by Kara Swanson
He takes a shuddering breath, and a tear trickles down his cheek. I suddenly realize that this is the first time he’s ever admitted any of this. “I didn’t know it, but Paige jumped in after Hook. She was able to get to him and help him crawl away from the slam of the water. But she—” His voice falters. “She couldn’t get out. I made that storm, and I realized while I was off sulking. . . When I got back, the Lost Boys told me she drowned.” He mops at his tears, and his face contorts. “I thought I had killed my own sister, Claire.”
I shake my head. I have no words. The anguish of his voice, his face, turns my heart.
“But it’s not the end of the story,” I finally say.
He lifts red eyes to me. “What?”
“Peter.” I touch his arm gently. “How did she survive?”
He blinks. “I don’t know.”
There’s a shuffle in the water, and Nyssa appears out of the darkness, emerging up against our ledge. Her gaze is on Peter. “I know what happened.”
“You do?”
She gives a single nod. “We found her. We knew you would be angry, and then you would forget. So, as a last show of respect, we thought we would bury her.”
“You—what?”
“Bury her in our graveyards.”
Peter’s tears completely stop. “Your underwater graveyards? The caverns that are at the very edge of Neverland?”
Her round eyes study him. “Yes. Why?”
Peter pauses, lost in thought. “Maybe it’s not actually about Connor after all. Maybe it’s always been her . . .”
“What?” I ask quickly. “What are you thinking?”
He finally turns to me. “The siren graveyards are at the very edge of Neverland, and some of them are literally on the line. It’s the space of magic that separates our island from everything else.”
“Okay . . . so?”
He reaches down to fill his palm with water and lets it slide through his fingers. “I said that Paige was still connected to Neverland when I thought she drowned. And that her connection was severed because I stopped being able to sense her, and her connection shifted to me. But what if that wasn’t what happened? What if the remaining amount of residual magic from her being tethered to Neverland is what brought her back?” His skin is beginning to regain its color, his eyes are beginning to glint. “No longer connected to Neverland, but alive again?”
I gape. “Is that even possible?”
“I don’t know. Maybe? But if so, it means that the island is what is keeping her alive. And if she tries to leave—she might really die this time.”
I gnaw the inside of my cheek, trying to understand. “That’s why she said that she wants Connor to have control of the island so she can leave,” I say slowly. “She’s been trapped here the whole time.”
Peter nods quickly. “Yes, but in order to do that, to disconnect herself, she has to fundamentally change the way the island works. I’m not even sure it’s possible.”
“Okay, okay. But, Peter, how does the siren graveyard play into this? Aren’t they underwater? Even if the island brought her back, wouldn’t she just feel like she was drowning again?”
“I don’t know. But somehow, she’s back, and she needs Connor to help her escape the island.”
Escape. The same thing Connor wants. No wonder she was able to wrap him around her finger.
A shiver crawls over my skin. Paige is desperate and angry. A dangerous combination. My mind goes back to Connor. “If Connor has full control of Neverland now, he should be able to do whatever he wants, right?”
Peter is staring across the water. “It’s not a perfect science, and Connor is abnormal. He’s let the shadows that possess him bleed into Neverland already. I hate to see what he might be like if he can actually erase his own memory. Like I’ve realized, you may be able to erase the things you’ve done”—his voice drops—“but they are still there, boiling beneath the surface.”
A tremor moves through the ledge and skims across the water. The sirens start stirring and hissing.
“What’s going on?” I grab onto Peter as the shaking begins again.
“Connor,” he says grimly. “I think he’s trying to erase his memories—transform it all.”
“Do you think it will work?”
Another earthquake tears through the island, and I see chunks of the clay cliffs beginning to come loose. Peter is crouched, ready to spring into action, as he scans the curve of the lagoon.
“Neverland represses memories in order to keep children young. Innocent and childlike. But Connor”—his voice is terse—“Connor is none of those things. And I’m not sure even this island can fix that.”
The water begins to toss and roil around us, and my heart collapses as I see bits of the sirens’ beautiful lagoon starting to crumble. “What happens if it can’t? What happens if Connor doesn’t get what he wants?”
“I hate to say it”—Peter’s glance at me is sober—“but I think we’re about find out.”
I’m beginning to wonder if it’s safe to be still standing on this ledge, when the entire cliff face rocks. I instinctively dive into the water, and Peter jumps in after me. Nyssa grabs my arm and begins pulling me.
“What do we do?” I gasp at her, bobbing in the cool sea.
But before she can answer, a single scream cuts through the air, echoing through the whole island: “Nooo!”
My frantic gaze crashes with Peter’s, and I see my own fears confirmed in his expression. Connor just realized the island won’t do what he is so desperate for.
This won’t end well.
“Claire!” Peter yells as he tries to push toward me through the crowd of sirens. “Claire, swim!”
Just then, another massive earthquake shunts through the entire lagoon. But this time, it gains momentum, getting worse and worse. I hear a massive cracking sound and look over my shoulder to see a huge crack cutting up the face of the curving wall of the lagoon.
And then the entire island begins to fracture apart. Half of the lagoon splits and begins to collapse into the water. Half of the cliff, just cut loose.
I try to swim away, but the water is thrashing too strongly, and its current tries to pull me back toward the collapsing cliff.
Nyssa and other sirens grab me, but even they are having trouble swimming. Another wall of water surges, and I’m wrenched out of their grasp.
I tumble over and over. The entire Neversea is as angry and violent as Connor. My lungs need air, but I can’t find which way is up. I can’t see Peter.
I can’t see anything.
The world is beginning to go fuzzy. I struggle to swim against the pressure, but I can’t.
If Connor can’t control the island like he wants, and if Paige can’t leave Neverland, what will they do?
And what will the casualties be?
If Peter and I die—who is left to care?
Neverland
The entire blithering island is falling apart.
I bellow at Claire, accidentally downing water as I try to shove through the roiling waves toward her. But then the blasted cliff is collapsing on top of us, and it’s all I can do to duck my head under and swim like a madman. My hands tear through the water as I aim down, trying to plunge deeper and avoid the massive chunks of clay that are cannonballing down at us.
I twist as one piece nicks my heel. Trying to see through the dark depths, I can make out the swish of dozens of siren tails, the sheen of scales and webbed hands, which are all swimming much faster than I am.
But where is Claire?
Panic flares, and I scour the water for her—and another massive piece of clay slams into me from above. I try to push it away, but it’s too large. It’s the tip of a huge portion of the cliff.
And as the cliffside sinks into the water, the clay collapsing on top of me takes me with it. I’m forced downward, its impossible weight on my back. My lungs yearn for air as I’m shoved toward the seafloor, as if the mountain itself has hefted a mighty hand t
o slam me down.
I’m surrounded by darkness and the filter of bubbles across my face. Piercing pressure builds in my ears. I wonder if I’ll sink so far I’ll fall out of the underside of the Neversea and go spinning into space.
And then I hit the seabed so hard I swear I crack a few ribs. Pain spirals across my chest, careening through the bandages on my wounds. My grunt is muffled by the depths of liquid shoving in on me.
At least I didn’t fall out the bottom.
My head pounds. My whole body feels like there is fire racing through my veins. My ears hurt.
So done with pain.
First, stabbed by Connor, and now the entire island is trying to break my back?
Frustration funnels behind the pain. I start to choke on water, and it’s when the metallic taste crawls down my throat that I realize—something is very off with this salty sea. The metallic taste is bitter and thick. I can feel it sapping my strength even as I writhe here, trying to push out from under the portion of cliff.
I try to crane my head upward and hope desperately that perhaps the sirens will swim down here and rescue my sorry hide.
But no such luck. Not that they would anyway. I’m not their favorite chap.
Those slimy tails really can hold a grudge.
But I helped with Claire, so that has to be worth something.
A burning fills the back of my throat. I’m so tired. So tired of constantly being tossed about by these dark tides. I can’t even hear the whisper of Neverland in my blood anymore. It may have been faint these past few months, but it was always there.
And now it’s not. I can’t hear my island anymore.
As that sinks in, really sinks in, I lose all the energy to fight and collapse against the icy seafloor. If I can’t hear Neverland anymore and can’t see Claire and can’t stop Connor as his shadows leak like poison through the island, what is left?
I almost wish I could just pass out, but the pain is too sharp to let me let go just yet.
Groaning, I lift my head one more time, and my vision snags on her. A lithe form, sheathed in glimmering flecks of light, striking toward me with surprising speed and agility. She is part siren, after all.
I hardly have any energy remaining when Claire reaches me. Her eyes are worried, but she manages to conjure a bit of dust under water and uses it to push against the massive chunk of clay.
It actually starts to shift and is enough for her to reach down, grab me, and pull me out.
The world is a blur of water and pressure and pain ratcheting through my chest as I’m dragged upward. Just when my lungs feel like they can’t take any more, I burst out into open, beautiful air.
Once air fills my stinging ribs, my head starts to clear. My eyes burn from the salt as Claire takes me through the water and pushes me up onto something round and coarse. I turn over on my side, coughing up water:
“I’m so done with almost drowning!” I finally splutter.
Her hands are on my chest, gently checking the Nyssa’s bandages. “Peter, are you all right? I thought—I was so worried.”
I blink again and realize that we are sitting on a large tree floating in the water. I prop myself up against the rough bark of one of the branches and manage a groggy nod.
She returns my nod and spits out something—one of the siren’s bubbles. Ah, that’s how she held her breath so well.
“I couldn’t just leave you there.” She shoves her hair back and bites her lip. “And Nyssa said she wouldn’t help. You were so limp when I got to you.”
Before I can answer, there is a strange splash, and for the first time, I really take in my surroundings. We’re bobbing in the Neversea a little ways out from a splintered Neverland that is almost unrecognizable. The lagoon has shifted, split right through the middle, and other cliffs that are visible also have been ravaged by the earthquake. The sea is taking up more ground than ever before, angrily hammering against the side of the island. I’m not sure I want to see what the rest of my dreamland looks like. If the lagoon is split open like this . . . has Connor torn a chasm through the center of Neverland too?
Just the thought makes me shiver, and I sag against the branch at my back, making the whole tree rock. There’s another splash, reminding my distracted brain once again what caught my attention in the first place. Half-fish, half-man creatures circle us. The curve of human torsos taper into sleek tails, and when their heads emerge, big, dark eyes stare up at us.
Mainly at Claire. Any time the fishy blokes glance my way, they look like they want to take a bite out of me. They hiss and show their sharp teeth.
Charmers, the lot of ’em.
Claire seems to have noticed this reaction as well. Although she looks a mite intimidated, she leans over the edge of the floating tree. She’s bold enough to ask the slithering creatures, “What’s wrong?”
A few whispers skim through them, and one of them lifts a hand. Water drips through its webbed fingers, and I can make out something about the sea turning sour.
Claire’s brow creases. “There’s something wrong with the water?”
They bob their heads in confirmation. Nyssa swims forward through the group, diadem gleaming on her forehead. She addresses Claire. “When the island broke apart, something happened to the lifeblood of the sea and the land. Hard to breathe, swim. Like sickness filling our lungs.”
Concern and alarm fill Claire’s face. “Do you think Connor did that too?”
Nyssa shrugs, but I would bet Hook’s treasure on it. Connor’s shadows have always bled into the island, and this time they’re poisoning it.
Claire looks down at Nyssa. “Is that why you wouldn’t help Peter? Was it the water?”
At that, the sirens surrounding Nyssa hiss, and sharp words are tossed back and forth between them. Nyssa sidles a look my way, then turns back to Claire. Her ominously pointed teeth flash. “No. We are not on good terms with the Pan. We only helped him rescue you, but that is where our loyalties end.”
“Why is that?”
Nyssa’s dark eyes shift my way. “Because he stole you away from us.”
Then she hisses at me.
Rude.
I grunt. “You should tell her the whole truth, y’big water lizard.”
My chest is burning with each breath, but I refuse to let the sirens have any idea how much blasted pain I’m really in. Not about to show weakness when they’re circling us like I’m their favorite snack.
Claire’s glance darts between us. “What . . . truth?”
Nyssa’s tail swishes, and she hisses at me again. I make a feeble attempt to pretend my body is not falling apart on me. “Just tell her, you coward.”
Nyssa almost looks as if she’d like to drag me under the water and deal with me there.
She glances back at the other sirens. “We may not have been entirely without blame in the situation.”
“Explain,” Claire orders. She’s obviously aware of their behavior regarding her.
Nyssa swims to Claire but doesn’t look up at her. “Long ago, one of our kind fell in love with a pixie. This was very frowned upon, but they were desperate to be together, so he traded in his tail for legs, and she gave up her wings to match him in height.” Nyssa pauses to pull back a long strand of her dark hair.
Claire braces her bare feet against the worn bark. “I know that much.”
Nyssa nods. Her gills flex against her neck. “Yes, and, as I said, this was not well received. The pixies were shocked, and my people were . . . enraged.”
Claire visibly gulps.
“Pixies are frail creatures, and my people were not pleased with what had happened. Especially when the pixie gave birth. Many said it was a breach of the natural order.” Nyssa grows quiet, and in my mind’s eye, the memory sparks to life.
I remember a woman with Claire’s long golden hair and laugh lines that would crinkle whenever she looked down at the tiny babies in her arms. I hadn’t known her well, Marigold, but she had seemed nice enough. And gutsy, to d
efy both cultures the way she had.
But it came back to bite her.
“Poison,” I croak out.
“What?” Claire’s voice is pitched high in surprise.
Nyssa moves with unease as she scrapes a clawed hand against the side of the tree bark. “We are not proud of it.”
Claire goes very, very still. She narrows her gaze on Nyssa. When she speaks, her voice is icy. “What did you do?”
I’ve never seen a siren look so nervous as Nyssa does in that moment. She licks her gray lips. “We poisoned her. It was a small amount only meant to teach her a lesson, but she was too frail to fight it. She died when you were a few weeks old.”
Claire’s face is frozen. “And my father?”
Nyssa releases her hold on the tree, sliding silently back into the water, only her head visible. Her voice is almost inaudible. “He went nearly mad with grief. And he blamed us. Rightly.”
There’s so much guilt in her words it catches me off guard. “He tried to attack us, but he was without a tail and so no match for us. He drowned in the fight.”
Claire goes white as a ghost. Stares at the sirens.
She jumps to her feet, rocking the tree. Dark, furious dust leaks from her skin. “You are all hypocrites! You blame Peter for taking us away, but all this time you knew that you took away the only family Connor and I had.”
Nyssa shrinks back.
Claire seethes with devastation and rage. Her ashen dust continues to flow out from her, scattering across the water, pushing back the sirens. Although warranted, the quick shift from curious and awed to angry and raging just reminds me again that this girl has both the quickly consuming emotions of the pixies and the pool of rage that makes the sirens so dangerous.
Her eyes narrow on Nyssa. “I felt so horrible about Connor poisoning the water. I wanted to do something to help save you.”
Angry tears streak down her face. “But you didn’t save me! You didn’t do anything. Not when my mother was poisoned, not when my father was broken, not when I was trapped in that rock for days. Weeks!” She throws the word at them. She’s shaking now, trying to rein in her anger and dust. “I’m done with this whole island. It’s nothing but a nightmare!”
