Lox, giving me a subtle glare that told me, I can’t believe you told him you were from Earth, just smiled tightly and cleared her throat. “How exciting. I hate to cut it short, but I found what I needed. We should be going now.”
Stepping away from the Anthology rather sadly, I tried to seem thankful to Merlin despite everything else. “It’s really cool,” I said stupidly, cringing. I sounded so incompetent compared to all the well-educated people here.
Merlin dipped his head. “Anytime you need something, Mainlander, I am at your disposal. Everything from spells, myths, legends—it’s all here. You’re a welcome guest.” He swept his arms out in a sort of bow.
Lox whined to interrupt him. “You’ve never called me a welcome guest.”
“I don’t like you, girl.”
She growled. “It’s Lox, for Neversakes! At least if you’re going to disrespect my gender, call me by my name.”
Merlin ignored her again, looking over at me. “I do mean it, Mainlander. If you need it, I know of it.”
“Thanks, Merlin,” I mumbled uncomfortably.
“C’mon, Lace.” Lox moved forward and grabbed my wrist to lead me back. “Peter probably had the fairies make a big dinner for tonight.”
“For what?” I asked, now back in the main room and heading toward the exit door through the maze of books. Lox let go of me, thankfully, or else I might’ve trampled over more novels.
“He said something yesterday about Rhiannon’s arrival celebration.” She shrugged, reaching down to grab her bag.
I felt myself tense. He was throwing a big dinner for Rhiannon? But when I’d gotten here, all I got was a taste of my own vomit and some of Hook’s nasty bread.
It wasn’t fair.
But Lox didn’t seem to notice or care as she stepped toward the stairs.
Sullenly, I followed her like a puppy dog, but Merlin spoke from behind us, halting our departure. “Did you say Rhiannon?”
Groaning with annoyance, Lox circled around dramatically at the top of the steps. “Yes, Merlin.”
“I know that name…” he mumbled, and now that I was turned back, too, I saw him scouring through books like a madman, searching for something. “I know that name…” he repeated.
Lox let out a sigh, her head falling back on her shoulders. “I don’t have time for this, Merlin!”
He ignored her and continued searching, and I found myself easing back into the room more and more. He knew who this chick was? Maybe one of his books could tell me how to get rid of her. I’d like that. Yeah… I’d like that a lot.
“What does she look like?” Merlin asked, still seeking a book in the massive piles.
“Black hair, dark eyes,” I commented bitterly. Pretty, I thought inwardly.
“Dark?” He looked up briefly. “As in black?”
Suddenly, I felt my stomach dip low into my gut with nervousness. I hadn’t realized it, but yeah, they’d been pretty dark. All I managed was a serious nod, and with it, Merlin yanked up a book he’d found, shuffling quickly toward us.
“I know of a Rhiannon.” On the page was a picture of a large woman with a staff positioned in a dark-green sky. Beside it was another piece of art showing a hideous, hunched old woman. They wore the same cloak. Merlin nodded in confirmation. “Yes, this is the Rhiannon I’ve heard of. She’s a malicious witch.”
I shook my head, glancing at Lox, who seemed confused. “But Rhiannon couldn’t be a witch. She doesn’t look like either of these.” I pointed to both.
Merlin read along with the text positioned by the pages. “Name: Rhiannon. Type: Witch. Story: Sleeping Beauty. Influence: Powerful and can change form. Other known titles: ‘Maleficent’, the ‘Evil Queen’ and more. She has been depicted as many different witches from across many stories. Personality: Powerful, ruthless, and deceiving. She—”
My mouth felt dry, and I reached out my hand to stop him. “Wait, w-what’d you say?”
“Malicious, ruthless, and deceiving.” He read along, though he knew fully well what I was talking about. I could see it in the light of his eyes.
“No, t-the changing form part.” My heart started to beat fast in my chest. Witch from Sleeping Beauty. Could change forms. “Could a possible form be a teenage girl?”
Merlin read an excerpt from the bottom of the page. “Is powerful enough to change forms. Seen as old, young, and middle-aged. She is best known for her sleeping spells and f—”
“Finger pricking.” Lox finished for him.
We made startled eye contact.
“She’s alone with Peter, Lox.”
Lox’s eyes widened farther, and instantly, she was bending to grab her things again. We couldn’t seem to move fast enough, struggling to get back to the stairs and run down them. We didn’t even have to say anything to know what we both assumed, but I prayed it wasn’t as bad as I thought.
Lox swung the door open as hard as she could, breaking into a full sprint to leave Merlin’s tower. I was right behind her until, out of breath already, I stopped to look up at the wizard standing atop the stairs, regarding us calmly.
“Don’t forget about me, Lacey Rose,” he said, and I heard Lox calling for me from outside.
Shuddering with adrenaline, I blinked and stuttered, “I-I won’t,” before dashing out after her.
And inwardly, despite every other thought bustling through my head, I was startled to realize something.
I’d never told him my name.
Seventeen
“This all makes sense,” Lox panted out, not as hard as I was, though. “She’s going to make Peter prick his finger on a spindle. This is unbelievable!” She threw up her hands as we raced through the brush. “And Rhiannon? Even her name means witch! Why didn’t I think of this sooner?”
As we ran, I thought if Zane was awake, he’d do something, right? But even as I thought this, my stomach turned with the realization that he probably wouldn’t be as caring toward our group as we’d been to him. Or more precisely, how caring I’d been to him. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
It was worse traveling through the thick woods when we had such a serious problem on our hands, like those dreams where you know you have to run, but your legs are holding you back (I’d had many of them before). And I still wasn’t recovered from the previous walking we’d done the day before. Yet here we were, me stumbling like a drunk through the foliage, and Lox combating like a four star general in the army. Just more reason for me to never, ever try out for cross-country when I got home. Or run ever again, for that matter.
It took about an hour of solid running, but the hideout finally came into view. I had no idea how we’d managed to run so quickly, but I was too relieved we’d made it to question that impossibility.
I stumbled some, but Lox kept me up and going with her grip on my wrist.
“When we get there, get inside and find either the witch or Peter. Stop whatever is going on. I’m going around the back to find a different way in.” She stopped suddenly and pushed me toward the Nevertree’s trunk.
I looked around hesitantly, not knowing what I was about to face. What if she had already put him to sleep and we were too late? I knew I didn’t like her the second she just so happened to save Peter from the Naiads. Now guilt registered all throughout my body, thinking I should’ve said something about her sooner. What was a witch even capable of? Weren’t witches supposed to have pointed hats and brooms or something? Why was Lox assuming I could stop whatever this witch was doing? I had no idea what to expect.
But deciding I couldn’t waste a single second more, I lunged inside, sliding into the darkness despite my fear. Maybe my subconscious believed I was some sort of hero. If that were the case, my subconscious was stupid. I barely knew how to fight, or what I’d be fighting, and I most definitely wasn’t a heroine like the ones from the movies. But, like always, I didn’t stop myself from going farther.
When I tumbled out, my first sighting was six of the seven Lost Boys, all bound with ropes, in the corne
r of the main room. They were hidden inside a bend in the roots and wouldn’t be seen by someone in Peter’s quarters. Shaking now, I shushed them as best I could, promising I’d be back for them.
“Zane?” I mouthed to them, hoping internally he’d gotten out while he could.
They all motioned toward the other side of the hideout where Peter’s bed was, and that hope instantly burned out. Peter must have called off the fairy guard when he got back to the hideout with Rhiannon.
A few feet away, slouched in the corner and hidden from the main room as well, was Mitch. Shuffling over to him, my heart in my throat, I let out a quiet breath of relief when I pressed my fingers to the side of his neck and felt his pulse. Beside his hand was a dropped weapon, as if he’d tried to fight, and I winced at the idea. But turning back to the other boys, gagged and so scared, was what finally got my mind moving alongside my adrenaline, mechanical almost.
When they motioned with their heads where Peter was, I quietly moved toward his big wooden chair, keeping an eye out for Rhiannon. She was here. I knew she was. I could feel her familiar darkness in the pit of my stomach.
Too soon, I spotted her. As fast I could, I hid behind a small bunch of hammocks, ignoring the slight lingering pain in my shoulder, and drew myself carefully back into the shadows. The witch was moving back and forth with great speed as Peter watched her from his bed, clearly amused and entertained. It was a relief to see him alive and unharmed.
I didn’t know what to do from here. At least I was good at hiding, always had been. From my problems, the world, life itself. I wasn’t one to get out there and be this bold, outgoing girl. Everything I did was certain and usually comfortable, other than unleashing my dreams into my paintings. But I wasn’t going to be able to paint myself out of this one.
“Oh, c’mon! Do another.” Peter clapped bemusedly, much like a little boy.
Rhiannon smiled slyly.
I’d known it. She was a witch in disguise, and I’d felt guilty for being suspicious of it. Now I was just angry I hadn’t done something sooner.
“Why, of course.” Her dark eyes flickered around the room, yellow dress swishing around her and tan arms swaying in the air. She was using magic.
As she pointed to a knife that hung from Peter’s belt, it suddenly sprang from its sheath to the floor. With a slight flick of her wrist, Rhiannon turned the dagger into a frog. A frog.
Peter clapped in amazement, oblivious to his immediate danger. He began to float from his seat in pure joy as the frog was turned back into its original form.
“Do you want to see something even cooler?” She didn’t wait for him to answer. “Okay, but… I need an assistant.” She pretended to peer around in search of a partner, and Peter soared to her side in an instant. She clapped her hands. “Wonderful! Thank you for volunteering, Peter.” They both joked like old pals, sparking anger in me like a fresh flame.
“What do you want me to do?” he asked, his voice low with intrigue.
Rhiannon grinned. “I need you only to listen to me at first. I’m going to make a spindle weave a thread of gold.” And then she presented a spindle in the middle of the room with a wave of her hand.
Peter tilted his head, pursing his lips. “What am I supposed to do with that?”
Just jump forward, Lacey. Stop this. Don’t let her get away this. Stop being a coward and just do it.
“This is a friend of mine’s. Maybe you’ve heard of him. He spins thread into gold for a living.” Her dark eyes flashed. “Now your job is to press the pedal.” She pushed him playfully, and I felt like I needed to throw up, unable to listen to myself and stop this.
“All right,” Peter said simply, then swiftly flew to the spindle’s seat to press his foot to its wooden pedal.
Rhiannon’s eyes lit up with anticipation.
“Oh! I almost forgot.” She interrupted him before he could ask more. I could feel cold sweat trickling down my neck. “Would you mind placing the wool into its spot? Right there.” She pointed to the spindle of the wheel, a large needle pointing straight out of it.
“Here?” he asked, and Rhiannon’s eyes seemed to flare with fire.
“Yes… right… there,” she said a little too excitedly.
Why wasn’t he realizing he was in danger? Why was Peter so oblivious?
I was frozen in place, as cliché as it sounds. I couldn’t make myself stop watching and actually move.
Peter nodded, unknowingly still, and reached for the wool. Everything seemed to move slowly, like the dread seeping into my veins. Rhiannon pushed out her hand quickly, sending Peter’s arm back toward the needle he’d been trying to avoid. I found myself crying out to stop it, but it’d already happened.
There was a slight pricking sound before Peter fell to the floor, all the life seeming to leave him. I was too late. I hadn’t acted fast enough.
Peter lay on the dirt floor of the underground house, motionless. He wasn’t dead, thankfully, and a light snoring could be heard from his lips. Thanks to this knowledge, the breath I was lacking came back a little, but I still felt petrified all over.
But now I’d stupidly exposed myself to her. I was stupid and too late.
“Y-you witch,” I hissed sadly, staring down at Peter. I’d let this happen. I’d known and I’d sat there watching. What was wrong with me?
She turned to me, a bubbling, hoarse laugh coming from her throat.
“Thanks for letting me stay here.” She inhaled with a grin, looking around the Nevertree with a pleased expression. “It was really a lovely time, but I must dash. Oh, and please, dear, make sure the boy gets into a bed before someone steps on him.”
“You have to wake him up. W-whatever you did to him…” I was stumbling over every word. “Undo it.”
“No, thank you, but I appreciate the suggestion. Hook pays too well for a job to be performed any less than he expects.” And with that, the witch made a motion, a swooping with her arms, and disappeared from my sight in less than a second.
Gone almost as quickly as she’d appeared.
The underground hideout was in total darkness thanks to the witch blowing out all the candles in her escape. Searching, I found a match and lit the nearest candle I could find, trembling so bad it took me four tries to even strike the match.
The room was once again visible, but it needed more light. Tears threatened to spill onto my hot cheeks, but I kept them somewhat at bay as I numbly lit another candle, repeating this until the entire room was brighter, but also a bit smoky.
What was I supposed to do now?
Timidly passing Peter’s motionless body on the floor, I pressed my face into my hands and tried to breathe. A panic attack would not be helpful right now. I had to think, logically. But what about this was logical? None of it. I felt guilt beyond expression. If I’d just… been a hero. Everyone else here seemed to be one. I could’ve jumped out there and cut her in half with a sword or something. Warned Peter. But I’d just sat there, watching, and Rhiannon had gone ahead with her awful plans—all because I wouldn’t get up and help.
Trying not to cry again, I realized there was still something I needed to tend to, despite Peter lying there. I quickly ran to the corner where the Lost Boys were still bound, too ashamed to look them in the eyes.
“I-I’m sorry,” I said. I kept repeating myself, voice cracking. “I’m so, so sorry.” My hands shuddered.
Finding one of the boys’ dropped knives, I cut every rope and removed their gags. They all jumped up and thanked me, happy to be free again, which actually just felt like one of them had plunged one of their daggers right through my chest. They didn’t know yet. Some were confused when I spoke to them, the younger ones. The older ones wouldn’t look at me. They knew what I’d done—what I hadn’t done—to help save Peter. The littles, they searched for him, their mouths becoming straight lines upon discovery. Their hats were dropped from their heads, and in pure angst, tears were shed, noses were swiped at.
And it was entirely
my fault.
Peter Pan lay resting on his side, soft snores still escaping his lips. He was on the floor where the spindle that allegedly would have woven golden thread had stood moments before. But now all that was left was regret.
My heart withered as the Lost Boys, their swords and slingshots bouncing, heaved Pan onto his cushioned bed and covered him with a blanket. All I could do was stare at him. He appeared lifeless, though I knew he was sleeping.
Sleeping, yes, and never waking up.
As the boys settled him into place, Lox came sliding into the Nevertree, frazzled and worried. No words would come, but I didn’t have to say anything. But she saw, letting her bag fall to the floor and her usual determined expression drop.
“Boss?” She looked over him, running her hands over her face and pulling at some of her hair. “W-we’re too late. We didn’t make it.”
“I-I—” Really about to cry, I somehow managed to speak. “I could’ve done something, Lox. I froze up. I’m so sorry,” I told her, praying she’d understand. I wasn’t the hero. I wasn’t here to save the world, let alone Peter. Why did they all expect so much from me? To be an amazing heroine who could kick villains’ butts without even blinking an eye?
She pulled at the cloth on her hips, trying to take it all in. I could see her mind working a mile a minute.
“I shouldn’t have put that pressure on you. Maybe Peter was wrong.” She looked up at me, not in malice, just blankly. “Maybe you aren’t as ready as we thought.”
It stung; it did. But it was everything I was thinking, just spoken aloud. I’d let this happen, and she was right. Peter had been wrong about me.
Lox walked away from me then, the mood around us turning into one of mourning. I didn’t join the Lost Boys as they circled her, telling of how they would always remember Pan. How wonderful a leader he was. How they were going to tell the army.
“We have to tell them about us surrendering.”
Unable to stand listening anymore, I approached Peter. For my failure, I wished the witch would return and put me to sleep in his place. He had duties, despite how weird and insane it seemed to me. People looked up to him, came to him for help. Now that I’d practically allowed this to happen, how would everything keep going?
Mere Phantasy Page 18
