Unhooked

by Lisa Maxwell

  I watch her for another minute or two, but when it’s clear we’re not going to talk anymore, I go over to the lone window and pull back the silky fabric draped over it. The view I find confirms there is no way out of this room except through Pan. Outside, the mountain that the fortress is part of drops off steeply. Below us is water—a cove of sorts with a narrow passage out to the open sea beyond. There is no sign of the Captain’s ship. There is no sign of anything on those still waters but the waiting sea.

  When their commander asked for volunteers, there weren’t any young or innocent enough left among them to step forward at first. His brother looked at him, his eyes tight, commanding the boy to be still. But the boy was no longer a child. He stepped forward and shot a look at his brother, defiant. His brother’s expression was grim as he stepped forward too. . . .

  Chapter 19

  GWENDOLYN.” THE VOICE COMES TO me through the haze of sleep, distant and familiar. My cheek brushes against the cool silk of the pillow, a soft floral scent reminds me of lavender, and for a second, I think I’m back in London. “Gwendolyn,” the voice says more urgently, and this time I register who it is. And where I am.

  Clutching the blanket around me, I sit up with a start. “What?” I ask, pushing my hair back out of my face. The light in the room is bright enough that I know I’ve slept long past morning. “What is it?”

  “Hurry, Gwendolyn,” Pan says, his face inches from mine. “We must go.”

  “Go?” I rub at my eyes. I haven’t seen Pan since yesterday. It’s almost a shock to see him again now—to realize my memory of how striking he is wasn’t a lie. But it’s even more of a shock to find him hovering over me when I’m alone in bed and barely awake.

  I’m alone.

  “Where’s Olivia?” I ask. She was here when I finally fell asleep, long after she did.

  “Your Captain has her,” he says, his light eyes thunderous.

  “The Captain?” I ask as I throw back the covers. I’m still wearing the outfit I managed to assemble yesterday from a selection of clothes that were lying around Olivia’s room—a pair of jaggedly stitched leather pants and a tunic I made from tearing off the bottom off a wispy blue gown.

  “A hunting party went out earlier—Olivia went with them. I realize now I shouldn’t have allowed it, but she was rather distressed after your time together yesterday and . . .” His voice trails off as he gives me a look that is part question, part accusation.

  My stomach sinks. I spent most of the day yesterday trying desperately to convince her we needed to find a way back to our own world. At first she just pleasantly dismissed what I’d told her—the little I could remember of our lives before—but by the time evening came, she closed me out completely.

  “You were quite exhausted from your ordeal, and still sleeping,” Pan continues. “So I thought it might soothe her to get away for a bit, perhaps find some new blooms on her own. A few moments ago, one of my boys returned alone. He said they’d been set upon.” His jaw tightens. “I should have been prepared for some sort of retaliation.”

  We don’t waste any time. After I lace up the heavy boots I got from the ship, Pan scoops me up, and this time, I don’t even hesitate to wrap my arms tightly around his neck. With a leap, he plunges toward the floor of the Great Hall, pulling up just in time to sail over the chaos below. As we make our way toward the entrance, a couple of the bright orbs join us and follow at his side.

  Once we’re through the tunnel and out over the deep trench that separates Pan’s fortress from the rest of the island, he turns and sails over the clear waters of the cove I glimpsed from my window, out toward the rocky landscape of the other end of the island.

  The ground passing beneath us is rugged and parched. Because it’s completely bare of any vegetation, the never-ending motion of the island is more starkly visible and erratic. More violent. The rugged terrain ripples, its rocky surface cracking and recracking like waves crashing into shore.

  Pan’s eyes are focused on the horizon and the dense, shadowy fog that rises up in the distance like a wall.

  “What is that?”

  “It’s where we’re headed, a place called the End,” Pan says darkly. “Once, the Dark Ones were banished there by the Queen. Though they escaped long ago, that part of Neverland has never quite recovered. I don’t usually allow my boys to go so far—it’s impossible to know what dangers await.”

  As we approach, I can see a small group of people waving wildly at the edge of the fog. Their silhouettes are barely visible against the gray mist. Pan speeds on, descending to where the group of boy waits, bloodied and beaten.

  “They took ’er, milord,” one of the larger boys tells Pan as he settles me to the ground. The boy’s speech slurs through a fat lip. “We tried to chase ’em down and stop ’em, we did, but it weren’t no use.”

  “How long ago?” Pan asks, not bothering to concern himself with the boys’ injuries.

  “Not long,” the boy says, flinching as a high-pitched scream echoes from within the fog.

  “Olivia,” I say, recognizing her voice.

  “They must still be close.” Pan nods to the boys. “Let’s go.”

  But none of the boys moves. The taller boy shakes his head, his swollen lip trembling. “I ain’t going in there,” he says, his eyes wide.

  Pan takes a menacing step toward him. The boy can’t be more than twelve, and Pan is so much broader and more than a head taller. The boy casts his eyes to the ground, but his head still shakes slightly as he nervously refuses the order.

  “I think I must have misheard you,” Pan says far too pleasantly to match the stiffness in his expression.

  “P-please, milord. N-not in there,” the boy stutters. “You know the Dark Ones haunt that land.”

  Pan draws a dark dagger from his belt and lifts it to the boy’s neck, tilting his chin up with the tip. The boy won’t look Pan in the eyes, though. “Let me put it simply: you may take your chances in there, or you may take them with me. Do you understand?”

  A few yards away, the gray mist swirls and swells, inching closer. The day is cool, but a drop of sweat trickles down the boy’s temple as he swallows hard and takes a shaking breath. Finally he gives an unsure nod.

  “Go on, then,” Pan directs, the dagger still in his hand.

  The boys raise their weapons, holding them at the ready as they step hesitantly through the curtain of mist. For a moment we can still see them, but then they disappear completely.

  He holds out his hand to me. “Stay close to me, Gwendolyn.”

  “Me?” I shift back again, away from the fog and from Pan.

  “Of course. I can’t take the chance that this is a trap. Even now the Captain could be waiting to have off with you the moment I’m gone. I won’t leave you here in the open, unprotected.”

  “But . . .” The fog looks like a living thing. It’s already swallowed up Pan’s boys. I’m not in any hurry for it to swallow me.

  Another wailing scream that sounds too much like Olivia comes from deep within the fog before I can find the words to refuse him.

  “Come,” he says, grabbing my wrist before I can stop him. Pan’s hand is like a shackle as he pulls me through the curtain of mist, and a moment later we’re inside.

  Behind me, I can just make out the slightly brighter light of the day, but this fog is not like the one that hangs over London. There’s nothing natural about the dry, dusky air around us. There’s no warmth here. No thick dampness to explain the murkiness around us. It’s like stepping into a vacuum, a cloud of nothingness. Like we’ve left Neverland behind.

  Even with the orbs to guide us, I can’t see more than a foot in front of my own face once we’re within the cloud. Even Pan, holding my wrist as he is, looks blurry and indistinct. But the fog isn’t silent. Sounds echo in the gray mist, bouncing off one another and multiplying. All of us call for Olivia, and soon we’re surrounded by a hundred iterations of our own voices, all shouting the same name.

&nbs
p; Pan pulls me along as one of the glowing orbs leads him into the murk. The ground is uneven, littered with stones and debris, and beneath the thick soles of my boots, I feel the crunch of brittle things I don’t want to identify. At one point I trip over something that looks to be shaped like a shoe. But I think of what the boys said about people not returning from the End, and I don’t look too closely.

  Pan catches me when I stumble over something larger. “We need to move faster,” he tells me. “Olivia will be in a great deal of danger if we don’t find her before she finds the end of the island.”

  “The end of the—” I think of the sharp drop-offs that form the coastline, and I shout more frantically. But only the sound of my own voice comes back to me, taunting me with her name over and over.

  Finally, after what feels like minutes or hours—I can’t tell anymore—Pan turns to me. “I’m so sorry, Gwendolyn, but—”

  “Pan!” Olivia’s voice echoes back from four directions at once.

  Pan goes still, listening to his name repeat in the mist surrounding us.

  “It’s Olivia,” I breathe, relief shuttling through me. “We found her!”

  I can barely make out Pan’s expression as he continues to listen to his name echo around us.

  “Well, what are we waiting for?” I ask.

  He doesn’t answer right away, and I think he might not have heard me. But then his eyes flicker, glancing at me, and after another moment, he gives me a terse nod. “Are you alone?” he shouts.

  “Yes!” The echo of Olivia’s voice surrounds us. “Hurry!”

  “Stay where you are and shout for me again,” Pan calls.

  After a moment Pan’s name comes again from within the fog. And again.

  Time loses all meaning as we inch along, trying to follow the sound of Olivia’s voice in a deadly game of Marco Polo. Sometimes we turn toward her call, only to realize we’re following an echo. Finally, though, I see the golden glow of Olivia’s hair ahead of us in the thick fog.

  “Olivia!” My voice bounces off the fog and comes back to me, all excitement and relief.

  With it comes another sound, though—a too-familiar metallic hum, a buzzing pulse that makes me reach for Pan. “The Dark Ones,” I whisper, but he’s heard. His dagger is already raised in warning.

  Around us, the edges of the fog seem to be growing darker, and the echoing voices that have been chasing us for who knows how long begin to die away. Until the only sound is the rustling hum of the Dark Ones themselves.

  Pan’s eyes track through the gloom for the source of the sound. “Quickly,” he commands, directing me toward Olivia’s silhouette. She turns when she hears our footfalls, her eyes wide with fear, but when she sees who it is, she leaps for Pan, who folds her into his arms.

  “There, there,” he whispers as he strokes her hair. “All is well. I have you.”

  She lets out a sob, which is muffled by the fabric of his vest. “The boys came out of nowhere,” she tells him, not loosening her hold. The volume of her voice grows with every word. “We weren’t even that far from the tunnels, and then . . . they just left me here. I didn’t know what to do or where to—”

  “You’re safe now,” Pan tells her, running his hand over her hair. But his eyes meet mine through the hazy mist as the rustling buzz grows louder. The Dark Ones are getting closer.

  “We need to go,” I whisper, looking down to see shadows creeping along the floor around us, circling us. “Now.”

  But it’s too late to run. The shadows swirling around our feet are already surging and growing as they form themselves into a trio of the dark creatures. When they’re fully formed, they unfurl their wings, stirring the gray fog into whirling eddies.

  Pan moves to shield us with his body as the glowing orbs that guided us through the mist attack the Dark Ones, darting at the creatures like angry bees. Where they hit, the Dark Ones’ flesh hisses, and the smell of burning leaves filters through the air. It’s not enough to stop the creatures, though. The fairy lights are no more than a nuisance, nothing like the Captain’s fireballs that brought them down from the sky.

  Furious, the largest of the dark creatures strikes out at the fairy lights, swatting the glowing orbs away with an inhuman growl as it continues to stalk toward us. Pan doesn’t so much as flinch. The hand holding the dark blade of his dagger is steady as he thrusts in the direction of the Dark Ones, and when the creatures see what Pan is threatening, they go surprisingly still.

  I can practically feel their anger lashing through the air around us. The buzzing hum pulses and grows to a deafening pitch, but they don’t come any closer.

  “Go,” Pan says. “Touch the lights.”

  “What?” I don’t understand until one of the orbs buzzes around my head.

  “It will take you to safety. Touch it,” Pan orders. “Now!”

  Olivia doesn’t hesitate. Without any argument, she grabs at the orb hovering around her face, and in a flash of light she’s gone.

  “Go, Gwendolyn.”

  “But . . .”

  There are three creatures and only one of him. The other boys disappeared long ago. It’s not that I really think there’s anything I can do to help him, but leaving him alone with those creatures seems wrong.

  He tosses me a devastating smile, as though the Dark Ones aren’t pawing at the ground just feet away, as though their wings aren’t already beating in rage. “I can take care of myself, love. They can’t touch me as long as I have this,” he says, giving his dagger a wave.

  “It’s just a knife,” I tell him. Certainly enough to slit the throat of a boy, but it’s barely big enough to prick the creature’s side.

  “It’s iron, Gwendolyn. Even a scratch would be lethal to them. Go on. I’ll catch up after I’ve given you a head start.”

  I look at the dagger he’s holding. It’s so small compared to the size of the Dark Ones, which tower over Pan. I can’t imagine it could do much to protect him from them.

  “Go!” he roars, and this time the impatience in his voice makes me jump.

  Without any more hesitation, I reach out and grab the orb flickering near my face. My fingers slide through its icy density, and the world flashes white.

  The boy stood next to his brother and waited for their orders. Each of them hummed with a nervous anticipation as they waited, believing they were ready for what was to come. “Stay behind me,” his brother said. “You cover my back, and I’ll be at yours. . . .”

  Chapter 20

  I COME TO WITH THE sun beating down on my face and the rocky ground rippling beneath me. My head aches, and my vision is a little blurry, but I can make out Olivia a few feet away on the ground. Above us the gray mist swirls malevolently, like a storm is brewing within it.

  No one else is around. None of the boys seem to have made it out of the fog. There’s no sign of the Captain or any of his crew, and there’s no sign of Pan.

  I sit up, my head swirling with the dizziness of what just happened. The fairy lights are gone too. We’re alone at the end of the world, and this part of Neverland is barren all around us. My limbs feel shaky and unsure, but I crawl the few feet over to where Olivia is lying on the ground and gently try to wake her.

  Olivia coughs and moans, and then with shaking arms, she pulls herself up and looks at me. “Gwen?” she says, her eyes unfocused but strikingly clear. They’ve lost the glassy quality that I fought all day yesterday.

  “You remember me?” I pull myself up straighter and try to focus on her. The pink gown she’s wearing is torn and soiled. The left sleeve hangs loose, half ripped from her shoulder by someone or something.

  “Of course.” But then she looks around, noticing her surroundings with a start. “What happened? Where are we?”

  “The Captain tried to take you, and we found you in the fog. We’re somewhere called the End,” I tell her. “Pan’s still in there.”

  “Pan?” she says uncertainly, her eyes narrowed. “What are you talking—”

&nb
sp; Before she can finish her question, the mist swirls again as something dark shifts within its depths.

  “Look out,” I say, reaching for Olivia to pull her back. But I stop—it isn’t a dark creature that’s emerging from the cloud. “He made it,” I whisper, relief catching in my chest at the sight of him.

  As Pan steps out of the gray mist, his eyes are alight with triumph. There isn’t a scratch on him. He gives me a wry smile that has me smiling in return. But then his expression grows serious. “We should go. I don’t trust the Captain or the Dark Ones not to return.”

  “But the boys,” I say, thinking of the one who was so scared, of the others, who marched into the cloud as though death were an impossibility.

  “There’s nothing I can do for them now,” he says, and the blunt matter-of-fact tone of his declaration makes me take a step back from him. He’s not even going to try.

  “But—”

  “What’s important is that we get you both back to safety,” he interrupts, and though I want to argue, there’s something in his expression that warns me it would be a mistake. “We’re safe enough in the light of day, but we need to get back before nightfall,” he explains, eyeing the fog warily. “Unless, of course, you wish to meet more of the darkest Fey when they’re at their strongest?”

  After he says that, the rest of my objections seem pointless.

  By the time Pan pulls Olivia to her feet, her eyes are already starting to lose the clearness they had just moments before. He tucks her under his arm, and she moves closer, taking full advantage of the protection of his body as he offers me his other hand. His grip is sure as he pulls me effortlessly to my feet.

  My head is still swirling, but I resist the urge to lean into him as Olivia’s doing. Too much has happened. I need space to figure out what I think of it all.

  “I’m glad you made it out,” I tell him, a peace offering.

  “I assured you I would. After all, I have this.” He pulls his dagger from its sheath and offers it to me. Reluctantly, I take it.