The Librarian (Book Two: Unhappily Ever After) (7 page)

"This is going to be so great," Peter giggled.

Nibs was already on his knees, ready to open the briefcase he'd been carrying.

"Hurry up, Nibs! Before we get caught and I have to teach Hook another lesson." Peter pulled his sword from its sheath and pretended to fence a pirate that wasn't there.

"I'm going," Nibs grumbled before popping the locks on his briefcase and reaching inside to carefully remove the antique cuckoo clock he'd been carrying. It was a beautiful piece. Its face was made of ivory, and the tiny doors that opened on the hour were intricately carved from the finest woods in Neverland.

Nibs wound the clock with a golden key then hid it in a nook behind several broken clocks that were already there.

The Lost Boys began to laugh. Even Locke.

"Shh!" Peter put a finger to his lips. "Listen!"

The room fell silent except for the faint sounds of the cuckoo clock Nibs had hidden.

Tik, tik, tik.

"Perfect," Peter said. "Let's go."

They hurried out the door and started down the hall, but the gruff sound of men's voices was filtering down from atop the stairs. Just as Locke expected.

Nibs was terrified. "Is that—"

"Hook," Peter finished. "C'mon. In here."

Peter opened a nearby closet and the Lost Boys piled inside. The closet was small, and the kids were stacked on top of one another when Peter pulled the door shut. There was barely enough room to breath.

Peter left the door cracked just enough so he could watch as the pirates stormed by.

"It's Hook alright. And Smee."

Captain James Hook was a towering man with a menacing stare. His black hair flowed down his back in long curls. He wore a red coat with black trim and golden tassels and a three-cornered hat with a long white feather extending past its brim. And, of course, there was a large silver hook in the place that previously belonged to his right hand.

"I don't understand, capt'n."
 

"That doesn't surprise me, Smee."

The man with Hook wasn't nearly as formidable. Smee was a short, disheveled man who looked like he'd just rolled out of bed. His belly rolled over his belt and was peeking out from beneath his shirt.

"How can we put our trust in a man we don't know?"

"But I
do
know him, Smee. I told you. I met him
today
."

"Oh," Smee said. "Of course. It's just—"

Hook grabbed Smee by the shirt and slammed him into the wall.

"W-w-what you d-doing there, capt'n?"
 

"Do you hear that, Smee?"

"I don't hear a t'ing. C-could you l-let me go?"

Hook released him then started toward the stairs. "Wake the men! That wretched crocodile has come to finish me off!"

But Hook stopped just outside the clock room.

In the closet, Peter thought the pirate had heard him giggling and slapped both hands across his mouth.

"Capt'n?"

The pirate rushed through the doorway.

"Help me find it, Smee!"

Smee stumbled in after him.

"Of course, capt'n. I'll help you with anything. You know that. But if I may... what... what are we looking for?"

"You fool! Don't you hear it?
A clock!
"

Smee cringed before speaking, knowing a harsh reprimand would follow. "But sir, all-o-these clocks have been destroyed. You made sure—"

He stopped short, his ears at attention.

Tik, tik, tik.

"Wait," Smee said. "I think I do hear a-somethin, capt'n."

Hook slid across the room and grabbed the mallet. He swung it wildly, happy to let it randomly bash anything within reach. Smee had to duck more than once. Shards of shattered clocks were raining down all around him.

"Did I get it? Did I get it, Smee?!"

Hook was praying the mallet would find the offending clock on its own. Smee was praying the mallet wouldn't find his head.

"Capt'n! Stop!"

Hook stopped just long enough to listen. His hat had shifted so that it sat lopsided on his head. The hint of a dark smile appeared on his face. But then—

Tik, tik, tik.

Hook gave a furious growl and let the mallet fly.

"No, capt'n! Please!"

"Someone will walk the plank for this outrage! I swear it!"

He hit everything in his path. He broke shelves. He shattered a window. Once, his foot slipped and the mallet tore a hole through the wooden floor at his feet.

Peter couldn't hold it in any longer. A rush of laughter came exploding out of him. Luckily, it went unheard beneath Hook's rampage.

Smee backed into a corner for safety but quickly found that the farther he moved, the stronger the clock's ticking became. He turned and began digging through the clocks on a nearby shelf. He spotted the cuckoo clock and saw that its second hand was moving briskly past the golden numbers on its face.

"Capt'n?"

Hook wheeled around in anger.

Smee held the clock out to him in trembling hands.

Tik, tik, tik.

"That's it?"

Smee nodded nervously.

"Why, it looks brand new," Hook said. "Peter Pan did this, Smee. That clock wasn't in this room before. Oh my! Such bad form to play on an adversary's fears like this."

"Really? It doesn't seem that bad. Remember when—"

"Smee?"

"Yes, capt'n?"

"Did I say it's bad form?"

Smee wasn't sure he understood the question.

"Well... umm... yes, capt'n."

"
Then it's bad form!
" the pirate screamed. Smee shrunk away.

Hook pointed to a table near the window. "Put it there."

Smee did as he was told.

"The man I met? He's going to help us put an end to these childish games. This war with Peter Pan has gone on too long." He raised the mallet, choking down on its handle for control. "I'm going to finish Pan if it's the last thing I do."

He brought the hammer down, and the clock split in two. The yellow bird inside croaked as it spilled through the clock's doors on a bent spring. Hook flattened the bird for good measure.

"Get one of the men to clean this up," Hook ordered, tossing the mallet aside as he stormed out of the room.

Peter waited until the two men were up the stairs and out of sight before turning to the other kids.

"Alright, boys. Show's over."

He pushed the door open, and they tumbled out of the closet. They recovered quickly, sneaking into the clock room where Peter began ushering the Lost Boys through the window one at a time. Locke took a post near the door, making sure no one came down the hall as they made their escape. Not that anyone would. No one ever came. Locke had stood the post so many times before. It was always the same. Every single time.

Until it wasn't.

Locke's heart nearly leapt from his chest when Hook and his first mate came barging down the steps again.

"I'm going to show you what I'm talking about, Smee. Then you'll understand."

Locke pulled the door shut and breathed a quiet sigh of relief when he saw them pass. Still, that wasn't enough to ease his concerns. Just as his friends in Astoria had experienced some odd changes to their world, something in Neverland was...

Off.

Locke checked on the others then crept out of the room. He heard muffled voices coming from Hook's quarters at the end of the hall. He inched forward and put his ear to the door. He could hear everything.

"He told me he's from America. Does that make any sense to you, Smee? He called it the
real
world."

Locke furrowed his brow, his thoughts racing across Neverland to the portal that led from Neverland into the library.

Had Hook gone through the portal?

Had someone snuck in from the other side?

Peter knew of the real world. He went often. A few days from now he would go to a place called London and bring Wendy and the others back with him. But Locke didn't think that was the real
real
world. He was pretty sure that was just part of the book that guided their lives. A book that had guided all of their lives... until now.

"I don't understand," Smee said. "I thought this was the real world. I don't see how one world can be any more real than the next."

"Well," Hook began, "that's what he said. He said he's from a land where battles aren't won with swords and canons. In
his world
you can be victorious with the push of a button."

"Oh," Smee said, thinking. Then: "What's a button? Like the button on your shirt?

"No! You fool, Smee! A button can... well... it... it's...
it's from the real world!
Stop asking so many questions! Didn't you hear me? We can bring this war to an end. With his help, we can win."

"What if it's a double-cross?"

"Then I'll run him through!"

Smee stepped away from the pirate. Hook took a deep breath, smoothing his coat with both hands and straightening his hat.
 

"He gave me something," Hook explained. "Proof he isn't from Neverland."

Locke pushed the door open just a hair so he could see into the cabin. He watched Hook sit down behind a large desk and pull one of its drawers open. He took something from inside and handed it to Smee.

"Careful," he whispered. "Careful."

"Whoa!" Smee studied the tiny device with curiosity before finally speaking up. "What is it?"

"Well... Smee... it's... it's... it's a button, of course!" Hook made a flourish with his hand as if presenting something quite grand.

"Oh! Of course, capt'n. I knew that."

The two men grinned wickedly as Smee held the "button" near the flame of a candle on Hook's desk for a better look.

Locke caught a glimpse of the device and immediately knew it did not belong in Neverland. In fact, it looked a lot like the device his friend Wesley Bates had used to light their way through secret passageways during Locke's last trip into the real world. What had they called it? A game? A video? He couldn't remember. In the end, it didn't really matter.

It seemed someone had thrown a rock into the storybook world that was Neverland, and there was no telling just how far the ripples of change might spread.

WESLEY STOOD ALONE in the library, studying the deep intricacies of the Neverland carving while wondering what his wild friend might be doing on the other side.

Strangely, Hope's explanation of recent events had left Wesley feeling like
his side
of the portal was the fantasy, as if Astoria was the make-believe land. He'd read a number of sci-fi novels that dealt with alternate realities, but this whole thing was quite confusing, even for him.

Hope had tried to put it as simply as she could: "When you freed the Tinman you altered the
Oz
story. Dorothy
never killed
the Wicked Witch. Instead, the Witch killed her. When that happened, the library shifted to a world where Baum wrote
that
ending instead of the one you know. Everything outside these walls is exactly the same except for that one little difference. Of course, you've begun to realize one little difference can have a pretty big effect."

It was the part about the library's shift that was sticking with Wes. He couldn't get past the visual of an old stone castle hurtling through time and space. Wesley spotted a crack in the library wall shaped like a razor-thin lightning bolt. He wondered if the imperfection was there before he and Taylor's trip to Oz or if it was something new. There was no way to know. Not for sure.

"It's a lot to process, isn't it?" Wesley turned to find Hope standing in the aisle behind him. "Sometimes I wonder if I understand everything about this place." She stepped toward him. He felt a strong urge to inch away but held his ground. "I'm sorry I came down on you so hard in there. It's just... this is pretty scary stuff."

"I'm sorry we broke your window."

"Was that your idea?"

"Yeah," Wesley answered sheepishly.

"But it
wasn't
your idea in Oz?"

"It was my idea to
go
."

"I suppose," Hope said. "But you only went so that you could save the Lost Boy, right? That's not so bad."

She had changed again. She was soft and kind, almost motherly.
You never know what you're gonna get with this woman
, Wesley thought.

"What was his name?" Hope asked.

"Locke." Just the mention of his name brought the hint of a smile to his face.

"You guys got him home. It worked. I can't complain too much about that," she said. "But why did Taylor decide to free the Tinman? How did
that
happen?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well," Hope began, "you had a good reason for
going
. You wanted to save Locke. But why did they insist on freeing the Woodsman? It sounds like you warned them this would happen."

"Not
this
, exactly. But, yeah..."

"Like I said, then. I'm sorry I came down on you so hard. It doesn't sound like this is your fault at all." She started down the aisle and into the library's main hall. "If your friends had just listened to you we wouldn't even be in this mess."

Wesley watched her disappear around the corner.

Maybe she's not so bad,
he thought.
We did break her window. I'd be mad, too.

He started ambling along, perusing the wall alone, looking at each of the carvings that had so enraptured him on his first visit. It was hard to enjoy them as he had before. Before, they'd been nothing more than cool pieces of art. Now they were something more: powerful relics that demanded respect, doors that should only be opened by those who would act responsibly once they've walked through.

She's right
.
Those guys should have listened.

TAYLOR TURNED AWAY from the Oz display, shoving one hand behind her back when she heard Hope approach.

"You and Wesley should probably stay here," Hope explained. "You'll want to make sure you're inside these walls when the librarian does his work in Oz. If not, you might end up stuck in
that
Astoria instead of your own." She pointed a finger at the building's chained entry to indicate the city beyond.