Love in Neverland: Book 2 in The Neverland Trilogy

by Heather C. Myers

  She felt a shiver of disgust slide down her spine and she jumped as though she could feel the dreaded tickle take from on her neck, one of the only exposed areas of her body.

  “What’s gotten into you?” Nick asked, though he did not turn around to look at her.

  Magda glared. “Nothing,” she snapped, and while she could not be certain, she was almost positive he was laughing.

  After another ten minutes of stomping over high grass and walking through rocky terrain, Nick stopped so abruptly Magda nearly toppled into him. Luckily, she managed to catch sight of Nick just before he did so, so she was able to right herself before their bodies touched. She softly cleared her throat and looked ahead. There, in the shadows, amongst the tall, thick trees, was a small wooden shack.

  “She lives here?” Magda asked, making sure to keep her voice down. However, she could not keep the disbelief out of her tone if she tried. She could not fathom why anyone would choose to live here.

  “Yes, I do Magdalena,” a voice said from behind her.

  This time, Magda did jump, and before she could stop herself, gripped the cutlass hanging from her waist and unsheathed it, ready to attack. A melodic laugh stopped her.

  She knew that laugh. She had a laugh like that as well. All fairies did.

  "Lizzie."

  Magda blinked once, and then again. She hated to admit it, but her mouth hung open like a donkey's at the sight of her, and she had to take a step back, toward Nick, as though some kind of blow had knocked into her.

  "You know each other?" Nick asked, furrowing his brow. He, too, looked perplexed at the situation, but he did not react as physically as Magda had.

  "I see you've lost your wings as well," Elizabeth remarked, keeping her pale blue eyes focused on Magda rather than Nick. "How interesting that you've ended up under the care of Nicholas Grey though that is a phrase I use lightly. Our dear Nick has a problem with putting others before himself." Her eyes finally flickered over to him for the briefest of glances before fixing back on Magda. "Shall we go inside? I'm brewing tea and I remember cinnamon spice was always your favorite."

  She did not wait for Magda to answer. Instead, she picked up her skirts and proceeded to walk around the dumbfounded couple and into her shack.

  "You drink tea?" Nick asked in utter disbelief under his breath.

  Magda shot him a snide look and kept her mouth shut. Fairies had exceptional hearing and she would not speak out of turn.

  "What are we doing here?" she decided to ask as she walked through the doorway, with Nick following closely behind her.

  "He has not told you?" Elizabeth asked, looking up from the rusted black pot places above a small, cackling fire. Magda flashed back to a memory but brushed it off before she could devote the energy to think on it. "He's here for my blood."

  "You're blood?" Nick asked, aghast. His brown eyes shot Elizabeth a look, as though he had never seen her before, as though he did not know her as well as he had, as he shut the small door behind him. "You're a fairy?!"

  Elizabeth allowed a small smile to touch her face. "I am," she said. "This must come as a shock to you. Truth be told, I had not planned to tell you at all. But seeing Magda at your side... Perhaps you do have a type, after all."

  "A type?" Magda asked, offended.

  "You're a fairy?" Nick asked again. "And you two know each other?"

  Elizabeth laughed again though the proper descriptor was chimed.

  "Sit," she commanded gently. She patted the small couch, standing behind it. If Magda did not know better, Elizabeth looked like a typical housewife, warm and welcoming, completely hospitable. "Let's talk."

  “There is nothing to talk about, really,” Magda said, but she found herself sitting down in the loveseat all the same. Nick took a seat next to her, and because of how small the couch was, their arms were brushing. Magda did not immediately pull her arm away, but she pretended not to notice all the same.

  “Actually,” Lizzie said, tossing her curly red hair over her shoulder, “we have plenty to discuss. I see you are wingless.”

  “We are not friends,” Magda said through gritted teeth. Her entire body was tense, and she wondered if Nick could feel it since they were sitting so close together. “Just because I do not have my wings anymore does not mean you and I are the same. I would never” - She cut herself off, unable to say more.

  Lizzie furrowed her brow. “Because I sell my blood of my own choosing?” she asked. “Please, do not cast judgment on me until you have walked in my shoes.”

  “I have,” Magda said, leaning forward.

  “You have not,” Lizzie snapped. She turned back to the pot and carefully took it off the fire. “You just said because your wings were plucked does not mean we are the same. I was cast out by my family with nothing but the clothes on my back. I had no idea where I was going to go, what I was going to do. Until a boy took me under his wing.”

  “There are no male fairies,” Magda said, her tone droll.

  “It was a turn of phrase. He took me under his wing, let me in. Taught me what I could do with my blood. Showed me just how powerful it was to sell my blood of my own choosing. The type of lifestyle it could afford me.”

  “Yet you live in a shack,” Nick said, his brown eyes rolling up to look at the ceiling. If it rained, she was almost positive Lizzie would have more than one leak on her hands.

  “Who says I live here?” Lizzie said, shooting him a grin. Magda watched as she began to stir the contents cool, keeping her eyes focused on her task at hand. “Just because I brought you here during our little dalliances does not mean this is my place of residence.”

  “You slept with her?” Magda asked, shooting her glare to Nick.

  Nick shrugged.

  “Are you jealous?” Lizzie asked. She took a vial on her table and, with skill Magda did not believe, emptied the exact amount of her potion, and then corked the vial.

  “Absolutely not,” Magda said.

  Lizzie’s smile said she did not believe her.

  “Here.” Lizzie gave Nick the vial. Nick gave her a small pouch of something that tinkled together. Pieces of eight, if Magda had to guess. “It was a pleasure to see you, Nick. As usual. And it was nice to see you, Magda. Come by if you want to make a life for yourself. My door is always open.”

  Nick stood, pocketing the small vile and pulling Magda up with him.

  “You will probably never see me again,” Magda promised. When they reached the door, she stopped and looked back at the fairy. “Who was the boy? That took you under his wing? Who made you into this?”

  Lizzie smiled and looked away. It was the only answer she would give.

  Chapter 9

  James Hook had a beautiful woman in his lap, gyrating to a beat only she could hear, and his thoughts were on something other than the sexuality pooling off of her. She was a young thing, too young to know what to do with her body, too inexperienced to realize he had no interest in her. The Magistrate had requested a meeting with him – demanded being the proper term, but no one corrected The Magistrate – and he could not refuse. No one refused The Magistrate. No one corrected her or doubted her or disagreed with her. She was the Final Word on all things.

  What she really was, was a thorn in Hook’s ass.

  He had been a Viking prince, practically a god in his community. He was a fierce warrior, and if he did not return from battle bathed in his opponent’s blood, he was of the mind that he had failed. Though he never married, he was very attentive to whatever woman he courted for a certain period of time. He knew his father wanted a grandchild – a son to carry the family name – but James was not in the right frame of mind to be a parent. Many of his kin believed reproducing was a blessing – and it was – but Hook wanted to be certain he was ready, both in mind and body, to be able to raise a child the way the child deserved. Before he died, he knew he was not ready.

  He did not like that his new position had him cowering before someone. It did not matter to him that The
Magistrate was a woman; James answered to no one except his gods and his father, and The Magistrate was most certainly not his god. It irked him to be summoned. Probably because he had a sinking feeling she knew of Remy Cutler’s presence in The Neverland.

  And if she knew of Remy’s presence… That would be very, very bad.

  Remy was a hot commodity men would kill for. A prime example was Peter Pan, a man – boy – only loyal to himself who wanted power more than anything else in this world. Remy was the key to power. If one possessed Remy, one possessed all souls here. Not only could he take control of those who had a set destination in the afterlife, but he could take control of those that chose to stay behind.

  Which meant Remy could build an army big enough to overthrow The Magistrate.

  It was why James had taken her in the first place. But instead of using her right away in order to carry out his plan, he had placed the whole thing on pause. Logically, there were certain things that needed to be worked out to ensure nothing went awry. Rumor had it The Creator was looking for a ruler of The Neverland as a whole, someone to rule over souls here – more than just governors at ports with their own fluid rules they made up as they went along. Because The Neverland was becoming more populated, there needed to be some kind of authority. Hook wanted to obtain that authority.

  He had never been able to be chieftain of his settlement while he was alive. Though his father ruled over the people and he was heir to the throne, he never inherited it. It was his one regret in his entire life. He did not even regret not passing his name on to a son. It was the lack of leadership he got to display while alive and breathing that he wanted a second chance at. And Remy would no doubt help him obtain that chance.

  Remy was special, and he needed to know why. If all this position required was a Breather, he would force Nick to do his bidding – or, at least, they could come up with a mutually beneficial compromise. Remy was someone he could not get a good read on, someone he was not sure he could barter with. Certainly he would be able to intimidate her. For some reason, she was uncomfortable when he was around though he made no move to harm or threaten her by any means. In fact, he had to keep himself in check of getting too close to her physically. There were moments he literally had to curl his fingers tightly into fists and dig his fingernails into his palms in order to not touch her.

  He, like every other soul here, was drawn to her. She shined. He simply could not take his eyes off of her. She was beautiful, captivating, a goddess in physical form. He knew she was from a high society, and she cared about her physical appearance and how she presented herself to people, including himself. He admired a woman with self-respect, who carried herself with confidence and determination. But because she did not have access to everything in her beauty regiment, her hair was a little wild, and her face a little more unkempt. He did not think it possible, but he found he liked the unruliness of it.

  He would stare at her no matter what she looked like, he was certain of it.

  Which was not a good thing. If James wanted this power, he had to look at Remy as a means to an end. Things would get complicated should he further their acquaintance to anything more. For this reason, he forced himself to seek out a female companion to help relieve his body of all the tension it had acquired for the past few weeks. Unfortunately, the poor girl in his lap was not assisting the way he hoped she would. For one thing, she was younger than he preferred. She looked more child than woman, and no amount of makeup could hide that. Secondly, she was not graceful in her gestures, and she appeared to be inexperienced in the subtleties of seduction. However, he knew if he returned her without engaging in the act, she would be punished by her employer. Perhaps he could pay her an exuberant amount in exchange for her presence rather than her participation.

  Maybe you should take her, a voice suggested. You need the distraction since Remy is making you feel things you should not feel at all.

  That was true as well. James was not sure why, but he knew Remy was using her feminity to get something from him. What, he did not know, and a part of him did not particularly care. He had never rejected attention from a beautiful woman, as long as the attention came at the opportune time.

  And you think now is an opportune time? the voice snarled, darkly amused. You think now is a good time to be distracted when the very thing you’ve wanted since getting your position of ruler of The Other World is within your grasp? And, to top it all off, the very thing you need in order to acquire rulership of the entire Neverland is the same thing that’s distracting you?

  James shook his head. The voice was right. It did not matter what Remy thought she was doing. He was privy to it, and that was all that mattered. Once he could put into action his next step, he would be better equipped to focus on the girl. For now, the only thing that was important was acquiring souls, building a crew, and taking over The Neverland.

  “She’s not going to be here for a while, you know,” the girl told him, looking up at him with her big eyes and her pouty lips.

  James could feel a stirring within him.

  “I know,” he said and decided it would be best to take her in order to pass the time.

  And to get Remy off of his mind.

  --

  It turned out, Remy was not easily escapable. Throughout the duration of the pillaging, James had been focused. Physical acts of pleasure were the only times he allowed himself the benefit to lose control and just let the moment take him.

  Apparently, that needed to change.

  James had also taught himself that should he ever confuse women, forget a name, or never learn it in the first place, a term of endearment was necessary if he decided to speak at all. Usually, he could get away with grunts and moans and not have to think about what to say. However, his years of experience were completely erased the minute he felt himself at his peak. Instead of biting his tongue or saying something as simple as ‘darling’ or ‘love’, the word that came out of his mouth was damning and entirely inappropriate:

  Remy.

  He could not explain why it happened, only that it felt right at the time. He liked saying her name. He had not been thinking about her during the act – he had not been thinking about anything, really – so there was no reason for him to lose his mind along with his senses. Something like this had never happened to him before, and he did not like it one bit. The girl was nothing short of professional, and said nothing as he finished on her stomach – he did not want some whore to be the father of his child if he could help it. He ensured she had been pleased beforehand, so whoever James wanted to pretend she was, she did not seem to mind. Which was lucky for him.

  “She will see you now.”

  James did not like being surprised. He was good at masking his emotions and did not like being vulnerable. When the whore popped up, James had not even realized she left. He was ashamed to say he jumped a bit, but he did not think she noticed.

  James dressed quickly and made sure he appeared presentable before descending to see The Magistrate. The scrag would be completely empty, but he still kept his eyes out for any person that might overhear their conversation. He was not sure what they would discuss or why he was called here in the first place. As such, he did not want anyone else to know what was going on before he did.

  The Magistrate was already seated in the middle of the empty scrag, at a wooden table. She commanded attention, reeked of elegance, and while she did not dress as such, would have fit in beautifully with current society on earth. Her black hair curled out, and her dark eyes narrowed on him the minute she heard his boots walk down the stairs. She wore a nude colored gown with no corset, leaving little to the imagination. Her fingers danced on the rim of her wine goblet, which was already half full. She was tall – nearly as tall as he was – with long legs she liked to reveal in slits of the skirts of her gowns. Her shoulders were slender, and today, they were left exposed. She wore no jewelry, no accessory to entrap a gaze to a particular place on her body.

  The Ma
gistrate was stunning, and she used that to her advantage.

  When James came to the table, she offered him a smile. It would have been beautiful had it reached her eyes. Because it did not, it looked cunning rather than genuine. She took a sip of her wine without taking her eyes off of James.

  “Girl!” she called. She snapped her finger, and the whore instantly was at James’s side with a goblet filled to the brim with wine. “I take it you enjoyed her?” she asked once the girl disappeared.