by Dee Garcia
Shiiit. “More than fine, I’d say.”
A fierce blush colors her cheeks at my compliment but she seems to recover quickly, moving the conversation along without falter.
“What about your mum? What happened to her?”
“Well,” I sigh, wishing she hadn’t asked. This isn’t a topic I like revisiting much, although given how the conversation was going, I should've recognized we’d wind up here. “Like you, she miscarried when I was thirteen. Tigerlily was eight.”
“She did?”
My head bobs slowly, heart aching at the imagery flickering through my mind. “Why do you think the extent of my panic was so short-lived? I had an inkling of what you were going through. That’s why I didn’t press you too hard. I remember what Ma suffered, how torn up she was about it.”
“So basically she had a normal reaction.” Wendy’s tone is saturated with such self-loathing, it instantly presses a button.
“Stop it, we’re not going there again. I told you all those days ago and I’ll tell you again—you’re completely justified, just like the Lost Boys.”
“But—”
Gripping her jaw with a quick hand, I force her eyes on me, boring into her with everything I have. “But nothing, little wolf. You’re. Justified. And I don’t want to hear another word about it. Got it?”
The seconds seem to tick by as she holds my gaze. I’m not quite sure if it’s the intensity of my stare or the bite in my tone that does it, but eventually she agrees with a tip of her head. “Continue.”
“A few years after losing the baby, she went on a mission to Tempeste.” Easing my grip, I trail my thumb along her cheek, mesmerized by the way it heats beneath my touch. “None of us knew the day she left was the last time we’d ever see her.”
“What happened?” She wraps her hand around my wrist.
“The ship she was on was intercepted by pirates.”
The faintest gasp meets my ears. “Like Hook?”
“Pretty much. It wasn’t him, though, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
Those blues of her regard me with such emotion; her grip compresses all the more, too. “Wow, Tavi, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s life, right?” I hitch a shoulder. “We’re all born to die eventually.”
“I know, but it’s still sad.”
“Aaand just like that, this conversation is over,” I state simply.
“It doesn’t have to be. I like learning about you.”
“Same, but it got a little heavy too quickly. We’re supposed to be having fun.”
“I am having fun,” she insists, beaming a warm smile. “Dreading having to get on that stage, but other than that, I’m having a great time.”
Slipping free from her grip, I rise from my seat, holding my hand out for her. “Let’s get out of here then.”
As badly as I want to hear her play, it looks like we’re not getting the opportunity anyway.
Wendy eyes my offering and slides her palm against it, joining me on her feet. “And go where?”
Grinning, I tip my head for her to follow. “I promised you I’d take you to the beach, right?”
♫ Somebody’s Watching Me - Hidden Citizens ♫
Tavi was right, the beach off the Woodlands is more lush than the beach surrounding Hook’s castle, and now that I’ve seen it, it’s definitely my favorite part of this place. Don’t get me wrong, I love the vibrantly green foliage and the beautiful flowers growing throughout the island, but this beach is just perfectly scenic.
Beguiling.
"I have no words." Arms crossed around myself, I inhale the salty scent of the ocean as a breeze rolls in with the tide. “It’s stunning.”
"You are, yes." Tavi’s heated presence behind me is like a magnet, drawing me toward him in the most irrefutable fashion.
Then his reply registers and my stomach does its usual contortion act.
He thinks you’re stunning.
Peering over my shoulder, I catch him staring at me with that fiery gaze. "You need to stop looking at me like that," I warn, lips curling in a smirk.
A smirk that replicates on his lips, too. "And why is that?"
"Because you're making me think about things I have no business thinking."
Tavi’s expression darkens right before my very eyes. The pyre within those chocolatey depths blazes brighter with fascination.
Lust.
Taking a single step closer, his hands fall to my hips, fingers clenching the soft material of my dress. "Like what?"
"Oh no,” I shake my head, “we're not playing this game again."
A dark, sensuous chuckle vibrates against my back. "But I like this game."
Of course he does. "Why?"
"Because."
“Because what?”
"No particular reason.” The tip of his nose runs up my neck. “But I will say, the way your cheeks heat intrigues me more than it should."
And the way you do that to my neck makes me want to do things I shouldn’t. "Are you a smooth talker with all women or just me?" The question makes it way into existence on a breath.
Again Tavi chuckles, pressing himself closer. "Just you, little wolf. Just. You."
The way he says it…It’s all in the way he says it. There’s an underlying possessiveness to it, primitive and unapologetic.
"I don't know if I believe that." I’m lying right through my teeth. I believe it with every fiber of my being, but I want to see how he’ll react.
What he’ll say.
With every day that passes, Tavi pushes bounds a little more, chipping away at my resolution, and I’m at the point where I keep wondering why I’m so adamant about resisting him in the first place.
It’s clear he wants me, and God do I want him.
His large paw of a hand ghosts up my stomach, ensuring we’re flush to one another, warm lips parting against the shell of my ear. "Well, you should, because it's the truth. There's no one I want right now more than—”
Howls resound somewhere behind us, slicing right through the moment like chilling shards of ice. They aren’t near, but judging by the way Tavi goes into high alert, I know they’re howls of distress.
“Fuck,” he hisses, burying his nose in my hair. “They need me.”
I won’t lie—I feel like I’ve been dropped on my arse. All the air I’d been withholding during our exchange comes whooshing out of me like a balloon. “I figured.”
That sense of disappointment is either obvious in my tone or the way I deflate, because in a single blink I’m spun around, my face caught in his hands. “We’ll come back, I promise.”
“Don’t worry about me.” I try laughing it off, clutching the front of his navy t-shirt. “They need you.”
“Yeah, at the worst time possible,” he huffs.
“Duty calls, right? I’ll still be here when you get back.”
Tavi’s face brightens, an appeased smile quirking the very corners of his mouth. “I don’t give a fuck what’s going down. I’m making this quick. Wait up for me?”
“I’ll try,” I vow, lighting nothing but pure mischief in his eyes.
“Try isn’t good enough, little wolf. You better.”
And I did try, I swear it. Tried busying myself with anything I could find. But half hour quickly melded into an hour and a half, and before I knew it my eyes refused to stay open.
I don’t even think my head had fully hit the pillow before I was out.
Cold.
Lured by darkness I thought I’d been absolved from.
Here we go again.
I’ve been episode-free for over a week, allowing myself to think that maybe, just maybe the sleep paralysis was a result of the pregnancy hormones mixing with the shock of my situation.
But no—it's back, and this time, I'm not in my bed.
I’m still in London, the scenery around me proves as much, but I'm standing stock-still in front of a book shop my mum used to frequent when I was a kid. In the large window sits
a telly. It’s playing the news and all around me people shuffle about, going about their business without a care in the world.
Not one of them seems concerned that I'm just standing here, completely unmoving, arms firmly at my side.
Then again, this isn't real, they aren't real. It's all in my head.
The same head that won’t move. I can’t. Although I’m not laying down like the other occurrences, I can’t move if I tried. It’s like that same force that weighs me down is ensuring I’m stiff as a board, eyes trained firmly on the telly screen.
Where they’re showing a building that looks like my flat...
A female’s voice plays over the image, too, tunneling my hearing on the source. "Other tenants in the building say they are still shocked by the news, that their neighbor was a sweet, well-mannered woman and they don't believe she could be at fault. Her neighbor only one flat over claims he heard screams matching the timeframe of when the body would've started decomposing, and police did look into it, but officials say it just didn't pan out due to lack of evidence. They're also urging you as the public to view this investigation and all it’s moving parts without bias. While some people seem to think this is a repeat of what happened to the victim's mother over a decade ago, and that Wendy could be in life-threatening danger, until the truth comes to light, she could also still very well be a cold-blooded killer."
Then my hospital identification picture pops up on the screen and the newscaster goes on to list my physical description.
I zone out right about then.
My heart has long since plummeted, but I'm just feeling it hit. That nauseating sensation of fear roiling every bit of your stomach.
The troubling tightness in your chest.
The knot that forms in your throat.
They think I'm a killer? Me? I can't believe it. I hadn't even thought that could be a possibility until now. I was so consumed by the idea of getting out of that dungeon and simply wanting the comforts of home, that I didn’t think about what home was like nowadays. I didn’t think about what would happen as a result of Peter's body being found the way it was.
Hell, I didn’t even think that they would find it, period. The conscious half of me had completely pushed out the fact that a body decomposes once my life was on the line.
How it would look with my disappearance being a huge factor in the equation.
"It looks like you're the killer," hisses the whisper.
Oh God, no. No. Not again. The whisper is the worst part, when everything really goes awry.
It’s already bad enough.
"You can't go home, Wendy," it warns, racking a chilling shiver down my spine that quickly crashes back up in a wave, springing tears to my eyes from the force. I squeeze them shut, willing my emotions at bay, but they leak free from the sides regardless.
Breaking open the dam.
First it tells me I have to go home and now it’s warning against it.
"Who are you!" I yell, inhaling a deep, shaky breath.
Why does this keep happening to me? What does it even mean? What is wrong with me?
"You can't go home.” Another warning, the one that sets me off, wriggling to free myself.
"Who are you!" I scream, “Who are you!”
"You must stay.”
"Why won't you answer me!" I’m sobbing, trying every which way possible to find some sort of movement, but I can’t do anything except stare at that screen.
Where they’re still talking about me.
Warning the public about me.
"You can't go home," the whisper presses, and almost right after, there’s a tightening in my arms.
Holding me more firmly in place more than should be physically possible.
"Answer me, dammit! Who are you?” My voice trembles as I yell, eyes shifting side to side in an attempt to catch anyone who could be looking as they stroll past.
"You must stay.”
My hackles rise. I feel manic at this point, desperate for an answer.
"Answer. Me! Who are you? What do you want? Why can’t I go home?"
"Wendy. Wendy. Hey!" Tavi's rasp.
It's an instant pull, the invisible rope I grab a hold of to yank me out from the depths of my own personal hell. The usual gasp brings me to, followed by Tavi's face in my line of sight. He’s right there, in my bubble, and I’m safe in his arms, in the same bed we’ve been sharing for days. His head rears back slowly as he bores into me questioningly.
“You okay?”
I shake my own, still somewhat short of breath, heart thundering in my chest. His expression softens dramatically and, without another word, he pulls me into him, tucking my head beneath his chin. "I've got you, little wolf. I’ve got you. You're safe.”
Feeling his arms around me is like a balm, soothing some of my nerves in a ripple effect, enough that I melt into him and release an unsteady breath. "I'm so tired of this," I whisper, biting back threatening tears. “I thought it was over, that I was pas—”
"Shhh, I know you are.” He squeezes me tighter. "We're gonna figure this out, okay? We’re gonna figure out why it’s happening and how we can stop it. For good."
I do nothing but nod, exhaling another deep breath, because what am I supposed to say? It’s not that I don’t believe him, I just don’t know if there’s anything that can be done.
"Just sleep. I've got you. I'm right here," he whispers, running the tips of his fingers up and down my back.
Lulling me into a slumber that proves home is where the heart is.
And my heart is now here, where the whisper warns I should be.
Or should I?
♫ Die Trying - Michl ♫
“Okay, but why is this happening?” I ask the witch fairly early the next morning.
I was able to get Wendy back to bed after another abrupt and quite unexpected episode, but I barely slept in its wake. Laid there for hours rubbing her back, shushing her softly upon every hushed whimper.
She’s had enough of this, and quite honestly, so have I.
“It could be a number of different reasons, but I can't tell you anything for certain unless you let me tap into her head. The mind reveals all and—"
"Absolutely not. I’ve already told you that’s not going to fly. She’s been through enough as it is for me to let you rifle in there."
"Then I can't help you, Tavi.” Persia lifts her chin and squares her shoulders. “The best I can do is whip up some teas for her to drink before bed."
“Tea?” My face screws up in acrimony. “That’s all you’ve got is tea? Seriously?”
“At the moment, yes. As we discussed last night, I’ve not been feeling like myself lately. Illness can, unfortunately, dampen magic.”
Oh, I remember. Didn’t buy it last night and I’m definitely not buying it now. I’ve seen the way she’s looked at Wendy since we walked into the Sanctuary. It’s the same way most of the townspeople do.
Questioningly. Warily.
All because of her past connection to Peter-fucking-Pan.
Crossing my arms, I cock my head aside. “And what exactly is wrong with you?”
Persia hitches a shoulder, her gaze cutting to the stone ground. “I’m not sure. Ward’s ran some tests over the last few weeks but hasn’t been able to find anything as of yet.”
Takes everything in me not to roll my eyes. Potential illness or not, I’m actually quite disappointed in her. I’ve always been fond of the witches, but it’s clear they’ve been somewhat conditioned to shun my little wolf. Wouldn’t surprise me if that were my father’s doing.
"So what will the teas do? Calm her?" I hedge, callously bypassing an acknowledgment to her previous reply.
The witch nods. "More like calm her mind, but yes, that’s what we want essentially. If her mind is calm, it’ll be difficult for the paralysis to lure her in."
Technically not an absolute solution, but I’m sure Wendy is willing to try anything at this point, even if it’s temporary. "I can get on board w
ith that if she agrees.”
Both Persia and I take a glance at Wendy who’s remained tightlipped throughout this entire conversation. Those pale blues meet my awaiting stare, then she nods once, giving me her seal of approval.
I’m turning back to the witch promptly thereafter. “Is there something special you need from her for the teas to do their thing?"
"A few drops of her blood would be best, but I can work with a few strands of her hair instead. They’ll act as the main binding agent, making the teas tailored specifically for her."
The next words to come out of my mouth would’ve been “Hell no”, because there’s nothing she could say for me to allow her taking Wendy’s blood, but Wendy’s already going about gathering the necessary means, forcing the rebuttal down my throat. With strands of her dark hair in hand, she passes them to the witch wordlessly. Persia thanks her but she offers nothing more than a tip of her head.
Clearly, I wasn’t the only one who noticed the scrutinizing looks.
"This won't take very long. You're both welcome to stay until I've finished up." She’s gone after that, the clicking sound of her heels bouncing off the stone walls of the Sanctuary.
Holding my hand out for Wendy, I lead her to one of the benches surrounding the fountain in the very center of the courtyard. I’ve already sat my ass down and she’s still standing, head craning back to take in the top of the ancient structure. I can’t help but chuckle.
"Yes, I know, I'm gawking." She slowly drops into the space at my side.
"Can’t blame you, little wolf. It's nice here, I know."
It really is, too. This place is all stone, moss, vines, stained glass, and various flowerings.
"I get this proper spiritual vibe, you know? But it's so comforting and serene as well."
"Siren's Cove is nice, too. Well, it used to be anyway," I add stupidly, grappling her attention in a second flat.
"What happened to it?"
Despite knowing it won’t do shit, I’m tempted to play the pass card simply to avoid uttering his name. She’ll never let me live it down, though, and I suppose he’ll continue to arise in other topics as she learns more and more about Rosewood anyway.
