Copyright © 2021 by R. L. Davennor
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, 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.
Printed in the United States of America
First Printing, 2021
ISBN 978-1-7351315-3-5 (eBook)
ISBN 978-1-7351315-4-2 (paperback)
Published by Night Muse Press
Cover art by Maria Spada Design
Edited by Emma O’Connell
Proofread by Fantasy Proofs
Contents
I. the docks
II. the thief
III. the lost
IV. the curse
V. the serpent
VI. the crow
VII. the hook
VIII. the night
IX. the tomb
X. the end
epilogue
Author’s Note
About the Author
To all the characters who weren’t ready for their stories to end.
Content Warning
This novel contains graphic depictions of violence and death, disturbing imagery, language, brief mentions of gender dysphoria, and a scene involving suicide. It is intended for a mature adult audience.
Neverland is not as you remember, so proceed at your own risk.
A blackened heart with children four
Three beloved, the last ignored
Dragon, Serpent, Wolf, and Crow
All shall make a deadly foe
Medallions forged, cast in gold
Too precious to be bought or sold
A priceless gift, a piece for each
Except the last, who is no Teach
One to the dragon, breath alight
One to the wolf who howls at night
One to the serpent, quick and cruel
None to the crow—forever the fool.
I. the docks
No one had warned me the sea would smell like shit.
I’d spent my lifetime dreaming of this moment: mist striking my face, wind tousling my locks, and each inhalation of salty air filling me with more energy than oxygen alone ever could. I stood tall, truly seen for the first time, and had nothing to fear but what every sane person did.
The idyllic portrait my head had painted wasn’t this.
The docks were far too crowded, the noise assaulting my ears much too raucous, and the smell… Not shit, I realized, but death and decay, mostly from the baskets of fish left to rot in the sun.
Inwardly, I chastised myself for cursing. If such language came spilling from my lips, Mrs. Hughes would have no qualms about taking the switch to me.
But, I reminded myself, Mrs. Hughes isn’t here.
“Shit,” I muttered under my breath, and waited.
Nothing.
“Shit.” Louder this time. Still no reaction from the grimy folk who shouldered past me—most even fouler-smelling than the fish. “Shit, shit, shit!”
A few raised eyebrows, but no scolding, and that was enough for the giggling to start. I’d just cursed, and for the first time in sixteen years, there wasn’t a soul who would stop me. Who could stop me. Here, I could say whatever I wanted.
Here, I was free.
With that glorious thought front and center, I took off sprinting. Crowds parted as I weaved past the merchants’ stands and toward where the ships were being loaded. My heart skipped a beat at the magnificent sails flapping lazily in the breeze, and glancing excitedly between the vessels, I wondered which would become my new home. Flags in every color hung from the back of every stern—every color except black, that was. Though once abundant both here and in the seas surrounding us, pirates had been driven from the port right around the time of my birth.
I sighed; of course they had. Since the pirate king, Blackbeard, had died, nothing exciting ever happened here.
But the air grew sweeter with every step, and a weight I hadn’t realized I was carrying melted from my shoulders despite the pack slung there. My feet found purchase on the slippery wooden planks, never faltering through my constant dodging of the men carrying supplies. I supposed these orphanage shoes were good for something besides being ugly as sin.
“Oy, watch it, you little wench!”
The burly man appeared out of nowhere, and I ducked just in time—in a way. My foot caught on the ropes hanging from the crates he shouldered, and my attempts to shake free while still in midair failed. I fell on my rear in a heap of soaking wet fabric. As the man glared at me, heat crept to my cheeks. That’s one way to make an impression.
I remembered what he’d called me, and embarrassment was quickly replaced with fury. My reply was harsh and full of venom. “You’ll speak to me with respect, or not at all.”
Tensing, I waited for the inevitable strike. What had just left my lips was definitely not the smartest thing to say to a man whose arm weighed more than I did, but I wouldn’t allow myself to regret it. Today was a fresh start. I refused to let it mean more of the same.
To my relief, he set down the crates before offering me a hand. “Apologies, young miss—ya jus’ took me by surprise.”
Batting away the hand, I stood on my own, fixing my ruined dress and ducking away from his concerned gaze. My moment of defiance broken, the embarrassment had returned with a vengeance. “It’s me who shouldn’t have been running. I haven’t been to, ah… these parts before.”
I looked to the man’s face to see his confusion dissolve.
“I get it now! Didn’ recognize the uniform at first.”
I bit my lip; buying new clothes to replace my orphan getup should have been my first stop. I loathed the powdery blue dress that itched like hell. It had once had a matching bow, but I’d ripped that out at the first opportunity.
“Ya must be terribly lost. It’s a long way back to the orphan—”
“I’m not going back there,” I said too quickly. Clearing my throat, I continued, “What I mean is, they won’t have me. I’ve aged out.”
The man raised an eyebrow. “Ya can’t be a day older than—”
“I’m sixteen today.” I raised my chin. “And perfectly capable of caring for myself.” I’d better be; with nowhere to go and no family, it was one of the many reasons finding a ship was so important.
The others were rooted within me so deeply I wouldn’t be able to pull them out if I tried. For as long as I could remember, I’d been obsessed with anything involving the ocean despite having no apparent ties to it. Before today, I’d never glimpsed any of this, much less lived it—but it had never once stopped me from yearning for the sea.
I wondered if the desperation showed in my eyes when the man held up his hands in surrender. “Suit yerself, lass.” He began packing up his crates, and only then did I notice the inscription stamped upon each one. Fortune’s Favor. My breath hitched; fortune certainly was in my favor today. I hadn’t heard of many ships save for the pirate vessels of legend, but as the largest and grandest to ferry goods into our humble port, everyone knew of this one.
“F-fortune’s Favor,” I stammered. “You sail with her?”
“Aye. What’s it to ya?”
“You know its captain, then. Captain Harlow?” He was no pirate, but I’d heard tales about him all the same.
“
Aye.” The sailor hadn’t even looked up from his work and was nearly prepared to walk away.
I stepped in his path. “Take me to him.”
This earned me another puzzled look, but this time it was coupled with a scoff. “Aren’t ya a bit small to be barkin’ orders?”
I sucked in a breath. “It wasn’t an order. It was a request.”
“Didn’ sound much like one—”
“Please. Take me to your captain, please.”
He chuckled. “And what business does a lass like you have with my captain? He’s a busy man, so ya’d best make it good.”
“I’ll discuss my terms with him, and him alone.” I was pushing it now, I knew, because I had nothing other than what I carried on my back. There was some coin, yes, but the item of most value wasn’t going anywhere: a silver-plated music box, the only thing my mother had left me. It had originally served as collateral, paired with the promise my mother would return for me the moment she got back on her feet. She’d succumbed to disease a month later, and I’d never heard the end of it. ‘Reeked of piracy, she did—likely you’re one of their bastards’ was one of Mrs. Hughes’s favorite slights.
The sailor frowned and wagged a finger, tearing me from my thoughts. “Nice try, lassie, but I ain’t playin’ this game. You’ll tell me yer terms, and then I decide if it’s worth troublin’ my captain about.”
I swallowed. Nothing left to lose. “I… I seek employment.”
I’d kept my dream of sailing the high seas to myself ever since I’d been nicknamed ‘Wayward Wendy,’ but it hadn’t stopped the other children from laughing and making their cruel jokes. It was much more than a childish desire now, though—it was my only hope. Sailors didn’t tend to be picky, from what I’d heard, and didn’t ask questions. If I proved I could pull my weight, I’d be more than worth keeping around.
At least, I hoped so.
The man stared at me, blinking as though I’d spoken in tongues. “A deckhand?”
I nodded eagerly. “I’ll accept whatever the captain offers. That would be a wonderful start.”
“A start?”
“Well, yes, I don’t expect I’d scrub the galleys for the rest of my days—”
“Have ya sailed before?”
I swallowed. “No.”
“Have ya been on a ship before?”
“No, but—”
“Lass,” he sighed, “ships ain’t no place for—”
“A woman can do anything a man can.” I balled my hands into fists; I hadn’t come all this way to be told no by someone who’d reduce my worth down to my sex. “I can clean, I can cook, and I’m a quick learner.”
“Aye, anyone can do such things.” He shouldered his crates, tattooed muscles rippling against the sleeves of his shirt. “And we just happen to have men doin’ em. Step aside.”
I glowered. “No.”
“Lassie, don’t make me force ya—”
Force. My eyes darted to the knife sheathed at his belt. His hands were occupied. Mine weren’t.
My heart threatened to beat out of my chest, but before either of us knew how, I’d snatched the blade from his person, turning his own knife against him. The weapon felt strange in my hands and weighed more than I expected. My arms and voice shook, but my feet were planted firm.
“I told you I learn quickly.”
The man’s expression darkened, and he slammed down the crates with a force that made me flinch. “Drop that before ya hurt yerself.”
“No.” I sucked in a breath at my own audacity, but it was too late to take it back. We were drawing attention, and a small crowd had gathered to watch us. “Take me to your ship. I can pay.” They could have anything but my music box, which they’d take over my dead body.
“Yer coin will be much better spent buyin’ yer life, not passage,” the man growled. Crimson had crept to his cheeks, and his eyes darted to the crowd before settling back on me. “Pay me what ya have, and I won’t call the officers.”
My first threat. I’d expected plenty where I was going, but certainly not before I’d even boarded. Tightening my grip on the blade, I sneered back, fueled by the onlookers goading me on. “Do it. I haven’t laid—”
“There you are.”
A presence appeared at my side, swiftly followed by a gentle hand on my shoulder. Irritated, I shook off the stranger, but froze when I realized it was someone no older than I was—quite possibly even younger.
A boy?
Ignoring my protests, he wrestled the dagger from my grip before handing it back to the man. “Apologies, good sir—my sister isn’t in her right mind.”
“Sister?” I gaped. “What are you—”
“I see that.” The man sheathed his knife, but kept his gaze narrowed in suspicion. “Keep a closer eye on ‘er.”
“Will do,” said the boy. Without so much as a passing glance at me, he snatched the front of my dress and began dragging me away.
Rage unlike anything I had ever felt rose up within me. I’d just disarmed a grown man, won the favor of a crowd, and been about two seconds away from getting what I’d always wanted; in one, this gangly boy had shattered everything. Uncaring that it almost sent him tumbling from the docks and into the ocean, I shoved against his chest, forcing him to release me.
“How dare—”
“That’s a rather odd way of saying ‘thank you.’”
I got my first real look at him. The boy’s thin and lanky frame didn’t match the strength with which he’d manhandled me. Mousy hair stuck out at odd angles, and his eyes, dark and curious, narrowed as he took me in. His clothes were simple and plain: an olive-green shirt paired with brown breeches and boots that laced up to his knees. A dagger hung sheathed at his side. He was slightly taller than me, but had a much younger-looking face, and the combination somehow felt… off. Having grown up alongside countless other children, I was typically able to nail down an age within seconds, but with my self-proclaimed rescuer, I drew a complete blank. It only became more of a mystery the longer I stared.
Unwilling to apologize, I raised my chin before crossing my arms with a huff. “I needed no saving. I had everything under control.”
“Did you, now?” The boy smirked, and just as I’d done, examined me from head to toe. “I heard the commotion you stirred from six stalls down. Despite being rather engrossed in my own mission, I decided I simply had to see what had everyone else so fascinated.”
“Fascinated? I’m not some circus act—”
The boy seemed to drop the pompous façade and grinned. “Oh yeah? You look a right sight to me.”
Shit. I’d nearly forgotten I’d fallen on my ass. My curls hung limp, my dress was wrinkled and torn, and my arms were splattered with mud. Water clung to my skin, and it was difficult to hide my shivering. “I—”
“It’s all right.” He laughed again, but there was no mockery in his tone. “I saw everything. You’re pretty hard to miss.”
I glanced around, suddenly self-conscious at how much I really did stand out. Though the crowd had dispersed, many had kept their eyes on me, some even shaking their heads and whispering gossip. Defeat threatened to choke me; how was I ever going to find a ship now? Word would spread much faster than I could travel, even if I had known this place.
“Are… are you crying?”
The boy reached for me, but I batted his hand away. “No,” I insisted as a tear streaked across my cheek. My tangled emotions were catching up with me, as were the chaotic events of the morning. “I just need—”
“You’re trembling. Come, let’s get you dried off.”
Before I could protest, he took my hand—more gently this time—and led me through the maze of bodies. He was confident and sure, but I was too distracted to wonder how he knew this place so well. We were by far the youngest souls I’d seen out and about since I’d left the
orphanage. I focused on my breathing as well as his firm grasp, secretly grateful we were leaving the worst of the stenches behind.
He helped me onto a barrel once we’d reached a relatively secluded spot away from the busy street. It was quieter here by the water, and the gulls at my back drowned out the voices at the front. I inhaled fresh air, surprised at how much better that alone made me feel.
“Here—take that off.”
Though it contained my music box, I handed him my pack without protest, trading it for a thick blanket he’d swiped from the top of some crates. It was a warm day and I wouldn’t need it for long—just to stave off the chill. The pack remained where I could see it, so my gaze flickered to the boy. I supposed he had saved me from quite a bit of trouble… but why? Had he done this before—come here before? I was a stranger and a nobody as far as he was concerned, and he’d mentioned a mission I had evidently interrupted. He’d abandoned it, whatever it was, to aid me.
I may have faced setbacks, but I wasn’t ready to give up on my search for a ship—not yet. If nothing else, perhaps the boy had answers.
I began with my most pressing question, staring at the face that didn’t seem to match the body to which it belonged. “Who are you?”
“Pan. Peter Pan.” He settled on a wooden plank next to me. It was lower than the barrel, rendering him shorter for the time being. “You?”
“Way… Wendy. Just Wendy.” I swallowed—I’d almost told him my awful nickname. My surname hadn’t mattered in years, so I kept it to myself for now. “Where do you come from, Peter?”
He gestured vaguely eastward, but it was more than enough. If we set off in that direction, it wouldn’t be long before we reached the Forest of Never—its name a warning against ever setting foot in that awful place. A few houses lay between here and there, occupied by those brave enough to battle the monsters that would occasionally emerge from the shadows… or those with nowhere else to go. A chill shot down my spine; it explained the dagger.
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