7. Wendy
CHAPTER SEVEN
WENDY
Peter Pan emerges from the market street into the golden light of the docks. People bustle past him, keeping their eyes down, but they make sure to give him a wide berth.
Asha tightens her grip on my hand. “I have your back. No matter what.”
“And if he’s a god like the books say?” I whisper out of the corner of my mouth.
“Then we will go down together trying to kill a god. It will be an epic tale. There will be ballads.”
I chuff out a breath, almost a laugh.
Peter Pan is at the head of the group. The rest of them form behind him, like a V of wolves.
He was always the leader. Everyone was always looking to Peter Pan for permission or acceptance or answers.
They cross the street that runs parallel to the harbor dock.
And then Peter Pan looks up and locks eyes with me. His steps falter.
“Oh,” Asha says beside me. “Do you see that?”
“Is he?—”
“You’ve disarmed him.” Asha gives my hand another squeeze before pulling away. “This is good. Use that.” Her hands go to her hips, where a dagger is strapped on either side.
Peter Pan comes to a stop in the middle of the cross street and the others come to a stop beside him.
And that’s when I see her.
Winnie Darling.
“Wow,” Asha breathes out. “She looks just like you.”
I catch myself tearing up again.
Asha isn’t wrong. Winnie Darling has the same thick, dark hair. Her’s is a little longer than mine, and it’s wild and untamed. Even though we’ve been at sea several days, having escaped a civil war, old habits die hard and I’ve been combing my hair every morning, twisting it into a chignon, careful to get every pin in its perfect place.
She’s thinner than I am—are they feeding her?—but there’s a strength to the line of her shoulders that reminds me of Asha. She’s sure of who she is and what her place is among these feral boys.
Nothing seems to have changed about the Lost Boys.
Vane is next to Winnie, looking just as dark and dangerous as I remember.
On Pan’s other side are twin brothers. Likely Kas and Bash, the fae princes. I was before their time. James informed me of them joining Pan, of warring with their sister, of reclaiming their wings.
“I’m going down,” I tell Asha.
“You sure you don’t want to make them come to you?”
If I stand here waiting any longer, I’m worried I may vibrate myself right off the quarterdeck. I’m full of energy that needs to be expended and I don’t want my first meeting with my descendant to be shaky and sweaty.
“I’m sure.”
Asha loaned me a pair of her leather trousers, but the old habit of lifting my skirts catches me off guard and I find my hands fumbling at my thighs. I quickly turn and make my way down the quarterdeck and to the gangplank.
Seeing the shifting sea beneath the gangplank has me doubting this decision. I don’t love heights, and I especially don’t love deep, dark water, but I take a breath and make the first step down, following the pattern of the toe boards to keep myself from slipping over the edge.
As soon as I’m on the stone of the harbor road, I feel better.
You can do this, Wendy.
Peter Pan doesn’t matter.
He holds no power over you.
I step forward, teeth clenched together.
Winnie presses a hand to Pan’s chest and he stops, looks down at her.
Her lips move, but I can’t hear her words. We’re still too far away.
Pan scowls at her. She scowls back and points at him, then at me.
Finally, he relents. He and the Lost Boys stay behind as Winnie comes forward alone.
Asha and I glance at one another.
“I don’t think you have to worry about her,” Asha mutters.
Did Winnie Darling just order Peter Pan to stay behind?
I love this girl, my distant descendant, already.
And seeing the way she’s advocated for herself, how she’s handled Pan easily and without fighting, gives me confidence.
I step forward.
She quickens her pace.
My heart races in my chest and my stomach swims.
We meet at the edge of the road.
The people of the harbor continue their work around us, oblivious to the weight of this moment and what it means.
“Hi,” Winnie says.
“Hello.” It’s taking everything inside of me not to burst into tears.
She holds out her hand. It’s small, her fingers delicate. Her fingernails are painted a bright shade of pink. There is an acorn tattooed on the underside of her wrist.
A kiss.
I take her hand. Hers is cool, firm. Mine is clammy and unsure.
We have suffered the same curse and yet have found ourselves with different destinies.
“I’m so happy to meet you,” she says and smiles up at me. She’s shorter by a few inches. Tiny. Bird-like. But somehow strong.
“I…I…” My eyes are glassy. My nose is burning.
Winnie frowns and then suddenly she’s hugging me, her arms tight, squeezing me.
“It’s okay,” she tells me. “You don’t have to say anything. I’m so glad you’re here.”
I fall into the hug, my arms around her shoulders.
I wanted to show strength. I wanted to show I was unmarred by all of the years that spanned between Pan and me.
But there is only the truth.
I hug Winnie Darling fiercely and sob with relief.
Peter Pan and the Lost Boys give us a moment alone. For that, I’m thankful.
I breathe in the scent of Winnie Darling and she immediately makes me think of the treehouse. Cloudberries and sweet tarts and salty ocean air.
This girl is my great-great-great something granddaughter and yet in my arms, she feels like a long-lost sister.
Breaking the hug, I find Asha beside me, an embroidered kerchief in her outstretched hand.
“Thank you.” I take the offering and dry my face. “I’m sorry. I told myself I wouldn’t cry and now here I am, crying.”
I’m overwhelmingly relieved to be anywhere other than Everland.
I’m free but terrified of it all the same.
“You can cry,” Winnie says, rubbing my arm. “You can scream or rave or dance if you’d like. No one will judge you after everything you’ve been through.”
At the next dock, a porter shouts to his crew directing luggage and crates. In the distance, the lighthouse flickers on, the beam of light spinning through the growing darkness out to sea.
I catch movement beyond Winnie and see Pan and the Lost Boys coming our way.
“If your reunion is over,” Pan says, “I’d like to know why the fuck?—”
I step around Winnie, right up to Pan, and smack him across the face.
One of the twins, Bash, I think, snorts and turns away, trying to hide his reaction. Kas frowns at his brother, whispering a reproachful word.
Vane stands by, waiting.
Peter Pan barely moves. He probably felt only a fraction of the hit. Perhaps my hand is no more damaging than a tidal breeze.
But the satisfaction I feel…
His chest rises with a deep breath through his nose. Steeling himself.
He looks down at me.
My heart thuds beneath my ribs.
I expect him to toss me into the sea.
Instead, he says, “It is the least that I deserve for leaving you on Everland. But that is the only retribution you will get. Do you understand, Wendy Darling?”
It takes me several moments to process what he’s saying as adrenaline courses through my veins.
He’s letting me off with that?
It’s not at all what I expected.
I summon all of the bravado I once needed while in the Everland Court. I pull on my queenly persona, give him a curt nod and say, “Very well.”
Vane steps in front of Pan, dominating my line of sight. I have to take a step back. I’ve forgotten just how big Pan and the Lost Boys are. Everlanders are a much smaller people. Slight in frame, mostly under six feet. I feel like I’ve stepped into the land of giants.
“Where’s Roc?” Vane asks.
“He’s—”
There’s a commotion behind us on the ship. We all turn to see James racing off the ship’s deck, down the gangplank. “It’s happening again!” he yells.
“What’s happening?” Pan asks.
“Roc?” Vane says.
“He’s turned—” James says just as the ship’s starboard side explodes in a cloud of debris and a dark shadow flies into the night.