Unhooked (24 page)

Fiona's eyes go dark, the pupils glossy and fathomless. “And then, Young One, you will free my Queen.”

I gape at her. “Your Queen is gone. She was defeated by the Dark Ones.”

“Defeated, yes, but not yet destroyed,” Fiona says, her voice buzzing with a dangerous satisfaction. “My Queen created this world, and is the source of all within it. Without her, this world—the island, the seas, and everything in them—would have already ceased to be. The one who calls himself Pan knew this.

“When he and his Dark Ones rose up against her, they did not destroy her. Until now the one who calls himself Pan has been able to do no more than hold my Queen as his prisoner, keeping my people hostage to his demands and the dagger he stole from her. But she grows weak, and as her power fades, so does this world. Find where Pan has hidden her and free her, or you shall die along with Neverland.”

“Find her?” I ask Fiona. “You're not going to tell me where she is, at least?”

“She don't know,” Will says with a smirk.

Fiona glares at him, but doesn't dispute what he said. “You will have all you need once the Captain is free. He knows more about the one who calls himself Pan than any other.” Fiona smiles her sharp-toothed sneer. “They are great friends, you see.”

“Were,”
Will corrects quickly, glaring at the Fey. “They
were
friends. Before.”

“And they're not now?” I ask, glancing between Fiona and Will, trying to determine who is telling me the truth.

“No,” the two answer almost in unison. At least they agree on that much. . . . Not that it makes me feel any better. But at least now I understand why Fiona was so anxious for me to free the Captain.

Fiona lets out an angry hiss. “I may need your Captain, but do not forget
you
are expendable, boy.”

“You only need him because he knows where your fairy godmother is,” Will says with a sneer. “The Cap'n knows well enough that the minute he tells you, there won't be a single reason for you to keep any of us alive. It's the only thing that's kept you honest with him.” He scowls. “Well, as honest as any of your kind
can
be.”

Fiona gives Will a disgusted look before she turns to me again. “The time has come for action, Young One. As long as
you
are in this world, there is the risk that Pan could take what power you possess and destroy the Queen. If that happens,
nothing
would be able to stop him from doing or taking what he wants—not even the boundaries between the worlds.” Fiona stalks toward me, letting the implications of an unstoppable Pan sink in. “You will go from this place, and you will free my Queen.”

“And then what?” I ask, my skin crawling as she advances.

Fiona's mouth curves back into a dangerous smile. “And then I will kill the one who calls himself Pan and free my people.”

“But what about
us
?”

Her lip curls. “I'm sure my Queen will show favor on the ones who have freed her.” She tosses the bag at my feet. “You will have need of these.”

I bend down to look in the package, and find it contains a couple of blades and the Captain's mechanical arm. I narrow my eyes as I look up at her. “That's it? I'm just supposed to take your word for it?”

Will snorts and, for once, we're in agreement.

“You no longer have a choice, Young One. Pan knows what you've seen, and if he discovers you here, the time for pretty stories will be over.”

“You told me yourself that he can't take my power, whatever power that may be.”

Fiona continues to smile dangerously. “True. But you are not completely immune to the dangers of this world, Young One. Your human blood makes you susceptible to Neverland's charms. How long do you think it would take before your feeble memories of that other world disappear completely? Until you are no different than your empty-headed friend? How long did it take for her to abandon herself to this world?”

Days. It only took days for Olivia to lose herself.
And my own memories are not much better. Fiona's right. I have to find another way home. Because if Pan gets me, I doubt he'll try plying me with his charm this time.

“I'll help you free your Queen because I want to get home, but I'm not leaving here without Olivia,” I tell Fiona. “Not after I've seen what Pan's capable of.”

“She is not necessary,” Fiona hisses in a voice as sharp as her teeth.

“Necessary or not, I won't go anywhere without her.”

Her eyes narrow. “If I assure her safety?”

I'm about to argue it's not enough, but Will stops me. “Have her swear on the life of her Queen. Iffen she does that, the girl will be safe until we can get back to her. Maybe even safer if Olivia comes with us. Fiona's type—they can't break their oaths. It's the only reason there's any Dark Ones still doing Pan's bidding.”

“But they help the Captain,” I point out.

“Because the one who calls himself Pan made an oath with only a small assembly of the Dark Fey,” Fiona explains. “The rest were content to assist in defeating my Queen, but they are not
bound
to him. And even those who made the oath promised obedience, not loyalty.” She gives me another sharp-toothed smile, as though she finds it amusing the Dark Ones have managed to exploit this loophole. “But the boy is not wrong. My kind cannot break oaths without being unmade by them. If you do as I require, I will make sure the human girl comes to no harm.”

“That's not enough,” Will says, glancing at me. “Make her swear it on her Queen's life, and then let's be on with it. Because I don't want to be here when Pan realizes that you're against him now.”

“And that's it?” I ask, doubtful.

Will starts to answer, but Fiona interrupts him.

“Pan may already be coming for you,” she taunts. “If he finds you here, I will not protect you.”

I glare at her. I don't like the idea of leaving Olivia behind again, but I'm not sure I have a choice. “Fine. Swear on the life of your Queen that Olivia will come to
no
harm while I am freeing your Queen—not from Pan, not from you, not from
anything
in this world.”

Fiona narrows her eyes with each clause and additional word, but she makes the oath. The words are no sooner out of her mouth when, in a flash, she's gone, leaving us only a swiftly dimming orb behind for light.

“Do they always do that?” I ask Will, rubbing at my eyes.

“If you're lucky, that's all they do,” Will mutters.

We stare at each other uneasily. “I still don't know how I'm supposed to get you out of there.” The bars of their prison are made from solid rock. I run my hands across them, trying to find some weakness or hidden opening, but I don't see one. “Maybe you should wake your Captain first? He might have some idea of what to do.”

As predicted, waking the Captain's not easy. The second Will touches his shoulder, the once-aimless writhing turns violent. As the Captain thrashes, his fist connects with Will's face with a sickening crunch.

Will barely acknowledges the blow. “It's time to go, Cap'n.” Blood dripping from his nose, he gives the Captain a hard slap across the face.

The Captain blinks awake, muttering a string of curses. “William?” He pushes Will off his chest and props himself up, squinting into the light. “Did Fiona come for us?”

“She left,” I say dryly.

It takes him a moment before he notices me. “Gwendolyn?” I can hear the confusion in his voice. “Why is she here?” He doesn't exactly sound pleased.

“Apparently, she has seen the error of her ways,” Will tells him with no small amount of irony. “Come on, then.” Will is already pulling the Captain up onto unsteady legs.

“Has she?” The Captain frowns, not looking at all convinced as he staggers to his feet. I can't exactly blame him, considering it's partially my fault he's stuck in there. Still, it could be worse. He could have fallen to his death. Or Pan could have run him through with his own blade.

“Can we blame me for everything later? We need to figure out how to get you out of there before Pan figures out where I am and comes for me.” I'm still feeling the rocky bars, looking for some weakness. “I don't even see a place for a key.”

“There's no key that'll open this cage, lass. You'll have to use what you are,” the Captain says.

I go still when the meaning of his words registers. “Not you too,” I say, shaking my head in denial. It is one thing for Fiona to believe I'm part Fey, but for the Captain to?

And then something occurs to me. “When did you know?”

He hesitates and his mouth goes tight, but then he seems to realize there's no way out of telling me. “When you were on my ship. Fiona told me of the girl Pan had captured, but when Pan's boys attacked my ship, I knew she'd been mistaken,” he says, never looking away from me.

“Why didn't you tell me?” I charge. “You could have warned me. I never would have gone with Pan.”

His dark eyes are steady, composed. “You wouldn't have believed me, lass. You could barely believe you'd found yourself in Neverland.”

I open my mouth to argue. . . . But he's right. I wouldn't have believed him. Not then. I'm
still
not sure I believe it.

On the other side of the opening, his eyes are hooded in shadow. “If Fiona imagines you can open this, you must at least try, Gwendolyn.”

“I don't know how,” I whisper.

He frowns softly, as though considering the problem. “This island is of the Queen, and if you are of the Queen as Fiona believes, you'll be able to speak to it,” he tells me softly. “You've only to desire it, lass.”

Like it's that easy.
But I shake off my frustration and press my hands against the cool rock that separates me from Will and the Captain. Closing my eyes, I concentrate on the pulse of the island, hoping I will again feel that flare of warmth. But no matter how hard I try, nothing happens.

“It's not working,” I tell them.

When I open my eyes, the Captain is rubbing at his bruised chin and considering me. “I'd say you're not wanting it badly enough, lass.”

“Of course I want it,” I snap.

“No. You don't,” he says, ignoring my spike of temper. “You may say that you want us free, but you don't really mean it. Not completely.”

“Figures,” Will mutters behind him, shifting uneasily.

But I
do
want him free, and I peer through the opening to tell him, when he speaks again.

“You know you
need
to free us. Part of you may even want to. But here”—he reaches through the narrow opening and brushes my hair back from my eyes before he taps gently at my temple—“here, you worry you're making another wrong choice. You worry I'll be angry. Or perhaps you worry I'll go back on my word and take your life. Perhaps you worry you're not enough.”

I start to deny it, but the warmth of his fingers sizzles along my skin as he traces down my cheeks, my neck, heating me in places far beyond the reach of his touch. I step closer to the rock that separates us, leaning into the comforting warmth of his hand. “I don't know how,” I whisper, the overwhelming ache of that defeat shattering the last of my resolve. Because he's right. I
do
worry that I'm not enough to do this.

“You don't have to know. You just have to want.”

“I
do
,” I plead.

“You must want it with the whole of your being, Gwendolyn. This island is of the Fey, and the Fey live and breathe desire. It creates them, sustains them. But in its purest form, desire has no thought of fear or misgiving. Neither can you.”

He's so close to the bars that I have to angle my head up to look into his eyes. Even with the jagged rock between us, I can feel the warmth of his body, the gentle brush of his breath as he speaks. My heart beats unevenly in my chest.

“You can only
want
,” he whispers, his voice soft and tempting. He is so close that I can smell the familiar spice of clove, the crispness of the sea air that not even the sweat and grime of battle can overpower, and I
do
want. Unaccountably, what I want is
him
.

“You can do this, lass. You stood toe-to-toe with me time and again, and never once flinched. You stepped in front of a madman, your back straight and your shoulders squared against the devil himself as you plead for my life.” Then he lowers his voice, and what he says next is only for me. “You're more than enough, Gwendolyn.”

And in that instant, I believe him. My fears fade away, and all my doubts are suspended, because I
want
. And what I want is nothing more than to feel his body against mine. So I can know what it would be like to put to rest, once and for all, the simmering tension that always seems to boil over between us.

And the moment I let myself admit that desire, the moment I lose my hold on propriety and logic and self-preservation and fear, the stone goes hot beneath my hands. A pain, alive and sharp, shoots up my arm. Before I can pull back, the stone between us disappears, and I tumble into his arms.

His brother was not looking at him, but into the field before them. “Run,” his brother commanded, “and keep running until we're out of this, understand?” The boy nodded, unable to find words. “Don't stop, no matter what happens.”

The boy understood then what his brother intended. Suddenly. Fiercely. “I won't leave you,” the boy said—an unbreakable oath. . . .

I
LAND AGAINST THE CAPTAIN'S chest with a thump, and the unexpectedness of his body against mine—the heat and strength of him—has me scrambling away. The corner of his mouth tilts, just a bit, but then he turns from me, all business once again.