spellbook left for me at Madame Pearl’s,” he continued. “Among the many spells it contained was an incantation that would summon this stone to keep me safe from Pan’s power. Once I had it, I put it on and Pan hasn’t been able to control me since.”

She didn’t answer. He grew a bit worried at her silence. Like at any moment, she might declare him an evil liar and attack. Her stride was strong, confident. He’d seen her handle those knives strapped to her with deftness. She was deadly, well-trained. There was much to admire about Wendy Darling besides her beauty.

Which was what made her so dangerous.

They stopped in their journey, the overgrowth blocking any sign of a trail.

He faced her. “If you will. I’d like my cutlass, so I might get us through.”

Her hand landed on the hilt, and she stepped back. “Your cutlass?”

“Aye, mine.”

Her jaw clenched and Hook was certain she’d refuse, but she unstrapped his saber and handed it over. She watched as he carefully strapped it on. He unsheathed it, and he caught how quickly her fingers closed around the handle of a knife in response.

Acting as if he hadn’t seen her movement, he turned and sliced through the overgrowth.

“So why didn’t Peter send everyone else he controls to kill you?” she asked.

“That’s the rub, Wendy Darling. Those whom he controls can’t kill me. I’m protected from him, and from anyone under his power. Which is why he sent you. Someone who already hated me.”

She cast him a dirty look. “You kidnapped my brothers.”

“No doubt he wanted to use your anger to convince you to kill me. And then, after you did your part, he’d take over your mind as well. And he’d be back in total control, the inhabitants forced to play out his twisted daydreams for eternity.”

A downed tree blocked their path. Sword in hand, he scaled it before dropping to the jungle floor. He stuck the blade into the ground and held out his palm to Wendy.

“And yes,” he added softly, meeting her defiant gaze. “It was Pan that made me kidnap your brothers.”

“Why?” The question came out harsh and demanding.

“I don’t know, lass. When he’s in your mind, you can’t fight him.” A barely controlled fury burned behind his words. “You do whatever he wants. He forced me into your brothers’ room that night. I brought them to my ship and then came wonderful old savior Peter Pan and his Lost Boys. He compelled me to watch while they heroically slaughtered five of my men. Good men. Innocent men. And took your brothers off to live with them in their hideout and they’ve been there ever since. At least, until you arrived.”

He noted how her lips pressed and the distrust etched on her face. She climbed over the log without his aid. When she landed, she gave him a challenging glance. Hook shrugged and retrieved his sword.

She frowned. “You’re saying that the man I killed—”

“Aaron Devonshire. He had no control over what he said or did. It was Pan. Designed to give you the thrill of the adventure.”

He slashed through the greenery with a deadly slice, picturing attacking Pan.

Glancing back, he saw her swallow, looking more disturbed than ever. “That is quite the story. I don’t suppose you have any proof?”

Like he had time to run around gathering proof. He spun, and she rammed right into his unmoving form. He stared down at her, irritation lending a coldness to his voice. “You question now, but when Pan decides you are no longer of use to him, he’ll control your mind, too. And then you’ll know, but it will be too late. You’ll simply be another one of his pretty little pawns.”

For the first time, uncertainty entered her face. He wondered if he was scaring her. Good. She should be scared.

She stood close. So close Hook smelled the sea on her. She was like the untamed rolling waves that tossed his ship about. Had she been so wild and free when she’d been here last? He hadn’t really known her then, so he couldn’t be sure. But clearly, the passing years had changed her. Part of him wished she’d never come here. Pan wasn’t the only one using her as a pawn.

Wendy’s brothers were the key to controlling her. Once Hook “rescued” them, he planned on capitalizing on that. He’d leave nothing to chance.

She would retrieve the Dagger of Forgotten Souls for him. And he’d use it. All of Neverland would be at his mercy.

Wendy was a mere step in his plans, and he’d use her to his advantage.

A twig snapped.

He grabbed her, shoving his hand over her mouth and pulling her down into the brush. He looked around, alert. His rough, calloused palm pushed against her lips. Shit, they were soft and warm. But he refused to let that distract him. Wendy twisted, finally able to reach up and jerk his hand from her mouth.

“Stop doing that,” she hissed.

His grip on her loosened. “Sorry, love. Despite my immunity, knowing everyone on the island would kill me if they had the chance makes me a tad jumpy. Stay here, I’ll check it out.”

She pulled away but stayed low. “I want to come.”

“Can you move silently within an overgrown area, hiding your scent from detection while keeping an eye out for potential enemies?”

“Can you?”

He held in a chuckle. “Probably not.” He tapped his chest where the stone hung beneath his shirt. “But I’ve got this.”

Chapter 9

Wendy

I crouched among the bushes, my mind spinning like water swirling in a drain.

Could Hook’s story be true?

Preposterous. He just wanted the dagger. Peter had said as much. I couldn't be that wrong about the boy who would never grow up. There was no way I’d spent so much time here, with him, with my brothers, and never noticed, never realized everything was a sham.

And the pirate, Aaron. To think that I’d killed him for nothing. Because Peter wanted to give me some cheap thrill. It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be.

Only in Neverland half a day and already my world was turned upside down. I ground my teeth. Peter had better bring John and Michael, or he wouldn’t see the dagger. Until they were safe with me, nobody would see it.

A rustling came from the foliage, and I tensed, my fingers brushing the cool handle of a throwing knife.

The leaves parted on the far side of a small glen, and out stepped a woman about my age dressed in beautiful, handcrafted skins. Her raven hair was braided around her head, and her eyes shot about the space, taking in everything that moved. She inched through the trees as quiet as a ghost, a bow and quiver of arrows attached to her back.

She appeared no different from the day I had left Neverland eight years ago.

Standing, I cleared my throat.

The other young woman crouched and spun. She froze, shock flitting across her face. “Wendy?”

“Hello, Tiger Lily. It's been some time.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Looking for my brothers, John and Michael. You haven’t seen them, have you?”

Hook clumped out of the brush, glaring at me. “Just give us away, why don’t you?”

“Hook.” Tiger Lily grabbed an arrow and loaded her bow, pointing it at him.

He gave her a flat look. “Shoot me. Do it.”

But Tiger Lily didn’t release her arrow. “Stay back. Wendy, get behind me.”

I held my ground. “My brothers, Tiger Lily. Do you know where they are?”

“Yes. Last I saw, the mermaids were handing them off to his men.”

Hook swore. “She’s under Pan’s influence. She’s not going to tell you the truth, lass.”

“You can’t trust him.” Tiger Lily kept her arrow trained on him. “Help me get rid of him once and for all.”

My gaze shot between the two. Tiger Lily was my friend. We’d had many adventures together when I’d been here before in Neverland. My hand slipped to my knives, gritting my teeth. I already knew how good Hook was at manipulating me. He was just trying to keep me on his side so I’d give him the dagger.

“Damn it all to hell.” He stalked over to a tree, jerking the silver stone from his shirt and thrusting it against the bark. His hook raised and pressed into the stone.

Tiger Lily and I exchanged an uncertain glance.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

His focus never left the stone. “Getting you proof.” He pressed the tip of his hook against the hard surface and started chanting. A light burst out from the rock, so bright that we both had to shield our eyes. A loud cracking noise followed it. When the radiant brightness dimmed, Hook stood in front of both of us. The golden casing that housed the stone at his neck now only held half of the silver stone. The other half lay in Hook’s palm. Before either of us responded, he dropped the other half of the stone into the leather pouch belted at Tiger Lily’s waist.

She stiffened. Then relaxed her stance, placing her arrow in its quiver and her bow onto her back. Reaching into the pouch, she pulled out the stone, stared at it and then looked at Hook.

“Shit, James. What are you doing running around here with her?” Tiger Lily gestured at me. “Don’t you know Pan brought her here to kill you?”

“That part was obvious,” Hook said. “Do you have any idea where her brothers are, Lil?”

Tiger Lily cut me a nasty glare before facing him. “Mermaids handed them off to us and then we were ordered to take them to Devil’s Cave and leave them. From there, the Lost Boys picked them up and took them to who knows where.”

He swore again. “You don’t know why Pan wants them, do you?”

I watched the exchange in disbelief. The moment that stone touched her, it was like Tiger Lily was a completely different person.

“No. Everyone has this constant urge to do whatever it takes to keep them away from her.” Tiger Lily’s gaze shifted to me. “If Pan can get what he wants and keep your brothers indefinitely, he will.”

“Wait,” I said. “Everything he said is true? You’re really under Pan’s… mind powers?”

Hook held out his hand, and Tiger Lily took it. “Wendy, may I introduce you to Lillian Bearclaw?”

Tiger Lily gave a short curtsy before slugging Hook good-naturedly in the shoulder. “You’re late on that shipment of spices I ordered. Saving the world or not, I expect to be reimbursed if it's not here before Pan is destroyed.”

I blinked. “Are you two friends?”

Hook smirked. “What do you say, Lil? After all this time? Friends?”

“You free us from Pan and I’ll be your best friend forever and always.”

My mouth hung open. I must look ridiculous, and yet I had more important things to worry about at the moment. “But…” I gazed at the other woman pleadingly. “Peter saved you when Hook kidnapped you. He—”

Lillian snorted. “First off, pirates are much fairer trading partners than the Lost Boys. Second, Pan can’t fight to save his life. You think he could have saved me from James if he hadn’t used his mind powers? Not to mention him taking James’s hand.”

I looked at Lillian and then Hook, who was no longer smiling. “What about it?” I asked.

“Cutting off someone’s hand isn’t as easy as you’d think.” Lillian raised her own as if in demonstration. “Not to mention Pan is a child half James’s size who thinks sword fighting is waving a sharp object around his head.”

“His form is terrible,” Hook muttered.

Nausea and horror twisted in my gut at the same time. Now that I knew how to handle a weapon, I realized they were right. I had been thinking about how terribly the boy wielded his weapon earlier that day. “You’re saying Peter forced Hook to stand there while he cut off his hand?”

“And threw it to that she-devil of a Crocodile,” Hook growled.

Could it be true? Or was this some elaborate ruse on Hook’s part? With Tiger Lily on board, that seemed less likely.

“And after Pan gets what he wants from me?” I asked.

Lillian shrugged. “He’ll turn you into one of us. Maybe have you work at Madame Pearl’s.” She said it matter-of-factly. As if she’d seen it happen a hundred times over.

Peter Pan, the monster of Neverland. James Hook, its savior. The idea was foreign. It was laughable. I touched my chest where Peter’s kiss hung beneath my shirt.

Lillian frowned at her half-stone then cast an untrusting glance at me. “You’re playing a dangerous game, James.”

“I am.” He ran his hand through his jet-black hair, giving it a ridiculously appealing, tousled appearance. “But she is the key to ending this.”

Her gaze turned appraising. “In that case, Pan will figure out at any moment what we are doing. Here.” She offered me the stone clutched in her palm.

Biting my lip, I reached out to take it, but Lillian snatched it up. “As soon as you take this, you can’t take it off again or your mind will be his.”

“Wait,” Hook said. “Let me fix it so it can hang from that cord around her neck.”

Tiger Lily, or Lillian, held it while Hook worked his hook into the stone, carving out a hole. I watched, wanting to scream. Wanting to protest that something must be off. My Neverland was tainted by a history that I’d never known. My Neverland had never really been mine. And Peter, the hero I’d always admired—not to mention our little childhood crush—it was all a lie.

If Hook and Lillian were telling the truth.

I hesitated. “Why him?” I asked Lillian. “Why make Hook Neverland’s savior?”

Hook’s shoulders dropped, his blue eyes flashing while he worked. “Tell us how you really feel, Wendy Darling.”

“Hell if I know,” Lillian replied. “But if he doesn’t succeed, I don’t think there will be any hope for us ever getting free from Pan’s power.”

“Done.” Hook stood back proudly. I saw the small hole he’d carved into the silver stone for me to hang about my neck. I took a deep breath.

“You’re saying I should trust him?” I asked Lillian.

Lillian’s gaze bored into me, the expression on her face solemn. “After you take this from me, he is the only one you should trust.”

I looked down at the stone that lay in Lillian’s hand. Reaching out, I lifted the silvery object from Lillian’s possession and slipped it into the pocket of my trousers. I’d add it onto my necklace later.

Lillian’s expression went blank.

Hook suddenly started backing up. He grabbed my arm and dragged me with him.

I jerked out of his grasp. I wanted to watch this. I wanted to be sure.

“Lillian?”

She blinked and looked at me. A calm grin crossed her lips. Then her eyes landed on Hook and all pleasantness fled.

Hook sucked in a sharp breath. “Wendy, I’m not sure if—”

“Step away from him.” Lillian pulled her bow off her back and loaded an arrow from her quiver. She pointed it at Hook’s chest.

He was still backing toward the tree line when she released her arrow. He dove to the side. The arrow sliced into his arm and lodged into the ground. Laying in the dirt, clutching his wounded arm, Hook released a torrent of curse words.

I stared in shock. But… Hook had claimed that nobody under Peter’s power could hurt him.

Unless splitting the stone had weakened its power.

A self-satisfied smirk crossed Lillian’s face as she loaded another arrow into her bow.

Chapter 10

Wendy

Hook scrambled to his feet and made a beeline for the jungle’s edge, but Tiger Lily already had him in her sights. From this angle, I could tell the arrow would lodge between his shoulders. A death kill.

Without really thinking, I drew a knife and lunged forward, severing the string on the bow before Tiger Lily took the shot. The arrow flipped to the ground, harmless.

Tiger Lily let out a shout of rage and turned furious eyes on me. But then she spun and raced after where Hook had disappeared into the brush.

I stood there, my mind spinning. Had I saved the life of my mortal enemy? Suddenly Hook burst out of the trees and grabbed my hand. “Time to flee, Wendy Darling.”

And I moved with him, running blindly after wherever he led. After a while, he slowed, and I nearly bumped into him from behind, my heart pounding from our frantic escape.

“The stone… it still works?” I asked.

“Partially.” Hook stayed low, on high alert. The left sleeve of his shirt was slick with blood. “I think it still protects us from Pan’s mind attack, but now that I split the stone and weakened it, all of Neverland will be hunting us.”

“Can’t you use the spell in the book to make a new stone?”

“Tried that already. That particular spell only works once.”

“What if someone else cast the spell—”

“You don’t think I’ve tried all that?” he snarled at me, and I tensed.

A branch snapped somewhere off in the jungle. He paused, jerking me close. If our lives weren’t at stake, I might have shoved him away or stabbed him, but I watched the trees surrounding us, searching its depths. A wolf howled off in the distance.

“I have an idea where we can hide,” Hook whispered. “Follow me.”

He led me a little further into the woods until we came to a tree. Hook dropped my hand and dug around the roots. He grunted in satisfaction as he uncovered a wooden door with a handle. Reaching down, he jerked it up and signaled for me to go first.

I approached the open hatch and peered into darkness. “What is it?”

“A rum cache. There’s plenty of them on the island. Not every pirate knows of them all. Hopefully, Pan won’t think of checking them. Let alone this one.” Again, he motioned to the hidden cellar. “After you, lass.”

I crawled into the hole. Hook dropped in right after me, pulling the door shut, closing us into utter blackness. But then I heard him strike a match, and a light sparked inside a lantern on the floor. Using his hook, he picked it up and held it aloft. “It's not much, but it will have to do.”

Crates stacked close to the rooted ceiling filled the space. Old scratchy, dirt-laced blankets covered the top of them. I stepped up to a stack, trying to make out the faded painted writing on the side. Everything that had barely happened spiraled through my mind.

I gripped my knife in my hand, breathing hard. Now that we were relatively safe, my emotions rose to the surface. I didn’t believe Hook. He was the enemy; I didn’t care. This was all a trick. The stone had bewitched Tiger Lily. It was the only explanation. If not, everything I knew about Neverland, about Peter, and Hook was false.

The lantern dangled from the curved metal that made up his left hand. He watched me, unmoving. “Wendy?”

I spun and rammed the knife into one of the wooden crates over and over.

“Hey, hey, hey! Destroy your own property, love, not mine.”

The knife tore from the box, and I growled, turning on Hook. Setting down the lantern, he opened a crate near him and pulled out a rounded bell-shaped bottle. “Rum?”

“You want to get me drunk,” I snarled.

He leaned on the crate. “Yes, because if they find us, I definitely want you tipsy to make it all the harder to escape our pursuers. When did you eat last? It may be a while until we acquire something to sate our hunger. A little rum in your belly might help.”

As if in response to his words, my stomach growled loudly.

I glared at the smirk on his face. He shook the bottle at me. I sighed and marched over, taking the ginger-colored container from him. The cork was wedged deep inside, but using my knife, I managed to pop it.

I took a sip. It had a sweet taste.

I took another sip and sank to the dirt-covered ground, leaning against a stack of crates, bottle clutched between my hands.

“I hate this place.”

“Aye. As do I.”

I glanced at him curiously. “You had a life before Neverland?”

“I was a tailor. A poor tailor in a poor town.” He took another drink before setting it aside. With the help of his hook, he ripped the sleeve from his right arm. “I even had a family. A wife and a wee baby. A daughter.”

“The names tattooed on your chest.”

He glanced at me, surprised, as he wrapped the now torn fabric around his wound, using his mouth to tie it off. “Yes. They were everything to me. We all had lives like that. Me, Smee, Lillian. Every one of us.” He reached for his drink and took a lengthy swig. “That was long ago. Too much time has passed. They are gone now—both my wife and my daughter. Dead.”

Deep emotion laced his voice when he spoke, his expression distant. Then his eyes hardened. He took another drink, looked at the bottle with disgust, and shoved it into the crate.

I stared at my bottle of ginger-colored rum. “When I was younger, I wanted to come back. I wanted Peter to come for me so we could go on more adventures. And then, when I lost my brothers, I needed to get to them.” My eyes rose to Hook’s. “And you. You were the enemy. The one person I could never trust. You were evil incarnate. For years, all I thought about was killing you.”

His expression turned grim. “Pan designed it to be that way. There was no way for you to know.” Rising, he grabbed a blanket covering the crates and pulled it down. “You should get some rest. I’ll keep a lookout.”

Pan designed it. Did I believe that? That Peter was capable of everything Hook claimed? That he was the real mastermind. That he’d kidnapped my brothers? But Peter never cared about John or Michael. Indeed, when they first visited Neverland, he often didn’t even remember who they were. It made no sense.

I took the blanket from him. “I don’t trust you.”

“Damn it, Wendy. After what you confessed, I should be wary of you.”

It was true. I’d tried to find so many excuses to kill him that day. If it weren’t for my brothers, I probably would have. And despite everything I’d learned, a part of me still wanted to finish him.

I took a long drink. The sweet liquid burned down my throat, but I didn’t let that stop me.

I took another and another. If I drank enough, I could forget it all. Peter, Hook. My failure to save my brothers.

Hook eased the bottle from my hands. “No getting tipsy, remember? Besides, it doesn’t help. You’ll simply wake up with an unexplainable pounding in your head, feeling shitty as ever. We’ll find your brothers. You have my word.”

I forced a smile. “I guess I’ll go to sleep, then.”

He retreated, sitting back next to his crate. “If you can.”

I lay down, pulling the scratchy blanket over myself, and staring at the roof of the underground rum cache. I was never going to sleep. Not with Hook in the same room as me. But the extra bit of rum in my system did its work, and soon I found that whatever danger I was in, it didn’t seem that immediate.

My eyes settled shut, and my mind began to recall memories from years ago. How my brothers and I used to play, late into the evening, past when Mother and Father thought we were asleep. How we would make up adventures in the night, telling them to one another. John was always ready to grab the nearest toy sword or top hat, depending on the part he was enacting. And little Michael’s infectious laugh danced around us before he’d get too tired, and I would have to lift his small body into bed.

No matter how often I put the memories off in the daytime, these scenes always came to me each night, replaying in my head before I went to sleep. And tonight, with the rum in my system, it was no different. Slowly, dreaming of reuniting with my brothers, I drifted off into a fitful slumber.

Chapter 11

Peter

Peter never tired of the wind shifting through his hair when he flew. Neverland spanned before him as he soared. His own personal kingdom.

He headed back to his hideout, seeing his Lost Boys in the distance moving in the same direction. They were calling it a night. The sun’s last rays verged on dipping beneath the horizon. The games of the day had turned out differently than expected, but fruitful in their own way.

Wendy had returned to Neverland, older and much more womanly. He liked that. Perhaps when all this was over, she’d end up at Madame Pearl’s. Recently, the home where the women of the night dwelled drew his curiosity. But he hadn’t gone there. Yet.

Perhaps Wendy would be his first visit.

He frowned. But tonight, she and Hook were off in Neverland, alone.

He very much didn’t like that.

He gripped his sword, looking out over the island, wishing he could pinpoint their whereabouts. A low growl emitted from his lips.

No man deserved death more than James Hook.

With the danger that the pirate captain presented to Neverland, he’d been certain Wendy would have performed her part by now and done him in. Especially after Peter had lied to her and told her about her brothers being dead.

Now he wasn’t sure where her loyalties lie.

He flew to his home, a network of upside-down tree houses built into the side of Raider’s Cliff. A latticework of pathways carved into the stone made it possible to walk from one house to the other, but mostly he and the Lost Boys flew. Peter’s tree house, of course, was the largest and best furnished, and the spot where the Lost Boys often met to plot and play their games. He’d had old hideouts. One he thought used to be in the base of a tree. What had happened? Had the pirates discovered them? Wild beasts run them out? He couldn’t remember.

Opening the moss and leaf covered door to his home, Peter soared in, landing on his favorite perch carved into the cliff face. The space was simple, filled with weapons and other tools he and the Lost Boys used for skinning and cleaning their meals.

He snatched up the thimble he kept at the rear of the alcove, knowing it had something to do with Wendy, but couldn’t remember what. Even though he recalled her, some of their interactions remained hazy. It had been a long time. At least, he thought so.

Pressing the thimble to his lips, he tipped it back and drank the small amount of liquid inside. His medicine. He hoped tonight it would stave off the recurring dream of someone hovering over him, casting a spell while he slept. It always unsettled him and made him momentarily powerless.

He hated that feeling.

But it didn’t worry him like it used to. Peter was older, though he didn’t know how old. When he was in Neverland, he didn’t age, but when he went back to the human world, he aged like any other person. And he’d spent more time there lately, searching for the Dagger of Forgotten Souls.

Although when he compared his height to those boys he saw roaming London’s streets, he’d guess his body may reflect that of a fifteen or sixteen-year-old. The other Lost Boys appeared much younger. When he realized this, he’d become horrified and stopped going to the human realm to search. He set the thimble down harshly. He’d even lost his shadow in the hunt for that cursed object.

But Wendy knew where the dagger was located. That was a surprise. A good one. Surely she’d give it to him. Although, turning over her brothers in exchange wouldn’t happen.

It was the rules of the game.

Then, there was the whole Hook problem, which he hoped could still be remedied. If he played his part right.

He hated lying to Wendy, but that was how he must play this particular game. The rules to this one were harder to remember than most, which made it a challenge.

Peter loved a challenge.

And if he won, then in the end, Hook would be dead and Neverland would remain his.

Forever.

Chapter 12

Wendy

I awoke to the sound of shuffling and thudding. I raised my head and squinted to find Hook lifting and re-stacking crates, revealing a large empty blackness opening up on the far side of the cavern.

“Good, you’re awake,” he said as if his racket hadn’t been the thing that awoke me in the first place. He rolled his shoulders, raising his arms in a stretch. “We should get going. No rum today. We need to stay alert. We’ll get food when we reach Madame Pearl’s.”

“Is that where the tunnel leads?”

“Correct. The ladies of Madame Pearl’s tend to be… freer than the rest of Neverland’s inhabitants.” He stepped over a crate and offered me his good hand. “Not that we won’t have to be careful, but we can’t stay here forever living on rum.”

“I need to find my brothers.”

“One step at a time. That task has now become a hell of a lot more complicated.”

I reluctantly took his hand and let him pull me to my feet. Despite his sand-covered hair and torn and bloody clothes, he somehow maintained a ruggedly handsome appearance. My skin itched from layers of caked-on mud, salt, and sand, and I was sure my hair looked like it was home to a nest of rats. His palm was warm in mine.

I snatched it back. “Let's get going, shall we?” Moving past him, I headed for the entrance to the black abyss.

He lifted the lantern with his hook and followed me.

Part of me wished that yesterday had only been a bad dream. But waking up in the underground rum cache had ruined any hope that the world had gone back to being sane. I pulled my half of the silver stone from my pocket and lifted off my own necklace, the one that still held Peter’s kiss. Carefully, I threaded it through the opening Hook had created before settling the stone around my neck. It rested next to the small acorn.

“Tell me. If everything you claim is true, what was the point of throwing me off your ship?” I asked as we walked. Roots from the cave walls brushed my arms, and the small confines of our tunnel forced us to travel single file.

“Simple, love. My crew is under Pan’s control. The only reason he has brought you here was so you can kill me. If we had walked out onto that deck acting all cheery, his purpose for bringing you here would have been thwarted and you’d now be under his power.”

“You couldn’t have let me in on the little act?”

He let out a low laugh. “I’m afraid not. After that sham of an attempt at seduction in my quarters, I couldn’t trust your acting to be convincing.”

I huffed, my cheeks growing red. “And the kiss?”

I glanced back in time to see him grimace. “Sorry, Wendy. That’s not normally how I go about such things. But I couldn’t let you mention the dagger in front of the crew.”

I fingered the stone around my neck. “The stone protects us from Peter’s mind control…” The words were still strange coming from my mouth.

“And allows us to leave Neverland,” he added.

Yes. I had forgotten we were all trapped here. “And why is the dagger so important?”

“The Dagger of Forgotten Souls is a conduit for magic,” Hook said. “Pan exudes magic. So stab him while saying the right spell from my trusty book and Pan’s power goes into the dagger.”

“And no more mind control.”

“Precisely.”

I was quiet for a moment but couldn’t stop myself from asking what was at the front of my mind. “Why not kill him? If you are so immune to his powers?”

His voice darkened. “Kill Pan and you may destroy Neverland and everyone in it. No, Pan’s power must be transferred to another human.”

“I thought you were transferring it to the dagger.”

“The dagger is not a living being. The magic of Neverland is meant to be used. Eventually, it would fade and go out if left in the dagger. According to the spellbook of Stardust, it must be given to another person.”

“So, who? You?”

“Is that so hard to believe?” Annoyance laced his words. Then he paused. “Don’t answer that.”

We walked in silence for a long time. The light from the lantern shone dully ahead, its glow being eaten by the dirt-covered walls. Someone had taken quite the time to tunnel out this secret pathway between the rum cache and Madame Pearl’s. I wondered if it had been on Hook’s orders.

The endless passage came to a dead end. Above us was a wooden trapdoor and a few boards haphazardly nailed into the dirt leading up to the hatch. I moved to climb up it, but Hook caught my arm.

He gazed down at me, his expression so intense it made my stomach curl. He moved closer, and I sensed his energy rolling off of him. “You need to know that the Dagger of Forgotten Souls is more important than life or death. There’s no going back for me. I’d rather die than become enslaved to Pan again.”

Despite my mouth going dry from his nearness, I lifted my chin. “I guess we better find my brothers, then.”

He stared at me for a long moment, his jaw working like he wanted to argue. But finally, he gave a brief nod and released me. “Here. Allow me.” He moved past me and climbed up the wooden boards, where he beat his fist against the hatch several times before it opened. Fresh air rushed in, mixing with the stale underground smell.

I climbed up the makeshift ladder and through the opening, coming up into a wide-open cellar. Light drifted in through narrow windows, giving the room a faded look, but I made out stacks of dresses and crates of wine and spices sitting on the cold stone floor.

Hook motioned for me to follow and made his way up a wooden staircase, before rapping on a red painted door. “I should warn you. Madame Pearl is a bit… Well, you’ll see. Remember that in Neverland, it's best to put some of those London sensibilities behind you.”

“What do you know about London's sensibilities?”

The door swung open before he could answer, revealing a woman unlike any I had ever seen. Tight curls layered at the top of her head and down her back, each one groomed into a perfect position. Her full gown came off her shoulders, revealing more skin than I was used to seeing up close. Strange how I felt both envious and uncertain about how low the other woman’s dress plunged.

“Cora, may I present Wendy Darling,” Hook said. “Wendy, this is Cora Pearl.”

For a moment, I didn’t know how to respond. Hook had addressed Cora first, implying she was the one of higher station. I gave a small curtsy, feeling even more awkward because I wore trousers, and I didn’t know where to place my hands. “Pleased to meet you, Lady Pearl.”

Then again, perhaps I was overthinking it. Hook had said to leave London's sensibilities behind.

Madame Pearl cast a critical eye over me, taking in my sand-filled hair and boy’s clothes. “Charmed.”

She turned toward Hook. “How did you get down here, mon cher?”

“Rum tunnel.” Without offering further explanation, he entered, stepping past her. “How are things? Everything normal?” he asked while I followed him inside. Cora wrinkled her nose.

A wave of flowered perfume hit me so hard I almost gagged. The carpets were a plush red, and the walls were covered in a gold-leafed wallpaper. It felt a little overdone and yet oddly welcoming.

“It is better than normal, mon cher. See for yourself.” Cora moved past me and led us down the hall into an open area. There was a kitchen and a couple of tables, almost like a small restaurant setting.

The women sitting at the tables in various stages of dress gasped with delight. “James!” exclaimed a woman with dark, curly hair. “We’re so glad you are safe. Although it appears as if only barely so.”

Hook tapped the makeshift bandage. “Yes. Had a little run-in with your past lover.”

“Lillian? She is seeing someone else now, though she won’t tell me who.” She sighed, looking sad, before returning her attention to Hook. “But With Pan’s orders last night, we feared the worst.”

Hook looked at her, concerned. “He took over your minds, too?”

The surrounding women nodded. “Every one of us. It was an all-out manhunt,” explained Lillian’s old flame. “But now it is as though Pan has left Neverland. Except…” She glanced at Cora.

“Except he is still here,” Cora finished.

Hook blinked. “Are you sure?”

She motioned to Hook as she threw the front double doors wide. I stepped up next to Hook and peered out. Madame Pearl’s large home sat on the top of the hill overlooking Swindler’s Cove. The town stretched out before me. At the bottom of the hill sat a grassy area of tables and fire pits. The main street spread out from there, running down to the seaside port. Mostly pirates, but a few women bustled about. They were talking and laughing. Some were getting drunk. A general sense of happiness permeated the air like children on Christmas morning.

Hook’s brow furrowed, worry in his gaze.

“Smee said he saw Pan at Mermaid Cove this morning. He is not gone,” Cora said. “Perhaps he hopes to flush you out?”

“What does this mean?” I asked.

“Usually when there is a day where everyone is free, it is because Pan has left Neverland,” Hook explained. “Gone to your realm. I don’t know what this means, only that we need to be careful.” He turned to Cora. “I must ask you. Who gave you that package you delivered to me?”

Cora frowned. “Not here, mon cher. Follow me and we will speak.”

“We also need a change of clothes,” he said. “And some nourishment.”

“I believe I have a belt of yours. Let’s ask the girls.” Cora sauntered over to the women. “Do any of you have any spare men’s clothes?”

“Oh, I have a shirt of yours, James,” said a tall, thin woman lounging nearby.

“I have a pair of trousers and an overcoat from when you spent the night with me last,” said another woman in a sleeveless gown, laying a card down on the table.

“You left your boots in Sasha’s room and Primi gave me a pair of socks you forgot,” said yet another.

I stared as nearly every woman in the room listed something. “You slept with all these women?” I whispered.

He raised an eyebrow. “Does it matter?”

I pressed my lips, telling the part that soured in my stomach that it wasn’t my place to judge. “You certainly didn’t leave here fully dressed very often.”

That elicited a roguish grin. “You forget. We here in Neverland don’t age. Over the years, I was bound to forget a few articles of dress.”

The thought that Hook had been living in this realm for so long hadn’t hit home until that moment. And to think that he and everyone in Neverland had been enslaved for all that time… The souring in my stomach turned into an ache of horror.

“You were never forced to…” I swallowed and motioned out toward the women.

He gave me a grim smile. “No. Madame Pearl’s is the one place where Pan seems not to control us. Only those not under his power may come here and, like I said, the ladies are freer than most. Even Cora doesn’t force them to do anything they don’t choose for themselves.”

Cora raised her hands, and the commotion died. “All right, ladies, place the clothes outside my door. Bella, you will prepare food for our guests. Eloise, Camille, and Ivy, you will help Miss Darling here get into something more… feminine.”

Eyes shifted to me for the first time. A look of utter resentment crossed the other women’s faces. And yet, the three women I assumed Cora had named rose to their feet.

“I am Eloise. If you will come with us, Miss Darling,” said a woman. Her dress was elegant, and her hair was wound in a high bun with flowers adorning it. She was beautiful.

I moved to follow them, but Hook stepped in front of me.

“I’ll meet you back here once we’re cleaned up,” he said, his voice low. “Remember, Pan can take over any of them at any time. Be ready. But for the love of the Jolly Roger, if he does, don’t hurt them.”

I clenched my jaw. “You think I would?”

“I know from experience, when you're being attacked, how difficult it can be to remember who the real enemy is. These women aren’t half as well trained as you.”

I stepped back, glaring at him. “Am I supposed to take that as a compliment or condemnation?”

His blue forget-me-not eyes flashed with amusement. “A little of both, I suppose.”

And with that, he moved away, following Madame Cora Pearl as she swished across her home in her flowing gown. They disappeared into a room on the far side of the building, a growing pile of clothing stacked by the door.

Chapter 13

Wendy

The three women led me to a room. A large bed filled most of the space with plush covers and huge fluffy pillows. The carpet was thick and soft. A rack of frilly, scandalous dresses lingered in a corner. One woman gripped my arm, startling me.

“He likes to be called Jas.”

“Excuse me?”

A smile slid up the woman’s face. She was beautiful, in her mid-twenties, the oldest out of the three women. “In the bedroom.”

My mouth dropped open, with no idea how to respond. Part of me wanted to giggle like a schoolgirl, and still another part made me wonder what Hook would do if I called him that.

Eloise snorted, folding her arms, eyes narrowing. “Don’t encourage her, Ivy. Besides, she is most certainly not his type.”

Ivy cast her an annoyed glance. “How do you know what his type is? Last I checked, you were betrothed to his first mate.”

My eyes widened. “You’re engaged to Smee?”

“Yes,” Eloise snapped. “Is that a problem?” Turning to Ivy, she added, “Last night, every single creature in Neverland was commanded to hunt down and kill James. But not Wendy. We were to keep her alive and bring her to Pan.”

I felt my stomach clench. “Those were your orders?”

“They were.” Eloise’s lip curled. “All our lives are in James’s hands. He doesn’t have time for…”—her gaze roved over me—”distractions.”

Ivy appeared disturbed by this. “What do you think, Camille?”

Camille peered nervously at the two women. She was young, probably slightly younger than my twenty years. “I trust James.”

Eloise rolled her eyes while Ivy nodded in satisfaction.

“As well you should,” Ivy said. “We should all trust him. Now, Camille, fetch water for a bath. Eloise, you can help Miss Darling out of her clothes, and I shall find something for her to wear.”

Now Eloise looked really put out.

“I can change myself,” I said. “In fact, if you bring some water, I believe I can manage on my own.”

Ivy appeared aghast. “Oh no. Cora does so much for us, we want to repay her. We’ll do as she says.”

So I had to let the women, mostly Ivy, wait on me. Camille returned with the water and dumped it into the large tub that sat next to the bed.

As I peeled off my clothes, I heard several gasps as my back was exposed, revealing the whipping scars marking my skin.

“You poor thing,” Ivy lamented.

“It's nothing,” I said quickly.

I stepped away, climbing into the bath. Ivy said nothing more, only gave me a pitying glance as I sank into the water. The grime caked on me from the past day and a half loosened, and I tried to ignore the other women’s chatter in the background as I washed. I kept a knife with me in the bath, just to be safe. Was I really a distraction for Hook? I supposed I was forcing him to save my brothers before I allowed him to save Neverland. But I had no choice. I needed to find John and Michael, and without Hook, or someone helping me, I’d never locate them.

The water was unexpectedly warm, and when I finished, I was relieved to see a towel sitting next to the basin. I grabbed it and pulled it around me before facing the other women.

Ivy smiled and motioned toward the bed. On the covers lay a frilled dress that appeared to be missing some fabric.

“This gown isn’t finished,” I said.

At that, the three women laughed. Ivy ran a hand over the soft lace. “I assure you. It is quite whole.”

“But.” I tried to think of an excuse. “My knives. There’s no room for them.”

“Oh, there is always room for knives.” Ivy gave me a sly look. “If you know where to place them.”

She helped me fit into the dress, then walked me in front of the mirror. It was tight through the bodice and showed off my shoulders. The gown bloomed in soft pinks and rouge hand-sewn flowers and lace. The netted material lined the seams of my gown where the tops of my breasts crested in an all-too-revealing fashion. Eloise glowered at me, but Ivy and Camille looked excited.

“You look lovely,” Camille said.

I stared, hardly recognizing myself. But then frowned as I saw the scars on my back peeking up out of the dress.

Ivy noticed and said, “Don’t worry about that. We will cover it up with makeup. Nobody will be the wiser. Now, Let’s do your hair.” She raised an eyebrow. “And then I’ll show you where to put those knives.”

I walked down the hallway in my new outfit. The fabric was soft against my skin, and my skirts whispered when I moved. I should have asked the women for a more practical dress, but Ivy had been so excited that I hadn't wanted to be rude. Still, I felt rather pretty, despite the inappropriate amount of skin I was showing off at the moment.

Uncle Reuben would whip me something fierce if he saw me.

Hook stood in the entryway with Cora Pearl. He turned to us when we approached, also cleaned up. His black hair fell across his forehead, and he wore a fine shirt and overcoat, looking like the captain he was. “Greetings, ladies,” he said with a smile. “What have you done with Wendy?”

Ivy giggled and grabbed my arm, pulling me forward.

Hook blinked, his mouth falling open. His gaze took me in.

“Not a word,” I growled. For some reason, a compliment from him would feel almost as bad as him teasing me.

His jaw snapped shut, but I could tell that he was failing to hold in his comment. “Are you always against men complimenting women on their beauty?”

“Only when said flattery is from pirates,” I shot back. “Did you find out who gave Madame Pearl the book?”

He nodded to the other women. “Thank you, ladies, you have worked wonders.”

I frowned, unsure how to take that. Ivy and the others left us, moving away down the hall. Hook turned to face me.

“Alas, that query was a dead end.”

“So now what?”

“We find your brothers. I am attempting to recreate the spell I used to track them. I made a quick trip to the apothecary while you were… changing... and brought back the supplies. However, we are lacking one essential ingredient. A saltwater plant called pickleweed.”

“Then let's get it.” I moved toward the door.

“I’m afraid we can’t. This time of day, Pan and his boys are known to be at Mermaid Cove. The only place where pickleweed resides. The best time to retrieve such a thing would be in the early morning. I’m afraid we are going to have to wait ‘til tomorrow.”

I let out an impatient sigh. “And what are we to do until then?”

He lifted an eyebrow and shrugged. “Whatever you want, love.”

A banging on the front door caused us both to jump. “Come on, Hook! Open up! We know yer in there!”

“Yeah,” shouted another voice. “We’ve got a bone to pick with ye!”

Fear raced through me. “They’ve been taken over.” I searched for an exit.

“Maybe.” Hook’s eyes were narrow as he glared at the door, his hand on his saber. “Maybe not. One of Madame Pearl’s ladies may have told them we were here.”

Cora touched his shoulder. “I’ll get it, mon cher.” She bustled to the door and cracked it open. “Sorry, boys, but we are closed—”

The door suddenly burst wide, throwing Cora against the wall.

“Excuse us, Madame, but we have some important things to discuss,” growled a big burly man. Other pirates spilled into the front entryway. They formed a half circle around us.

I went for my knives, but Hook pressed the flat of his hook to my hand. “Hold, lass,” he mumbled. He looked at the large burly man who stood at their head. “What is the meaning of this, Mason?”

“So it's true. Captain Hook, the one man who may be our salvation, has taken up with Peter’s pet.”

A round of shouting commenced.

“Everyone knows you’ve split the stone and given half to her,” said a scrawnier man standing behind Mason. “What makes her so worthy? What does she care about any of us?”

“She ain’t fit, sir. Look at her. She’ll have that stone taken away in an instant, turn on you, and the rest of us are doomed,” said yet another.

“You don’t think I know what I’m doing?” Hook’s voice was low, a threat in his words.

The pirates standing around didn’t respond, but I saw the distrust in their gazes, all echoing the same thing.

Hook released his grip on his sword, his stance relaxing. “Fair enough. Wendy Darling here is unproven. Shall we put her to the test?”

I cast disbelieving eyes on Hook. What was he doing?

But the men roared their approval.

“A duel,” someone shouted. “To the death.”

Hook held up his palm. “Come now, lads. Let's not prove ourselves the barbarians that Pan forces us to be. It is bad form. Skill can be proven without egregious bloodshed.”

“Then, in honor of our captain, let it be the first to lose a hand,” Mason said. He lifted his arms high, his brawny muscles bulging through his shirt. “I put myself up as her challenger.”

Hook nodded as if he were agreeing that the sky was blue.

“As the challenged, I get to choose weapons,” I said. Anger roiled in my blood. The captain of the Jolly Roger was throwing me to the wolves.

Mason’s lips pulled into a sneer. “Then choose, little girl.”

The men standing in Cora’s front entry way hooted. Eye patches and peg legs and loose shirts donned those present. The surrounding air reeked of ale.

I stepped up to Hook, my gaze meeting his. My fingers closed around the icy steel hilt attached to the saber at his waist, and drew his blade.

Something unreadable flashed across his stony face.

“I choose the sword and whatever weapons carried on our person,” I said.

Mason’s mouth twisted. “Deal.”

Cora barged between two men with a livid expression. Relief stole through me. Another woman. Surely, she would be the voice of reason.

“You shall not get blood on my carpet. Take your endeavors outside,” Cora Pearl demanded.

My last hope that sanity might prevail shriveled.

The men cheered, and they filtered out of the entryway. They organized themselves into a large circle in front of Madame Pearl’s. Mason already waited in the middle, sword drawn, ready for violence.

Despite my well-hidden knives, I now regretted the dress. But I’d have to make do because nobody seemed to care that I was ill-clothed for such a fight.

“One moment, please,” I said to Mason. I turned to the crowd. “Does anyone have a rope?”

Someone threw me a short length of a frayed line. “Thank you.”

“Won’t help you none, lass. Come, give me the stone and we will call it off.” Mason’s dark eyes fell to where the silver half-stone rested in plain view on my chest.

I glared at him. Then used Hook’s sword to tear a hole through the fabric along the hem of my dress. I strung the rope through the opening, and then wrapped it around my waist, tying up my skirts. The last thing I wanted was to trip over them.

A few men whistled and hollered at the sight of my exposed legs, but I focused on the cocky bloodlust in Mason’s expression.

I’d use that overconfidence to bring him down.

Gripping the sword, I got into a battle-ready stance. Mason guffawed.

“Look at her, holding that sword all threatening-like.”

The pirates laughed. Hook crossed his arms, never taking his steady gaze off of me.

“I’ll make this quick,” Mason said and charged at me. I danced around his attack. Mason swung his blade, and I raised mine to block.

Clang.

The strike went straight to my bones. Shit. He was strong.

He swung again, and I backed up, taking the hit. Mason laughed with triumph. When our swords struck again, I let the blade fly from my grasp.

“How about you lie down for me, and we’ll get this whole hand-chopping part over with?”

I reached into my dress and dove under Mason’s blade, bringing out my knife and striking, cutting deep into his sword arm, severing muscle and tendons. I came up on the other side, my weapon dripping with blood.

Mason swore as he clutched his useless sword arm.

He switched hands and rushed wildly at me, enraged. I circled around him, then jumped on his back, ramming my blade into his good arm before jumping off him. The force caused him to hit the ground.

I yanked the rope from my waist and jerked his injured arm behind him, tying it to his calf, then backed up.

There. Half hog-tied in a manner of seconds.

He lay there spitting, calling me every foul name known to pirate. I gripped my skirt and tore some fabric from it and stuffed it in his mouth. The crowd clambered with laughter.

“Nobody will lose their hand today. However, if you don’t get that arm tended to, you may lose one within the next week.” I straightened, sweeping strands of hair out of my face that had come loose from Ivy’s updo, and looked around at the pirates, who watched me with a new level of respect in their eyes. “Does anyone else wish to duel?” I asked in a quiet voice.

Silence.

“Then hear me. I am not your enemy. I’m aware that it will cost you to trust in me. To allow me freedom while so many of you are bound. But I will do everything I can to help Hook free this land from Peter Pan.” My heart burned with the words even while I wasn't sure how true any part of them were. But I wanted them to be true. Could I do both? Save my brothers and free Neverland?

The men gathered around didn’t cheer me, but they didn’t challenge me either. They gradually dispersed.

I turned to Hook, only to see him attempting to hide a smile. Pride shone in his eyes. I glared at him and walked up to the porch that surrounded the length of Madame Pearl’s. I moved around the building until I was out of sight, leaning against the siding and taking deep breaths. The bloody knife I still held clanked to the wooden planks beneath my feet.

Hook clomped up after me, his sword clutched in his hand. “Wendy, that was—”

“How dare you put me in that position,” I spat.

He stopped. “Position?”

“Forcing me to fight. To prove myself.”

His eyes slitted, and he stepped close. “You were already in that position. I merely manipulated it to your advantage.”

“Did you?” My gaze fell to his shirt, only partially buttoned to show off his tattooed chest. He came closer, the smell of the sea mixed with that sweetness washing over me.

“Yes,” he said. “No offense, love, but you are a woman. And a young one at that. Not to mention your known associations with Pan. If you didn’t prove you could hold your own now, we very well might have been dealing with a mutiny later.”

My hands clenched at my sides as I stared into his face. The tiny, hooped ring in his left ear reflected the daylight. The breeze ruffled his dark hair. My heart raced as I traced that tiny scar along his strong jaw, the one spot of skin among the light stubble peppering his chin, giving him that roguish air.

My examination stopped abruptly at his lips. His firm disapproving lips.

I flattened my bloodied palms to the cool stone of the building to ground myself. “You don't think I understand all that?”

“Then why are you angry with me?”

I gritted my teeth. Because I had wanted to see some moment of concern. Some sign that he was really on my side.

“I don't know,” I said. “Although their actions aren't making me believe that they deserve to be saved.”

His blue eyes became as dark as a winter storm. “Don't you dare judge these men for their desperation.” He pressed his face close, contorted in dark rage. “You have no idea what it's like to have your actions not be your own. To kill your friend in cold blood and to wake up later with full knowledge of what you have done. Of what atrocities he made you do.”

His fury seemed to envelop me, and my hackles rose. I wanted to run. I wanted to stay. My teeth sank into my lip, and he watched the movement, some tumultuous emotion swirling in his eyes. The harsh fabric of his overcoat brushed up against my stomach and chest. He stood so damn close, and the way he was looking at me made it difficult to breathe. A horrifying thought entered my head.

I wanted the captain of the Jolly Roger to kiss me. Again.

The storm in his eyes froze into icy hardness. “This is our one chance.” He stepped to the side, turning away from me, his form stiff. “There is no going back.”

Chapter 14

Hook

Hook waited outside Madame Pearl’s, staring at the light of the fairies flitting about, mixing with the first stars of night until they were indistinguishable from each other.

Neverland. His home for the past… he wasn’t even sure how long. The realm tended to eat time. But enough for his daughter and wife to be long dead. He ran a hand over his chest where their names were tattooed forever into his skin. Sometimes, despite his eternal youth, he felt old, wrung out, like a ship taking on water, tilting into the sea’s depths.

If this plan was unsuccessful, he didn’t know what he’d do. No, that wasn’t true. He did. He’d give in. Become the black-souled villain Pan had always forced him to play. He didn’t have it in him to fight any more if he failed. The darkness inside would claim him. Either that, or he’d find a way to end it all.

That cursed Wendy Darling was both holding him back and driving him forward. One moment, she was winding him into a rage and the next all he desired was her flippant soft mouth pressed against his.

Except, this time, he’d make sure she wanted it. That she’d enjoy it.

He felt bad about the kiss on the ship. Forcing himself on women wasn’t his normal way of doing things.

He both liked and loathed how she got under his skin. For years, he’d been content just enjoying the physical side of lovemaking. With Wendy, he still definitely desired that, but when he was with her, he found himself wishing for more. He wanted the fullness of a relationship that he hadn’t experienced since Arabella. Someone to stay alongside him in the dull, lonely hours. To share the pains and trials and joys of life with.

A dark laugh ground out of him. That was the last thing he deserved.

The doors to Madame Pearl’s opened and Wendy stepped out. “Here I am, wearing—I’ve no idea what I’m wearing. Beautiful yet intimidating. I think those were the descriptors?”

Cora and the ladies had insisted on changing Wendy’s clothes again for the evening’s festivities.

Her hair gathered loosely behind her, blowing in the wind. Her burgundy top pulled tight through the bodice and then opened into a wide skirt that swung around her in a stiff fabric that flowed with just the right swing of her hips. The front of her skirts split in two, revealing legs clad in form-fitting black pants. She was gorgeous. She was deadly.

Cora had outdone herself.

“Wendy, you look…” Words escaped him. He swallowed, trying to think of something to say. “Where are your knives?”

A sly smile crossed her face. “You’ll never find out.”

Hell, that only drove his imagination wild. She looked out over Swindler’s Cove, the city fires beginning to glow, her grin fading.

“Are you sure this is necessary?” she asked.

Hook tried to gather his composure. He cleared his throat. “Yes. You’ve proven you have the skill, but the people need to know you. They need to believe that you will fight for them.”

She bit her lip. “I’m not good with people.”

He held out his arm. “That’s why you have me, lass.”

Her eyes flicked to his and away, but he read the annoyance mixed with nerves.

“Relax. Be yourself,” he said. “The Wendy I remember had Peter Pan, the Lost Boys, and half of Neverland eating out of her palm.”

“That Wendy was younger, much more optimistic, and terribly naïve,” she said, but she took his arm, and they began their trek down from Madame Pearl’s into the heart of Swindler’s Cove, where a courtyard lay with grassy patches, tables and roaring fires blazing in large-open pits.

Madame Pearl’s girls trailed behind them dressed in their most lovely and enticing gowns.

“May I offer you some advice?” he asked.

She blew out a breath. “Might as well.”

“The inhabitants of Neverland aren’t looking for a high-class woman who knows her manners. They spend so much of their lives playing whatever part Pan assigns them that they only respond to those who are genuine.”

“That is exactly the opposite of everything I have ever been told, I…” She chuckled, shaking her head.

Hook smiled. “You be around pirates, now, lass. Niceties be damned.”

They approached the main courtyard. A few men had gathered with a fiddle, concertina, lyre, and penny whistle. The musicians of Neverland. They bickered over what to play first until they noticed Madame Pearl’s ladies and got down to business. Cora’s girls drifted into the sea of pirates, some sitting at tables, or in the laps of their favorite customers, though others grabbed partners and began dancing a jig. Easy smiles and laughter floated up to the stars, along with the sparks of the flickering flames. Pitchers of ale sat on the tables, ready to fill the glasses set for drinking. The smell of smoke surrounded them, mixing with the carefree spirit. The kind Wendy would thrive on. Hook took a deep breath, enjoying the taste of freedom in the air.

Smee approached her. He bowed, holding out his hand. “Care to take a turn with me, Wendy Lady?”

Her grip tightened on Hook’s arm. “I don’t know the steps.”

“Neither does he,” Hook said.

His first mate winked at her. “Ah, not to worry. If old Smee can pretend to learn the steps, then you’ll pick it up in no time.”

Wendy agreed and Hook watched as they careened around the courtyard in what could be called a jig in only the loosest of terms. But she was laughing, joy sparking in her eyes. He’d asked Smee to do the honors. She still didn’t fully trust Hook, so he only added to her nerves. If anyone could bring her out of her inhibitions, it was his eternally cheery first mate.

Hook stood at the edge of the festivities, part of him always on edge. Any moment, Pan could take over any person and attack. But tonight was necessary to ensure the loyalty of Neverland’s inhabitants. It was worth the risk.

When the song wound down, Smee escorted Wendy over to a table of pirates. A few words were exchanged, and then those sitting about were roaring with laughter. Bodies shifted and Wendy and Smee joined them. Hook relaxed a little. Tonight was important. Not just so Wendy impressed the inhabitants of Neverland, but so she might hopefully begin to believe that they were worth saving as well.

He allowed himself a few dances. As the evening wore on, he kept careful tabs on her progress as Smee led her from table to table.

“She isn’t going to disappear if you take your eyes off her, you know,” Ivy, his dancing partner, said. “Everyone is smitten with her. Especially one captain of the Jolly Roger.” She gazed up at him with delicately arched eyebrows.

“Who?”

“Wendy. If you wanted her to steal everyone's attention for the evening, then the night is a resounding success.” She glanced around at the boisterous revelry. “Although, gauging from the drunkenness level and lateness of the hour, things are about to get a little wild, even for her.”

She was right. It was time for Hook to strike up the last dance. He led Ivy to the side and left her. After signaling to the musicians, he stepped up to the table where Wendy and Smee engaged a group of pirates in lighthearted banter.

He had held himself off this entire evening. He’d allow himself this one moment. “Miss Darling, would you do me the honor of joining me in a dance?”

He extended his hand. She stared at him, her lips parting in surprise. The others at the table had gone silent, all eyes on the two of them. She didn’t move, and he worried he’d put her on the spot, that she’d turn away from him.

Her cool palm slid into his, and she allowed him to guide her out onto the open cobblestone.

He rested her hand just above his hook before pressing his fingers under her shoulder blades. The soft melody of the waltz swirled around them.

Wendy’s expression lighted with recognition. “Fur Elise. I know this dance.”

“Contrary to appearances, we do try to maintain some semblance of fashion and culture here in Neverland.”

He felt her relax as they moved into the familiar steps. Her skirts flowed with her movements and her eyes were dark, reflecting the firelight.

“You’ve been superb tonight,” he said. “I expect to receive my own challenge as co-savior before the night is out.”

A small smile played on her lips as he took her through a turn. “It’s Smee who has been superb.”

“That’s a given.”

She released a laugh before giving him a considering look. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“I’m sure it wasn’t Smee’s idea to attach himself to me for the evening. He has a fiancé.”

“He’s a willing martyr for the cause,” he said, feeling affection for his first mate. Smee had been in Neverland almost as long as Hook. The man was always jolly and exceedingly loyal. He’d found happiness and wanted to move forward with his life, despite everything.

Hook wished he could do the same.

They glided around the other couples. Wendy had become solemn. “I want to help. After we find my brothers and make sure they are safe, I want to assist you in freeing Neverland.”

When they came back together, he pulled her a little closer. He studied the sincerity in her gaze. Perhaps he wouldn’t have to use her brothers to ensure her cooperation. Maybe Hook could simply trust her to follow through. “I would like that, Wendy Darling.”

The music died and he, ever the purveyor of good form, bowed over Wendy’s hand. When he straightened, he realized she was focused on something behind him. He turned at the sound of moaning. A couple sitting at a table were moving, she in his lap, he holding her hips as she thrust up and down, her skirts hiding their most compromised state but their movements and the ecstasy on their faces as clear as hell.

The night's debauchery had begun.

“I believe it is time to call it an evening, love. Come, I’ll escort you back to Madame Pearl’s.”

But Wendy didn’t take her eyes off the couple. Something akin to hunger lingered on her face. Shit. He needed to leave. He’d sworn he wouldn’t engage in such events. He had more important things to attend to, but the look on Wendy’s face tempted him to stay.

The couple was working into a frenzy; him degrading into swearing and her crying out with each thrust. Those around took little note as they were getting into their own tête-à-tête. Madame Pearl’s women, seeking their favorite partners. Some were already beginning to entwine on the grassy knoll, skirts being pushed aside, trousers split open.

“Wendy.” Hook touched her arm, and she gazed at him at last, but she didn’t look the least bit embarrassed. Her cheeks were flushed, her pupils dilated.

Hell. His own body roused. What would she let him do if he stayed? Would she let him touch her? Make love to her? No, he really needed to leave.

“Trust me. You don’t want to stay for this next part,” he said, his voice gruff.

Her chin rose. “Maybe I do.”

He couldn’t remain but he also didn’t want her there, and he wasn’t sure if it was because he was worried when his men came for her in their drunken aroused state, if she’d gut them with a knife or if he was worried he’d gut the first bastard that laid a hand on her.

His jaw clenched. Definitely the first.

Glancing up the path, he saw the women who’d decided not to join in the night’s festivities making their way up the hill from the gathering. He had a responsibility to them, and he forced himself to calm. “Fine. But you keep those knives stashed. And when you’ve had enough, come up to Madame Pearl’s.”

Music played, but it was nothing like the melodies that had played earlier that evening. Hook turned and made his way up the path, leaving Wendy frozen at the bottom.

Then, she suddenly was by his side. The tension in his body released a little. She didn’t say anything at first as they walked.

“Does that happen every night?” she finally asked, her voice low.

Hook nodded. “Something like. Every night Pan isn’t holding us captive.”

She cast him a side glance. “But you don’t take part?”

An annoyance stirred in his chest. “I’m their captain. I don’t need to expose myself before everyone. Besides…” He tilted his head toward the women ahead of them on the trail. “Someone needs to make sure no drunken idiots bother those who choose not to engage in the night’s endeavors.”

She stared at those entering Madame Pearl’s house, her lips pressing tight in thought.

“I want to go with you tomorrow, to get the pickleweed,” she said.

They’d reached the entrance. Hook opened the door for Wendy to enter. He’d stand outside, on guard until everyone had calmed for the evening. “I’ve asked Cora to put together the other ingredients of the potion tomorrow so that all we will need to do is add the pickleweed to it.”

“So?”

“So someone needs to stay to ensure that it’s done right and Pan doesn’t sabotage us.”

Her shoulders fell. “And I can’t breathe underwater.”

“Yes, well, I’d much rather spend a day with the ladies and send you to face a sea full of possibly murderous mermaids.”

“I’m sure you would,” she grumbled, causing him to grin, only partially because he realized she might very well prefer facing the mermaids. “Yes, fine.” She planted her hands on her hips. “You go rest, and I’ll keep watch.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You stayed up all last night keeping watch and now you’ve stayed up half the night already and plan on going into a potentially perilous situation tomorrow. Go to sleep, James Hook. I’ll make sure nobody bothers Madame Pearl’s ladies.”

An uncommon sense of gratitude filled him. He did feel exhausted. It was nice that she noticed. “All right, I shall take your prescription. If you need me, I shall be in the third upstairs room on the north side of the building. The door will be locked, so you’ll have to fly to my window and rap four times to enter.” He took her hand in his and bent over it. “Goodnight, Wendy Darling.”

He thought he saw something almost tender flash in her eyes as she drew her hand away.

“Sleep well, Hook.”

Chapter 15

Wendy

I stood in the large open kitchen area with several of the other women lounging around. Despite it being late afternoon, I still wore the nightgown that they’d provided for me. It was lacy and a lot more suggestive than I was used to wearing, displaying the paleness of my shoulders. The other women were dressed in similar nightwear, some showing more skin than even my attire.

Hook and I had slept in adjacent rooms the previous night. Not that I had gotten much sleep. A yawn escaped me, and I tried to focus on the list and instructions that Hook had supplied for brewing the potion that should locate my brothers.

The captain of the Jolly Roger had left early that morning in search of the last ingredient that would probably take him most of the day to retrieve. I fingered the stone around my neck, biting my lip, my stomach doing strange flip-flops at the thought of something happening to him.

Pushing my worry aside, I refocused on the task at hand. It was my responsibility to make sure the potion was brewed to Hook’s specifications. The pot heated over the stove, giving off an odd whiff of spice and clean linens.

Cora Pearl sauntered over, examining the concoction. “How goes it?”

“Almost done,” I said, a bit of pride filling my chest. This was my first potion.

Cora cast me a studious side glance. “James is a man of honor with the weight of a world on his shoulders. I trust you will keep that in mind, ma chère.”

I straightened. “You don’t believe I’m a woman of honor?”

“I believe you will do whatever it takes to get what you want. James doesn’t have the luxury of choosing between our world and your desires. He knows that. I hope you do, too.”

“And yet he is out retrieving the last ingredient I need to find my brothers.”

“While you selfishly withhold the thing he needs to free himself and all of us.”

“Hook told you about the dagger?”

“Of course he told me.”

I bristled. “If you’ll excuse me, Madame. I cannot afford to make any mistakes.”

Cora turned to leave. “As you wish, ma chère.”

It was true. I was keeping the location of the dagger from him. My uncle had it, and I was pretty sure he’d put it in his safe in his bedroom. That’s where he kept the things he wanted to hide from me and my cousin. Little did Uncle know, I had spied on him on one occasion and discovered the combination.

My teeth sank into my lip. I was holding Neverland in bondage to save my brothers. But what else could I do? I couldn’t rescue them on my own. I needed Hook. I needed someone on my side.

A while later, I lifted the pot from the heat to let it cool. When it stopped simmering, I took a small vial and scooped up the mixture. Now we only had to add the pickleweed to finish it. I shoved the stopper down and grabbed a knife, working a hole into the cork, then added the vial to the necklace with the stone. I’d removed Peter’s acorn button the previous night while Cora and the others dressed me. I couldn’t very well impress the inhabitants of Neverland with it on. It lay on the dresser in my room.

Ivy came to check on me. “Looks like you’re finished,” she observed. I smiled and showed her the potion in the vial.

“Nicely done. Come. James may return anytime. We must find you an outfit that you glow in.” She grabbed my arm and dragged me off to a side room. Shutting the door, she spun, clapping her hands and burying her face in the rack of dresses. “Now, what should we clothe you in?”

“Something comfortable and sensible?” I tried.

Ivy barked a loud laugh. “Ah, my dear. Comfortable and sensible are the enemies of beauty.” She shoved a few more gowns aside before gasping. “Yes! You will look absolutely ravishing in this.”

The dress was beautiful—a white floral print with lace around the edges. Only one side came up over the shoulder, while the other would be completely bare. The fabric hiked to the right and would come well above my knee. It was more revealing than the nightgown I was currently wearing.

Ivy had a wicked grin on her face. “Poor James won’t stand a chance.”

I pulled my nightdress over my head, my heart leaping at the other woman’s confidence. “What makes you think he’d care?”

Her look turned pitying. “If you are going to catch a man, dear, you must be able to read the signs and respond accordingly.” Her nimble fingers hooked up my corset.

In London, I had experienced suitors before—those of my uncle’s choosing—but had taken none of their boyish advances seriously. I’d mostly endured them or found subtle ways to put them off. “Signs?”

“Of desire. The way a man says in his words, in his actions, his looks, with his… body, that he wants you.” She wiggled her eyebrows.

I gave Ivy a blank stare. Had Hook been sending me signals that he wanted me? He was a rake and a flirt, and I figured that was how he acted around every woman.

Ivy sighed as she helped me into the dress, settling it around me and working on the buttons in the back. “He stands ridiculously close to you and acts like your opinions are the only ones that matter.” She bustled over, grabbed the concealer off the vanity, and started applying it to my scars. “Then, he danced the Fur Elise with you. A position of honor he usually saves only for Lady Pearl. Not to mention the way he couldn’t take his eyes off you last night.”

A warmth spread through my chest. “He couldn’t take his eyes off of me?” I said, feigning cool indifference.

“It was verging on disturbing the way he tracked you all evening.” Setting the concealer on the floor, she brushed out my dress, releasing an excited giggle. “Look in the mirror.”

Ivy gripped my hand and pulled me over to the looking glass by the vanity. My cheeks warmed. The gown fit me like a glove, pulling in at the right places to show off my curves and more than a little flesh. A bit of anticipation tingled inside me as I wondered how Hook would respond when he saw me.

“Now we only need to do your hair, add a few accessories, and you’ll be perfect.”

“My boots and my knives are upstairs.”

“Not to worry, dear. I’ll send someone to fetch them.” She marched to the door and called through it before returning. “Come sit at the vanity over here.”

I settled into the plush chair and took in my face in the glass, noting my own flushed cheeks, and the spark of fire in my eyes. I looked beautiful, but not in a proper, pure kind of way. I looked like a woman of desire, and it brought a measure of pride and confidence to me to throw off the fear of my own body and embrace this part of myself.

Ivy, appearing reflective, began combing out my hair, running a large brush through my blonde locks.

“Did you know, before I came to Neverland, I was a renowned seamstress? I made that dress you’re wearing.” The woman threw back her brunette curls and gave me a small, sad grin.

“It's beautiful.” I gazed at Ivy curiously. “What brought you to Neverland?”

She scowled. “My brute of a husband. Beat me day and night and threatened to break my fingers so I couldn’t make my creations. So I found a way out.”

“And you came here?”

Ivy paused, bobby pins stuck between her teeth. “Of course, dear. Didn’t you know? Nobody comes to Neverland unless they are trying to escape something.” She pulled the pins from between her lips, her hands pulling and weaving through my hair. “Take Madame Pearl for example. She was once one of the greatest courtesans in France, but sadly, time is not kind to those in her profession.”

“She came to Neverland to avoid aging?” I recalled how Tinker Bell had only shown up after my uncle had told me I was going to marry. How I’d been desperate to find a way out of the arrangement.

“This place isn’t what I thought,” I admitted. “When I was here as a child, I believed it was a land of adventure, and everything was simple. Good and evil. Peter and Hook. But now, it's as if it is all wrong. I was so wrong. Does the past mean anything?”

Ivy frowned as she considered my words. “The past forms us.”

“In all our misguided ways, it seems.”

Ivy stared at her hands as she worked, her brows drawn together. “As young children, we are continually forming our world. Casting off what we once knew for something better, something more correct. I think the problem is that at some point, many of us stop doing that. We treat the past as this precious porcelain doll, meant to be preserved, unblemished. Our view of the past isn’t designed to be a doll kept untouched on a shelf.”

“And if the porcelain doll is completely rotten inside?”

“Oh, I don’t think any doll is completely rotten.”

I studied at the woman. I used to assume that the women at Madame Pearl’s were just as bad as the pirates of this world. But I’d been wrong about that, too.

“What would you do, Ivy? If you could leave Neverland?”

Ivy’s expression became wistful. “When I’m free, I plan on returning to your world. Not that I haven’t enjoyed it here, but I want to find a kind, gentle man that desires me for more than my body. I mean…” She grinned. “He should desire my body, too. Someone ready to commit to life, family, you know, the whole package. I’m not like Cora. I want to experience every stage of life. Even the old, wrinkly ones.”

“I hope you find it.”

“I’ll find it, dear.” She gestured to her curves. “Who can resist this?”

I found myself smiling at the woman’s easy optimism. The door opened, and boots and knives were tossed into the room.

“Don’t move. I’m almost done.” After a few finishing touches, Ivy stepped back. “There. James will drool all over the floor when he sees you.”

She’d drawn my hair up with a bit left to trickle down my neck and rest against my bare shoulder. I imagined Hook coming close, running my fine locks between his fingers, his eyes sparking with desire. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure, dear.” She gathered up the boots and knives, carrying them over to me, and watched as I stashed them inside the hiding places the ladies had taught me.

“You’ve become a true lady,” Ivy said with pride.

“I'm missing a knife.”

I glanced into the mirror. Ivy's face had gone strangely slack, but I caught the flash of metal in her hand. Alarm rushed through me, and my fingers dipped toward my boots.

Ivy moved in a flurry of skirts, shoving the blade to my throat with one hand, jerking me back into the chair with the other. I sat ramrod straight, not daring to tip forward to try for my boots again. The blade dug dangerously into my skin.

“Hello, Wendy Lady. Enjoying your time in Neverland?” Ivy's voice was low and deadly.

I saw my reflection become ashen pale in the vanity mirror. “Peter?”

“You are quite the disappointment.” Ivy's face twisted into a hateful sneer. “I bring you here to kill Hook, and instead, he recruits you as his little soldier. My, how quickly he turned you. A flash of those baby blues, and you're spreading your legs for him like every other whore here in Neverland.”

“How dare you—” The blade dug harder, and I gulped down my words, though a fire raged in my veins.

“Shshsh.” Ivy pulled the knife ever so lightly across my skin. The slightest bit of pressure, and it would slice me open. “If you will not do what you are supposed to, then what use are you to me?”

“What about the Dagger of Forgotten Souls?” I risked speaking to remind him of the one object keeping me alive.

The knife drifted back over my throat as Ivy's other hand dipped to my chest. “I need that dagger. You will get it for me.” Her palm closed around the half-silver stone and tried to lift it.

The smell of scorching flesh reached my nostrils.

Ivy hissed and released it. She held up her hand, blistered and blackened, and examined it curiously. “This will be harder than I thought.”

Triumph shot through me, even while I felt bad for Ivy, who would have to deal with the repercussions of the burned hand. “You're not going to kill me.”

The knife dropped from my throat. “No. I'm not. But you must understand, all of Neverland is at stake. Do you really plan to leave that power with the likes of Hook?”

I rose and faced Ivy. “You have enslaved Neverland, Peter. This…this only proves it.”

“You would trust pirates and whores over me?”

“Apparently, that is the truth, Peter Pan.”

“You want the truth? Ask your dear pirate captain. There are consequences to refusing to do my bidding.”

Ivy's arms rose, the knife turned inward. Shit. I lunged, gripping the other woman's arms and jerking back to counter her momentum. We wrestled over the blade, me trying to keep her from stabbing herself.

“Wendy?” Ivy's face filled with panic as the knife dipped closer to her chest. It was like her consciousness had returned, but her body still wasn't her own. “I can't stop it. Please help me.”

Chapter 16

Wendy

We stood in the plush bedroom, the vanity chair toppled from our hasty movements. The blade's sharp point slipped a little closer towards Ivy's chest. I was losing the battle against her determined momentum.

Tears of terror coursed down the other woman's cheeks.

I slammed the heel of my palm into her nose. It cracked. Blood gushed over Ivy's face, and she stood there, stunned.

I tore the knife out of her grip.

“That's nod enough,” she said, as she scanned the room with wet eyes. She lunged for the vanity. Her hand closed around the hatpin. I wrestled it from her grasp and gripped Ivy about the waist, thrusting her face-first onto the bed.

“I'm going to knock you out,” I said.

“It won't work. He can control us even when we are unconscious.”

Damn it. How did Peter get so much power? I twisted Ivy's arm behind her until it dislocated. Ivy screamed. Then I twisted the other arm till it dislocated, eliciting another scream from my friend. My heart pounded in my ears. I felt terrible. Still, I didn't let Ivy go. How far would she go? Would she bash her head against the vanity? Or cast herself out a window?

A door slammed, and my heart leaped into my throat. Had Pan taken over the whole place? Was I fighting a losing battle?

“Wendy? It's time to go!”

Relief flooded through me. Hook. Thank God.

“Wendy?”

“In here!” I called, holding Ivy's trembling form under me.

The entrance burst open. “Wendy, looks like the honeymoon is over...” His voice trailed off as he took in me and Ivy on the bed. “Then again, maybe it's barely getting started?”

“Pan wants her to kill herself. Grab one of those boas in the corner and help me tie her up.”

“We must hurry.” But he did as I said, grabbing the boa and rushing over to us. He helped me bind Ivy to the bedpost.

“This is something I've always wanted to try. Though admittedly in more...intimate circumstances.” He gave me a suggestive glance.

I let out a soft growl. Now wasn't the time to discuss Hook's sexual fantasies. Even though it left me wondering if I was the one he pictured when he said it.

“Thank you,” Ivy murmured, her eyes drifting closed, on the verge of passing out.

Hook took in Ivy's ragged and bloodied state with wide eyes. “Hell, Wendy. Couldn't you have been a tad gentler?”

“If I had, she'd be dead.” I stowed the last knife. “Let's go.”

We moved out into the main foyer. Madame Pearl's ladies came toward us, some carrying fire pokers, and every one had a frightening blank expression on their face.

Hook stayed close to me, his hand on the pommel of his saber. “Stay back.”

But the women kept pressing ahead, surrounding us.

Hook swept me into his arms with a grunt. “Hold onto me, we're going up.”

“Up?”

He shoved his nose into my hair and breathed deep. I gasped as he lifted into the air. We rose over the second-story balcony, and he watched me with amusement, no doubt reveling in my surprise.

“I may have also gotten some fairy dust from my anonymous benefactor,” he said.

He set me on my feet, and we rushed to his room. Hook threw open the door and hurried to the window, unlatching it.

I came up behind him, knives clutched in my fists. “Did you smell me to get your happy thought?”

He shoved the window open before turning to face me. “Well, the perfume you are wearing does elicit many pleasant memories.”

“You're a barbarian.”

Hook raked his hand through his hair, a roguish smile lighting his lips. “Do you have a happy thought, love?”

He motioned for me to go first. I pictured going home with my brothers and living a life with them. Hook's stormy gaze also popped into my head. I didn't have time to analyze that. I stepped out and floated up into the air.

The overcast sky cast a gray pall over everything. The clouds loomed overhead, ready to pour out its deluge. Did Peter even control the weather? Hook came after me. Madame Pearl's was on the edge of Swindler's Cove, and behind the large home spanned the jungles of Neverland. I breathed a sigh of relief. We could disappear into the trees and hide.

The sky grew ever darker. A flash of lightning illuminated my surroundings, thunder ringing like cannons, jarring me to the bone.

Four boys dropped from the clouds, a fishing net spread between them. I spun as they wrapped it around Hook and yanked him, helpless, toward Madame Pearl's, where three pirates waited on the wooden porch with weapons drawn to receive him.

“No! Release him!” I cried, drawing my knives and made to fly after them. How did I attack children? Whether they were under Pan's spell or simply under his leadership, I couldn't do it. Hook somehow rose to his feet, sword drawn, striking out against the pirates. The Lost Boys abandoned the engagement, fading off into the wilds of Neverland.

“Wendy.” A singsong voice drifted up to me.

I looked toward the trees. Peter floated there, right before the darkness of the jungle enveloped him, highlighted by Tink's glow as she hovered close by. The wind whipped his boyish hair, and his leaf-sewn leathers melded in with the foliage at his back.

My grip tightened on my knives. “Let Hook go.”

Pan drifted closer. He glanced unconcernedly down to where Hook fought for his life. “His crew isn't very happy with him at the moment. What about you? Have you become a pirate?”

I gazed at Hook, then turned pleading eyes on Peter. “Stop talking in these childish terms. You need to stop this.”

“I can't let you destroy everything we've built here. If you want your brothers alive, you will bring me the Dagger of Forgotten Souls and the spellbook of Stardust. Do we have a deal?”

“Peter, please. This isn't the you I remember. The one who gave me the kiss.”

Peter cocked his head as if considering my words. His green eyes stood out in the grayness that surrounded him. “And you are not the Wendy I remember. What will it be?”

I wanted to scream at him. Deny him what he desired. I wanted Neverland to be free.

But I'd fought for my brothers, waited all these years, preparing to rescue them. They were my family. They were everything. “I'll give you what you want.”

Peter lit up, his grin growing. He swished his sword through the air before sheathing it and shooting me a smile. “This will be a fun new game. I've always wanted to be a villain. Bring me the dagger and book in two days' time by sundown at Marooners' Rock. Don't bring Hook.” He turned and soared off into the night. The thunder clapped, and a deluge of rain struck me, soaking me through in seconds.

I whirled and descended toward Hook. I landed on the slick porch that wrapped around Madame Pearl's home. A dark figure crouched over a man that lay prone on the deck. Nausea gathered in my stomach. I drew my knife and rushed forward, ready to bury it in Hook's killer. But as I neared, I ground to a halt.

Hook wasn't the one lying dead on the polished wood. The red cap and face—that blank face I was so used to seeing with a cheerful smile. Smee. And the figure over him was kneeling next to him, holding his hand. Hook. Two other forms lay along the deck, unmoving. My foot slipped, and I stepped back, blanching. Blood covered the wooden porch.

Hook's head was bowed, his shoulders hunched. Water trailed down from his dark hair over his face in an unending stream, granting the tears that wouldn't come. I'd never seen him like this. Worn. Beaten. Defeated.

A song drifted from his lips into the air.

“Avast belay, yo ho, heave to,

A-pirating we go,

And if we're parted by a shot,

We're sure to meet below.”

He glanced up at me, and I sucked in a breath. His eyes were a dark gray, almost fully black.

“This is why I was chosen,” he said, his voice hollow. “Because I'd let anyone die, sacrifice anything, to end this. No matter the cost.”

A crash and shouting brought me around. They were coming through the house. I rushed to the door that led out onto the porch and grasped the net off the ground, looping it through the latch. Pulling it over to the railing, I tied it tight. The wooden door lurched and I fell against the rail, gripping it. That wouldn't hold them long.

I raced back to Hook. “I think it's time we leave Neverland behind and get the dagger.”

He blinked at me. “But your brothers—”

“I see now that getting the dagger and ending this is the only way to save my brothers.” I jerked on his arm, trying to get him to his feet. He rose slowly. Gritting my teeth, I pushed my guilt aside over my deal with Pan and imagined seeing John and Michael again. I rose into the air a little, grounded by Hook, who watched me with empty eyes. “We don't have a lot of time—”

“You go. Leave me,” he said.

“What? No, you're coming with me.”

The pounding on the door ceased.

“Listen.” His voice dropped low. “The spellbook is hidden on the Jolly Roger, in a watertight compartment inside my closet. The key is in a loose plank under my bed.”

“Hook, don't do this.”

“Wendy.” He looked at me and I saw a chasm as empty as the depths of the sea. “I don't have any happy thoughts.”

The windows in the surrounding rooms shattered, glass skittering across the rain and blood-soaked wood. Fear crawled up my throat. Hands and arms shot through the space. Shit. There were a lot of them, and trained or not, under Pan's power, they'd keep coming until they overwhelmed me and Hook. I needed to get him in the air.

The wind howled, and I dropped onto the porch, a raging desperation in my chest. I grasped his overcoat and jerked him close. “Then let me give you one.” Rising onto my toes, I pressed my lips to his.

He froze, but then Hook's fingers dug into my hair, pressing our mouths harder together as his hook arm came around my waist. His lips moved over mine with an experience that made me want to forget about our impending death.

I pulled back. My freezing hands clung to the stark fabric of his drenched overcoat. “I can't do this without you. Now, fly with me, you shameless libertine.”

A spark ignited in his eyes, and he kissed me again. We lifted, the air gathering under our feet. Water streamed over us, but all I cared about was Hook's mouth on mine. When we parted, I glanced below, relief flooding through me at the site of Madame Pearl's women and pirates far beneath us, out of reach.

I eased out of Hook's grasp and took his cold, wet hand in mine. “Come, James Hook. Come away with me to my home.” And together we flew off into the stars.

Chapter 17

Hook

His first mate.

His goddamned bloody first mate.

Not to mention the other two lives he had no choice but to end.

He couldn’t get it out of his mind. How Smee had come at him, his eyes dim and devoid of his normal cheeriment with a cleaver, about to take off Hook’s head. Leaving him with no alternative. The rain had washed away the blood on hand and hook, the hot metallic scent of death, and yet the feel of his hook slicing into his first mate remained. One of his oldest friends, who, even on days when he was lost in Pan’s control, still managed a smile or a joke, as if even Pan couldn’t stand to completely wipe the man’s personality from him.

Hook swore on his life. Pan would pay.

He’d been swearing the same thing for years, with every time he’d been forced to gut an ally, a friend. People he knew and cared about. So far, that promise had gone unfulfilled.

Not anymore. He was so close.

Water dripped from Hook’s clothes and Wendy tugged on his hand, urging him along. He gripped it. His lifeline. She’d kept him from getting lost in the darkness. The endless pain of his existence that had stretched on for hundreds of years. And when he’d taken Smee’s life, at the last moment, there had been an odd peaceful look that had come over the man’s face. One that, for the briefest of moments, Hook had envied.

He never knew how long it would take to fly between Neverland and London. And not because there was no way to keep track. Sometimes it felt like a few weeks had passed. Others a few minutes.

Time seemed to rush.

He wished it would crawl.

They came into London, and the darkness of evening surrounded them. It was always night when one arrived, no matter what time of day in Neverland one left. He saw the giant clock tower of Big Ben lit up like a thousand fairies flew about inside. Like how the northern part of the island at Neverland was now lit up with so many fairies that had come within the past few years. Hook wondered if Pan was behind that. There was something even lower about the idea of taking over the mind of a fairy.

Wendy led Hook above the lights of the city to the rooftop of her home. They landed on it, their feet crunching into the pristine snow that coated the surface.

Flakes had gathered in Wendy’s hair, giving it a layer of white. Ice-clouds formed from her breath. Her arms wrapped across her thin dress. “Are you going to be all right?”

He flashed her a reassuring smile. “Aye, love. Don’t worry about me,” he lied.

Put it aside like everything else. Yes, Smee was his friend. But so were so many others he’d killed. His first mate’s death was only another casualty for the cause. He hated thinking that, but there was no other way. If he thought too hard about the horrible things he’d done over the years, he’d sit down on this roof and never get back up.

He blocked it out. Closing himself off. Saving it up for the time when he could rip Pan limb from limb.

He’d enjoy every moment of it.

Wendy clutched her elbows, shaking. Her updo had come undone and her damp hair pressed against her shoulders. Her lips had become blue. The biting cold wrapped its icy tentacles around them. Sopping as they were, it was dangerous. He shrugged out of his damp overcoat, placed it over her trembling form and rubbed her arms. The frigid chill seeped further into Hook’s muscles.

“I h-hate being wet all the time,” Wendy said through chattering teeth. He noted with pleasure how she leaned into his warmth. He’d relished kissing her.

He’d relished it a lot.

Shit, not now, he thought as his body roused. They were in danger of freezing to death. “We need to get indoors,” he said. “We can acquire a change of clothes from your family once we are inside your home, yes?”

She let out a disconcerting laugh. “My uncle has the dagger. If he sees me dressed this way, he’ll shoot me, then you, then me again.”

Hook frowned at that, her words grounding him. “That doesn’t sound like a very loving uncle.”

Her face became serious. “We have to be careful. We must take him by surprise.”

“You’re saying we aren’t going to knock on the door and ask him for the dagger?”

“He took it from me. If we try to retrieve it, he’ll treat us like thieves.” Her voice shook a little. She bit her lip, and she gazed at him with wide, fearful eyes.

Hook’s own worry was building at her response. He’d never seen Wendy truly afraid of anything. “You think he can take both of us?”

She shut her eyes briefly, taking a slow breath. “Uncle Reuben will have the dagger in his room. His window is on the east side of the house. We need to be quick and whatever you do, don’t let him get his hands on a gun.”

She rose into the air, still in his overcoat. He wondered if she was wearing it to hide that outrageous dress, or if it served to warm her a tad. Either way, he enjoyed seeing her in his clothes.

“Right,” he said. “You retrieve the dagger. I’ll distract Uncle.”

He followed her around to what he assumed must be the window to Reuben’s room. Wendy rubbed her hands together, her brows drawing downward, but turned to Hook and nodded. He leaned in, cupping his palms to stare in through the glass. A man sat in his nightcap reading a book.

Hook glanced at Wendy. “Ready?”

Two knives were clutched in her fists and she looked deadly solemn, as if preparing for battle. She nodded again.

He backed up, then sent a flying kick into the window. It gave under his boot and he crashed inward as the glass shattered.

Reuben’s head jerked up, eyes wide and blazing. He rolled and, in one swift movement, yanked a revolver out of his nightstand. Shit. He was fast. Hook lunged as the man turned it on them. He caught the man’s fists with his hook and yanked it toward the ceiling as an explosion sounded. A harsh ringing pierced his ears.

Plaster rained down from the gunshot. He managed to get his hook around the trigger guard of the revolver and jerk it from Reuben’s hands. Murder shone in the other man’s glassy eyes. He responded by slamming a fist into Hook’s gut that knocked him to the floor. The world spun and pain rocked Hook’s abdomen, his cheek pressed into the worn carpet, and for a moment, he thought he was going to puke.

Reuben’s raging gaze turned on Wendy, who was crouching next to a safe twisting the dial. She threw the door open and grabbed the dagger out of it.

“So, my niece runs away, then returns to steal from me,” Reuben growled.

She stood, whirling to face him, both hands behind her back. She moved cautiously, as if her uncle were a beast about to charge at any moment. “I only want my dagger, Uncle. Let us go and we won’t bother you again. You have my word.”

“Then who is going to pay for my busted window and clean this wretch’s guts off the floor?” He reached up and pulled down the saber hanging above the headboard of his bed.

Hook tried to rise, but Reuben drove his heel into his stomach, causing him to grunt and fall back. He pressed the blade against Hook’s throat.

Knocking a man down and killing him. That was Hook’s move. He supposed this was the universe catching up with all of his black deeds. He relaxed, accepting this fate.

There was a click, and his eyes jolted over to Wendy in surprise.

She held a revolver to her uncle’s head.

Reuben’s gaze narrowed. “I see you found the one I stored in the top drawer.”

“Let him go or die.”

The older man’s lip curled. “You wouldn’t.”

Wendy’s face was deadly. “You taught me, Uncle. You know I would.”

Reuben’s mouth twisted, his teeth flashing in the dull light.

But he dropped the saber. “Yes. You’ve always been as ruthless as I.”

She didn’t move, her expression dark, cold, like when she first pressed a knife to Hook’s throat, and he’d wondered if she really might end him. He recalled seeing his man, Aaron, lying in the sand. Wendy wasn’t simply capable of killing. She was a killer.

And right now, she looked as if there wasn’t anything she wanted to do more than pull the revolver’s trigger.

“Father?”

Hook turned. A man around Wendy’s age lingered in the doorway. He held a pistol in his hand and had it trained on Wendy. Hook blinked. How many weapons did this man keep in his house?

“Ezra. Shoot them,” Reuben said.

“No, Ezra. It's not what you think,” Wendy said quickly.

“Do as I say,” her uncle snarled.

“We only want the dagger and then we’ll go.”

Ezra looked between them, uncertain. “Why do you have a gun shoved against his head?”

“Do you really have to ask that?”

Ezra lowered the gun. “I guess not.”

Despite the pain in Hook's stomach, he pushed himself to his feet. Relief flashed across Wendy’s face, and she turned to Hook.

Reuben moved. He gripped the barrel of the revolver, pushing it up, and backhanded Wendy. Like watching another one of his men go down, horror filled Hook as she fell to the floor, dagger clutched in one hand, the other gripping her cheek. The gun clattered to the carpet, away from both of them. Her uncle lunged onto her, wrapping a fist around her throat, squeezing.

Red flashed before Hook’s vision, an uncontainable fury curling in his chest. He no longer felt any pain.

Reuben was a dead man.

“She finally shows her true colors,” her uncle snarled down at her, as she struggled to breathe. “Tell me. Did you sell your worthless body to this low life, you shitty little whore?”

Hook charged him from the side, his good hand slamming into his face over and over. Blood bloomed across the other man’s skin, splattering as his nose shattered under Hook’s blows. He cocked his arm again but didn’t strike. Reuben lay on the floor, dazed. He dug the tip of his hook into the man’s abdomen, ripping through his nightshirt and drawing blood.

“Hook.”

“You shouldn’t have done that.” Hook’s eyes heated, warming to what he was about to do. It was said by those who’d watched him gut his victims that they swore two red spots appeared in his eyes. He never knew if it was Pan’s doing or his. Right now, he didn’t care.

“Hook.”

He dug deeper, and terror flashed across the man’s face. He wasn’t yet deep enough to cause damage, only deep enough for Reuben to realize what he was about to do. Hook had rarely gutted a man who deserved it, so of all the deaths he had caused, this one he might actually enjoy.

“James.”

He glanced up.

Wendy stood by the window, dagger clasped between her hands. “Leave him.”

Her eyes flashed toward the bedroom door, and he followed her gaze. Ezra had the gun half raised, watching Hook about to kill his father. The fact that he lingered, uncertain, instead of having shot Hook in the face already was a testament to how terrible the man within his grasp truly was.

“James, let’s go,” she said, extending her hand.

He extracted his hook from the man beneath him, wiping blood on the man’s nightshirt. “It's your lucky day, mate,” he said without feeling. He rose and walked to the window, taking Wendy’s hand.

“Ezra,” she said. “You need to leave and not return. You know he won’t let this go.”

Wendy’s cousin didn’t move at first. A darkness lurked in his expression that Hook recognized. Slowly, Ezra met Wendy’s gaze. “He won’t hurt either of us again.”

She nodded, then led Hook out the window and they flew up into the night.

The snow flurried around them, grasping onto their damp clothes. Wendy grasped his fingers tightly, turning to look at him. Her eyes widened and Hook spun only to see a blood covered Reuben standing in the window, shotgun in hand, aimed at them.

Ezra came up behind Reuben, and he shoved the big man over the rail of the window.

As the man fell, the gun ignited.

“Look out!” Wendy barreled into him as the shot rocketed across the sky.

Chapter 18

Wendy

We landed hard on the freezing pavement between two homes, my heart racing. Ezra had pushed Uncle out the window. Was he dead? Injured? Enraged even more than he already was? At least we were out of Uncle's sights. I wanted to know what happened to him, but not badly enough to check.

James jerked up over me, his good hand feeling down my body. “Wendy, are you shot?”

Hell, I liked his touch on me. “I'm fine. You?”

His hand paused on my thigh. Then he withdrew, leaving me feeling empty.

“Good.” He stood and helped me to my feet. “We need to find shelter.”

James's voice was strained from the cold.

I nodded. The frigidity dug into me, too. But this late at night, and dressed as we were, we'd be hard-pressed to find a place to stay. Well, there may be one place. “There are rooms on the outskirts of town, paid for by the evening. Perhaps they will have something open this late.”

“Lead the way.”

“Let's walk a street or two before we fly.” I wanted to be out of my uncle's range before we rose into the air, to be safe.

“All right, but let's hasten.”

We hurried down the road, the breeze blowing snow into our faces.

“Your uncle is quite the brute,” he growled. Seeing James in that room, his hook ready to rip Uncle open, had left me with a mixture of feelings. Part was surprised that James had responded so strongly to Uncle hitting me. Part of me wanted to let him finish the man for good. But Ezra had been standing there. And I couldn't.

“Right before I came to Neverland, he was about to marry me off to a war buddy. Someone who'd keep me in line.” I spat the last words.

“Ah, that's how you got to Neverland.”

“You can't come unless you are trying to escape something,” I said. “Ivy told me.”

“That's right.”

We reached the end of the second street. “Here, let's fly.”

James gestured toward me. “After you, Wendy Darling.”

We flew to the edge of town where the transients of winter tended to settle. After landing, I knocked on the paint-chipped door of the landlord's apartment, my clothes stiff, my fingers aching.

We could have returned to Neverland, but things were ridiculously dangerous there now. We needed a good night's sleep and some food before going back to battle evil and chaos. Plus, I wanted time to think.

I glanced over at James, who had his good hand under his other arm, his breathing coming in large puffs from near purple lips. Guilt slithered inside of me as I held the dagger in my hands. The weapon I had agreed to turn over to Peter Pan. I slipped it behind me as a stooped, weathered man opened the door in his nightcap and squinted up at us. “What d'ya want?”

“We'd like a room,” I said.

The man looked us over, his narrowed eyes stopping on James. “Would ya now?”

What was wrong with him? We were clearly in danger from the cold. Was our less-than-conventional clothes more important than the fact that we were about to freeze to death? “Yes.”

“Not sure what kind of place you think this is, but this is a respectable establishment. We don't house your kind.”

James gave him a nonplussed stare. “That's too bad, because we can pay.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a ruby.

The man's eyes bulged, and my jaw dropped. I had thought I'd have to sell off a few of my throwing knives. The landlord didn't haggle on price, he accepted the ruby as if that wasn't significantly more than the nightly fare. “I only have one room left, and the furnace is broken.”

At that point, neither of us cared. “W-We'll take it,” I said, clutching my arms around myself. Anything to get out of this weather.

The man gave us a crooked, half-toothed smile. “Pleasure doing business with ya.” He unhooked a key that hung by the entrance and held it out to us. “Last door on the left. Stay as long as you'd like.”

James took the key from the man and turned to me. “Let's go.” So much snow clung to his hair that it fell whenever he moved.

“Where'd you get the ruby?” I asked through chattering teeth.

“Cora offered me a few gems she had from the last time I paid her,” he said.

That made sense, though I was sorry I'd asked.

We stumbled over to the door the landlord had indicated. My feet and hands were numb. I didn't know how James managed to get the key in the lock. His hand shook so badly he almost dropped it before we heard the click, and he shoved the door open.

Both of us rushed into the room. I immediately began brushing snow out of my hair and off my clothes, dropping the soaking overcoat to the floor. Even if the space wasn't warm, it was at least dry. A bed with a single threadbare blanket occupied the small space, along with the broken furnace. I frowned up at the piping that was bent and cracked through, wondering how that happened. On a rickety table next to the entrance sat a low-lit lantern that must have run through the day because the wick had burned to a tiny nub.

James pushed the door shut, and then I felt a tug on the back of my dress. I stiffened as the wet fabric around me loosened.

“What are you doing?”

He continued to unbutton me, despite the obvious threat I'd laced in the question. “We are both dangerously cold. The only way to make sure we both wake up in the morning is to get out of these sopping clothes and warm each other in that bed.”

My cheeks stung with unexpected warmth. “You mean both of us together, completely bare?”

I wondered if he saw the tips of my scars peeking out above my corset, but he seemed too worried about getting them both undressed to notice. He finished with my buttons and corset ties before lifting off his shirt. At his tattooed chest and messed hair, the warmth in my cheeks dipped into my stomach. Shit. He was warming me, and we weren’t even under the covers yet.

“I swear to be the perfect gentleman,” he said.

I snorted, and a mischievous grin crossed his face.

“As close to the perfect gentleman as I can manage,” he amended. His arm brace spanned over both shoulders and down his hook arm, but his movements remained easy, as if it wasn’t there.

When his hand gripped his pants, yanking off his belt in one fluid motion, I turned away, despite a fervid curiosity. A part of me knew he wouldn’t mind if I watched. He’d probably like it, but if he reacted to my looking, I’d never be able to climb into that bed with him.

The mattress creaked from movement under his body. I risked a glance, and he was sitting up. I traced the muscles of his abdomen to where the blanket covered his bare lower half.

He raised an eyebrow, his blue eyes teasing. “You’d rather freeze to death than join me?” He patted the space next to him.

“Perhaps I would,” I returned, but I placed my back to him as I gripped my dress. Despite the reaction James elicited in me, I was still shivering. “Don’t look.”

“I've seen naked women before, Wendy.”

I turned to shoot him a deadly glare. “Gentleman,” I reminded him.

“Yes. Yes.” He sighed and lifted his hand over his eyes.

After I slipped out of my gown, I drew my knives out of my undergarments and then peeled off their wetness. Before I thought twice about what I was doing, I raced for the bed, gripped the blanket, and slid under, pulling it up to my chin, facing away from him. But the thin cover did little to heat me, and I trembled, quaking the entire mattress.

James sank down, and his arm came around me, urging me against him. The lantern would go out soon, but for now, I enjoyed the small amount of light. Right before my spine hit his chest, he paused. His finger traced over my back. Damn. My scars from Uncle Reuben's lash.

“I should have finished gutting the bastard,” he seethed. My heart burned at the dark emotion in his voice.

He tugged me tight against him. The warmth of his body rolled into me, and his brace brushed over my abdomen. His other arm dug beneath me until I was locked in his embrace.

Remembering the stone settled against my chest, I lifted the chain, but James nudged me with his shoulder. “Leave it on. Always leave it on, even here.”

My face contorted. “Surely he can't control us from Neverland… Or in a world with so many...”

“It has always been uncertain the extent of Peter's power in this world. It's better to leave it on.”

I nodded, releasing the chain and settling into James's arms. I shut my eyes, a slight ache moved through my limbs as I heated. The comfort of his arms was like coming home to a roaring fire and a cup of hot cocoa on a winter day. A calmness settled me. Why had I been so nervous? This felt better than anything I could remember.

“You aren't ruthless,” James muttered.

I opened my eyes. “I'm sorry?”

“You feed the children in the street. You buy from the poor even when you know their product is a sham. And overpay every time. You are not ruthless. You, Wendy Darling, are kind.”

I twisted to give him a side-long glance. “Have you been following me?”

He lifted his head and displayed a roguish grin. “You had my dagger.” His smile faded, and his arms tightened around me. “You've lost everything. And after tonight, discovering what kind of man your uncle is... You fight for what you have left. Like me.”

“The people of Neverland are your family.”

A solemnity came over his expression. “Yes.”

Just like I'd do anything for my brothers, he'd do anything for them. I thought of the jeweled dagger I'd left on the floor with the other knives and turned away from him, a frown on my lips.

“What were you trying to escape?” I asked.

He became still. “What?”

“When you came to Neverland. What were you escaping?”

His head dropped onto the bed behind me. “My family.”

That wasn't what I was expecting. “You mean your wife and child?”

“I loved my wife. We weren’t well off, but we got by. Then we had a child, and what little money we had seemed to shrink into nothing. I was frightened. The responsibility was too much. I-I convinced myself they would be better off without me. My wife could say I was dead and remarry someone more capable. So I left. I received an offer to come to Neverland, and I came.” Pain laced his voice.

I lay there, unsure of what to say. Abandoning family. What a horrible thing to do.

“I regretted it almost instantly, and I wanted to return to them,” he muttered. “But once you are there, there’s no going back. Not if Pan doesn’t want you to. It was him that decided I should become the dread pirate captain. Because a child leaving their family behind is one thing, but only the worst sort of man abandons his wife and child.”

My disgust melted away, and a heaviness moved through me, for the pain in his words, for the man who could never return to find his family. For the way he’d obviously tortured himself over it for so long. “Everyone has doubts about new changes, especially big ones. A life of enslavement is not a just exchange for a moment of doubt.”

“I don’t know, love. Sometimes it seems the only reward for making such a choice.”

“You said you wanted to go back.”

He let out a slow breath that brushed my hair. “Every day.”

“What happened to them?”

“When I acquired the stone and found I could leave Neverland, the first thing I did was try to find them. But they’d died a long time ago. I searched the local records of the town I’d lived in. My wife never remarried. Turns out, she became a healer woman. Arabella had always been strong-headed and capable. She’d learned a bit of the healing arts growing up from her grandmother. She must have done well for herself because both she and my daughter lived extended lives.” He sighed. “But that changes nothing. I failed them.”

I thought about not being able to return and see loved ones because of a single mistake. And now it was too late. Years and years too late.

“I can’t fail the people of Neverland, Wendy,” he said. “Whatever they were running from, they deserve to go back if they want. They deserve to be liberated.”

My brows scrunched. “And how are you going to be free? If you take on the power of Neverland through the dagger, you have to stay.”

A silence spanned between us before he finally said, “You and I both know there is always a price you pay to save those you love.”

When I was a child, I had thought Peter was brave, even honorable because he punished the bad and stood for the good. But there was something different about James's version of bravery and nobility. It was complicated, merciful. Beautiful.

He shifted. His warm fingers moved across my abdomen in a gentle massage. The metal of his hook left a cold trail down the outside of my thigh. A heat gathered in my core. I was suddenly aware of every part of him shoved against me. His muscular chest against my shoulder blades, his legs that had somehow become tangled in mine. His hips pressing unforgivingly into my backside.

His breath brushed across the back of my neck, followed by a touch of wetness as he caressed my skin with his lips. He descended inch by inch, trailing kisses down to my shoulders. My eyes shut, enjoying every moment of the tender sensation.

“Wendy,” he whispered, and I sensed the question in his voice. I rolled my body against him in response, my hips grinding against him, and he hummed in answer.

His hand didn't stop there. His fingers roved over my skin, tracing the outline of each of my ribs, moving steadily upwards. Slowly, his hook traveled to my inner thigh, leaving a cold path. Any moment he could rip into me, shred me from end to end, and I'd be completely helpless. I moved against him again, my breaths becoming shallow.

“I thought you were going to be a gentleman,” I murmured.

“What can I say?” he said, a wicked edge to his voice. “I am a black-hearted rapscallion.”

His fingers brushed the underside of my breast.

I gasped, an unexpected pulsing starting between my legs. “You’re a dark-souled braggart.”

His hook dragged up the inside of my thigh.

“A yellow-bellied codfish.” He grabbed my breast and squeezed.

My back arched, a moan ripping from my lips. “An unscrupulous scoundrel.” My voice was so breathy I barely understood myself.

He fondled my breast, then the other, his experienced fingers kneading, brushing, tugging. Every agitation claimed me for himself. “A rotten, no-good build’s rat.” He sounded low and sensual in my ear.

“Jas.”

The sound of his harsh growl was so sudden and consuming, it sent my heart skittering.

He shoved the rounded part of his hook between my legs. The coldness pressing into my heat caused a small cry to rip from me. And then he began to move—rubbing, rubbing, rubbing. I couldn’t get enough air. I’d never experienced anything like this, never known anything could be this consuming, this demanding. My hips rolled, and he moved the smooth metal over my apex in time with my movements.

“Call me that again,” James’s voice had become so dark, I barely recognized it.

I gulped air. “Jas.”

His hips rolled with mine but all I knew was the wetness pouring out of me, of the cold hook warming between my legs, spreading that wetness, of the pulsing that had given way to a desperate throbbing.

James’s voice was depraved in my ear. “Are you a virgin, Wendy?”

A moan escaped as we rocked together under the covers. “Yes.”

His hook pressed even harder, and I released a whimper of pleasure. Don’t stop. Don’t stop.

“Tell me what you want me to do, and I’ll do it.”

“I want…you…to make love to me.”

He rolled with me. “Are you sure? It will hurt at first.”

I moaned yet again and gripped his hooked hand, shoving it deeper into my throbbing apex, rolling faster, faster. “Please, Jas, please.”

Before I knew what was happening, he’d ripped the blanket off of us. His good hand had latched onto my shoulder and pulled me onto my back. He was over me, his eyes sparking, as gray as the sky during a storm. Redness flushed around his neck and shoulders, and he took in large heaving breaths.

The muscles in his arms became hard, and his jaw locked. He dipped his head toward me with a groan. “You are driving me crazy. I want this to be good for you.” He leaned over me, peppering kisses along my collarbone, his fingers returning to my breasts, his hook still pressing into me. “I want you to be fully pleasured before I enter you.”

He resumed massaging my apex, and I sucked in more large gulps of breath. I was so sensitive now that every press of his hook left my nerves raging. It spread to my thighs and lower abdomen. My nails dug into his forearms as he continued to press, and my hips moved with him and everything built and built until my back arched and reason fled, a cry tearing from me as I tipped over the edge.

“There it is,” James said, his expression pleased. His gaze remained black, swirling with hunger. “That felt good, didn’t it, Wendy, darling?”

All I could do was nod as my body came down from the wild pleasure coursing through me. “Enter me… Now, Jas,” I gasped.

Desire flashed in his stormy gaze.

He spread my legs. There was no going back. I didn’t want to.

A knock came at the door.

As if he hadn’t heard the interruption, he dropped onto me. Or perhaps he had, and he didn’t care. Something pressed between my legs, a pressure ready to enter me.

The knock came again. “Excuse me. I’m sorry to intrude…”

James’s body tensed. Anger flashing across his face. “Go away.”

“I beg your forgiveness, but we have no other choice,” a woman’s voice sounded on the other side of the door. “I have wee ones, and there are no rooms. Won’t you have mercy? We will sleep on the floor.”

His hand curled into the sheets, looking ready to rip them from the bed. I pressed my palm to his face and his gaze met mine. And softened. With a nod, he rolled off of me.

“One moment.” I gripped the blanket off the floor and wrapped it around myself.

“Wendy.” James tossed me a throwing knife. “Just in case.”

Nodding, I tucked the blade within the folds of the blanket. My eyes roved over his bare form, for the first time seeing him fully naked. The tattoos covered his chest, and I saw the names of his wife and child. Then traced the ink markings on his skin lower, my gaze pausing in the space between his legs. My cheeks flamed red at the same time that a disappointment settled in my gut for what we didn’t get to do.

I spun around and cracked the door.

“Sorry for the wait, we were…” What could I say? I had no excuse. “... busy.”

I had never blushed this much in my life.

A woman in bedraggled clothes clutched a heavy shawl about her shoulders. She had two small children with her, shivering in the cold, looking up at me with sad eyes.

“I’m so sorry to ruin your evening, miss. I wouldn’t if it weren’t a matter of life and death.”

“Oh, no, don’t apologize. You and your children are more than welcome to take the bed. I’m afraid me and my…husband’s… clothes are wet and drying, so we must take the blanket for proprietary purposes.”

“Not to worry, miss. We have our own shawls and blankets to keep us warm.”

I checked to make sure James was no longer in such a distracted position. To my relief, he was sitting on the floor next to the wall on the far side of the bed.

“Give us a moment to get situated and then you can enter.”

“Thank ye, miss. Thank ye so much.”

I left the door open just a crack. As I walked over to James, I kicked my throwing knives under my clothes and picked up the Dagger of Forgotten Souls before unwrapping myself from the blanket. He stared up at me, a soft admiration in his eyes. Opening his arms, I sat, his skin heating my shoulder blades, his legs coming up on either side of me. He engulfed me in his embrace before pulling me onto the floor with him while I adjusted the thin blanket around us to ensure we were both covered. The jeweled dagger rested within our arms, its metal cool between our shared warmth.

“You may come in now,” I called when we were settled.

The woman and children entered, and the mother quickly shushed her little ones and their curious stares, ushering them up onto the bed. A few seconds later, the lantern on the worn table extinguished.

James nuzzled my neck. “Go to sleep, Wendy. I swear on my mother’s grave, a perfect gentleman I’ll be. Or, at least, I’ll be an honorable scoundrel.”

A smile tugged on my lips. “Now that there are children in the room.”

He chuckled, and he pressed a soft kiss to my bare shoulder. “Good night, love.”

Chapter 19

Wendy

I awoke to two pairs of large brown eyes staring curiously at me.

Instinctively, I grasped the blanket and clutched it upwards, making sure it covered me. A line of light shone through the crack under the door, signaling that it was morning.

A little girl of about five squatted in front of me, next to her younger brother. “Is he your husband?” she asked, taking in James and his brace flowing across his shoulders and the hook on his hand that was resting on my left hip.

“Umm.” I wasn’t sure why I was hesitant. I’d said he was my husband easily enough the night before. Only now that I thought about it, James once had a wife, and I felt odd claiming that title—like I was stealing something special from him.

James’s arm under the blanket tightened around me. “Of course she’s my wife. You don’t think I’d let someone this wonderful get away from me, do you?”

My cheeks blazed.

The children looked startled that it was he who had responded, instead of me.

James raised his hook so they saw it better. “I bet you’d both like to hear the story of how I got this, wouldn’t you?”

The young ones nodded, wide-eyed.

“I was in a battle with this evil tyrant. I about had him, when, at the last second, he lopped off my hand and threw it to a Crocodile.”

The children’s eyes grew even wider. “The Crocodile ate your hand?” the boy gasped.

“Aye, lad. And ever since then, she’s been following me, waiting till the time when she can get the rest of me. And you know what? Once, she almost did, but as luck would have it, I escaped.”

“How?” the little girl asked, enthralled.

But their names were called, and they both jumped and rushed over to the bed with their mother, who proceeded to scold them for bothering me and James.

The woman turned to us. “We thank ye for the room. We’ll be going.” The little ones groaned but followed her toward the door.

“You can have the room,” I said.

“Miss, I don’t want to intrude no further.”

“We insist, you can have it. We don’t need it anymore. Just let us get changed, and it’s yours.”

Tears filled the woman’s eyes. “Ye’re so kind. Thank ye.”

The mother ushered her children outside and shut the door.

“How did you escape the Crocodile?” I asked.

“I’m pretty sure she let me escape,” he said. There was confusion in his voice, like he wasn’t sure himself.

“Peter said you died. That the Crocodile got you.”

“She did get me.” He sighed. “And some day, she will again. There’s this odd ticking clock in my head when she is near, like time is counting down. Someday that ticking will stop, and my time will be up.”

He rose, shedding us of our blanket. He held out his hand to me, giving me a gentle smile. “But it's not today.”

I took his hand and let him pull me to my feet, then hurried over to my clothes, pulling them on. James buttoned my dress while I laced up my boots. I turned to watch him step into his trousers, wishing that we hadn’t been interrupted the previous evening.

I averted my gaze. Since when did I allow myself to have such thoughts about the captain of the Jolly Roger? But last night had felt like the very continents themselves had shifted between us.

Moving over to my throwing knives, I slipped them into their spots, stashing a couple in my boots, another on a holder on my thigh, and the final one between my breasts.

When I turned, I realized James watched me, heat in his eyes, his shirt hanging from his hook. A slow smile played on his lips. “I could watch you do that all day.”

A small laugh escaped me at the pleasurable tingle that fluttered in my stomach. I loved how he looked at me. Like he’d also like nothing better than to finish what we started last night.

Clearing my throat, I moved close to him and lifted his shirt. “Let me help you.”

He gave a slow nod, and I held it while he slipped his arms inside, pulling it over his brace, his tattoos disappearing under the fabric. Touching his waist, I urged him to face me. He did, and before I shifted the front of his shirt over his muscled chest, I paused, staring at the double line of swirling ink marks that traveled down it. Without thinking, I reached up and ran a finger over one column of ink. It looked like a list of random letters.

“What do these mean?” I asked softly.

His gaze blackened, those blue eyes a sea of turbulence. “They are the first letters of the names of the men I’ve killed.”

My finger froze.

I swallowed, my mouth dry. “You mean the men Pan made you kill?”

He didn’t move, but the darkness in his expression intensified. “Pan is sadistic. And I seemed to be his favorite target. He can make you think whatever he wants. Make it feel perfectly logical. And even if you fight against him, he will force you in the end and then harass you with thoughts that it was your idea. That he was doing what I wanted to do in the first place. Don’t get me wrong, I always knew when he was in my mind, but during that time everything was always so muddled. After so many years of that, I…” His jaw clenched, but I saw through the anger to the vulnerability underneath. “... Sometimes it was hard to tell if it was me or him.”

A pang ran through me. I couldn’t judge him. I’d never been enslaved, toyed with, turned into an unwilling murderer at the whim of another. “James,” I whispered.

He stepped back from my touch. “And it wasn’t Pan controlling me last night when I killed those men, when I took out my first mate. He kept coming, Wendy.” James’s voice shook. A man about to break. “He wouldn’t stop. He…” He straightened and jerked his shirt down, his breaths releasing fast. “You need to know that there isn’t anything I won’t do to free Neverland of Pan’s power.”

There was a warning in his tone. I should be concerned, but even though I couldn’t understand everything he had been through, I did understand his determination, his desperation.

I would do anything to find my brothers and bring them home.

He stepped past me and scooped up the dagger, placing it in his belt, pulling his shirt over it. I frowned. I had wanted to hold on to it.

The way he moved across the room with such stilted purpose—in that moment, I saw the captain of the Jolly Roger I had always seen. But now I sensed what lay underneath. A man. A wounded man.

He yanked open the door and nodded to the frigid outside. “It is time to move on to what comes next, Wendy Darling.”

I stepped out into the snow and began to shiver. James’s coat fell heavily on my shoulders, and I shifted it close around me, casting him a grateful glance.

He pulled the door shut, turned to the woman and children that were waiting nearby, and handed them the key. “It's yours for as long as you need.”

“Thank ye, sir. Thank ye.”

The children waved shyly, and a small smile curved James’s lips as he waved back with his hook.

“And what comes next?” I asked as we moved away.

He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. The children seemed to have sapped some of his gloom from him. “Can’t save the world without a hearty breakfast.”

“I’m not acquainted with any establishments on this side of town.” Or one willing to take us in our current states of dress.

“I know a place,” James said.

We walked to the landlord’s door and told him about the family that was taking our room. He reluctantly agreed.

Then James took me to a small bakery. The smells of fresh bread and sugary goods made my stomach roar with hunger.

He sat at my table, offering me a plate of biscuits and a mug of warm tea. He held his own steaming mug in his hand. “I have a credit.” He smiled. “Last time I ate here, I paid with a diamond, so they still owe me.”

I breathed in the delectable smells wafting up toward me. “You’re spoiling me.”

He stared at his own food with satisfaction. “We have a big day ahead of us. Now that we have the dagger, we need to collect the spellbook of Stardust and face off against Pan.”

The hunger in my stomach soured. “With all of Neverland under his control.”

His look was grim. “Eat up.”

I took a bite of the warm buttery bread that came along with the biscuits and suppressed a groan of pleasure. “And get my brothers back,” I reminded him.

“As per our deal. But one step at a time. Here.” He set down his mug and handed me the pickleweed root from his pocket.

My eyes widened. After everything that had happened, I’d forgotten to ask him about it. I took it from him and popped the lid on the potion bottle hanging from the line around my neck.

“Just place it in and let it dissolve, then after about half an hour, it will be ready,” he said. He watched me slide it inside and re-stoppered the vial. “Before we do anything,” he continued, “we must get on board the Jolly Roger, probably with my crew crawling all over its decks, and retrieve the book.”

“It contains the spell that will cause the magic to flow out of Pan into the dagger?”

“Precisely. It is only when the dagger and book are in one another’s presence that the spell can be enacted.”

“So how do we climb on board and get it without getting caught?”

He took a sip of his steaming tea. “That is the question.”

I bit my lip, considering. I needed the book and the dagger to get my brothers. Would Pan stand in the way of retrieving it if he believed I was under his thumb? I doubted it. But James didn’t know that. He couldn’t know that I planned on giving the dagger and book over to Pan in exchange for my brothers. Damn it, he was going to hate me, wasn’t he? But if I had to choose, my brothers always won out.

At least James would remain free, thanks to his half of the stone. I wasn’t sure if I could go through with it otherwise.

Maybe I could convince him to leave Neverland with me once I found my brothers. And he’d realized he’d lost… No, he’d never give up. He’d said as much.

I’d have to worry about all of this later.

Whatever plan we came up with to get onboard the Jolly Roger, it needed to be both obvious and subtle. Obvious to Peter that he should play along, and subtle enough that James would think it could work. My gaze fell to where the dagger lay hidden, tucked beneath his shirt.

“When you first tried to take the dagger from me, you used some sort of illusory magic.”

James’s head raised, his eyes flickering with recognition. “Yes.”

“I don’t suppose you know how to do that again?”

“Unfortunately, that glamor magic cannot be performed with only verbal incantation. It requires the nectar from a never flower and the first cut lock of a newborn babe.”

“You remember these spells pretty well.”

“Since I can’t be carrying the book everywhere, I’ve memorized the most useful ones.”

I leaned back in my chair, skeptical. “I’ve no idea where to find the first lock of a newborn.”

“Fortunately for us,”—a devilishly clever grin lit his face—”I know where we can find the ingredients.”

The magical black market that I had frequented for years was busy today. People shifted within the thin alleyway in their shawls and hats, stopping at different booths, talking discreetly, despite the others shoving past.

“We are going to find what we need here?” I asked.

James nodded. “Most definitely.” He moved about as if he had been here a thousand times. He looked up and down the row, searching.

“I don’t understand,” I said. “Why would any of these places carry the first cut lock of a newborn baby?”

He lifted his elbow. “Take my arm, love. It is a bit crowded today.” I did, looping my forearm through his, and he pulled me along through the gaggle of people. “To answer your question, the first cut lock of a babe contains a very potent kind of magic. It is innocent, pure, untarnished.” He frowned a little. I wondered if he was thinking about the babe that he had abandoned.

“The Dagger of Forgotten Souls never indicated that these booths ever had magic.”

“Ah, but you cannot release the magic from certain ingredients until after they are mixed, or an enchantment is applied. Only then is the power set free. Here we are.”

He stepped up to a booth that advertised “Lovely Locks.”

James leaned in to speak with the ancient man who stood behind an assortment of human and animal hair contained in a large glass case. The wrinkly man flashed a smile, revealing several gaps among rotting teeth.

James reached into his coat that I wore and pulled out a gem, slipping it into his trouser pocket.

While James haggled with the man, I saw the young woman I had tried to help the last time that I was there. She still held her raggedy shawl around her shoulders, shivering, gaunt, close to death. I reached into the pocket of James’s large overcoat and traced my finger over the final gem. Throwing one last glance at James, I headed over to the woman.

“Do you have any matches?” I asked.

“Matches, miss?”

“Yes. I need matches.”

“I don’t usually sell those, miss, but…” She placed a hand into her pocket and lifted out a half-used match set. “This is all I have.”

“That will do perfectly.” I held out the small emerald.

The woman’s eyes grew round. “Oh, no miss, I could never…”

“I insist.” I pushed the emerald at her. The woman gripped the matches, her fingers poking through her hole-riddled gloves. Then she swiftly snatched the emerald up and shoved the matches at me.

“I and my children thank you kindly, miss,” the woman whispered.

I nodded in response and headed over to where James held two tiny locks in his palm.

He frowned at the hair. “This won’t get us far. One transformation each. We better make the most of it.”

Reaching down, he moved to place them into the pocket of the coat I wore, and froze. “I seem to be missing a gem, lass.”

“Yes,” I said. “There was a woman over there, struggling to get by, and I thought she could use it, so I exchanged a gem for some matches, and I—”

He spun me toward him and kissed me. I rose on my toes, kissing him in return, the warmth of his lips melting everything surrounding us into a blur of nothing.

He drew back, and I stared into his forget-me-not eyes, my heart burning.

A sadness mixed with the desire in his gaze. “I believe it is time, Wendy Darling. Shall we go to Neverland and save it from the despot that is Pan?”

My stomach lurched. When I got to Neverland and I had the book and Dagger of Forgotten Souls in my possession, I’d have to abandon James. Abandon everything that was developing between us. But I nodded. “Let us fly.”

He led me to the alleyway, into an alcove that was out of sight from everyone else. “We go straight up. It's overcast so it won’t be far till we reach cover. Do you have a happy thought?”

I shut my eyes and pushed my guilty thoughts away, focusing on how it felt to have James’s lips on mine. “I have one.”

“Is it me?”

My eyes shot open, and I looked at him in shock. “I—um, of course not.”

That dashing grin spread across his face, and he threw back his head and laughed. He rose into the air, holding out his hand.

I took it and rose with him. My other hand closed around the silver stone at my neck, grateful that it shielded me from Pan’s power. That James had willingly shared that protection with me. We flew upwards, passing the clouds, leaving it all behind, letting the daylight fade as we became veiled in stars and silver.

Chapter 20

Peter

Peter sat in the boughs of a Nevertree, staring out toward a large stone face in the shape of a skull head, on the lookout for his Lost Boys. He had to watch closely as there were many hiding places near the massive rock. The jungle pressed around it, and several boulders dotted the ground.

Movement in the nearby bushes caught his attention. He swooped down, and in an instant, tagged a small boy, who’d been sneaking up to skull rock, on his large mop of brown hair.

“You’re prey, Tibble.”

The boy pouted. “But Peter…”

“No buts. You know the rules. Now, go back to the hideout.”

The boy looked like he wanted to vomit, but turned to do as directed.

This was a game they played often, called Prey and Predator. The rules were simple. The Lost Boys had to touch the skull rock without Peter catching them. If they got past Peter and touched the stone, they became hunters and would chase down the wild beasts on their next hunt. If Peter caught a Lost Boy, however, that child became prey and had to lure out the beasts the next time they went hunting.

Simple game. Simple rules.

He wished this was how this other game would go. The one with Wendy. Part of him couldn’t believe that she’d allied herself with Hook. His hands balled into fists as fire welled in his chest. She was supposed to be his ally. They were supposed to fight Hook together, save Neverland, rule Neverland.

This, after all, was his world.

It had been created for him.

And he wouldn’t see it destroyed by Hook, by Wendy, by anyone.

He gazed up into the sky and froze in surprise. A small figure flew erratically toward him, their glow winking in and out. A fairy. A dying fairy. Peter abandoned the game and launched into the air to intercept the tiny creature. Reaching out, he cupped the fairy man between his palms.

“Hold on,” Peter said. “Tink will fix you right up.”

So many had come to Neverland in this condition over the last few years. Coming from Wendy’s world. It made sense. Neverland was a land of magic filled with belief and wonder. Commodities, which in the human world, were quickly fading out. Neverland was their last refuge.

Looking around him, he found Tibble in the woods, pouting over his loss, not having gone to the hideout as directed.

He dropped to the ground in front of the boy and handed him the small fairy.

“Take him to Tink.”

“Yes, Peter,” the boy squeaked.

Tibble rose into the air. Peter watched him go. Thanks to Tinker Bell, the fairies were flourishing.

At that moment, he heard the familiar sounds of boys chanting, and his heart sank.

Some of the Lost Boys had made it to the rock. Usually, the more ruthless boys used the innocent ones to distract Peter in order to make it past him. Today, they’d taken advantage of the wounded fairy’s appearance.

But he couldn’t be too upset. That was how the game was played.

He flew toward the stone to see how many had made it. Two boys, so far. Fine, he supposed they could hunt with him.

A sigh escaped as he listened to them repeat the chant a second time. They always did it three times, as if gloating. But it had to be done that way. It was tradition, after all. Rules of the game set well before Peter could remember. He really should change it, though he never had. The poem served as a reminder of a creature Peter knew long ago. One that was a friend, at first, but later turned into a foe. He couldn’t forget that betrayal. Forget that friends can turn into enemies. Like Wendy.

The last time their voices resonated up to him crystal clear.

A book, a knife, or a really long life,

Two fairies in a tree, a new land for me

Wonder, Belief, Power released

Stardust rebels.

Stardust condemns.

All Neverland ends.

Chapter 21

Wendy

I huddled with James, high in the sky, above the cover of the clouds. Mists swirled around us, occasionally making my view hazy. Below us, the seas stretched out in all directions. Neverland was only a shoreline in the distance.

After arriving, we had gone to the banks of a river that ran through the island to retrieve the Neverflower we needed to create the right spell. Then James had chanted as he combined the two ingredients in a small hole on the muddy shore, mixed with freshwater from the river. We’d drunk it and transformed into the images of James’s crew members. I had an eyepatch on my right eye, a heavy wide-brimmed hat, and stubble on my jawline. James appeared to have both functional hands, a peg leg, and a nasty scar running across his face.

His arm tightened around me as we floated in the air, staring down at the Jolly Roger. The topside wasn’t very active, meaning most of the pirates must be below deck, but there was a man in the bird’s nest keeping a lookout.

“We’ll need to time this exactly right,” James murmured in my ear. “When they switch the watch and are on the mast, that is the best time. We drop to the water behind the boat, move along the port side. We’ll have about thirty seconds.”

Despite our disguises, I enjoyed being this close to him. Our images were only a mirage. I felt the prick of his hook against my side, reminding me it was the man I’d come to trust. “And then?”

“Then we wait until the aft deck is clear and slip onboard one at a time. And try to blend in.”

“What if Joe and Bill Jukes happen to be nearby?” Those were the names of the men from whom we’d borrowed our current appearances.

“Then we will have to improvise.”

I nodded. “We can fly, they can’t.”

“Aye, as a last resort, abandon the plan. Fly out of sight, out of range.”

I swallowed. After this, Peter would know that we possessed the dagger and the spellbook. I’d have to follow through on my bargain or my brothers would suffer. If I double-crossed Peter—I wanted to choose that so badly—but Peter had been too good at keeping John and Michael hidden from me. Could I risk it? Every part of me desired to, and yet my fear for my brothers kept me from committing.

I took a long breath to steady my nerves. “Once we are on the ship, I head below deck to the third level, where the gunpowder is stored.”

“And I will have a talk with my crew.”

That was the catch. Peter may hope to see James dead, but he wanted the book—which was still hidden on the ship—and the Dagger of Forgotten Souls more. James had explained to me that destroying the spellbook would destroy Neverland. Peter wouldn’t allow that. This was his home.

We waited a bit longer. I shut my eyes, wondering what it might be like to keep this. To stay with James. But that was never an option. When I found my brothers, I’d have to return to London. They needed to grow up, be properly cared for, and become adults. I didn’t want John and Michael ending up like Peter. Though I wasn’t even sure if that was possible, I wouldn't take that chance.

“There.” James pointed at a man on the deck making his way to the mainmast. “Wait until the man standing in the crow’s nest descends. Then we go.”

That man climbed to the edge of the nest and began to descend the long rope ladder.

“Now.” James released me, and we dropped through the clouds. I followed him to the water. Then he shot off toward the ship, and I raced to catch up. When we came under the protection of the stern, he gripped me and pulled me over to the stairs, settling me above him. “Ladies first, love.”

I inched up the wooden steps. They were damp and cold under my fingers. Carefully, I peeked over the edge onto the deck. Nobody seemed to be about, so I crawled on board and quickly straightened.

“Oi, you there.”

I froze, my heart pounding in my chest. I turned to the approaching man. Long scraggly hair framed his face, and he sneered at me with yellowing teeth. Had he seen me climb onto the Jolly Roger?

He squinted down at me, and I adjusted my stance, hoping I looked semi-piratish.

“Yes, sir?” I dropped my voice to my lowest timbre.

“Ain't you supposed to be below helping with the mess?”

“Aye, sir, just came above for some fresh air—”

“I be telling you when ye can get fresh air. Now stop slacking at yer tasks or I’ll be havin’ you scrubbing the decks every day for a month.”

“Yes, sir,” I said again and scurried for the entrance that led into the dark hold. I was one step closer to my task. And James was on his own. My stomach twisted at the thought. If I were uncovered, Peter would most likely play along. But if he saw the opportunity to kill James…

The captain of the Jolly Roger had come this far. I would trust that he could handle himself. I held my breath against the unsettling smells in the hold. The walls of the boat creaked as the water lapped at its edges. I followed the directions James had given me to what should be the powder room.

I eased the door open and slipped in. Tightly closed barrels stacked on top of tightly closed barrels filled the space.

That was when I heard the shouting. James had revealed himself, as planned. I didn’t have long. I hurried over to a barrel and popped it open, grasping fistfuls of gunpowder and creating a trail to the door. Then I cleaned my hands off on my clothes.

Suddenly, James was there, his disguise gone, with a line of angry pirates right behind him.

“Hold!” James shouted. “Hold, I say! Or Wendy will send all of us to the depths of the sea with one spark!”

Reaching into my pocket, that was really James’s coat pocket, I pulled out the last thing we’d bought before leaving Neverland. I lit a match and held it up.

Everyone stilled

“Why should I care what you do to these men, Hook?” spoke the foremost pirate. It was the man with scraggly hair who had gotten after me, but his voice now contained a smooth texture to it. Peter had taken over. “You know they are not in control of their own faculties. It won’t matter to me if they die.”

“You will care if the book of Stardust is ruined, destroying all of Neverland.”

“The spellbook is on board the Jolly Roger?” Peter said through Scraggly Hair.

“That it is, Pan,” James growled. “So, if I were you, I’d listen to our request, and have every last man abandon this ship.”

“Why would I believe that you’d follow through with sinking your own ship?”

“Because we have nothing left to lose. You know what desperate men are capable of.”

The pirates lowered their weapons. Scraggly Hair sneered. “You win this round, Hook.” The pirate’s eyes met my gaze, and I saw the significance in them. Peter was backing off in the trust that I was bound to keep our bargain.

James turned to me. “Stay here until I give you the word that everyone is gone. Be on your guard.”

I extinguished the match and watched as they disappeared up onto the deck. It took a bit, and I heard his footsteps prowling through the ship as he searched for any signs of any stowaways.

Eventually he came back, his face relaxed. “We’re alone. Come. Help me lower the sail so we can put some distance between them and us.”

Chapter 22

Wendy

After sailing a ways, we dropped anchor when we were sure that no wayward pirate could overtake us. My disguise had worn off as well, revealing my true form. James turned to me, looking grim.

“Pan isn’t going to be happy about this,” he said.

The large sails billowed in the wind, and waves lapped at the sides of the ship. My stomach was twisting in knots. “We have time. Nobody can attack us out here. Even if Peter tried, we’d see him coming.” The clouds from earlier had burned away, leaving clear skies, and the sea stretched around us for miles.

He nodded. “Let’s retrieve the book.”

He stepped toward his cabin when he froze, his head jerking to the right. The breeze had died, and the water had settled into a glassy calm. I followed his gaze and sucked in a breath to see a gray mist billowing over the railing and pouring onto the deck. It crept around our ankles, swirling about us.

I stepped close to James. “What is it?”

“It's the ticking.” He stood rigid, his body hard, his breaths growing uneven. “The Crocodile.”

A chill ran down my spine. “We are on the boat. It can’t get you.”

He looked at me, his hands balling and unballing, his skin unusually pale. “Go below deck. Hide. Don’t come out. When we are gone, take the book. Save Neverland—”

“What do you mean? I’m not leaving you—”

He gripped my arms, his forget-me-not eyes sparking with a manic light . “Wendy, damn it, go before it's too late!”

“I think it is too late,” a soft feminine voice said.

I turned and was surprised to see a woman in a flowing gown standing on the deck. Her dress fell to her ankles, but it hung loosely, billowing in the mist that seemed to pour out of her, from her fingertips, from her toes. She stared at us with eyes that glowed a bright, unnatural yellowish hue. Snow white hair curled around her beautiful yet deadly visage.

She smiled, showing off a row of sharp teeth. “Time has run out, James Hook. Again.”

He moved between me and the woman. “But you released me. Why now?”

“I chose to let you go before. And I have tried to restrain myself, but I cannot hold out any longer. The time has come.”

“James, who is she?” I demanded, my fingers twitched, and I watched the woman warily.

He never took his gaze from the figure. “This is the Crocodile.”

“What? No, she’s not.”

“She can take different forms, love.” He raised his chin and addressed the Crocodile. “You are not under Pan’s control.”

A spark came to her eyes. “Ah, you are right. I am not commanded by the One-Who-Controls’ power. We have existed together in Neverland on a delicate truce for many, many years. But over time, that relationship has become strained.”

I tried to process what I was learning. The Crocodile wasn’t only a crocodile but a creature of magic that may be the only one able to resist Peter’s mind control without the help of the stones. “You sent James the spellbook.”

The woman’s head tilted, and her eyes shuttered from the side, causing me to shiver. “You are clever. Yes, it was me. I hoped he might free Neverland from the One-Who-Controls. But alas, he has failed, and the One-Who-Controls insists I bring his head. I must collect.”

“If you aren’t under his power, why not refuse his demands?”

“The One-Who-Controls cannot control me, but can command everything else in this world. I’ve resisted for as long as possible, but they have been denying my attacks, denying my prey. I am slowly starving, wasting away. Hook is my property, and now that you are here to carry on his work, I can finally take what has long been mine.”

“The hell you will,” I said. “James, let’s go.”

He didn’t move. “I can’t. When she calls, I must go. I’m afraid I don’t have a choice in the matter. Even now, I cannot move or speak without her permission.”

The Crocodile woman’s grin turned cruel.

“I don’t understand.”

“When Pan threw my hand to the Crocodile, it was a deal that one day when my time came, she’d be able to claim me, and I’d be hers for eternity. To feast on or do… whatever she wishes.”

Hunger radiated in the other woman’s eyes. Again, she bared her sharp teeth. “Lifetimes of slow, unending pain.”

Fighting the nausea that gathered in my stomach, I drew my knives, then placed myself between James and the woman.

“I won’t let you take him,” I snarled. The mist swirled around me, whipping my skirts about my legs. I fought the cold. The temperature must have dropped at least twenty degrees.

The Crocodile waved a webbed hand. “You cannot stop me. He is my due.”

James moved, and my heart pounded. I couldn’t let this happen. I wouldn’t let this happen. Reaching out, I gripped his arm. “Stop.”

His eyes flickered with a resigned sorrow. “Sorry, love.”

He shrugged out of my grasp and continued for the Crocodile woman. He stopped before her and the Crocodile reached up, running her palms over his shoulders and across his chest.

I considered releasing the knife in my hand. The distance wasn’t far. I’d land my blade and follow it up with a swift blow to the—

“Don’t do it.” James stared at me with knowing eyes, even as the Crocodile rubbed her face against his neck, her forked tongue traveled up the length of his throat. “Attacking her will not stop her. She’s too powerful for that.”

My hold tightened on the knife, a burning in my chest, as I considered striking anyway. But if what he said was true…

“Then how about a deal?” I blurted desperately.

The other woman paused, her tongue disappearing between her lips and her expression twisting with interest as she turned to face me. “I’m listening.”

“You know the chances of me freeing Neverland alone aren’t great. I need James with me. Give us two days. If we don’t free this island and its inhabitants from Pan in two days, you can take him.”

“I could take him now.”

“And me. You can take me as well.”

Horror filled James’s face. “No, Wendy—”

The Crocodile held up a hand. “Silence.”

James’s mouth snapped shut, but his expression pleaded with me not to continue.

“Do not tempt me, child. The One-Who-Controls wants him gone, not you. Taking him and leaving you will be enough to get back into their good graces.”

“Why do you keep calling him that?”

“When I came to Neverland, I made a magically binding deal to never speak the name of the One-Who-Controls.” Something meaningful lingered in the Crocodile’s expression.

“And what is your name?”

“What I am known by, and how I am remembered, are two different things. I am nameless. Remember, the One-Who-Controls cannot command others except in the world where they are present.”

“Either world?” I asked, thinking of Neverland and London.

“Either world…”

“What does that mean?”

“Ask Hook about the night your brothers disappeared.”

I clenched the knives, my nails digging into the soft skin of my palm, hating these word games. “I need you to be more clear.”

“That is all I have to say. Now, name your offer.”

“Two days and you can claim both of us.” Tremors ran through my limbs at what I was offering, but I forced myself to stand firm. “For someone who has been denied sustenance, that must sound awfully good to you.”

“Hmm, indeed it does.” She sauntered over to me.

“If we succeed, Neverland will be released from the One-Who-Controls’ power and you can hunt to your soul’s content.” I beheld the Crocodile’s slow predatory approach, a tightness building in my throat. “But James and I go free. All you have to do is wait two more days.”

She stopped in front of me, looking me over, her face gleaming. “Be aware when you are mine, I shall go no easier on you because you are a woman. I shall have you however I want you.” She drew a nailed finger down my throat, her gaze dipping into the collar of my dress and a hungry smile crossed her lips, sharp teeth flashing. “Well, little Darling?”

James begged me with his eyes to refuse, but there was only one answer.

“It's a deal.”

The Crocodile gripped my left hand in her own. Her skin was sodden and freezing. Foreboding twisted in my gut. Perhaps we needed to shake on it.

I found I couldn’t pull away. The other woman spread my fingers over her palm. Trepidation slid through me as I watched the Crocodile touch each of my fingers, the hunger on her face turning ravenous.

“Then you must pay the price,” the Crocodile said. Her teeth flashed into a wild snarl and she moved inhumanly fast.

Searing, horrible, writhing pain.

I screamed.

Blood bloomed over my fingers, dripping onto the deck of the Jolly Roger.

I bent over, my bloodied hand clutching it to my chest.

“Your scope is limited, little Darling. You must broaden your understanding if you are to win this fight.” Crimson glistened on the Crocodile’s teeth and lips. “You are missing too much.”

My left hand pulsed with agony, and my mind spun. My pinky finger was gone. It was gone.

The Crocodile stepped away, sliding over to James. She rose on her toes and pressed blood-covered lips to his. She looked back at me, who stood trembling, bleeding all over the deck, and ran a scaled finger over James’s hook in a slow caress.

And for the first time, I heard it.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

“The minutes are ticking. I’ll see you soon.”

The mist pulled around her and she vanished.

Chapter 23

Hook

The power of the Crocodile released Hook, and he stumbled.

The metallic taste of blood lingered on his lips from the Crocodile’s kiss. He may have been under her control, but he’d heard every damn thing.

Wendy stood on the deck, her hand pulled against her chest as she cradled it, crimson seeping into the lacey fabric, her eyes glazed and skin pale. His chest tightened as an icy horror curled in stomach.

He rushed to her side, yanking off his shirt. When he reached her, he gingerly grasped the wrist of her injured hand. She resisted him.

“Wendy.”

Her gaze rose to his. He gave another light tug, and this time her arm loosened. He swore when he saw the damage. The Crocodile had ripped off the little finger on Wendy’s left hand.

He twisted his shirt around her fist, then pressed against the wound. She flinched but didn’t make a sound.

“Come with me,” he said. “I have something that will help it feel better.”

Wrapping his arm about her waist, he guided her into his cabin. Her body was shaking. Wendy was never this quiet or submissive. He needed to hurry, to bring her out of the shock.

The space was completely turned over. Papers and maps strewn everywhere, clothes torn out of the closet spread across the floor. Even his chaise and mattress had been flipped. One of his crew members must have been searching for the spellbook. Hook pushed down his rising anger to focus on Wendy.

He walked in and kicked aside the papers coating the floor.

“Wait here,” he said, leaving her next to his desk.

Then he went to his bed and fought his way past his bedding and overturned mattress to the loose floorboard in the corner of his cabin. He breathed a sigh to discover it undisturbed. After popping it open, he lifted the tiny brass key from the hidden space. He climbed over to the rear of his closet to find the miniature hole that he had disguised as an unassuming crack. Placing the key, he twisted it, and the compartment opened, revealing a large leather-bound book. The spellbook of Stardust.

Taking it, he walked to his desk, setting it on the untidy papers across the surface. He flipped it open and turned to the healing spell.

Looking over the instructions, he reached out and gripped a few dried chamomile leaves that lay scattered from their jar across his desk and crumpled them. He set them in a small pile before facing Wendy.

“Do you trust me?” he asked.

Despite her quiet quaking, she managed to nod. He drew back his shirt, revealing her bloodied hand. “Hold still.” He chanted the words of the spell, following the writing on the page with care. One mistake and things could go wrong, very quickly. He grabbed the crumpled chamomile leaves and pressed them against her wound. He saw pain well in her eyes, but she didn’t make any noise.

Eventually, the bleeding stopped, and the skin of her hand began to heal over. The tightness in Hook’s body finally relaxed.

The finger was gone for good. There was nothing to be done about that. But at least the pain and bleeding wouldn’t be a problem. Wendy no longer trembled and her gaze cleared as color returned to her cheeks. She held up her healed hand and examined it.

“I feel it,” she whispered. “Like it's still there.”

“The first few weeks, after losing my hand, I’d go about trying to do things as I had done until I learned I had to adjust. Even now, every once in a while, I swear a lost finger will ache or fall asleep, or I’ll get an itch in the middle of my non-existent palm.”

She pressed her lips and nodded. Not pitying. Accepting.

“Stay here. I’ll fetch you some water.”

He returned a few moments later, having retrieved a pitcher of water from their stores below deck. He’d already washed his hand and hook of her blood. Wendy observed him as he moved across his scattered belongings. He flipped over the still-intact washing basin before grabbing the small towel nearby and handing it to her.

“Thank you.” She knelt and filled the basin.

He watched as she sank her hands into the wetness. She was risking so much for him.

“Why did you do that?” he asked.

She turned, drying off on the towel, an eyebrow raised. “Why did I save your life?”

“You have the knife, you knew where the book was, you could have gone on to stop Pan and rescue your brothers by yourself. Hell, you could have found someone else willing to take on Neverland’s power. You didn’t need me.”

A small smile came to her lips. Standing, she dropped the towel and took a step toward him. “You really don’t enjoy being in debt to a woman, do you?”

“Not true. I’ve been in debt to many a woman.” Though, admittedly, he’d never owed one a life debt.

She stepped closer. Even if by some miracle they defeated Pan and the Crocodile let them go free, Wendy’s finger would remain as lost as his hand. A mixture of emotions roiled through him. Anger, guilt, sorrow.

Reverence.

She drifted even closer. “You think that after everything we’ve been through, I’d let her take you?”

“You could have.”

She stopped right in front of him. Her fine blonde hair was windswept from their flight, her pale cheeks peaked from her encounter with the Crocodile. He recalled how she looked, standing between him and certain torturous death, knives pulled, jaw set, the mist whipping at her dress, eyes blazing with determination. His whole body thrummed to life at the memory. She’d never been more beautiful than in that moment.

Because Wendy Darling was a warrior.

The fingers of her injured hand wrapped around his hook, and she lifted it to her soft red lips. She met his gaze with such a fierceness, a heat erupted inside his skin at the sight of it.

“I refuse to lose anyone else that I love,” she said.

The words were electric, shooting through Hook’s very being. This beautiful, determined woman thought him worthy of her love?

He moved his hook, tracing over her jawline. Her green eyes flickered, darkening like the sea during a storm.

“You love me, Wendy Darling?” He ever so gently dragged the tip down her throat.

She lifted her chin, her neck arching. “Yes.”

Her soft skin, her scent, the unabashed arousal on her face. Her every reaction to him made his need more urgent.

His hook dipped into her dress, between her breasts. He gave a sharp tug on the fabric, pulling her against him. Reaching down, he grasped her thigh, hiking her leg up to his hip. He held her there, feeling her erratic breaths, her heart pounding in her chest, the softness between her legs.

He thrust his hips. Her hands gripped his shoulders, and she slid with him on his next thrust, that spot between her legs grinding against him. His good hand reached around to grab her ass, shoving her closer. He felt her through his trousers and he groaned. Bloody hell. She knew the right moves to drive him mad.

“Are you sure you're a virgin?” he murmured, his voice low and strained.

She released a breathy laugh as she pitched with him, rubbing on his hardness even as he moved against her. “I may have watched my neighbor have a few interludes through my bedroom window.”

“Mm. Naughty Darling.”

Her cheeks and neck were flushed red. Her calf rubbed against his backside. “You’re glad I did.”

“Ever so glad.”

He closed his mouth over hers and dipped his tongue between her lips. He slid his over hers, and a shudder of pleasure moved through her.

This was too much. He needed her clothes off.

He pressed his palm more firmly under her ass and lifted her. Her other leg wound around him and she gripped his neck, her lips moving against his. His tongue flicked against the roof of her mouth, playfully.

Papers, inkwells, and quills scattered as he shoved her onto the desk. Only then did he pull away. She made a small noise of disapproval and he gave her a licentious smile. “Don’t worry, love, I’ve not finished with you yet.”

He shed himself of his trousers and crawled up onto the desk after her. She laid back, her legs spread. “I’m ready.”

Hell, he wanted to take her right now. But no, he wouldn’t allow himself to have her that easily. He’d work for it.

After what she’d done for him, she deserved to come a little undone.

He slid his hook again between her breasts, then ever so slowly pulled down. The fabric ripped under his pressure, each thread snapping. He caught on her bodice. He pressed the tip into the seam and tore through it. His hook scraped along her skin and Wendy’s eyes blazed with passion as he shredded through her clothes. He cut through every part that barred her from him. When he’d split her dress and everything underneath in two, he shoved them aside, revealing her peaked nipples. And that lovely space between her thighs.

He leaned over her, pressing his face into the hollow of her throat and peppering kisses as he descended to her breasts. He lingered there, letting his stubble scrape across her and enjoying her delighted moan. Using his lips and teeth, he teased her supple skin, her taste of lavender and sea breeze coating his tongue. He swiped his thumb over her peaked nipple, rolling it gently between his fingers.

Her fingers twined into his hair, her breaths ragged. His hook glided lightly over her, exploring the soft skin of her inner thighs, pricking against her left side and settling on her hip. All the while his tongue continued to explore the underside of her breasts.

The yearning between his own legs was becoming unbearable.

“Wendy,” he ground out her name, and that was all she needed. She understood.

“Take me, James.”

“It will hurt…”

“I don’t care.”

He adjusted into the right position and then worked his way into her gradually. Her shoulders pressed into the desk. Her teeth gritted. “Don’t stop.”

Her fingers grasped against his neck, and she rolled her hips. “Hard and fast,” she whispered.

“But—”

“Hard and fast.” She gazed at him through her lashes, her jaw set.

She knew what she wanted, and he could no longer hold back. He shoved inside her, heat burning through his body, dropping between his legs. He pulled almost all the way out before slamming into her again.

“Shit Wendy, you’re so tight.”

He reached in between their rolling bodies, his fingers digging into her skin, sinking, searching for that most sensitive place between her legs.

She looked at him, erotic pleasure swirling in her gaze. “What are you—”

A gasp escaped her lips when he found it. A carnal smile slid over his face as he toyed with that spot, digging, rubbing, stimulating.

“Jas, Jas, Jas.” She gasped his name over and over.

Watching her come undone was undoing Hook. That name from her lips, the lust in her voice. The thrust of her hips.

And her goddamned tightness.

He rammed his hook into the desk, his own back arching as he came, spilling into her. “Brimstone and gall, Wendy,” he growled as he pulsed inside her. His hand vibrated that place between her legs, determined to make her cry out.

And she did. Her nails dug into him, leaving red scrapes stinging over his arms, and she let out a wild cry, her mouth open as she gasped and gasped and gasped.

He didn’t stop.

She cried out again and again.

“Jas, I—”

He didn’t stop.

She screamed. Her warm fingers gripped his hand, shoving it aside, as her chest rose in great heaving breaths. “I can’t… I can’t…”

Her tempestuous gaze took him in. Triumph gathered in his chest. Despite everything that had happened, she was completely unwound. He shifted, dropping onto the desk and drawing her against him and held her moaning, raging body as they both came down.

“Did you like that?” he asked, running his hook over her spine, in a movement meant to both caress and possess. “Did I please you?”

She pressed her face into his chest and moaned.

He chuckled darkly. “Turnabout is fair play, Wendy Darling,” he murmured. “I claimed you as thoroughly as you have been claiming me from the moment you returned to Neverland.”

Chapter 24

Wendy

I lay in James’s arms, feeling the heat of his body against mine. We’d moved onto the floor, where there was more room for us to spread out. The rocking of the ship had lulled us into a relaxed state. The lash marks on my back bore testimony to the harsh years I’d endured with no warmth, no gentleness. James had brought those things into my life, at least for a moment, and I would cherish it.

I lazily traced a vein in his arm, nerves gathering in my stomach. I wasn’t sure why I needed to say something, but I took a slow breath. “Thank you, James.” I took another breath. “That may not be what you are used to at Madame Pearl’s—”

“That was nothing like Madame Pearl’s,” he murmured, and my heart sank. He stroked my cheek. “Madame Pearl’s was survival. A reminder that, at least while I was there, I had complete control over my body. But what we just did…” He pulled me closer. “I have never wanted someone so much.”

I ran a hand through his dark hair. “And you are redeemable, James Hook.”

A shadow crossed his eyes, becoming stormy—not violent, but with a heavy bleakness that seemed to weigh him down. “The worst thing about not returning was that they never knew how badly I desired to go back to them. My daughter had no idea she had a father who loved her, who wanted to be part of her life. And my wife—” He swallowed. “I probably destroyed her faith in love.”

“I think the worst thing is that you fight to give others a second chance you won’t allow yourself to take.”

“It's a chance I don’t deserve.”

“I’ll be your second chance,” I murmured in his ear.

He leaned in, and we kissed. Soft yet firm.

I enjoyed the feel of his lips against mine.

After parting, we lay back to enjoy the rhythmic swaying of the ship. I stared at a coiled rope as it methodically struck a post in time with the boat’s movement. The map of Neverland that James had used to find my brothers bumped my feet along with Stardust’s spellbook. I held up my palm to stare at my four-fingered hand.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” he whispered.

“The Crocodile said we are missing something, and if we don’t figure it out, then we will lose. Tell me about the night you kidnapped my brothers. What was it like being under Peter’s control?”

James gave me an odd look. “Perhaps not the best example,” he grumbled. But his head fell back against the floor. “On the more subtle side, he puts ideas in your mind that you can’t ignore. If you try, it repeats until it consumes you, and no matter how much you don’t want to, you do it anyway.” He gazed at me, brows pulled together. “I fought it, Wendy. I swear. But if you fight too hard, then he simply takes over. Like when he cut off my hand.”

“But when you were in London, you were far away from him, right? You weren’t even in Neverland. How did he control you from such a distance?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know, love. Normally when he leaves Neverland, our minds are freed from his power, until he returns. We can’t leave of our own volition, but on that occasion, he made me abandon Neverland, and he stayed behind. I only had Tinker Bell with me.”

I sat up to get a better view of his face. “Wait, Tink was there?”

He nodded. “Maybe he channeled his power through her so I’d remain under his control.”

My mind spun. “But the Crocodile said that he couldn’t command others in a world he wasn’t in. What if… what if she has been the one controlling you the whole time?”

He scowled. “No, it has always been Pan’s voice in my head.”

“I saw it for myself, James, how their numbers have grown. Their kind is thriving. They’ve taken over a sizeable chunk of the island—”

“The Crocodile hopes to trick you. She wants to divide us. Pan is the one. It’s his land. It’s not like I’m not aware that it's him. I can tell when he’s in my mind.”

“You’re always aware?”

“Always. All of us are. That’s what makes it so torturous.”

I stood and grabbed a shirt and a pair of James’s trousers that were strewn about the room. James had destroyed my clothes, so I’d have to wear his. I pulled on one of his fancy shirts and rolled the sleeve. Tink had been here this whole time. She’d retrieved me and brought me to Neverland. She’d been at Marooners’ Rock when my brother had disappeared. She’d been there that night at Madame Pearl’s with Peter, hovering over his shoulder.

She’d been there the whole damn time.

“But,” I said, “what does Peter get out of it? And why would so many fairies come here only to be enslaved?”

“Peter gets an island of people to bow to his every whim. And perhaps the fairies were tricked like the rest of us,” James said darkly.

“Whatever we do, we have to be right about this.” I still wasn’t sure how I would save my brothers and James, but I was going to try. But if it came down to it—I trembled—I would put John and Michael first.

“It. Is. Pan.” He rose, grabbing a pair of trousers and shrugging them on.

I pulled on his other pair and looped a belt through it, yanking it tight and shoving a new hole into the leather. I gave him an exasperated look. “I know how long you’ve believed it is him. How long you’ve wanted revenge—”

But James was no longer in a mood to humor me. He stepped forward, anger on his face. “You are still searching for a way to make him innocent.”

“But it’s clear that they are at least working together.”

“We have to go after Pan. I have what I need.” He jerked on his own shirt. “And you will leave Neverland.”

I stared at him. “W-what? The hell I am.”

His annoyance melted a little. “Please, Wendy, you’ve done enough. I promise I’ll save your brothers. I’ll send them home once Pan is defeated.”

“Done enough.” I paused to consider his words. “I’ve done enough and you haven’t?”

He spoke through gritted teeth. “Yes.”

“Because you are a villain and I’m not.”

“I left my family! Abandoned them! How long did you fight to get to your brothers? Did you once even consider giving up? That is the difference between you and me.”

“There is no difference. Since you received the book, how often did you think about giving up?”

“Every damn day.”

I sucked in a breath.

He stood rigid, glaring at me. “Every damn day I considered taking the shitty stone around my neck and running back to your world. I was free, Wendy, I was free from this land, from the cursed Crocodile, from Pan…” His voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. “I wanted to run so badly.”

“But you didn’t,” I said. “You’ve changed, James. And I’m staying.”

“No. I will defeat Pan—”

“If Pan is defeated, and if he is the one behind it. What if you fail?”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, love, but that’s all the more reason to stay away.”

“And you think I’d stay away with my brothers still trapped here?”

He growled and ran another agitated hand through his tousled hair. “Damn it, Wendy. I wasn’t planning for this.”

“Planning on what? To actually let me help? To actually save my brothers?”

“To have something I care about more than freeing Neverland,” he snapped, then softened. He gazed at me in agony. “Or someone.”

I blinked, startled by his admission. Had James Hook admitted to loving me?

Some of the tenseness leached out of my body. “I’m not leaving. But we need to figure out what our next step is.”

I stepped up to him and laid a hand on his chest. He gripped my fingers and pressed them to his lips, nodding. He gave me a knowing smile. “It was worth a try.”

I knew what it was like, believing a person was guilty and being unwilling to let it go. But I didn’t have time to fully convince James that I was right. That Tinker Bell was really the one behind it all. It made too much sense. The fairies were strong, powerful, having flooded Neverland. And Peter had never seemed calculating enough to pull off all that James and the others claimed. Besides, if Tink possessed the power to put thoughts in others’ minds, wouldn’t she have the power to make them sound like Peter?

I may have wanted revenge on Captain Hook for seven years, but Peter had been the focus of James’s hate and rage so much longer than that. A thousand cuts year after year, that had never healed. He wouldn't change his mind. Not in two hours or in two days.

In a flash, I grabbed the rope hanging from the post next to the bed and swung it around him. He swore as I rushed past him, using my weight to jerk him against the post. He struggled, but I hastily tied it off before flinging the long rope across him one more time and tying it behind him.

“Wendy, what are you doing?” James growled.

I picked up the map of Neverland and spread it on the desk where we had made love. My teeth sank into my lip in a moment of indecision as I gripped the potion attached to the chain still surrounding my neck.

“He’s too powerful. You can’t do this on your own.”

“Like you were going to do this on your own?” I saw him flinch at my words. “I must do this.” That was what Tink, and even Peter, expected. They wanted me to bring the dagger and the book alone. If I brought James, he was as good as dead. I grabbed the spellbook off the floor and flipped it open. I froze at the handwritten notes on the front page.

Why Wendy? Why her brothers?

Possible explanation: Descendants of Stardust?

I looked at James. “You wrote this?”

“It was the only place I could safely write down my speculations.”

“Who is Stardust?”

“Untie me, and I will explain.”

I pressed my teeth together. I didn’t have time for this. Looking through the table of contents, I found the locator spell and turned to it.

The words of the book poured from my lips as I chanted, as I had seen James do when I first arrived. I dumped the ingredients of the vial out on the page, and when I came to the right part of the chant, I muttered Tinker Bell’s name.

The thin stream of potion pooled out to a small nameless cave on the outskirts of what was now fairy territory.

I pressed my finger to the map. “There you are.”

I turned to the front of the book to find the spell that needed to be used with the dagger. Luckily, James had circled it. I flipped to the page and then folded Neverland’s map and shoved it in that spot to mark it.

“Wendy, let me go. Now,” James demanded as I gathered the spellbook of Stardust into my arms and strapped the Dagger of Forgotten Souls to my hip. Last, I slipped on my boots and stashed my throwing knives beneath my shirt and inside my footwear.

I let myself meet his dark, stormy gaze. “I’m sorry. This is for the best.”

“Don’t waste your one chance to end this. To end him.”

“It's not him, James.”

He thrashed against his binding. “Goddammit! If you do this, I’ll never forgive you.”

A burning gripped my throat. “I know,” I rasped. “But I have to.”

And with that, I walked across the room, opened the window, and launched out into the daylight air, flying toward Neverland, dagger and book clutched in my arms, James’s shouts following me.

Chapter 25

Wendy

I dropped onto the sandy beach and turned back to stare at the Jolly Roger in the distance. I’d had to push my feelings aside so I could stay in the air, thinking about being reunited with John and Michael. But suddenly, the weight of what I had done, and what I still must choose, came crashing down on me.

I’d betrayed James. Left him tied on his ship, raging at me.

And now I had to decide: Risk my brothers’ lives by attempting to save them and Neverland? Or sell out Neverland altogether to ensure John and Michael's safety?

I sat in the sand and opened Stardust’s book, reading over the spell that should transfer the power out of Tink and into the dagger, and tried to memorize the first few lines, stumbling over the unfamiliar verbiage. Damn it. If I couldn’t remember the words, I might as well give up and go get my brothers.

If Tink would actually turn them over.

Perhaps James was right. Changing was too much. I desperately wanted to have the correct answer. For everything to be simple. Black and white, like it had been in childhood. And yet, that childhood was lost.

Neverland wasn’t the same.

And neither was I.

And did that make me a better person? I had no idea, but I wouldn’t give up what I’d learned with James, and what I had experienced with him, for the world.

So where did that leave me? And what should I choose?

“Hello, Wendy,” Peter’s voice sounded behind me.

I jumped to my feet, drawing one of my throwing knives and holding it at the ready. It was too early for our scheduled rendezvous. Even though I no longer believed he was the mastermind behind everything, it didn’t mean he hadn’t been working for Tink all this time.

The book scratched against my chest as I clutched it with one arm, my throwing knife prepared to launch from my other.

“Stay back, Peter.”

“Why are you doing this, Wendy? I don’t understand why you would align yourself with him.”

“Why have you been plotting with Tinker Bell to keep my brothers from me?”

His eyebrows shot up in surprise, but then a grin split across his face. “I knew you’d figure it out.”

I let out a long breath. So he confirmed it. “But why, Peter? She holds all of Neverland in her power, controls them. Even Hook.”

His brow scrunched. “What are you talking about?”

I paused, caught off guard. “Has—has she never controlled you?”

“Control me? Tink never controls me. We play games. It's tiresome, coming up with new ones all the time. So sometimes she comes up with the rules, and I play them.”

I glared at him, flinging out a hand. “And my brothers? They were just part of some—some game to you?”

“Everything is a game. You know that.”

“No, it's not, Peter. The inhabitants of Neverland aren’t playing. She controls them.”

“Why would she do that?”

“Perhaps to give you cheap thrills?” I looked down at the book in my hand. “Who was Stardust?”

“Stardust was a traitor,” he snarled. “He abandoned us. Then he created the spellbook and dagger that could destroy Neverland.”

“But he was your friend first? Why did he do that?”

“He and Tink were the fairies that first formed Neverland, but after a bit, they had a falling out.”

I blinked, curiosity growing in me. If Stardust had created Neverland with Tinker Bell, I thought Peter might have forgotten. He tended to have a hard time remembering. “How do you recall that? It was so long ago.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Peter looked mildly offended.

I raised an eyebrow.

“Fine.” He sighed. “I have this dream sometimes that Stardust casts a spell in my sleep. I think it was something about remembering.”

So Neverland must have been affecting Peter’s memory even back then.

“What was the falling out between Tinker Bell and Stardust about?” I asked.

“How should I know?” He shrugged, raising his eyes to the sky, avoiding my gaze.

“Peter.” I sheathed my knife, then stepped up to him, laying a hand on his shoulder. “It's me. You can tell me.”

He pressed his lips, but then nodded. “He didn’t like that she stopped time. And then she started bringing more people to Neverland.”

“People like Hook.”

“And the Lost Boys.”

“Maybe Stardust didn’t like that she enslaved people’s minds.”

“Tink can’t do that. She would never do that.” But at that moment, he didn’t appear so sure.

“And now Neverland is overflowing with fairies.”

“Because they’d die in your world. People don’t believe anymore, there isn’t as much wonder.”

I stared at him as the pieces fell into place. “But here there is belief. And wonder. You, the Lost Boys, and my brothers provide the belief and wonder.” My eyes widened. “And Tink uses everyone else to entertain you, to keep the wonder alive.”

Peter placed his hands on his hip, his face scrunched in confusion. He shook his head. “But Hook—”

“If you believe Hook being evil is an eternal truth, it's not. I believed that too. I thought that my memories, my beliefs from my childhood, couldn’t be wrong. But they were, and it's because I stopped growing, changing, questioning.”

But the boy of Neverland couldn’t seem to process the realization that was building in my mind. “If Hook isn’t evil, what is truth?”

I wished I knew. If the truth was always apparent, then perhaps I would have seen it when I was here the first time. “Something you figure out as you grow, I suppose. This land isn’t an escape, it's a prison. A prison meant to be broken out of. She’s using you, too. Keeping you here, lying to you, hurting others for your amusement. Don’t be her prisoner.” I took his hand. “Break out with me, Peter.”

He pulled from my grasp, for the first time looking frightened. “I-I can’t. This is my home. And Tink—no, this can’t be true. This is all lies. Hook put you up to this, didn’t he?”

“Peter,” I whispered.

“I won’t listen to you! I won’t!” And with that, he turned and flew off into the daylight.

A panic gripped me. What if he was off to tell Tink everything that I had discovered? I clutched the dagger and the book. I better get moving. Now. There was no time to form plans.

I’d have to decide which choice to make when I arrived.

Chapter 26

Wendy

I flew for the cave where Tinker Bell most likely hid, the wind rustling my hair. Nerves twisted in my stomach as I debated what to do. I looked out over Neverland, the bushes beneath writhing and shivering like a swarm of mosquitoes. Through the heavy foliage, I made out people and creatures heading in the same direction as me. They’d been doing that since I’d crossed over into fairy territory. I frowned as I saw several of them glance up at me as I soared past.

Strangely enough, no fairies tried to intercept me.

But there would be no surprising Tinker Bell. Ever since arriving, I’d seen precious few, outside of fairies, who could fly. Maybe because Tink hoarded her power? Or because not even she was able to force someone to have genuinely happy thoughts? Either way, as long as I stayed aloft, I hopefully wouldn’t be intercepted.

At least James was safe.

I landed on the ground outside Tinker Bell’s cave. The opening gaped wide, blocked by several large mossy boulders. People and enormous beasts lingered about, staring at me. Their sightless gazes made it clear that none of them were themselves. I slipped a throwing knife into my hand. They could kill me in an instant. All Tink needed to do was give the order. I swallowed, my mouth going dry, and held the spellbook close to my chest. The Dagger of Forgotten Souls hung, strapped to my waist. I was a fighter, but sheer numbers could easily overwhelm me.

I scanned those present. There were pirates as well as those under Tiger Lily’s protection. I assumed the ladies at Madame Pearl’s were too far away to get there in time.

There were also no Lost Boys. Because they were under Peter’s orders. Which meant that Tink didn’t take control of their minds. Or so I hoped. They were the only ones besides me and Peter who could fly, which was my sole chance of getting out of this.

“She forced you to come here today because of me, and I’m sorry,” I murmured to those gathered. “I’m sorry for what she has done to you. And…” I hung my head. “I’m sorry I can’t help you.”

With that, I stepped into the darkness of the cave.

Its mossy walls spanned high overhead. Stalactites dangled from the ceiling, dripping clear water to the floor below.

I fought to calm the tingling that seared through my veins. After I saved my brothers and found a secure place in London for them, I’d come back, find a way to defeat Tink with James. It would be a lot more difficult, maybe impossible, but at least my brothers would be safe. And couldn’t be used as leverage against me. And by then, James would have to believe me about Tink. I hoped. Or in two days, all was lost.

And if I failed, at least James still had a fighting chance to save Neverland, and maybe my brothers.

The darkness soon lifted as a light illuminated a small space. At the end stood a woman dressed in a long flowery flowing gown. Power issued off of her, making her skin sparkle and glow. She rose from an old wicker chair as she looked me over, regal and unexpectedly majestic. Like a goddess who ruled over her land.

Tinker Bell.

“Welcome, Wendy. I see you figured it out. Congratulations, you are the first,” she said in a smooth voice. Her hair was her usual tight blond bun and her eyes gleamed. I didn’t know how to react. I’d never seen Tinker Bell human-sized. And I’d never been able to understand her. I realized now that perhaps the only reason was because the fairy woman had wanted it that way.

My gaze fell to my brothers, curled next to one another, their compact forms laying on a throw rug in the far right corner of the cave. I sucked in a breath. They seemed to be unharmed, but they were also unconscious.

“John, Michael.” I headed for them.

But Tink held up a hand. “Don’t come any closer, or I’m afraid I am going to have to have the princess take action.” She nodded.

I spun around to find Tiger Lily standing in the entrance to the cave, bow loaded and ready.

I faced Tinker Bell, my teeth grit. “I brought what you wanted. The book and the dagger.” I held out the spellbook for her examination.

Tink merely smiled. “Yes, you did.”

“So let's trade.”

She stared at me, then shrugged. “Fine. Give them to me.”

I stepped back, pulling the book close to my chest. “My brothers first.”

The fairy woman huffed a laugh. “I’m afraid that will not work.”

“That was the deal.”

“What is to stop me from having Tiger Lily put an arrow in your back and simply taking them from you? Come now, Wendy.” Tink’s head tilted, a triumphant smile painting her perfect lips. “I have the upper hand. Cooperate, and I might let you live.”

My heart pounded in my chest, and my limbs trembled. “Give me one brother. I’ll give you the book. I’ll take him to safety and then return and hand over the dagger.” It was silly of me to bargain after what Tink had said, but I had to try.

“You aren’t listening. Oh, what am I thinking? You never understand a thing I say.”

Her gaze shifted, and I realized the truth. Tinker Bell would never let me leave with my brothers. I dove to the side as an arrow shot past me, breaking against the stonewall of the cave. The book fell from my grasp as I drew a second dagger and turned to face off against Tiger Lily.

“Stop.” A voice caused me to freeze.

Peter stood in front of Tiger Lily, his arms out, eyes narrowed on Tinker Bell. Wariness stole over me.

This was not the moment for the inevitable uncertainty that Peter Pan brought to any situation.

For the first time, Tinker Bell appeared caught off guard. “What are you doing here?”

He looked his fairy up and down like he’d never seen her before. “Why are you big, Tink? Is everything that Wendy said true? Do you hold all of Neverland in your power? Do you control them only for my amusement?”

Tink let out a light laugh. “Peter, what a silly thing to say. This.” She motioned to me and my brothers. “This is a game. It always is. And we have almost won.”

“Have we? Or is it you who has almost won? You’ve never taken over me or the Lost Boys. But then that was the point, wasn’t it? This was designed for us, to keep you alive, to keep all the fairies alive.”

“She needed you to be innocent,” I added. If Tink had taken over Peter or the Lost Boys’ minds, the dream of the boyish utopia would have been broken and their wonder destroyed. She had to ensure their continued belief in the game.

Peter’s fists clenched at his sides.

His eyes never strayed from Tink. “And why them?” He pointed to my brothers. “They had left. They didn’t want to be here, and yet you’ve done everything you can to keep them from Wendy. All you needed to do was give them to her, and she would have gladly offered you whatever you wanted.”

“Peter—”

“No more lies, Tink.” Peter’s voice was steel. “Or I swear, I will leave Neverland and never return.”

Tinker Bell took a beseeching step in his direction. “You don’t understand. Before we brought John and Michael here, we were limping along. A fairy bond is limited, and we can unite only one fairy to one boy. That was all. My magic only held so many fairy-Lost Boy bonds at a time, but when these boys came,”—she motioned toward my brothers—”it was like my power had enhanced. Their wonder, their belief, powered me and Neverland a thousand times over. Suddenly, we weren’t limited. We could save hundreds, even thousands, of fairies.”

“But what is so special about them?”

She waved a hand, uncaring. “What does that matter?”

But I knew. At least I had a guess. If James was right and I was a descendant of Stardust, that meant my brothers were also descendants of one of the original fairies that founded Neverland.

“But you didn’t want me because I was too old, too assertive, losing the wonder of youth,” I said.

“You were the one who convinced them to leave Neverland in the first place,” Tink spat at me. She faced Peter. “We must keep them here. We must continue everything as it was. If not, hundreds, thousands, of fairies will die.”

“And yet you hold hundreds of creatures hostage in abject slavery,” I accused.

“Yes. I understand,” Peter said, picking up the spellbook off the cave floor. “You are right, Tink. Tell me what to do.”

“Bring me the book.”

Peter nodded.

“No, Peter. You’re really going to help her after so many lies?” I lifted my knife. “I won’t let you.”

Tink’s eyes glowed a dangerous deep emerald. “You will allow him to bring me the book or—”

“Or what?” I snarled. “You will hurt my brothers? Come now, Tink, we all know you won’t do that.”

Shouts from outside the cave caused my mouth to go dry.

A cruel smile curled Tinker Bell’s lips, her eyes returning to their normal hue. “You are right, Wendy. I won’t hurt your brothers, but I have no qualms over hurting him.”

Several pirates walked into the cave holding a struggling James Hook between them.

“No,” I whispered, nausea making me feel weak.

His gaze met mine, the odd lighting trickling into the dark, highlighting something like regret in his expression as the pirates yanked his arms behind him, tying them together. He grimaced, a sad smile crossing his lips. “Sorry, love, couldn’t let you go through this alone.”

I remained rooted to the spot, my world twisted on its head. I’d come to fight for my brothers. I’d come to sacrifice myself in a foolish effort to save them.

And now I might also lose James.

“Here is the new deal,” Tinker Bell said, her beautiful gown swishing in soft swirls of victory as she faced me. “Give me the dagger and the book, or I will kill your lover boy in front of you.”

Chapter 27

Wendy

James knelt with arms bound on the floor of the cave, the pirates training their guns on him. Paralyzing fear issued through me. This was wrong. This was all wrong.

He gave a small shrug, his smile turning gentle. “Don’t worry about me, lass. Let’s finish what we came to do.”

But it wasn’t that easy. I couldn’t let Tink take James’s life any more than I could allow her to take John or Michael’s. It was the real reason why I’d had to leave him behind.

Because losing him would shatter me like glass.

“Gag him,” Tinker Bell ordered.

One pirate ripped a section from his shirt and tied it against James’s mouth.

The fairy woman turned to the forever boy of Neverland. “My book.”

Peter edged around me and handed Stardust’s spellbook over to Tinker Bell. “It’s time I accepted the truth.” His eyes met mine briefly and flicked away.

I blinked as I recalled our conversation from earlier. Was Peter on my side? But then why had he given the spellbook to Tinker Bell?

“I want Hook,” Peter growled. “If he is to die, I want it to be me. A last adventure with my one true rival.”

Tinker Bell flipped open the book, making sure it was truly the tome she wanted before closing it. “Not now, my boy—”

“That is my condition if you want me to stay in Neverland and help with the fairies. You're not going to let someone else do him in. Not after all this time. This has always been my game.”

Her mouth twisted into a frown, but she nodded. “As you wish.”

Peter turned away from Tink and had the nerve to smile. “Don’t move, Wendy. After everything, you had to realize things would end this way.” He winked at me.

Shit. What did that mean? Perhaps he was toying with me, rubbing it in. Or was he signaling me to do… something?

He flew around me and stopped in front of James.

“Leave us. Wait at the cave’s entrance,” Tink commanded the pirates on guard. They turned without a backward glance and left the cave.

A cautiousness filled me as Peter gripped James by the hair, laying his sword at his throat.

My heart pounded in my ears, my mouth had gone dry.

Part of a game? Or reality?

Truth or false?

“If you want a chance for him to live,” Tinker Bell said, “give me the dagger.”

I rested my palm on the dagger’s fine hilt, drawing it from the case, weighing it in my hands, feeling the loss of the missing finger. At least the Crocodile had left my dominant hand intact.

My uncertainty pressed on me. Childhood or growth?

Was Peter even capable of growing?

“How do I know you won’t kill both of us once you have it?” I asked.

Tinker Bell’s lip lifted into a sneer. “I’ve had enough of this. Peter, end him.”

“No! Here! Here it is!” I held the dagger out with shaking fingers.

Tink gave a satisfied smirk. “Tiger Lily, bring it to me.”

As soon as I heard Tiger Lily moving toward me, I hauled back on the knife and threw it.

It lodged in Tinker Bell’s right shoulder.

“Now!” I shouted, hoping I’d read the signs correctly.

Tink let out a cry of rage and reached for the dagger, but I flew toward the fairy woman, knocking her off her feet and shoving the blade deeper into her body.

I risked a glance back and saw Peter grappling with Tiger Lily. James’s gag was no longer in place, and his chanting filled the air with magic.

Because even if I hadn’t been able to memorize the spell that would steal Tink’s power, James Hook knew it by heart.

Tinker Bell snarled and reached forward with clawed nails, ready to attack. My training kicked in. I grabbed the woman’s arm and twisted, hearing it snap. Tink’s scream filled the cave. A sharp pain struck me as the nails of Tink’s other hand scraped across my skin. My face burned and blood coursed over my cheek. I swore and bit the fairy woman’s hand, my teeth sinking into flesh as I drove the dagger even deeper into my foe.

“Kill them all!” Tinker Bell shrieked, her voice echoing off the walls of the cave, as she struggled under my weight. The leafy folds of her dress ripped and tore.

Sounds of revolvers firing shook my whole body, my ears ringing harshly. A bullet speared past me and my heart leapt in my throat as I thought of my brothers, of James. But I didn’t let go, and James's incantation didn’t stop, and Tinker Bell’s glow dimmed. Similar to the last light of evening winking out, her eyes glazed, the fight leaving her as her arms fell away and a stark grayness covered her features. Her form shriveled. Fissures opened in her skin as it cracked and dried like autumn leaves withering into insignificance.

The cave had gone silent except for James’s chants as the dagger ingested the final remains of Tinker Bell’s magic.

I yanked the weapon from the hollowed out husk that was once Tinker Bell. A power pulsed through the metal, the gems in the skull hilt glowing eerily and the blade shining despite the green blood that dripped from its tip.

I raced over to my brothers. Feeling them for any sign that a stray bullet had pierced them. But they were still lying there, unharmed. Their eyes fluttered open.

“Who are you?” John asked. He straightened his awry spectacles to peer at me.

“I know who this is. It is an angel,” Michael said in his innocent way.

Tears filled and spilled down my cheeks. My brothers had forgotten about me. “I am your sister. It's me, Wendy.”

“Sister?” John looked perplexed.

Michael’s face scrunched up. “We don’t have a sister, do we, John?”

“I don’t know, Michael.”

Despite the ache caused by their lack of memory, I wanted to pull them into my arms and never let them go. I wiped at the tears on my cheeks. “Stay right here. There is so much I want to tell you.”

Standing, I spun to survey the scene behind me. Figures blocked the mouth of the cave, but they merely stood around, barely moving. I looked to James, who knelt next to a figure lying prone on the cave’s floor.

My stomach clenched. “Peter?”

I rushed to James’s side. An immense hole blooming with crimson bubbled out of the boy's chest.

“Is he?”

“He’s alive,” James whispered. “For now.” An odd expression crossed his face. “He disarmed Tiger Lily and then jumped in front of the bullets.” He gave me an uncomprehending look. “He saved me.”

For some reason, seeing Peter lay there with the bullet wound, I thought of Uncle Reuben. Uncle would have let Peter die. Uncle was ruthless, guarded, and unchanging. He’d raised me to believe I was like him, but I wasn’t. People were never what they seemed at first glance, and even when they were, they were capable of changing, growing. If they chose to. I had grown—learned to love the man I had hated. James had changed—refused to be the man that had failed those he’d once loved.

And Peter had risked his life for his eternal nemesis.

“Can you heal him?” I asked James, recalling the spell he’d used to heal my hand.

But he shook his head. “I’m afraid this wound is too severe for that spell.”

Determination filled me. “Well, maybe there is another way we can save him.” I wiped the bloody dagger clean on my pants.

James’s eyes grew round. “Are you sure that is a good decision?”

“He’s innocent. He’s as innocent as you or any of them.”

“It's just… If you transfer the magic in the dagger to him, you will give him the power everyone thought he had all along. And who knows how he will use it?”

“We can’t let the boy who was noble enough to fight off Tinker Bell and risk his life to save his arch enemy die.”

“You’re not only gambling with his life, you’re gambling with all of ours.” Tiger Lily stepped up. She had a bruise on her left cheekbone from Peter’s attack.

“James and I will keep the book and dagger with us. We can always stop him if it doesn’t work out, but I believe he deserves a chance. What do you think?” I stared up at Tiger Lily’s uncertainty.

James’s expression hardened with determination. “Do it.”

Tiger Lily watched him, a thousand emotions passing across her face. She finally nodded. “If James agrees, then I agree.” She turned to those at the entrance of the cave. “What say you?”

Silence, then a pirate stepped forward, taking off his hat. “I don’t know if Peter will be any better than Tinker Bell, but I trust my captain.” He turned to me and his head dipped in respect. “And those he chose to help him.”

The rest of the pirates took off their hats in response, signaling their support. A woman from Tiger Lily’s people approached. “We’ll follow the choice of our princess.”

I turned. “Peter, can you hear me? We are going to save you, but you have to promise me. Promise to use this power to grow and not stay the same. You must think of others. You must free the inhabitants of Neverland.”

His pale hand gripped my wrist. “I promise.”

I pressed the knife into Peter’s shoulder and met James’s gaze.

And he began to chant.

Chapter 28

Hook

The inhabitants of Neverland gathered in the main courtyard of Swindler’s Cove to discuss what was to be done. Those who could walk on land, that is. Hook stood with Wendy among them and gazed out at the hundreds assembled. Pirates, Madame Pearl’s ladies, Tiger Lily’s people, Peter Pan and the Lost Boys, the fairies, and even the Crocodile together, peacefully, in one place. The mermaids swam around in the port, ready to catch a tidbit of what was happening.

Wendy shook her head. “I can’t believe you and Peter teamed up.”

“Trust me, love. I can barely believe it myself.”

When Peter had shown up on the Jolly Roger demanding answers, claiming that Wendy had told him the truth about Tink, Hook had been convinced it was an act. And yet, instead of gutting Hook with a sword, Peter instead sat and spoke to James about everything that had happened in Neverland. He supposed that had been the oddest thing of all. And by the time Peter untied him, he hadn’t fully trusted the lad. Still, Hook had been willing to at least play along until they found Wendy.

The woman he loved laid her four fingered hand on his hook arm. “I’m glad you did.”

“He did untie me, but I still thought there was a good chance it was a ruse until he pulled the gag.”

“And jumped in front of moving bullets.”

He nodded grimly, recalling the surprise and horror of that moment. “Aye, love. That too.”

“I’m sorry for tying you up and leaving you.”

He lifted her hand and brushed a kiss across her knuckles. “There’s nothing to forgive. Everything worked out the way it should in the end. Besides, it was fair payback. I did tie you up and toss you off my ship.”

She gave him a relieved smile, then turned to look at her brothers who were playing with the other Lost Boys. Concern built in her eyes. He didn’t have to ask to perceive that she worried about John and Michael remembering her. Neverland warped the memory of children.

“They’ll remember.” He squeezed her hand, warmly. “Give them time.”

She nodded. “They at least agreed to return with me.”

He fought the disappointment that threatened to overtake him. “Take them back, but don’t go to your uncle.”

A sigh escaped her. “I’m afraid I have little choice. John and Michael need to grow up, live normal lives.”

He pulled her close, wrapping his arm around her waist. “You think I’d let you return to that monster? Take as many jewels from my treasury as you require, Wendy Darling, for you and your brothers. You can live lifetimes on the riches I have.”

Her eyes glistened, and she stood on her toes and kissed him. “Thank you.”

He sensed the sadness in the gesture. While she would go to London, Hook had decided to stay. He couldn’t abandon those who remained. Those who dwelt in Neverland were everything to him and he refused to leave them. But Wendy was more than he ever expected—another chance at love and a genuine relationship. Now that she was here, how could he give her up?

He wanted to say something. Beg her to stay. He opened his mouth to speak, but Wendy’s gaze shifted to the side and she gasped.

She pushed past him. He turned in alarm, tensing, ready for something to go wrong. His half of the stone remained around his neck. After everything, he wasn’t sure he’d ever be to the point where he’d voluntarily take it off.

Wendy rushed up to Lillian, who stood next to the Crocodile woman. The two were holding hands with huge grins on their faces.

Hook followed Wendy over to the pair, just as surprised.

“Thank you so much for freeing the woman that I love,” the Crocodile said. “I wasn’t sure we’d ever be able to be together with Tinker Bell’s death grip on the island.”

Since he had learned the Crocodile had sent him the spellbook, he’d wondered what had motivated her to defy Tinker Bell. “That is why you gave me the book,” he said.

The expression of love on the Crocodile’s face may have been the most unexpected thing Hook had seen in Neverland. “I couldn’t be with her until she was free,” she said.

“Wait, Tiger Lily,” Wendy said. “Did you know she was behind this?”

The woman looked at them, a silly, happy smirk on her lips. “I had no clue. But I’m glad she did.”

“I didn’t want to get her hopes up in case it didn’t work.” The Crocodile's growing smile revealed her sharp teeth that still made shivers run down Hook’s spine. There would be a lot to adjust to here in Neverland.

“And per our deal,” the Crocodile continued, her reptilian eyes met his. “You will notice something missing.”

“No ticking.” A breath of air seeped out of him. It was gone. He was truly free. And Wendy was safe.

“Yes. You both are released from our bond.” She bowed. “I thank you again.”

They moved on and Wendy quirked an eyebrow. “What are you going to do about that? You can’t let her go about hunting the inhabitants of Neverland.”

“I’m not sure. We may have to talk to Peter.”

“I enjoy seeing you two working together.”

“Get used to it, love. It’s the new standard.”

He saw Eloise, Smee’s fiancé, standing in the crowd, her expression drawn, shoulders slumped, hair uncharacteristically askew. He sobered. She was the reminder of the steep price of their freedom. Hook had already attempted to make amends, what little he could. He and his crew had agreed to place a statue of Smee up in the center of Swindler’s Point, in honor of his friend and all the others that had lost their lives. It seemed such a small offering and he wished he could do more.

His arm tightened around Wendy, grateful she had made it through alive. He brushed his lips across her forehead, cherishing her presence. “Should we start?”

“Yes, let's.”

He climbed up onto a table and pulled her up next to him.

“Thank you for coming,” he called out to everyone. “We have much to figure out, but thanks to Wendy Darling and Peter Pan, we are free.”

Someone let out a loud whoop and there were cheers and slaps on the back. A smile split across his face and he swallowed past a sudden hoarseness in his throat. Through all the pain and loss, how long had he waited for this day? To see the joy that was on the inhabitants of Neverland’s faces? Wendy gave his hand a supportive squeeze.

“You can go or you can stay,” he said to those present, his voice scratchy. “Fairies have agreed to help outfit the Jolly Roger to transport those who wish to leave Neverland. It will take you to London. But be aware the world you left behind may differ from the world you remember.”

He paused. Wendy and her brothers would be on that ship. It felt as if happiness was about to be ripped from his grasp.

He pushed the ache aside and forced himself to continue. “Some, however, cannot leave, for they have nowhere to go and they depend on the magic of Neverland to survive—the mermaids, the Crocodile. The fairies in particular require our assistance.”

“Why would we help the fairies?” Mason, one of Hook’s pirates, shouted. “They are why we’ve been enslaved this whole time.”

“Because they need us. Because they are a part of Neverland, and because they were unaware of everything that Tinker Bell did. I’ve spoken with them at length. They didn’t know about the enslavement. But now they are at our mercy and I, at least, will help them.”

“How?” Madame Cora asked.

“We have a plan.” Wendy said. “My brothers and I are descendants of Stardust, a fairy that helped Tinker Bell create Neverland. His power runs through this land. That is why John and Michael’s belief can sustain the survival of so many fairies. We think we can find more of Stardust’s descendants. If we convince them to come here for short durations, such as in the evenings, when their parents don’t know, we hope to recharge the wonder and belief necessary to keep the fairies alive.”

“And what would they do while here?” Mason demanded.

“Have adventures, of course. But they’d be staged. Nobody will be compelled. And everyone remains safe and participates of their own free will.”

Finding Stardust’s descendants hinged on the plan working. Wendy hadn’t volunteered to bring her brothers back to Neverland.

Peter landed next to Wendy. “I give you my word. If you stay, this will be a land for all, and I will never force anyone. To be honest, I don’t even know how.”

And he’d hopefully never learn. Wendy was taking the dagger and spellbook with her to London to be stored in a safety deposit box.

“Those who’d like to leave, step over here.” He pointed toward the unlit fire pit. “And everyone who’d like to stay, gather over on that low hill.”

General chaos ensued as people moved to their different spots. It surprised Hook how many chose to remain. Many of his men and some of Madame Pearl’s ladies. Lillian and several of her people also stayed. Most of the Lost Boys, Ivy, and a few good men he’d come to know chose to leave.

Peter stepped up to Wendy. He held out a hand. She laughed out loud and drew him into an embrace.

He pulled back with a crooked smirk. “If you find my shadow, send me word. Who knows what kind of mischief it’s causing over in your world?”

She paled a little, clearly caught off guard by the pronouncement. “I will.”

He looked at Hook and nodded before flying off towards those who were staying.

Wendy turned to Hook, something akin to hope mixing with desperation in her expression. “You could come to London. Have a life with me.”

Part of him wanted to agree. Neverland had been a prison, a place of torture, and held some of Hook’s worst memories. But somehow, despite that, it had also become his home. “I’m needed here.”

“You gave all of Neverland a chance to start their life over. I think you deserve one, too.”

He slid his palm into her hair, feeling her beautiful silky strands run against his fingers. “This is my second chance. You gave it to me. The task ahead is daunting, but this time, I’m not running from it.”

Her jaw clenched and a defiant spark came into her eyes. “I refuse to let this be the end,” she said fiercely.

A light filled him at her determination. Wendy didn’t want to part either. Never once, after hearing how he’d left his wife and child, had she doubted his worthiness. He’d spent so long punishing himself, trying to prove he was a different man, he’d failed to notice that maybe indeed he had grown into someone worthy of forgiveness. That he could love himself. Maybe it was time to let the past go and try to be happy.

“Then we’ll have to come up with a solution.”

Chapter 29

Wendy

I shut the door to my room on the second floor of the boy’s home. I’d finished helping Ivy put the children to sleep. I shook my head, but a small smile lifted my lips as I thought about John and Michael, some of the worst culprits, keeping the others up with their wild, supposedly “made up,” stories of their adventures in Neverland. It had been a year since I’d brought my brothers and the Lost Boys back. Despite a reluctance to return to the strictures of school, my brothers were otherwise adjusting surprisingly well.

Slowly their memory of their time in London, of their family and me, had returned.

I walked to the large window and unlatched it, pushing it open. An icy breeze blew in, and a few delicate snowflakes landed in my hair. Stepping away from the source of the cold, I settled into a soft chair next to my desk and looked around my living space.

It was modest, with a warm bed and enough room for me to feel comfortable. My desk was the one that I had spilled my inkwell over the night my brothers had played cricket in the house so long ago.

I’d discovered that Uncle Reuben had perished in his fall out the window that evening that Ezra had pushed him. I wasn’t overwrought about this. I was glad Ezra was free. When I’d returned from Neverland, he had gladly turned my childhood home over to me, wanting nothing more to do with it, and had sold his father’s small estate on the outskirts of town to enroll in the college he had always desired to attend.

Hook’s jewels had been enough money for me to convert my home into an orphanage. John and Michael didn’t mind the additions since many of those I took in happened to be the Lost Boys. I’d even been able to hire a couple of women to help me run things, so I didn’t have to be present all the time.

A small smile curved my lips. Ivy had met a nice man and they had started courting. She seemed rather smitten with him. I hoped it worked out for her.

Sitting at my desk, I rested my fingers on the keys of my typewriter. I’d had to learn to type with a missing finger, but after some practice, I hardly noticed the tiny adjustments necessary to make up for it. The London children I’d added to our home enjoyed the stories about Neverland so much that they had demanded I write them down, especially my, John, and Michael’s earlier adventures. I’d even found a publishing house who seemed interested, though they didn’t like my proposed ending. Writing Hook as the actual savior of Neverland. They insisted that wasn’t believable and that I should leave him as the villain.

I sighed. Children would always see him as the dangerous Captain Hook, but I and all of Neverland knew the truth. James Hook was Neverland’s savior.

When my fingers tired, I gathered the papers with the title page on top. The publishing house insisted I use a pen name. For who would ever want to read a story from a woman author?

But I was so much more than a writer.

I glanced at my throwing knives, hanging on my wall in their cases. I didn’t practice with them as often as I used to. My life had become very busy. During the day, my brothers and the orphanage required my attention.

And at night…

“Good evening, Wendy Darling.”

My heart leapt at the sound of his voice. It did every time, like I was some young, smitten schoolgirl. I rose from my chair and turned, a smile on my face. He stood there waiting, his steady gaze on me, his black hair falling in attractive waves across his forehead. His hook curled out from beneath his deep blue captain’s jacket.

“How are you this evening, James Hook?” I’d learned that Hook wasn’t actually his last name. Not his given name, at least, but James insisted that so much time had passed that everyone should continue calling him by what they were used to.

“Very well, love,” he responded. “And yourself?”

I stepped up to him and wrapped my arms around him, nuzzling into his neck. “Wonderful, now that you are here.”

He didn’t come every night, but damn near every other night. We’d managed to find other descendants of Stardust. Thanks to copious family heritage records on my father’s side, I’d discovered others of Stardust’s lineage. It turned out that he possessed many descendants. In fact, we were still tracking them all down. There were more than enough to keep Neverland going. Peter escorted them to the magical land for an evening of fun and excitement. And Hook played the dread captain of the Jolly Roger. But not always. Having other pirates who could pretend to play the part helped.

His arms came around me, holding me close. “You spoil me. I wish everyone were as happy to see me.”

I pulled back to look into his face, eyebrows raised. “Do you?”

He laughed, then kissed me, hard. “No,” he growled in my ear. “I suppose not.”

There was a beauty in change. I hadn’t always thought that, but now I did. It is what gave Hook the chance to become a better man, and for me to realize I was wrong about him. Of throwing off the old parts and becoming someone new. Gratitude filled my chest for my childhood and where it led me to—the adventures in Neverland—no matter how deceived I was at the time. Because it had led me to this point. It had brought me to James.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” I murmured, kissing his jawline and slipping my hands under his shirt.

He chuckled. “I thought we had discussed going to the opera this evening.”

My hand brushed against the brace covering his shoulder. “I think I want to do something else.”

James Hook had an endless number of places he knew of to make love. Already we’d done it on empty beaches and in abandoned coves. We’d even done it once in a rum cellar—although that one hadn’t been planned. But I wasn’t complaining. The nice thing about a land where time stopped was that we could make love however many times we desired without becoming with child.

Maybe in time we’d want a baby or two, but not yet. Between John, Michael, and the orphanage, my hands were full. Once my brothers were grown and off to the boy’s school my parents always wanted them to attend, I’d shutter the orphanage and join Hook in the world where time stood still. And then we could make decisions about whether or not to start a family.

A mischievous smile came to my face as I looked into his forget-me-not eyes. “To Neverland?”

He took my hand and led me to the window. “Second star to the right, Wendy, love.”

“And straight on till morning.”

The End

Thanks for reading Veiled in Stars and Silver! If you enjoyed it, please help the author out by leaving a review on Amazon and Goodreads!

Also, if you would like to read more books by J. Ann Curtis, please check out the first book from her Villain’s Kiss series: Of Curses and Moonlight.

Or read on for a sneak peek!

Of Curses and Moonlight: A Swan Lake Retelling

Sneak Peek

Chapter 1

Odette

A row of swans soared through the sky, their soft white feathers stark against the night. A large uninhabited forest stretched out beneath them, opening to a shallow pond. The moonlight reflected off its glassy surface. As one, they dipped downward, dropping to the clear, calm water, gliding onto it with an elegant ease.

It churned and rippled. Suddenly a row of women in white dresses stood where the swans had once been. Odette felt the cool water lap at her legs. The breeze blew through her thin cotton dress, making her shiver. She stepped up on the grassy shore, the others following close behind.

“He should come tonight,” said Elna, the blackness in her gaze matching the graceful swoop of ebony painted around her eyes. A sign of her cursing. They all had the mark. She handed Odette a knife fashioned out of fishbone and stone and held together with the reeds found near the lake's edge. "You know what to do."

Odette lifted the odd weight into her hands. It wasn't the weapon made of fine steel she was used to, but it was all they had. She would make do.

"And you're sure this will break the curse?" She looked over at Yessly, who danced from foot to foot. That was nothing new. The woman could never stand still.

"The power stems from him. If we kill him, the curse ends and we should be set free," she said.

"Okay." Odette ran a hand over her chest, a part of her worrying that may not be fully true.

A random breeze whipped Elna’s short, cropped hair into her face. She brushed it back with a fierce stroke. "We'll wait here as usual. Call for us when it is done."

Odette bristled at the older woman's command. "I’m aware of the plan. Thank you, Elna," she said dismissively.

Elna's eyes warned her not to mess it up. The other women surrounding them watched, that violent eagerness in their expressions. The yearning to be free, no matter the cost. Odette also felt it. She’d see it through. And avenge her mother's death in the process.

She stepped onto the path that led through the trees to the overgrown pavilion. A light mist curled around her ankles. The handmade knife was slim but sturdy. They had made sure of that. Her thin dress lacked hiding places—a condition of her bondage, and in her bare feet, she consistently felt so vulnerable. Part of her worried about what might happen to them with the approaching winter in only a few months. Odette tucked the weapon in between her breasts, rearranging the fabric to keep it hidden as she walked to meet her captor.

If this worked, there would be no worrying about winter.

The pavilion was old and dilapidated. The greenery of the forest surrounding it was doing its best to fold it into the wilds from which it originally sprung. Flowers blooming off the overgrowth cast a softening air about the scene as if hiding the decaying designs of the woods. She hoped she'd be able to hide her dark intentions just as well tonight. Until it was time to strike.

"Good evening, Odette."

She stiffened at that deep yet soft voice, fighting to keep her hands from balling. How she despised the way he invariably appeared out of nowhere. Slowly, she turned toward the voice’s owner.

Rothbart, the man who had cursed her, stood at the edge of the small clearing wearing a cloak. His hands lifted, and he threw back the hood, revealing his midnight black skin and smooth face. His threatening expression. He was in his mid-twenties. Young for casting one of the most powerful curses known to humanity. His shadowy gaze flashed as he took her in, and his square jaw clenched.

Odette raised her chin. "Rothbart. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?" She added extra spite to her words, knowing if she acted too nice, that would be suspicious.

"I came to ask you if you remember anything new?"

She stepped toward him, holding that black gaze that always sent shivers down her spine. The wicked point of the stone knife dug into her skin, threatening to cut into her if she wasn’t careful.

He was tall, and even though the cloak shrouded his body, she'd seen enough of him on one occasion to know of the toned physique that lay beneath the layers.

"Every time you visit, you ask the same question. And I give you the same answer."

A dangerous impatience crossed his face. "And the others?"

She came closer. "Is this what you'll do? Come and ask us over and over? What do you offer us in return? Our release?"

"You shall never be free."

Odette's eyes widened, a little shocked that he'd said that out loud. "Then tell me, my lord, why should we help you?"

"Because, unlike my curse, you are on a time limit." He pointed to the blue human skull sunk into the skin of her wrist. "Your deal expires in what? Ten months? I hear breaking a skull pact brings quite an excruciating death."

So he'd discovered what the mark meant. Odette fought a grimace. Actually, she had only six months. No matter. Tonight, she'd free herself from the curse and then she’d solve the problem of the mark.

She took yet another step closer to him, letting her hand drift through her dark curls before sliding it down towards her breasts. Rothbart watched the movement, something fierce and hungry stirring in his gaze, mixing with the angry vindictiveness.

"It is not my death you should be worried about," she murmured.

Fury slashed across his face right as she went for the knife and bowled into him. She placed her leg behind him as he stumbled back, and a grunt tore out of him as he hit the ground. Odette jumped, straddling him and pressing the jagged edge of her weapon to his throat.

"Don't be surprised," she hissed. "You had to realize this was coming."

He broke out laughing, startling her. "Indeed, I did. If you kill me, Odette, there will be no way to free you from the curse at all."

She ground her teeth. "You lie."

"Then go ahead." He gripped her wrist, keeping her from retracting her hand, his eyes challenging. "See what your blood lust will cost you." A scorching heat passed through her at his touch, at the warmth of his body radiating up through her thighs that clutched him, and for a moment she was unsure whether rage or desire coursed through her veins.

She let a long breath out between her teeth. “You cast the curse, so killing you should end it.” She recited Yessly’s reasoning.

“Except I placed half of the curse’s anchor inside myself. So if I die, then the anchor will be destroyed and you will be cursed forever.”

She touched her chest. “And you placed the other half inside me.”

He smirked. “That’s right.”

“Meaning only I can break it?”

He didn’t answer. But she took his silence as a confirmation. Yessly had told Odette everything she knew about the swan curse. That it was usually anchored to one person. That the only way to break it was for the cursed one who held the anchor to meet a man willing to vow undying love to her before the world. Obviously, Rothbart didn’t think that was likely to happen. And it wasn’t, as they were trapped out in the woods, miles from any civilization. They could only change into human form when they were on the water of the lake and the moon reflected in its depths. No matter how hard they’d tried, cutting their shoeless feet on sharp stones and pointed twigs, they just couldn’t make it even close to any settlements within a night of traveling.

The taste of disappointment was sour on her tongue.

She was bound to this man against her will.

Rothbart released her hand, and she lifted the knife from his throat. He grabbed her and rolled, pinning her in the grass, his body shoved on top of her. His face was so close, his breath mingled with hers. He glared at her with a searing triumph.

“You don’t think I know how to deal with your kind?” he growled.

He had her arms pinned to her side so she couldn’t move. Odette didn’t struggle. An inkling of guilt raced through her, agreeing that she deserved this. That she was almost glad he’d cursed her. No, she was being dramatic. The sudden pressure of his body on hers and the hatred mixed with desire in his expression muddied her thoughts.

“Now go, my swan,” he murmured, his voice dark, “return to the others and see if there isn’t something one of you might have forgotten to tell me. Your worthless little lives depend on it.”

He released her, standing, taking his pressure and warmth with him. He readjusted his cloak and looked down on her, an arrogant, dismissive air to his movements. Odette glared back, guilt and despair, battling her training that said to just jump up and kill him, to hell with the consequences.

But killing him would only bring damnation. Not freedom.

He turned from her. “You cannot escape your punishment, Odette. I’ll return in a few days to ask you again, and I hope, for your sake, you have a better answer.”

And with that, he vanished into the trees from which he came.

Read more from Of Curses and Moonlight today!

Acknowledgements

Writing and publishing a book is hard work! Part of writing a polished book is having a team of people to help support you and to transform your book into something better than you could make it alone.

With that in mind, I want to thank my critique partner, Rachel for being the first to read through my story and give me feedback.

Another big thanks to my awesome beta readers: Sharlene, Sarah, Kristi, Kelsie and Tiffany

I also wanted to thank my critique group, The Ravenquills, for their detailed feedback, and for being my sounding board, including: Stephanie, Rebecca, Laura, Sarah, Allison, Mandy, Jordan, Diana, Deanna, Cary, Lenore, Michelle, Brooke, Quillen, Mikaela and all the others in that wonderful group.

A special thanks to Rachel at Blue Raven Book Covers for the awesome book cover! And thanks to Beth at Magnolia Editing for her editing job. Also Thanks to Mageonduty for the amazing artwork!

A heartfelt thanks to my awesome family who supported me through this. My husband, who patiently dealt with all the ups and downs a writer goes through and who continues to support me. My mom, who was my first fan and my dad for his loving encouragement. Thanks to my little daughters who make it easy for me to be both a mom and a writer. Finally, thanks to all my other family and friends who have expressed excitement and a desire to read my writing. Your support is invaluable.

About the Author

J. Ann Curtis is an award-winning author who has been making stories up in her head for as long as she can remember. Although she doesn’t play with toys and dolls as much as when she was young, the stories in her mind never left her alone. She is super excited to fulfill the life-long dream of becoming a published author!

Her YA Fantasy debut novel, Lies of the Haven, won best YA Fiction in the state of Nevada through the Indie Authors Project.

When she is not writing, she is reading, spending time with her husband and two amazing daughters.

To learn more about J. Ann Curtis and her writing, you can also check out her website at jacurtisbooks.com or email her at jacurtisbooks@gmail.com.

Also! Sign up for her newsletter to receive a free YA novella, Feud: Arius’s Story, as well as exclusive information about upcoming books!

Books By J. Ann Curtis

Adult Romantasy:

A Dark and Lovely Devastation

Of Curses and Moonlight: A Swan Lake Retelling (The Villain’s Kiss)

Of Seas and Sunsets: A Little Mermaid Retelling (The Villain’s Kiss)

Coming 2024

Of Spindles and Nightfall: A Rumpelstiltskin Retelling (The Villain’s Kiss)

Coming 2024

YA Fantasy Adventure

Lies of the Haven (Faerie Warriors Book 1)

Rise of the Fomori (Faerie Warriors Book 2)

Battle of the Lost Fae (Faerie Warriors Book 3)

Feud: Arius’s Story (Lies of the Haven Prequel Story)

Other:

One Dark Night (Mystery Anthology)

Christmas Across Time Volume 2 (Holiday Anthology)

Take a look at the other books in the Enemies Ever After Set!

Born of Blood and Thorns

Hunted by Wolves and Shadow

Carved in Ice and Glass

Hidden by Fate and Masks

Bound by Wishes and Ruin

Cursed by Seas and Darkness

Trapped by Clocks and Hearts

Spelled by Truth and Tresses

Or visit the website for Enemies Ever After here: www.enemieseverafter.com