Unhooked (18 page)

“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.

It's heavier than it looks, and though its blade is dark, it has a silvery shine that looks like it's coming from within the metal.

“This is really all it takes to scare one of those things?” I ask, glancing up at him doubtfully. The metal feels warm in my hand.

“That's not just any knife, Gwendolyn. It belonged to my mother, the Queen,” he explains. “Long ago the Queen traveled across the boundaries into the human world to find something to defeat the Dark Fey, who so often attacked her court in their attempt to take over this world. She brought back this—a dagger forged in iron and human blood and silver. Together they are deadly to the Dark Ones. To all Fey,” he said, nodding into the mist and taking the dagger back from me.

“She used that blade to kill the King of the Dark Ones and to banish what remained of his court to the far ends of this land so her people could live here in safety. They know well enough what this is capable of,” he tells me as he tucks the dagger securely back into the sheath at his side. “And they're smart enough to avoid it.”

“Why don't you just kill them all with it, then?” I ask.

“It's impossible to kill a shadow, Gwendolyn. The Dark Ones can only be killed when they're fully corporeal, and they have the inconvenient habit of melting into the darkness they're born from. Besides, without the Queen to hold them in check, there are far too many of them for any single blade to do the job.”

I frown at his explanation. And I can't help but glance at the dagger. He's probably right—there's no way that such a small weapon could defeat
all
the Dark Ones . . . But I only need one or two to get us home.

Pan's expression flickers then, as though he's sensed the direction of my thoughts and doesn't approve. “As I was saying,” he tells me, his voice unwavering, “it's time we go.”

Since he can't carry both of us at the same time, and the fairy lights seem to have been lost in the fog, we spend the afternoon walking back to his fortress. Once we cross the flat, rocky stretch of land I saw from the air, the terrain begins to climb steeply into the mountainous middle of the island. I worry a little about making it all the way to the top—it's been so long since I've done anything physical, and I'm already breathless only a quarter of the way up. Still, the burning ache as my tired muscles struggle up the incline is almost pleasant. It reminds me of something I'd felt before, something comforting and real from life in my own world. But before I can figure out what it is, Pan stops at a rocky outcropping and leads us through a hidden passageway that cuts directly into the rocky hillside.

As soon as we enter, more of the glowing orbs snap to attention and circle us, but as though realizing we're not a threat, they simply light our way through the winding curves of the silent tunnel. On and on we go, through a narrow passage that seems endless. The air is close and has a coppery smell that reminds me of old pennies, and the walls often pitch at odd angles, so we have to duck or maneuver around them.

By now, Olivia's eyes have gone completely glassy. As we walk, she occasionally steals glances at me, but I can tell that when she looks at me, she doesn't recognize me. From the stiff set of her shoulders and the way she takes advantage of every opportunity to pull Pan's attention toward her, I don't think she sees me as anything but a threat.

Eventually, we come to a place where the tunnel we're following opens into a cavernous room. The dark stone of the barrel-shaped ceiling is shot through with veins of scarlet crystal that glimmer like garnets. With the rocky walls steadily moving around us, it feels as if we're standing in the middle of a beating heart.

All around the sloping walls, a series of identical openings lead off in different directions. None of them are marked in any way, but Pan doesn't even slow his steps.

“Where do all of these go?” I ask, glancing back over my shoulder as I try to remember which tunnel we've just come through.

“Various places in Neverland. Though I would caution against exploring on your own, my dear. Never can tell where you might end up. This way,” Pan says, gesturing toward an opening on the far right.

Though this new path is drier than the last, the walls are sloped steeply on either side. In certain places, Pan has to crouch to keep moving without hitting his head. And all around us, the walls of the cave are in constant movement. Pebbles rattle, falling to the floor as the rock undulates in its constant dance.

I look warily at the ceiling of the tunnel. “Is it really safe to be down here?”

“We haven't much choice. There's no other way to get back to the safety of my home except these tunnels. The entrance we used yesterday would be far too difficult and treacherous of a climb from this side of the island. There's good reason why the Queen picked this location for her stronghold.”

As we walk on, I think of the thick walls of the fortress, the impenetrable-looking facade. I think of the fairy lights that guard every entrance and the dagger, which is supposedly so deadly to the Fey, and I can't help but wonder how anyone managed to penetrate the defenses the Queen had built up around herself. If she was all-powerful, I can't imagine how the Dark Ones rose up and overthrew her after she'd already killed their King.

When the stone walls of the cavern around us tremble with a sudden and unusual amount of force, Pan goes still, his body tense as though readying himself for a collapse.

“It never stops, does it?” I ask. Yesterday, watching the land shift in its never-ending dance as we sailed over it was enchanting—magical, even—but this far beneath the surface, the constant movement seems more dangerous than anything else.

“It wasn't always like this,” Pan says, his eyes scanning the ceiling of the tunnel before he leads us on. “When the Queen was in power, the island bent to her will, and all who lived on it were protected, but when she fell, so too did the protection her power provided. Since then, this land has grown evermore unstable. Recently it's been getting much worse,” he tells me. “I've done what I can with the gifts she gave me, but I'm not strong enough to hold this world alone. Without her power, Neverland will eventually tear itself apart.”

I can hear the din of the Great Hall clearly now, but I stop and stare at him. “But you asked me to stay.”

“I did,” he tells me. “I think you belong here, Gwendolyn. I think there's a reason you found your way to this world.”

Olivia's eyes flash as she shifts in Pan's arms, pulling herself closer to him as though staking her claim.

Just then the land trembles again, sending showers of rock and debris down onto our heads. Olivia tucks herself closer to Pan, and I reach for the wall to steady myself as it quakes. For a second I think it's never going to stop. The pulse of the island is so erratic beneath my palms, so violent, that for a moment I think the ceiling above us will cave in.

But the moment I touch it, my hands go warm. My whole body goes hot, like I've touched a live wire, and the quaking earth pulses once, twice . . . and then goes completely still.

I stay close the wall, waiting for the violent quaking to begin again, and after a few long moments, the mountain slowly starts moving. When I'm sure it's not going to start shaking again, I pull myself away from the wall, eyeing the tunnel around me, ready just in case.

“You should be finding a way out of this,” I tell him as the rock around us settles into its usual, more gentle undulating rhythm. “Instead of convincing other people to stay here to die with you.”

He turns to me then, giving me his full attention. “I have no intention of dying, Gwendolyn. And I'm not looking for a way to escape this world.” The determination in his tone leaves no room for argument. “I would do anything to save it.”

His steady blue gaze meets mine, a challenge if I've ever seen one. But a challenge to what?

“There's a way to stop it?” I ask. “To save Neverland from destroying itself?” And from destroying everything and every
one
within it, I realize.

“I believe there is,” he says, his expression steady and calm. “And by saving Neverland, I shall save us all. Would you not pay any price to do the same?”

When he says it like that . . . Maybe he's right. Maybe we're not so different. I'd pay almost any price to get home, wouldn't I? To make sure Olivia gets home too?

But Pan misreads my silence for disagreement, and his expression changes. His earnestness is replaced by a look so intense, so unflinching, I can't seem to find the words to explain.

Not that I have time to anyway. From the length of tunnel ahead of us, a rapid patter of footfalls draws Pan's attention away from me.

In an instant, his dagger is out and ready. But this time the danger is only a small boy, one not even as tall as I am. But Pan doesn't lower his knife. “What is it?” he snaps.

The boy stops short and eyes the knife before he looks up and meets Pan's eyes. “We're under attack, milord,” he says breathlessly. “Hurry.”

“What?” Pan grabs the boy by the arm before he can take off again. “What are you talking about?”

“Pirates,” the boy says, his uneven teeth glinting in the flickering light of the orbs. “Attacking the fortress.”

“Impossible.” Pan's expression is a mixture of denial and fury. “They wouldn't dare, and even if they did, they'd never get past the trench.”

“They already have,” the boy says. “They're at the gate, and I don't know how much longer we can hold them.”

The boy wanted to tell his brother that he did not need to be protected, for he knew that was why his brother was there, in that place with him. But when he went to speak, he was struck by how his brother's face reminded him of home, and he could not find the words. All at once, he saw clearly how far he'd ventured from the safety of that other world, and he wondered why he had ever left. . . .

P
AN SENDS THE BOY OFF immediately to rally the others before he turns to Olivia and me. “I'll return you to your room,” he tells us. “Their breaching my defenses means there's a traitor among us, and I need to be sure you're safe.”

Around the corner ahead, the tunnel widens and then, after another turn, opens into the Great Hall. The usual chaos has been replaced with something more frantic. No boys lounge on furs now. Everywhere they gather their weapons and dart off in all directions. But despite the frantic energy around us, Pan is strangely calm as he pulls us through the muddle of bodies, pushing aside any child who dares to get in his way.

When we reach the far side of the hall, Pan presses his hand to the rock wall. A moment later a great rumbling sounds through the fortress, shaking the ground with such a violent aftershock, I have to reach out to steady myself. The entire wall is moving—ragged shards of stone begin to protrude to form a steep, uneven staircase up to our room.

Pan takes Olivia's hand and helps her mount the first of the large boulders so she can begin the precarious climb. When she's well on her way, he pulls me forward. But I hesitate.

“You're just going to leave us there without anything to defend ourselves?”

“You'll be safer there than anywhere,” he says. “Once you're up, I'll retract the stones, and no one will be able to reach you.” Lifting me easily by the waist, he sets me onto the first step. Then he takes my hand in his and presses his lips to the underside of my wrist. Heat flares at the place his lips touch me. “I'll not let him have you, Gwendolyn,” he says with a determination that has my cheeks flushing hot. “I never let him take what's mine.”

For a moment, I don't pull away. I feel as though all I can see is the clear blue of his eyes. For a moment, I feel that same tug toward him, that overwhelming urge to just agree with whatever he demands of me, to give him anything he wants.

But then he glances up, breaking our gaze. Without the steady intensity of his attention, I feel almost lost.

The intensity of that feeling is enough to bring me back to myself—to make me realize how quickly, how easily I fell under his thrall again. And enough to scare me.

When I turn to see what's caught his attention, I realize Olivia has already reached the top. She's watching us with narrowed eyes from the doorway above. From the dark look she's giving me, she saw Pan kiss my wrist. And she's not happy.