I grinned back, though a voice in the back of my head was screaming—something about my wrist. And something about pain. Lots of pain.
But I didn’t have time to listen to it, so I squashed it down to a faint whimper.
I had pixies to pummel and braves to break.
Chapter 16
The Fae natives soared down into the sailors in droves, impaling the less fortunate with their spears. Alucard and I took off towards the fighting the instant he finished winding the barbed wire around the thicker end of my bat, but we got caught up in a swarm of insects—outfitted with pulsing neon lights dancing in front of our eyes—before we could get close. I held up my hand, trying to wave them off, and it came away bloody.
“What the hell?” I hissed, stumbling backwards.
“This is not your fight,” a tiny voice declared, less than an inch from my ear, like the buzz of a bee. I ducked away instinctively, heart racing. The pixie who’d spoken was as tall as my index finger, but proportionately sound—she was a leggy blonde with a short, feathered haircut that her kind had made famous, sporting a lot of black leather. She was also pink. Bubble gum pink, emitting a soft, rosy glow. I looked around and realized all the lights I’d noticed out in the fog had belonged to pixies; they hovered above our heads like technicolor stars. I noticed a few were pointedly staying away from Alucard, looking a little singed, which made me laugh.
“What’s so funny?” the pink pixie asked, her voice dripping with derision.
“You, thinkin’ just because it isn’t me fight, that I’ll stay out of it,” I said. I swung my bat at her, as quick as I could, going for speed as opposed to power. She danced out of reach, screeching. The rest of the pixies began swirling about our heads, preparing to strike. “Alucard, light ‘em up!” I yelled, then ducked for cover.
“That’s not how my power works,” Alucard said, leaving me hunkering down like an idiot, watching the pixies with narrowed eyes. I frowned. I wasn’t sure how I knew, but I was certain he was wrong. As I stared up at the distracted vampire, his wild side on display, I realized he had no idea what he was.
And yet, somehow, I did.
Alucard was a Daywalker, sure, but the truth was that was more of a side effect than anything else—a symptom, you might call it. The fact remained that—no matter how dissimilar he was from his kin—Alucard was still a vampire. Nothing could change his nature. Other vampires, however, survived by consuming blood, using the lifeforce found in it to fuel themselves. But theirs was a liquid diet, no pun intended. Alucard’s diet, on the other hand, had evolved; he fed on the energy nature provided, drawing in sunlight and converting it to power. In fact, his wild side was so dominant it burned the very air. But this was Fae air. The natural energy here was inherently less predictable, certainly, but also a hell of a lot more volatile. Powerful.
Powerful enough to be used.
I shuffled across the deck as the pixies launched an offensive, slicing at me with their slivers of bone. Except to shield my face with my arms, I largely ignored them. Alucard swatted several away, and they buzzed off, trailing smoke. I managed to reach him, at last, and took his hand in mine. His back arched, eyes fluttering in shock at the energy that passed between us, as if feeling it for the first time. I basked in it, his warmth washing over me like sunlight. I snapped my fingers in front of his face to get his attention. He blinked at me, close enough to kiss. “Have ye ever seen someone breathe fire?” I asked.
Kill first, kiss later.
Priorities.
Alucard snorted. “Sure,” he replied, “my daughters are dragons.”
Okay. Processing that later. “Fair enough,” I said, spinning Alucard around to face the horde of pixies, most of whom had drifted away, content to leave us be so long as we didn’t make a move towards the skirmishers. “Whatever ye do, don’t t’ink about it too hard. Just do as I say. First, take a deep breath.”
Alucard did, sucking in a lungful of air, his cheeks bulging.
“And now let it out,” I whispered. “Hard.”
Alucard blew. Gouts of flame burst from between his lips, his power finding the currents of natural energy in the air and riding them, spewing jets of fire through the air, arcing out to tear into the pixies. Several of them screamed in agony, consumed by the blaze, falling to the deck like fireflies from Hell. Those who didn’t end up smoldering on the deck fled, flying away as fast as they could.
All except one—the pink pixie. She dipped and dodged, pirouetting to avoid each tendril of flame, dancing closer, her tiny bone daggers dripping with my blood. Alucard finally ran out of breath and stumbled a little, woozy on his feet after exerting that much energy. I helped keep him upright—steadying him with one hand on his shoulder—until he was ready to stand on his own.
“How did you know I could do that?” he asked, panting.
“I just did,” I replied, shrugging.
The answer seemed to satisfy him.
“Why are you helping them?” the pink pixie screamed, her voice no longer full of disdain, but full of rage. “Do you know what they’ve done?”
“Who are ye?” I demanded, jabbing the end of my bat towards her. She fluttered away, eyeing the barbed wire on my bat with disgust.
“That’s none of your business,” she said.
I considered that, then nodded. “You’re probably right. Fine, ye wee, nameless sprite…time to die.” I began swinging at her, casually, swiping slow and steady, causing her to flit about. I could tell she didn’t want to fight us, not with Alucard standing nearby; he could light her up like a match if she wasn’t careful.
“Alright, I’ll tell you!” she yelled. “But you have to promise not to help Hook,” she added, staring at Alucard as if imploring Death himself not to intervene.
I lowered the bat, scowling. Was I not scary enough to warrant a condition? “That’s not how this works, sprite,” I spat.
“Tinkerbell,” she said, glaring at me. “My name is Tinkerbell. And I’m not a sprite!”
“Cher,” Alucard drawled, the faintest hint of his usual self peeking through, “I don’t know if I can handle any more of this storybook shit.”
I grimaced. He was right; this was pretty insane. Captain Hook. Tiger Lily. Neverland. And now Tinkerbell. It was like we’d wandered into a story, except—looking around at all the violence, the braves and the sailors cutting each other to pieces, their blood seeping into the deck—it certainly wasn’t a children’s story. I shook that off, including the nagging sensation that I was forgetting something. Something important.
Survival—that’s what mattered now.
“Alright, Tinkerbell,” I said, “how about ye tell us what’s goin’ on? Why are ye and Tiger Lily attackin’ Hook and his crew?”
Tinkerbell’s eyes narrowed, and her dainty mouth hung open. “You can’t seriously mean you’re fighting for Hook without even knowing why?”
“Just answer me question,” I demanded, “or me friend will roast ye alive. I’ve never eaten pixie before, but I’m willin’ to bet ye taste like chicken.”
“What’s chicken?” Tinkerbell asked, brow furrowed.
“Nevermind that,” I snarled. “Answers, now!”
Tinkerbell clenched her teeth. “We had a truce. Hook stayed on his side of the island, and we stayed on ours. No more fighting. But this morning, one of our scouts saw the Jolly Roger sailing the clouds over the mountains, preparing to cross into our territory. Preparing to attack us. So, Tiger Lily decided to strike first.”
I started to put the pieces together, doing my best to shut out the sounds of sailors and Faelings dying behind us. From what Ryan had said, he’d recruited Hook to join Oberon’s fleet. That was why Hook was sailing across the island. Hook wasn’t planning an attack…he was leaving. Tiger Lily’s reaction, while perfectly natural, was based on a false assumption. Unfortunately, her reaction was going to get a lot of her braves and Hook’s sailors killed.
“We need to stop this,” I said, turning to A
lucard.
“That’s not our job,” Alucard replied. “And definitely not what we came here to do.”
I scowled at him. Why had we come? I tried to remember, but couldn’t. I shook my head, realizing it didn’t matter. We were needed now. I wasn’t sure why, but I knew I didn’t want either side shedding any more blood—human or Fae. Especially not over a simple misunderstanding. “I don’t care,” I replied, finally. “This is wrong.”
Tinkerbell snorted, rolling her eyes. “You sound like him.”
“Like who?”
Her lip curled up in a sneer. “Pan.”
A voice cut through the din—Captain Hook’s voice. “Come on, then, you savage!”
Tinkerbell glanced past us, her eyes wide, then zipped off toward the commotion.
Alucard and I turned to find the braves and sailors spreading out in a wide circle, stepping over the fallen bodies of their comrades as if they were nothing. In the middle, Hook stood, cutlass drawn, his iron hook poised in the air like the blade of a guillotine. Opposite him was a Faeling like none I had ever seen before. She was young, short, and fit, her body covered in smooth, rippling snakeskin hides. She had dark, faintly reddish skin, and her hair was pitch black—a mound of raven feathers spilling down her back. Lime green tattoos whorled over her eyes and mouth, her teeth bared and filed to points. She reminded me of a cobra—her every twitch promising death.
And yet, Hook struck first. He came forward like a fencer, lunging with the point of his sword. Tiger Lily spun, deflecting the strike with an animal’s reflexes, her twin bone daggers licking the side of Hook’s blade. And, with that, the dance began. Hook’s strikes were quick and thorough, wavering between the precision of a duelist and the brutality of a pirate. He hacked and slashed, parried and riposted.
Tiger Lily, on the other hand, was pure savagery in motion. She dove to the ground to dodge one swipe, so flat the only thing keeping her from kissing it were her splayed fingertips. She leapt into the air to avoid another, defying gravity and the limitations of her body by clearing Hook and twisting her hips to land on her feet. Her daggers were like snakes, darting in and out, their tongues flicking along the edges of his sword, deflected from his body only by the careful positioning of his hook.
It was beautiful.
And wrong.
Hook’s blade came down in a heavy-handed arc, a blow meant to drive Tiger Lily’s daggers from her hands. Tiger Lily had dropped into a squat, clearly prepared to take the blow on her naked back if it meant thrusting her own blades into Hook’s heart. I burst through the crowd before either could follow through with their strikes, bum-rushing Hook with my shoulder, hitting him hard enough to send him sprawling—using his body like a springboard to lash out at Tiger Lily with one foot, catching her across the jaw. She, too, fell back, though more from surprise than hurt.
“Enough!” I yelled. I raised my bat threateningly and spun in a slow circle, making sure everyone knew coming at me would mean pain—and lots of it. I was done playing. “Hear me! There is no need for this. Hook is leavin’ Neverland!”
That declaration sent a shiver through the gathered crowd. The sailors, who had already known their destination, clenched their jaws, while the braves exchanged disbelieving looks. I rested the bat on my shoulder and glared out at them all, daring anyone to contradict me.
“You lie,” Tiger Lily hissed.
“She does not,” Hook interjected. He’d risen to one knee, and suddenly I could see the years on his face; he looked like a broken old man, the lines deep and engraved, his eyes tired and bleary with age.
“As if we would believe the words of Captain James Hook,” Tiger Lily spat.
Hook raised his chin defiantly. “I swear it on my good hand,” he said, driving his cutlass into the deck.
Tiger Lily’s eyes narrowed. “You know what it means if you go back on your word this time,” she said, her gaze anticipatory. “If I find out you’re lying, I will peel the flesh from your hand until you beg me to let the Crocodile take it from you.”
Hook sneered at her, but spoke softly. So softly only the three of us could hear. “I’ve grown tired of this fight, Tiger Lily. Our numbers are shrinking. Smee died five winters ago. We’ve been offered one last stand. You know,” he said, standing, his back slightly stooped, “I hate to admit it, but I’d grown…fond, of this place.”
“He’s going to protect you all,” a voice called out, interrupting whatever Hook had been about to say next. Ryan worked his way through the crowd and continued, “There’s a storm coming. An ancient enemy of the Fae, who intend to make you all slaves. And Captain James Hook intends to fight on your behalf.”
The sailors cheered.
“We are no one’s slaves!” Tiger Lily snapped, once the hubbub had died down. But I could tell she was ruffled; the idea of Captain Hook doing anything altruistic clearly didn’t sit well with her.
“I know, Tiger Lily,” Hook said, his eyes flashing. “You never were, nor will you ever be.”
Tiger Lily studied the older man, the expression on her youthful face hard to read, but—before she could respond—a cry went up from her braves. Several pointed. Another ship, far larger than the Jolly Roger, was approaching from the port side. Slate grey, with two smoke stacks spewing fire and belching smoke near the rear of the ship, it looked like an old cargo ship from World War I; the ship’s side read USS Cyclops in faded letters.
“That’s King Oberon’s warship,” Ryan yelled, twirling slowly to get everyone’s attention. “Our escort. He won’t be pleased at the delay, and so I suggest you all get out of here. Now.”
I reached out and nudged the Faeling. “That ship’s made out of what, steel?” I asked, whispering.
Ryan blinked. “Not the time, Quinn.”
“Aye, but shouldn’t that bother ye lot?” I asked, cocking an eyebrow.
“Steel has carbon in it. Enough that it doesn’t repulse or poison us, the way true iron does. Still harmful as a weapon, but typically easy to ignore and recover from.”
I frowned, considering the implications of that. I supposed in hindsight, Ryan’s explanation made sense; if steel bothered the Fae that much, they would never be able to survive in the mortal realm.
It’d be like living in a nuclear wasteland.
Tiger Lily’s hiss brought me back to the present moment, my bat at the ready, thinking she might attack anyway—but she seemed to understand the situation; one-on-one, she and her braves might have stood a chance of defeating Hook and bringing his ship tumbling from the skies. But against a behemoth like the USS Cyclops? Her braves would die. She dropped her daggers into a pouch at her hip. “Braves! Let’s go!”
The remaining pixies—those Alucard hadn’t roasted alive—came flooding back, brushing their fingers against the feathers each brave had for hair. Each of Tiger Lily’s Fae warriors began to levitate off the ground, their moccasins barely brushing the wood, their tattoos fading before our eyes.
“Tiger Lily!” Hook called out, staring out at the massive warship as if he’d never seen anything like it.
The Fae chieftain spun around.
“I intend for this to be my last fight,” Hook said, shifting his attention back to his lifelong enemy. “Which means I won’t be coming back. I…” Hook hung his head and reached for the handle of his sword, still stuck in the planks. He yanked it from the wood and slid it back into its sheath. “Could you tell Peter…”
Tiger Lily’s gaze hardened, her jaw bunching. “Pan and I share no bond. Not anymore.”
Hook grunted. “No, I suppose you wouldn’t.” Tiger Lily sniffed, ran, and leapt off the edge of the boat, soaring into the air with her arms outstretched—a pink light riding her shoulder. Her braves followed. Hook merely stood there, watching them depart, looking like a sad, broken, old man who’d already gone on his last adventure.
I felt Alucard settle in next to me, the heat of his body coming off—literally—in waves. “That could have been dangerous,” he said, w
rapping a hand around my forearm.
I yanked it free. “So?” Now that the fight was over, I was free to study the carnage. At least two dozen from each side had fallen, their bodies draped over the rails, over barrels, and curled up on the deck. The young man I’d spoken to earlier, the one I’d stopped to ask for help, was among them. His eyes were open, lifeless, his bloody teeth visible from where I stood.
What a waste.
At that precise moment, something—like an errant patch of sunlight—blinded me. I tried to blink it away, but couldn’t. I frowned, raising my arm to shield my eyes. That’s when I saw it: a silver light, pulsing on the far side of the foremast, far from everyone else. It flared again, as if urging me to come closer. “Wait here,” I told Alucard, who’d turned his attention to the boarding party sailing across the clouds in a much smaller boat.
“Why?”
“Because I said so,” I replied, before walking off.
Alucard’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t argue. Which was good, because he was starting to get on my last fucking nerve. What I needed, I decided, was to let off some steam. Hell, I hadn’t even gotten to try out my bat. Of course, there were other ways to find release…I froze halfway up the stairs, turning to glance back at the Daywalker, who’d crossed portside. Flames licked his collar and played along the slightly curled tips of his hair. Would it burn to kiss him? To run my hands through his hair? I felt the sudden, inexplicable urge to find out.
“As fun as that would be to watch, I wouldn’t do that,” a voice cautioned from only a few feet away.
I hefted my bat, snarling—prepared to strike—but there was nobody there.
“Over here,” the voice called, a silver light poking out from behind a barrel. “Come closer.”
I did, but cautiously. The light diffused somewhat as I approached, until at last I could make out the form of another tiny fairy—though she seemed remarkably different from the pixies we’d fought only moments ago. For the most part, there were subtler differences: how she held herself, the cool certainty in her eyes, the playful way she’d styled her hair…
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