She could see it so vividly that it made her shudder. His unseeing eyes. His hair fanning out around his noble features. She tried not to think about it. She remembered instead how strong and safe his arms felt, catching her out of the air as she fell. She remembered the green scent of him, almost as though he were right there with her. But her mind kept returning to the same image. His body sinking through the water. His hair fanning out against the sky—no, the sea …
Wait … what?
Catching a hint of movement out of the corner of her eye, she turned—to discover Peter hovering in the air beside her, his body almost horizontal, his head tilted to one side, watching her, his hair falling below, rippling in the air, very much like it had in her imagination.
“Hullo,” he said.
“Peter!” she cried. “You’re all right!” Her first instinct was to try to hug him but immediately she thought of his ship and his crew. They weren’t out of danger yet. “Oh! But your ship! Hook’s coming for you! You have to leave!” The words poured out in a jumble as she fished in her pocket for the thimble.
“Don’t worry,” he said before she could finish. “The ship isn’t here.” He grinned when he said it, with his usual fair measure of smugness, but somehow that didn’t bother her so much right this second.
“It isn’t? Oh, thank goodness! But how? I thought … that is, I was afraid …”
“The ship doesn’t need magic to sail, of course. Curly and Tink and the rest are safely out to sea. I only came back for my kiss.”
“I … what?”
“My kiss.” He set both feet on the ground and held out his hand expectantly. “Why did you take it? Tink said you stole it and sent Hook to kill us, but I knew you would never do that. The boys and I all stood up for you. I said it was so we wouldn’t leave without you. But all you had to do was ask, you know. I can’t wait to tell Tink you came back to warn us. That’ll show her!”
“Well, of course I came back to warn you,” Wendy said. “As soon as I heard what Hook was planning to do, I came as quickly as I could!” It was the truth, even if it wasn’t the entire truth. She pulled the thimble from her pocket and handed it over.
“I know.” Peter smiled at her fondly. “I’ve been watching you since Canterbury. That was quite the galloping adventure! Not as good as flying, mind you, but still.”
“You let me ride all that way, not knowing whether you were dead or alive? That’s awful!”
“I wasn’t sure you cared,” he said, his voice turning dark. “For all I knew, you were racing to join Hook’s ship. You just missed him, by the way.”
“Well, I wasn’t,” she said, tilting her chin up and gazing defiantly into his eyes.
“I know,” he said, his voice softening again. “I heard you talking to the other man. ‘You have saved more than one life this night.’ You were riding to warn me, to protect my crew.”
“Yes,” she said. And then, more to herself as she realized the truth of it, “In fact, I’m going to be in a good bit of trouble when he doesn’t find you.”
“Really? Why?”
Because I swore to him that you would be there for his massacre, she thought, cringing at the way it sounded, even in her own mind.
“Because he wants to find your ship,” she blurted out instead. It was probably too much of the truth, and she knew it as soon as she had said it. But still, it seemed better than telling him the whole truth. This web of lies was getting far too complicated. “He said the only way he would release us is if we found either your ship or your island for him.”
“But you’re free already,” Peter pointed out, frowning in confusion.
“He’s holding some friends of mine at his estate,” she explained. “I have to go back.”
“To rescue them!” Peter exclaimed. “That would be a grand adventure! I’ll help you!”
“No!” Wendy protested, perhaps a bit too quickly. “I mean, it doesn’t work that way.”
“But that’s exactly how prisons work,” Peter objected, cocking his head at her quizzically. “One person holds another person in prison. Then the prisoner and his or her friends try to break them out. That’s the whole point of the game.”
“It isn’t a game,” Wendy said.
“It is on my island.”
“Well, it isn’t in England.”
Peter regarded her quietly for a long moment.
“Then perhaps this will help you,” he said finally. He reached into a small pouch that hung from his belt and withdrew a flat, round metal object, holding it out to her on the palm of his hand.
“A pocket watch?” she asked.
“Open it,” he told her.
She took it carefully and did so, revealing a compass needle under glass, suspended above a faintly glowing outline of an irregular shape—a shape that looked very much like it could be the outline of an island. But because she was standing by the cliffs of Dover, she had a perfectly clear understanding of where north was, and it was equally clear that the compass was not pointing toward the north at all.
“It’s magnificent!” she exclaimed, her voice reflecting her amazement. “Is that your island?”
“We call it Neverland,” he confirmed. “And this will take you there. Whenever you want to go.”
“Neverland,” Wendy whispered. Even its name sounded magical. She looked up from the compass into his eyes. “But … but I just told you I’d have to give this to Hook. So he’ll let my friends go. Why would you give it to me?”
Peter grinned wickedly. “Ha! I’d love to see the look on his face! You can give it to him if you like, but it won’t work. It’s a trick. See? Open it and hold it just like that. Show it to him. Then close it and give it to him. You and your friends will go free. But when he opens it again, it won’t work. It will never work for him.
“Or,” he continued, “you can keep it for yourself and use it to find me. It will work for you, obviously. I would very much like it if you came to find me.” He smiled at her again, but it was a very different sort of smile this time. Wendy thought he might be about to thimble her, and she took a quick step back before she could find out.
“Thank you,” was all she could think to say.
“Keep it and come find me,” he said, shrugging a little. “Or give it to Hook for your freedom, and then I’ll find you. Either way, we’ll see each other again soon, the Wendy.” And with that, he snapped his wings wide and flew away.
ook stood on the deck of his ship, a spyglass clutched in his good left hand as he stared out to sea. Normally he would have enjoyed the feel of the ship swaying gently beneath his feet after so many long weeks ashore, but even the spring breeze that filled the sails was doing nothing for his disposition. The ship had just passed Dover Castle, and there was no sign of Pan. He had the sinking feeling that the Darling woman was toying with him. Again. If there was one thing he hated, it was being played for a fool.
What was her game? Had she told him the truth? Was Pan almost within his grasp—his elusive ship about to appear on the horizon if Hook sailed just a little bit farther? Or was that what she wanted him to think, sending him off on a wild goose chase so she could put some devious scheme into play back at his estate?
But that didn’t make any sense. She hadn’t wanted to go back to the estate at all. That much had been clear enough. She had honestly expected him to send her back here, to Dover Castle, on the strength of her word alone.
Ha! At least he hadn’t fallen for that!
Hook was just lowering the glass when he heard the strangest sound. It wasn’t that the noise itself was strange, but the context of it was certainly peculiar. He could not for the life of him think of anything that would make a sound like jingling bells here, in the open air over the middle of the straits.
He turned toward the delicate chimes and saw a flash of gold in the sky. A bird, was it? But it was far too bright to be a goldfinch. It was more the sort of color one would find in the tropics, he thought.
C
urious, he lifted the glass to his eye once more, but the tiny creature kept flitting just out of view. Was it a hummingbird? It certainly flew like a hummingbird. He followed it as best he could until the scene in the glass suddenly brought him up short, all thoughts of the hummingbird forgotten.
Wendy! Here, at Dover Castle!
How on earth had she gotten here? He had no idea how she could have managed it, but there she was nonetheless, the sunrise dancing over her hair like a fiery halo as she took a delicate step back from …
In that very moment, the man she had been speaking with turned his full profile to the sea, sprouted a pair of wings, and leaped into the air.
The growl that burst from Hook’s chest turned into a full-throated battle cry by the time he got to the end of it: “Peter PAN!”
His well-trained crew had their weapons raised and ready to fire before he had even finished yelling, but they saw no sign of an enemy ship.
“Where, Captain?”
“Where is the Fourteenth?” Hook howled, watching helplessly as Pan flew away. “What is their useless diviner doing? WHY AREN’T THEY AFTER HIM?”
“Shall we follow him, Captain?”
But it was clear that the ship held no hope of chasing the flying man across the skies.
“No!” Hook barked. He took a moment to compose himself, continuing in calmer tones, but the fierce light in his eyes never dimmed. “No. Take me to the castle. They will answer for their failure.”
His eyes narrowed further still.
“And she will answer for her treachery.”
Wendy, on the other hand, was having a perfectly lovely morning.
After ensuring that Pan and his crew were safe, she had enjoyed a boisterous reunion with her platoon—and especially with poor Reginald, who had come to understand that he owed Wendy his life, even if he was a bit fuzzy on the details. She had dined in the castle mess with the others and then retired to John’s office, which remained largely unchanged despite its temporary substitution of occupants.
The new lieutenant in charge of the platoon, a man named Stratton, was out in Dover with his wife, who was also the platoon’s diviner. Mrs. Stratton had a tremendous fondness for pear-and-apricot tarts, and she encouraged her husband to escort her to market at dawn every morning for the very first batch from her favorite bakery.
They always left the platoon’s dog behind when they went on these excursions, but old Jollyboy hadn’t been able to smell a thing in over three years. He was mostly blind now and could hardly walk, and he should have been retired years ago, only no one had ever thought to do it since he wasn’t on the payroll. Even now, on this crisp spring morning, he was sound asleep, draped across Wendy’s feet as she sat at his master’s desk trying to decide exactly how to word her report.
It is a well-known fact that one should never lie. Especially not to a superior officer. And very especially never ever to a superior officer in a written document. But Wendy was going to have to do exactly that. For one thing, she wasn’t about to betray Monsieur Dumas—not under any circumstances. And she didn’t want to get herself into trouble either. At least not if she could help it. So she couldn’t admit she had tried to save Peter’s life.
But Peter hadn’t needed any help on that account, so she hadn’t really done anything wrong, had she? She had only been willing to do something wrong, which was not the same thing. She wished she could have talked the entire matter over with one of the dogs, but Jollyboy was the only one present and he couldn’t stay awake for it. (She wasn’t even sure he could hear her anyway.)
Which is why she still hadn’t written a single word when Hook himself burst through the office door.
“Miss Darling.” His voice was controlled, but there was a spark in his eyes that threatened to light a wildfire beneath her feet.
“Captain,” was all she said. She was glad to be sitting behind the desk. It suddenly felt safer than the alternative.
Hook paced back and forth across the center of the room, eyeing her all the while. A panther sizing up his prey. His glorious hair was tied back at the nape of his neck, but the wind and the movement of the ship had worked it loose so that various tendrils had escaped to float about his face, further enhancing the look of a man living outside of civilization—in a dark and wild place.
He wanted to make her nervous. He wanted her to blurt out the truth under the pressure of his gaze, his strength, his obvious agitation. But she said nothing. She only watched him. Was he the panther stalking his prey? Or was she the hunter lying in wait for him?
“I ordered you to return to my estate,” he said finally.
“Yes, Captain. And I did.”
“The implication, Miss Darling,” he said immediately, “was that you were to stay there.”
“It … it couldn’t be helped,” she replied.
“I see.” Hook stopped pacing to glare at her more directly. “And I suppose you’re going to tell me you were kidnapped. Again.”
He said it in a tone that implied very clearly he did not believe this at all, but it occurred to Wendy, upon hearing it, that this explanation would solve both of her problems at once. It would explain how she got to Dover Castle so quickly without involving Monsieur Dumas in the slightest, and it would explain what she was doing here in the first place.
“Well yes, Captain,” she replied. “Despite your obvious skepticism, that is precisely what happened. Peter came to find me and carried me here.”
“Entirely against your will,” Hook said, taunting her.
“Of course not,” she told him, thinking quickly. “You wanted me to get information, did you not? Specifically, the location of his island. That is what you had originally asked for, and I assumed that information would still interest you. I don’t know of any way to do that without interacting with him. If he has to carry me about for me to accomplish my mission, then so be it.”
“And I suppose he forced you to dress like a man while he was at it.”
Wendy was so comfortable wearing her pants and boots after riding through the night that she had forgotten about them entirely.
“What, this?” she replied, trying to sound as innocent as possible. “Did you suppose I trained in swordsmanship while wearing a dress? I was out on the lawn completing my exercises when he dove in from the sky and snatched me away. I can’t help what I was wearing at the time.”
“And he flew you to Dover Castle.”
“Yes.”
“At a time when there was no diviner present to notice his arrival.”
This one was easier to answer. “Well for heaven’s sake, that certainly had nothing to do with me. It isn’t my fault if the new diviner likes fresh-baked pastries. I didn’t tell her to leave her post.”
“Then how did Pan know she was away?”
“I’m sure I have no idea. He’s probably watching the castle. Learning the habits of the platoon. When I was here, I did my job.”
In two long strides, Hook was at the desk. He slammed his good left hand down in its center, fingers splayed wide, and leaned forward across the wood. “If Pan wants you here,” he shouted, “then it is the last place I want you. You will never come back to this platoon! Never!”
It took every ounce of Wendy’s self-discipline not to shove her chair back away from him and leap to her feet, but she didn’t budge. Instead, she held his gaze steadily while she reached behind her, fishing Peter’s strange device out of the pocket of her riding coat, which was hanging across the back of her chair.
“There is a better use for me now anyway, I think,” she said calmly, and she slid the strange compass toward him across the surface of the desk.
“What’s this?” he demanded.
He would have had to take it in his left hand, which he was still leaning on in a highly intimidating way, so he left the item where it was, leaving her to demonstrate. She opened the device and pulled her hands back from it.
“A compass? It’s small, to be sure,” he admitted. “The
smallest I’ve ever seen. But what does it have to do with anything?”
“It isn’t a normal compass,” Wendy replied. She picked it up in her hands, and the needle swung away from north as a glow began to emanate from the island-shaped outline behind it. “It doesn’t point toward north when I hold it. It points toward the everlost island.”
When it first started glowing, Hook jerked away from it in surprise, but then he leaned in to try to see it more closely. He finally stood upright and plucked it out of her hands with a grunt to study it. It went dark immediately, and the needle spun back to the north.
“It only works for me,” Wendy said quietly.
“What trickery is this?” Hook demanded, but she leaned forward gently, reaching across the desk for it. When he handed it to her, reluctantly, it lit up again, and the needle swung away from north once more.
“It isn’t trickery,” she replied. “It’s magic.”
ow did you say it worked?”
Sir William paced back and forth in Hook’s office while Hook remained seated at his desk, unusually subdued.
“It didn’t work. I’m telling you, it was a trick.” Hook leaned back in his chair, waving his steel appendage in dismissal. “The investigator’s report will say the same thing, and we’re all going to look foolish for cloistering the man away over nothing.”
“It wasn’t nothing,” Sir William protested. “Even if it’s just a compass, it’s the most unusual one I’ve ever seen. We can’t admit where it came from, and I don’t want the entire Royal Society asking questions. Better to have him look into it here.”
“Hmph,” Hook grunted. “I suppose you’re right. Besides, we can keep a better eye on the Darling girl here too. I can’t even imagine unleashing her on Somerset House.”
Sir William snorted. “‘The darling girl,’” he repeated. “If you’re not careful, I might start thinking that engagement of yours is more than just a ruse.”
The Wendy Page 19
