by Kara Swanson
Something volatile.
“You can’t just leave, Claire. You have to give me your connection to the island. It’s easy—you just transfer that stream of magic to me. Like soaking me in your dust—but something far deeper, more primal than that. Giving up the cord that has always tethered you here.” His voice turns pleading. “Don’t you want to help me? It won’t hurt, and you’ll still have your dust and can stay in Neverland with me.”
I take another step back and look at him. At the way the dark veins writhing up his face seem to darken a bit, at the desperation in his eyes.
I’m not quite sure that giving my brother more power will actually help heal an island that has been shredded by the connection he already has.
A low, dry chuckle fills the air from somewhere behind us.
“I told you she wouldn’t do it.”
In my attention locked so closely on my brother, I hadn’t even heard the footsteps until they crunch through the underbrush behind me. I spin around and see someone stepping out from the rim of trees circling us. The waiflike silhouette that I’d caught sight of before. The woman who glides toward us is so ghostly pale that I wonder if she is mirage from the mist.
Conor shakes his head. “I guess you were right.”
I’m confused as he moves away. The stranger comes closer. Everything about her, from her bony fame to her faded red hair, seems leached of color and sickly.
I instinctively wrench backward, crafting a bit of dust and primed to fly right out of this situation. “Who are you?”
Her pallid green eyes are hollow and look past me toward my brother. “As agreed, we do this my way now. We’ll take her to Skull Rock.”
Yeah, not a fan of that plan. A small wave of dust cascades over my arms, and I start to rise—but before I get very far off the ground, a wrinkled vine shoots up and curls around my ankle, locking me in place. I swivel toward Connor. “What the heck do you think you’re doing? Who is this woman? What’s going on?”
He almost seems mournful as he meets my gaze. “Don’t hurt her too much.”
But he’s not talking to me. He’s talking to her.
The woman’s hollow eyes ignite with a sharp spark. She draws a long, slender knife out of her tattered skirts.
I gasp. “Get back!” I yell and kick at her with my free foot, but Connor twists his hand, and another vine wraps that leg. I’m pulled to the ground, onto my knees.
Pain jolts me, and I lift my head to my brother, eyes beginning to water. “Connor, please—”
But his expression has gone distant. He is no longer even looking at me, just watching the woman, who steps up and lifts her knife. Dark, angry, frenzied dust begins to swirl around me, whipping through my blue cardigan, but the woman doesn’t even seem to notice as flecks sizzle against her shins. She lets the blade hover at my neck. I try to pull away, but she jabs the point close enough to prick my skin, and I freeze. More dust churns, but it’s not burning through the vines fast enough.
She leans in close to whisper, “You may not be ready to comply just yet . . . but you will.”
Then she slams the handle of the knife into my temple, and the world erupts with sparks. I drop to the ground like a ragdoll, head screaming and darkness pulling at me. My brother’s eyes are the last thing I see as I fade into unconsciousness. He stares down at me with an expression as hollow as hers.
Neverland
I wake up screaming.
Jerking upright from where I’m stretched out upon a cold, stony floor, I find that I’m locked inside some kind of cell. The room is carved out of rock, with a few small holes to let in light on one wall, and on the opposite side, a door made of roughly hammered iron is crammed into a rectangular-shaped opening. There’s a bucket and threadbare blanket but nothing else.
Everything about this cell is harsh and cold.
A sob fills my chest.
I lift my hand and watch a few flakes of gold freckle my palm.
Closing my eyes and taking a deep breath, I force down my fear and reach for that hum of magic pulsing through my veins, burrowed in the marrow of my bones. Only this time, it’s not just the warmth of my pixie dust that I sense—it’s the whole island. Neverland’s song. The melody is a faint whisper, a little breathless and afraid, but it swells and dances through my thoughts, whispering, welcome home.
It lets me know that even here, trapped in this cage, I am not helpless.
And I’m not ready to give up that melody just yet.
Pixie dust coats my skin, filling the air and rippling over my body. I rise off the floor and float over the ground. I peer through a small rectangular window at the top of the door. I can just make out the rough shapes of other cells built into the rocky surface. I remember what the woman said—
“We’ll take her to Skull Rock.”
Skull Rock. It’s real. And apparently it doubles as a prison.
The Disney version never showed that.
Although I do think I remember something about Hook trying to chain up the Darling kids and drown them.
I shiver and sink down to sit on the dank floor, back against the curve of the chilled rock. I’m close enough to the door to hopefully be able to hear anyone coming or quickly fly up and peek out the small window again.
I’m not sure how long I’ve been sitting there when my ears perk up at the thud of approaching footsteps. I lightly float up to look out. Connor is leading a small group of people down the narrow hallway toward me. The tall, spindly woman who threatened me with the knife is on his heels, looking every bit as hollow and cold as ever. But behind them is someone more familiar—a certain one-handed pirate. As they all stop in front of my cell, Hook glances between me and the woman who has already drawn a key from her pocket.
Hook offers to open the lock, and my eyebrows rise when, after he has done so, he places a hand on the woman’s back to enter. It’s subtle, but I still catch it.
Interesting . . .
As they lock the door behind them, I hover against the roof at the back of the cell, trying to stay out of their reach. But the ceiling is too low for much protection.
I let out a long sigh, deciding that it’s probably better to reserve my strength. I slide down against the cool rock wall and sit with my knees tucked against my chest, eyes darting between the three of them. “What do you want with me?”
I stiffen as Connor settles against the wall beside me. As if it’s a normal day and he’s just my brother about to discuss the weather. Not like he locked me in the place to begin with.
He’s calmed a bit, although those angry, inky veins still climb across half of his face. A tremor ripples through his body every few seconds, but when he speaks, his voice is cool and collected.
“We are both connected to this island, Claire. You and I—and Peter.” His eyes seem to go darker and then clear. Connor shoots a look at the woman and then continues. “Peter gained his connection by creating this place. This island was his escape. But Neverland is our birthright—we were born here, Claire. Born with our very hearts woven into the fabric of Neverland, and so we share the same connection Peter used to have some control of.”
It’s not new information, but hearing him say it just like that, it sinks in in a different way. I watch my brother closely. “Then do you know who our parents were?”
He nods. “Yes, I discovered that much at least. Once we fix the island—I’ll tell you what I can.” My brother takes a step forward, eagerness humming in his voice. “Oh, there is still so much you don’t know, Claire. Even about yourself. I can’t wait to show you—”
A harsh, loud cough cuts him off, and he glances at the woman. She doesn’t say anything, but her icy stare dominates the room.
I am getting a headache. I turn a fierce glare on the woman. “Who are you? You obviously know things I don’t. What’s so funny?”
Her expression goes blank. Connor puts a hand on my arm. “Claire, I wasn’t entirely honest about why I needed your connection.” But somethi
ng about his touch feels hollow. Even the way he’s sitting is too stiff, despite how casual he’s trying to appear. Like he’s playing a part. “If I can have the full strength of the connection to Neverland, I can change the rules and rewrite the way the island works and stop the decay. But it’s more than changing the island.”
He pauses, then leans in toward me and whispers, “I can erase the memories. Everything that is tearing me apart and bubbling up inside. I can start over, Claire.”
I bite my lip and regard my brother. An eager, hopeful warmth that lights up his face in a way I haven’t seen since I arrived. He almost looks like the little boy I remember.
I desperately want to believe him.
“What memories? How do I know this would really work?” Letting a bit more dust drift from my palms, I use it to leverage back to my feet and lean against the curving stone wall of the cell. “Does it have to be all or can it be just part of my connection? And how do I know that if I did give you some of my connection to the island that it would actually help you?” I press. “What would be the ramifications of losing some of that magic? Would it take away my dust?” As if on cue, a few flecks of pixie dust lift some of my curls from about my shoulders.
The woman speaks for the first time. “Giving up your bond with the island would not affect your natural-born magic, simply your impact on Neverland.”
“How do I know what you’re saying is true?” I narrow my eyes at her. “How can I trust you? I don’t even know who you are. And you almost slit my throat.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
I utter a mock laugh. “You want me to give up my magical connection to the island based off the word of some crazy stranger who knocked me over the head with a knife? No thanks.”
Hook shoots me a cautioning look as he goes over to the woman and puts a hand on her shoulder. She visibly relaxes.
“I think you should tell her, Paige. Tell her why you know more about this island than even Peter does.”
She goes very still, measuring me. When she finally does speak, it’s very slowly, cautiously, as if she’s not sure I even deserve to have a glimpse at the cards she’s playing so close to her chest.
“I was the very first Lost Girl. Long before Wendy ever set foot on this island. Peter doesn’t remember me, but I’ve been here from the very beginning.”
My stomach drops to my toes. No. Way.
Something about her haggard appearance and desperate eyes hits differently now.
“And I know all about the connection to the island because I used to be tethered to Neverland . . .” Her eyes shift. “Before Peter tried to kill me.”
I can’t breathe. “Why would he do that?”
But there’s a strange lurking suspicion as I turn her words over and over in my head. Her icy green eyes start to thaw.
She glances at Hook, and he gives a subtle nod. Her lithe body moves forward. I suddenly realize that while this woman is rather terrifying, I also recognize the fractured, aching expression that bleeds through the cracks in her cold demeanor. It’s the same look Connor and I are both marred with.
This woman has suffered horrible things.
She leans down until she is at eye level with me. Her hair falls over her shoulders, ragged and tangled and a faded red. When she tilts her chin and gives me a weary almost-smile, it suddenly hits me why this woman seems so familiar. Why something about the slight tilt of her shoulders and red hair, the curve of her jawline and hollow expression is so haunting.
She reminds me of someone else.
“My name is Paige,” she says, voice void of emotion. “And I’m Peter Pan’s sister.”
My jaw goes slack.
It’s . . . insane.
Utterly insane.
But this island has been full of surprises.
She watches me closely, as if she expects me to recoil or bombard her with questions. I do nothing. I just sit here, studying her, seeing all the ways she suddenly seems so very much like Peter. And all the ways she is nothing like him. The gauntness that not only shakes her thin form but fills her expression. Until I know why she would lie, I’ll play along.
I clear my throat. “What did Peter do?”
Her head ticks to the side, a hint of surprise in her dull green irises. “You are stronger than you look.” She glances again at Hook, and I get the sense that he’s told her about me. Her expression grows distant. “I came with Peter to this island many, many years ago when we first needed somewhere to escape.”
How could Peter have not remembered he had a sister? That they arrived here together?
I glance at my brother, and he just nods.
Not exactly reassuring.
“James Hocken was one of the first Lost Boys Peter ever brought to the island. He was one of the oldest. If you choose to, you can grow in your own way here. Like the tribal warriors do. And so James and I did. We grew up together, and eventually, that childhood friendship grew into something more.” As Paige continues, the pirate captain gently glides the blunt curve of his hook down her shoulder. My mind is whirling. “James and I fell in love and decided that we wanted more for ourselves than just this island. We wanted a future.”
The wistful smile on her lips shifts into a scowl that makes my blood turn cold. “But of course Peter didn’t want things to change. He hated the thought of losing both James and me. We quarreled and he . . .” Her knuckles turn white. “He attacked James, cutting off his hand and feeding it to that crocodile. Then Peter nearly killed me in his desperation to make us stay.”
There’s iron in her voice and steel in her gaze. “So, forgive me if I’m the first to just assume that you would give up your own power simply because your brother asked for it. I’ve seen family bonds cast aside like chum to be fed to the crocodile.”
I can understand her dissonance, the hurt that fills each word, the way Peter’s selfishness has torn her life apart. And if anything, it reminds me why I had to leave him behind in the first place.
The person Peter Pan always seems to care most about is himself.
But I am not here to talk about Peter.
I am here for my brother.
I’m near exhaustion but take Connor’s hands in mine and look at him. “If I help you, promise me you’ll make them let me go?”
His eyes gleam. “I’ll rip open the door to this cell myself.”
I let out a long breath and glance once again at Paige.
I dart a glance at Hook. “Once I tether Connor fully to the island and he’s able to restore himself and Neverland, I’m done? This is all over? He can come home with me?”
Hook wraps his hand over the handle of his cane and nods, expression dead serious. “Absolutely.”
Paige doesn’t say anything, just watches with those haunting, faded green eyes. So like Peter’s—but hollow and sickly, like a withered flower that’s been kept away from the light for years. And in that moment, I know there is only one choice.
Peter’s selfishness, his determination to keep this world and these people all for himself, exactly how he wanted them, is what got us into this mess in the first place.
Maybe a single selfless act of mine can undo everything that has been shattered.
I look straight into Connor’s eyes. “You will always mean far more to me than any amount of magic or power.”
And it’s true. Because I love my brother.
I take his hand and close my eyes and reach deep into the swell of light and air and hum of magic that beats deep in my chest like a second heart. The tether that I instinctively know how to find. The same pulse that tells me just how sick this island is. How exhausted and twisted and broken it is. Needing to be whole, to be remade.
So, I reach into that deep well of magic, that hum inside of me spreading out like a heartbeat through this whole island. Echoing through Connor, through the beat of his pulse beneath my palms.
And I give that to him.
Give him that tether of magic. That whisper of connection
. I sever the heartbeat of Neverland that I’ve just learned how to hear and let the stream of magic flow away from me and into my brother.
I give the life pulse of the island to Connor Kenton. Let it soak into him like my dust.
And immediately my whole body grows cold. My own pulse slows. My chest tightens, constricts. I watch the pixie dust shimmering and flecking my skin fade, dim, and disappear.
“Wh-what is happening?”
Sharp panic lances through me, and my frantic eyes latch onto Hook and Paige.
But neither of them are looking at me. They’re staring at Connor, who has ripped his hands out of my grasp and risen to his feet. His whole body is pulsing. At first I think it’s with light, but then I realize there’s something eerie about the glow. The thin, dark veins that had spider-webbed up his face grow and spread, faster and faster. They race down his neck, over his shoulders, and across his arms. His skin becomes more and more pallid in between the ragged veins.
Then his blue-tinted skin begins to crack and ripple. Like a mask made of stone that slowly shatters.
It’s like he’s coming apart.
But he doesn’t seem to mind. He throws his head back, taking in a deep breath, and I hear thunder strike overhead.
With a wild smile he raises his arms before Paige and Hook. The pirate captain falters back a step, hand tight on his cane. But Paige is gazing at Connor, beaming.
“It worked!” he exults, and she nods, pride shining from her.
“Yes. We’re so close now.”
I gape up at them, confusion stinging like the tears that are filling my eyes. “What is happening? I thought you said this would help?”
My brother turns toward me, triumphant. “This is helping me, Claire.” He moves closer and leans in. “You’re just not paying close enough attention.”
For a second I think I see his eyes soften. For a shred of a moment his visage seems to waver, pale, cracked skin looking almost fleshlike. Then his eyes shift. Once again, he’s this cracked, charred version of my brother.
He stands again and turns toward the door to the cell.
