Neverland Academy

by Daelynn Quinn

  After Trappe left the kitchen, Belle waited a few seconds and then snuck after him, hooking her flip-flops through her fingers. She had expected, or hoped, to follow her uncle to his office or even his bedroom, but was troubled to find he was headed outside toward the church. Hiding in shadows, she pursued his trail, pausing at the door. She remembered the awful sound it made when it opened. A countdown started in her head. Once she reached one, she pulled the door open, just a hairline crack, and winced at the shriek that echoed in the huge open space. She peeked in, relieved to find the church empty.

  Or at least it appeared that way. Trappe could have been hiding in the pews, behind the altar, in the wings. It was dark inside, only a few sconces lit the hall with an orange glow. Belle crouched as she moved toward the front. She stopped suddenly. The door to the vestry swung open and her uncle stalked out, followed by Father Warren. They scurried behind the wall toward the basement.

  Belle followed, but stopped at the top of the stairs. This was where she had just been earlier in the day, helping Lily to escape. Who could have been down here now?

  It wasn’t Finn—that much she knew. Maybe it was Daphne. If he’d caught her in his office earlier he would’ve had to put her in the room. The thought made Belle simper. But she had to find out, to be sure. Holding her back against the wall as if that would actually keep her from being seen, Belle crept down the stairs silently. She could hear voices just down the hall, speaking in low tones.

  “Where’s the girl?” Belle recognized her uncle’s deep, resonant voice and wondered if he was speaking of Daphne.

  “She is at home now. I s-spoke to her mother. She didn’t tell her what really happened. Y-you’re in the clear, sir.”

  “Still, she is a threat. I think it’s time we get rid of her.”

  “But s-sir, she’s just a girl. And if we kick her out of here, she no doubt go straight t-to the police.”

  “I didn’t say kick her out.”

  “You mean—”

  “I mean accidents can be arranged.”

  Dead silence punched through the air. Nausea swept over Belle when she realized that Trappe was not speaking of Daphne, but he was referring to Lily. Sure, Belle and Lily had had their share of problems in the past, but she could not let something like this happen. Lily needed to leave the academy. Tonight, if possible.

  Just as Belle turned to go, the men began to speak again.

  “The boys are locked up?”

  “Yes, sir,” Father Warren assured. “All five of them.”

  “And the girl has been taken to my quarters. Tonight’s the night my good friend.” Belle could hear the delight take over her uncle’s vocal chords. “We’ve finally got him baited, back up plan in place, and no straggling disciples to aid him in his fearless conquest. Either he’ll become ensnared in our little trap or he’ll succumb to the poison I left him.”

  It had all finally added up. Belle held her breath and cupped her sweat-laced palm to her lips. Something was going to go down tonight and for once, she was not confident the outcome would be good. Not at all. She had to warn Finn. Now.

  ***

  The cellar felt so cold and empty without Daphne or the outcasts. Finn sat in the center of the floor, crossing his legs and weaving the flash drive between his fingers. For the first time since he’d been kicked out of Neverland Academy, he truly felt alone. All those years ago he’d worked so hard to build a group of friends that would be his family, only to have it crushingly taken away. And he’d done it himself. He wanted to blame Daphne, but he still couldn’t. She was right and he was wrong. But he couldn’t take on all that blame himself. He wasn’t ready to face it. He was still a kid and so he would do what a kid would do. He had to blame someone else for now. Someone who truly deserved it. He would blame Trappe. And now Finn held in his fingers the one thing that would destroy his nemesis.

  Finn glanced up at the shelf that held random electronic equipment. Hangman’s laptop was still there. He stared at it intensely as if he could will it to turn itself on just by his own mental stimulation. It’s almost over, he thought. All of the years he spent torturing the headmaster and wretched professors were about to come to an end. For some reason, Finn couldn’t bring himself to finish the job. All he had to do was turn on the computer, plug in the flash drive, find the incriminating files, and send it all to the proper authorities. But something was stopping him.

  Finn felt a great sadness wash over him. He didn’t want his way of life to end. He loved all the pranks and hiding out underground with his gang. He’d imagined this day for years, always picturing this grand celebration with all his friends, his self-made family. But they would not be here to celebrate. Daffy would not be here to celebrate. He was so alone and would have to celebrate that way. Alone.

  Finn had never known depression, never allowed the sensation to enter his mind. But now he knew what it felt like. And he didn’t like it. It was like falling into an endless abyss with nothing to grab hold of to pull himself out. Just continuous falling, with no end in sight. He knew what would make him feel better instantly. Finn stood up and pocketed the flash drive. Then he started off to get a drink.

  ***

  Finn had been indifferent when he strolled casually into the kitchen, not really caring if anyone was around or saw him. Lucky for him the room was empty. He wasted no time picking out the bottles one at a time to find his favorite blue bottle of vodka at the back, the only one that could take away his miseries in no time at all. He pulled out the bottle and held it, stroking its glass side as if it were a kitten. He unscrewed the cap, brought it to his lips, and—

  “Stop!”

  Finn jerked the bottle back and found Belle leaning over the metallic counter, panting like she’d just finished a two-hour marathon. A pair of flip-flops scattered on the floor beside her.

  “Finn . . . don’t . . . drink that!”

  “Belle? What are you . . .” Finn shook his head to clear his rambling thoughts. “Why?”

  “Trappe poisoned it.”

  Finn looked at the bottle, and then sniffed the contents. It smelled normal to him, but when he sniffed again he thought he smelled something bitter, like an old tire or rusted metal.

  “He’s got them,” Belle panted.

  “He’s got who?” Finn dropped the bottle into a nearby sink, allowing the liquid to drizzle out, and approached Belle. “Who does he have?”

  “The boys. Daphne. All of them.”

  “Where?”

  “In the church, I think. But I heard my uncle say that Daphne was in his bedroom. He’s trying to trap you, Finn.”

  Finn’s eyebrows furrowed and a spark in his eyes glared both intense anger and adventurous anticipation. This was the climax he was waiting for. This would be his celebration. He flung the flash drive into Belle’s hand.

  “Take this to Lily right now. Tell her to use the anonymous account to send the info to the chief of police and the editor at the Herald. And Belle—this is important—she has to do it tonight. Like, right now.”

  Belle nodded.

  “Finn, what are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to rescue our friends, of course.”

  ***

  Daphne had resigned to sitting helplessly on the edge of the bed. She didn’t want to—the thought of touching the place where Trappe sleeps disgusted her—but her feet were feeling sore, and she was tired. She was trying relentlessly to stay awake, though her body was fighting her. Outside, the grounds were quiet as the new-moon darkness, well past midnight, blanketed the earth. Daphne’s captor remained in the room, leaning against the wall next to the door. Daphne barely even noticed him any more. Her head rested against the hardwood headboard and her eyelids were weighted with lead. She’d nearly closed them when she heard the door shut. Daphne jerked herself up to her feet.

  “Go,” he said to the leaning man, who swiftly exited the room. Trappe stood there, eying her lecherously. She felt a worm of discomfort wriggle up her spine.
What was he meaning to do with her here? She’d hoped what Finn said about him was untrue, but her instincts told her different.

  Trappe shrugged his suit jacket off, loosened his tie, and opened the buttons on his wrists and neck. He rolled up his sleeves meticulously, as if trying to avoid wrinkles on the cuffs. Daphne wondered how he planned to torture her, because there was no doubt in her mind that’s what he intended to do.

  “Good evening, my dear.” Daphne remained silent. She wanted to appear defiant, and hide the fact that she was so scared she had no words. As he crossed the room, Daphne tensed, only to relax slightly when he stopped at his mini bar to pour himself a drink.

  “Cat got your tongue?” Trappe chuckled, and laughter spread throughout his entire body. “Perhaps a stiff drink would loosen you up. What’s your poison, my dear?”

  Daphne turned her head in defiance once again, refusing to even make eye contact.

  “Oh, don’t pretend to be so sweet and innocent. We both know you are nothing of the sort. Surely, you and Preston enjoyed my rare bottle of Glenfiddich. I was quite miffed at that, but I’m over it. I even left your boyfriend a little gift inside his favorite bottle from the kitchen.”

  Daphne was furious. The last thing she wanted to talk about was Finn.

  “He’s not my boyfr—wait. What did you say?”

  “Oh, the little gift? Yes. I must let you in on this, my proudest moment. You know there is much history to this manor,” Trappe continued as he sat at the foot of the bed. “My ancestors have owned this plantation for generations and everything they owned has been passed down to me. Last week I happened upon a very, very old bottle of cyanide while I was cleaning out my grandfather’s trunk. It was empty and dry, unfortunately. However it gave me a brilliant idea in my efforts to rid myself of that annoying pest. Why hadn’t I thought of it sooner? How else does one rid himself of a pest? Oh, I would have preferred a slow acting poison to make him suffer for all these years of insubordination, but the pesticide I slipped into the bottle will do just fine. He’ll still suffer, but it won’t take much more than a day to finish him off.”

  Daphne gasped. A lump formed in her throat. She tried to swallow it down, but it just wouldn’t budge.

  “Don’t worry, my dear. Once his heart finally stops beating I’ll alert the police. Your kidnapper will be dead and you’ll be free to go home.”

  “He didn’t kidnap me!” Daphne cried.

  “Of course he did,” Trappe said. “Surely you aren’t going to tell them that you simply ran away. What would parents say? What would society say? People do talk, especially the elites your parents surround themselves with. What shame you would bring upon your family and their legacy if such a scandal were to occur.”

  “I can tell them you kidnapped me. And the other boys.” Daphne stood up, proud to have found her voice again. “I know about you and the horrible things you’ve done here.”

  “Exaggerations, my dear. Nothing more than the bitterness of a young man who was just never quite good enough.”

  “I hacked into your computer. I have evidence. I’ll tell them everything.” Daphne raised her chin, refusing to acknowledge that she didn’t have the evidence, nor did she even know what the evidence was.

  Trappe’s glum demeanor suddenly changed. He slammed his glass onto the table, waves of bourbon splashing over the rim. Now he seemed more vicious and primed to attack.

  “No, I don’t think you will,” Trappe hissed. Daphne dropped back down to the bed, her confidence perished. Trappe took a deep breath to redeem his composure. “Otherwise, those poor boys might end up meeting the same fate as your late kidnapper, also administered by he, of course. Are you getting the drift, my dear?”

  Daphne gulped. She hadn’t considered what had happened to the other boys after they’d been captured. She just assumed that they would have found a way to escape. Or that Finn had helped them. Suddenly she felt the enormous weight of their fates bearing down on her shoulders. She couldn’t do that to them.

  “What will you do with the boys if I cooperate?” she asked, barely a whisper.

  “They will be returned to their families in due time.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “They will need some—how shall I put this—schooling on what they have been doing here all these years. It will take some time and resources, but I’m confident in the abilities of my professors.”

  Daphne knew about the professors. They were just as insidious as Trappe. Would they torture the boys? Brainwash them? She didn’t have a choice anymore. As much as she hated what might happen to the boys, death by poison would be much worse. They were her friends and she didn’t want to see their lives cut so short by her own doing. She had to cooperate. Daphne stared down at the floor and nodded.

  “So, I have your cooperation?” Trappe asked.

  Daphne nodded again. “Only if you promise to let them go home.”

  “Of course, my dear.” Daphne was so wrapped up in her own thoughts she hadn’t noticed that Trappe was standing directly in front of her. She cringed as he swept his hand over the back of her head and twirled a lock of her hair in his fingers.

  “It’s about time you get some sleep,” Trappe murmured. He slid his hand under her chin and jerked her face up to meet his. “I can leave you tied up or I can release your bonds, although you will be bound to this room should I do that. The choice is up to you, my dear. You are well aware of the consequences should you choose to disobey.”

  Daphne thought for a moment. If he released her bonds she could sneak out while he slept through the panel behind the bureau. If she could find Finn in time, she had no doubt he could rescue the other boys before Trappe even noticed her gone. She quickly formed some false tears and nodded.

  “Release me. Please,” she begged.

  With an ivory plated pocketknife, Trappe sliced the belt. Daphne rubbed the reddened indentations in her wrists vigorously as she stared at the bureau just a few steps away.

  Trappe hobbled over to the bureau and pulled a small bit of silky fabric from its drawer.

  “Wear this,” he commanded. Daphne stretched the thin baby blue nightgown in front of her. He wanted her to wear this? She looked up at him pleadingly, but he didn’t budge. “Well, you certainly can’t sleep in that!” he snarled, gesturing at her filthy clothes. Slowly she stood and turned to face the wall. She peeked back to see him staring at her as she undressed. She put the nightgown on as quickly as she could and turned back to face him. It only came down to her mid thigh and she felt even more vulnerable than he’d already made her feel. Then she realized that was the whole point.

  “Lie down,” Trappe commanded and Daphne did as she was told, staying above the blanket to ensure a quick getaway. The light switched off and sounds of shuffling crossed the room. She could feel his weight bear down on the other side of the bed though she faced the other way, watching the shadow beyond the bureau. Her stomach turned somersaults and she wished for time to speed up. She couldn’t take it any more. She couldn’t wait for him to go to sleep. Now that Trappe was on the other side of the bed, she knew she could make it to the bureau and get out before he could catch up to her with his gimpy foot.

  Without a moment to spare, Daphne leapt from the bed and dashed for the bureau, tearing it away with such a force that it toppled over and crashed on the floor, spilling shards of broken china. A lightening shock of fear exploded within her as she saw through the darkness that the panel she and Finn had previously used had been boarded over. She tugged feebly at the secured wooden slats.

  Trappe’s hand clamped around her right arm and flung her back to the bed, where she rolled over and landed on her hands and knees on the other side. She stood up just in time to see Trappe pounding toward her with perfect footsteps and no cane. What happened to his limp?

  “You didn’t really think that I would have let that little access tunnel remain accessible, did you?”

  “What happened to your leg? I thought—” />
  “Yes, of course you did. Everyone thought. That was the point, my dear.”

  Daphne flipped herself across the bed before Trappe could reach her and landed with a thud on the other side. Trappe rolled over the bed right behind her. She leapt up and scrambled for the door. While she fumbled clumsily with the lock Trappe grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked, jerking her neck back painfully. She’d managed to unlock the door, but that did her little good now. She grasped at her hair, trying to pull it back to relieve the tiny sharp pinprick pains that spread across her scalp. Daphne twisted and flung her elbow back, connecting with Trappe’s chin. He made a revolting noise that sounded like a pregnant cow giving birth. But his hold on her remained strong.

  Trappe threw Daphne onto the bed and sat atop her stretching her arms over her head to the bedpost. She writhed under his weight and jerked her knee up, landing it in the middle of his back. He grunted and backhanded Daphne across the face. A searing pain shot through her cheek, stunning her momentarily. Trappe almost had her wrists secured against the bedpost when something dark crashed into him from the side of the room. He fell over instantly and Daphne watched as an antique upholstered footstool came to a rest on the floor next to the bed. She traced its line of motion back to where it originated.

  There, in the sliver of light cast from the newly opened door, those raging green eyes appeared to glow.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  This Ends Now

  Seeing daphne like that, bound and helpless with that perverted creep striking her, brought up some deep disturbances that Finn had kept bottled down in the deepest crevices of his mind. He knew how strong-willed Daphne was. She wasn’t a victim, yet Trappe was turning her into one. Just as Trappe had intended to do to Finn all those years ago. Finn had to intervene.

  “This ends now,” Finn growled.

  Since Trappe had been knocked over, his knots remained unfinished, and the ties that secured Daphne’s wrists were loose enough that she was able to slip her hands out with little effort.