Chapter 7
CHAPTER 7
JOHN
W hen Tink disappears into the cover of the shadowed forest, I hesitate.
This wasn’t the plan. I had hoped she’d eat her meal outside of the reaping tree. I knew that was a long shot, but not having to follow her would have made this simpler.
Second best option was that she wouldn’t notice me, and I could follow her to her hideout and wait until she consumed her meal and the rushweed.
As it is now, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.
She knows I’ve seen her. If I follow her, she’ll know what I’m doing. It’s likely I’ll be part of her meal, and that’s probably her intention. Lure me into the woods so she won’t have to depend on Smalls’s generosity for a while.
I almost return to the Den, sure this is the only option at the moment. But then it occurs to me what might happen if I allow Tink to get away.
She’ll go back to her hideout. Whether she’ll eat Smalls’s meal, I’m not sure, but she has no reason to expect that I poisoned it. Unless she saw me switch out the food on the plate, in which case I’m already in trouble.
But if she eats the meal and becomes temporarily paralyzed, she’ll definitely know that I poisoned her. And when she regains control of her limbs, it’s likely she’ll hunt me down. She attacked Wendy unprovoked—well, unless you consider Wendy being in Peter’s room reason enough for an attack. If Wendy being in close proximity to Peter was enough for Tink to try to kill her, I can only imagine what she’ll do to me once she realizes I poisoned her.
I won’t be able to leave the Den safely. Even then, Tink has been known to sneak into the Den before. Ideally, I’d like to wait to follow her until she’s paralyzed, but I have no idea where she stays on the island, and I’m not confident that I’ll be able to find her in a day, the time it should take for the poison to run its course.
That means my only option is to follow her now and hope that she lures me all the way to her hideout. As long as she eats before she kills me, all should be well.
I am aware that my odds are less than optimal.
But Tink strikes me as the type of creature who likes to play with her food first. Not ideal, but at least that would buy me some time to think.
I feel a bit queasy, but I follow Tink into the woods all the same.
Branches and brush crackle underneath footsteps ahead. Tink’s a faerie, meaning she could be imperceptibly stealthy if she wanted, but she’s choosing otherwise.
That doesn’t exactly relieve the churning in my intestines.
On one hand, that she’s letting me follow her is essential for my new plan. On the other, it means she has the upper hand. I’d been counting on the element of surprise, mismatched as I am with my human strength.
Okay, so I’m not all that strong anyway, even for a human.
Yet another way I’d failed my father.
As Wendy’s brother, I was supposed to be able to protect her. Instead, my father had gotten a bookish son with gangly limbs. I’d tried to use what I had to protect Wendy, studying up on the fae, gathering all the information I could on magical bargains.
In the end, it hadn’t been enough.
I’d never been enough.
My father had taught me that as a man, I was supposed to be a protector, but I’d failed drastically in that endeavor. I’ve been failing to protect my siblings long before Neverland.
I’m going to get Wendy and Michael to safety, or die trying.
The path of crackling footsteps leads me through the dark forest, moonlight peppering the ground, providing just enough light for me to sidestep fallen branches, though I have to prop my glasses on my head to see with as smudged as they are.
Yet another embarrassing secret.
I don’t actually need them.
I had the misfortune of never being taken seriously growing up, at least, with everyone except for Wendy. My father was taken seriously. But that was for his intense ability to woo people, to influence.
I look like him, just a smaller version.
Everyone expected me to be gregarious, but when they found me awkward, they simply dismissed me. Saw me as unintelligent because I couldn’t find my place in their conversations.
Wendy and I are alike in that way. People think we’re not clever because we lose the ability to be coherent when we’re nervous. And we’re nervous. A lot.
I would have been better off if I’d just kept quiet in groups. People always think quiet people are intelligent. But my father had pushed me to cultivate connections, and I’d consistently made a fool of myself.
Still, there was a young nobleman who spent time with my father’s group of confidants. I hated him and his round spectacles, not because everyone listened to him, not because he was drowning in accolades for his wisdom despite his youth, but because he was an idiot, and no one saw it.
The first time I wore spectacles to one of my father’s functions, it was meant as a cruel joke that only I was party to.
But then people had started questioning me, not to mock me, but because they thought I had answers. In a way, they’d freed me of my shackles, the tether that had hindered my tongue.
So the spectacles had stayed.
Even Wendy doesn’t know they’re made of ordinary glass.
The pattern Tink is making ahead of me is a bit circuitous. She wants me as disoriented as possible by the time we reach wherever we’re going. That way, if I get away, I won’t be able to find my way back.
But I’ve been marking every curve and turn, keeping careful location of where the moonlight in the canopy is coming from. As it is, we’re on the east side of the island.
Eventually, Tink leads me to a cliffside I’ve never seen. As I peek through the dense brush, I notice the opening of a cave. It looks about ready to swallow me whole, and I steel myself.
I’m doing this for Wendy. I will find out what happened to my sister.
Something rustles from behind.
I spin around, only to find Tink has circumvented me. Silently. She’s staring at me with hungry blue eyes, her face consumed by craving. The faerie flashes me a sharp grin, then nods her head, gesturing toward the cave, now behind me.
Though I recognize that she’s herding me into her dwelling, into a place that will be easy to contain me, I step backward in the direction she indicated.
I can’t tell how much of my compliance is part of my plan, or how much is due to my wanting to do as she says.
Even as she corrals me toward death, I can’t help but notice her beauty. There’s something ethereal that shines past the grime on her skin, the burlap sack covering her. Her smile is cruel, but I can’t help but want to keep her smiling at me forever. Can’t help but wonder how her lips would feel against mine…
No. No. I’m here for Wendy. And this is fae glamour, preying on my humanity and influencing my thoughts. Knowing that’s all it is helps. It doesn’t stop her beauty from rapping on my mind, but it does assist me in tuning it out.
It feels like I’ve only taken a few steps before my spine scrapes against the cliffside wall. My pulse is accelerating much too quickly, my mind not accounting for time and space.
Feeling is what gets you killed.
I try to turn it off, the sharp allure, the tether tying me to the idea of pleasing this faerie, but I’m not used to having to combat these emotions.
I fear I might walk over barbs if she asks me to.
Tink is close now, and she extends a long fingernail, scraping it down my cheek. Forceful enough to sting, to break the outmost layer of skin, but not hard enough to draw blood. My limbs are paralyzed. Ironic.
But then the casual cruelty on Tink’s face warps into something else. Confusion flashes across her delicate features, then something more poignant. Fear. Anger. She goes through an array of them before she slumps to the ground before me.
When she does, her satchel spills open, littering the ground with a half-eaten meal.
There’s no onion among the mix.