Chapter 7 #2
With a shaking hand, I reach out and snag one.
It pulls easily from the silvery stem and looks like a grape and a raspberry had a baby.
I hesitate before I put it in my mouth and look around at all seven men who are watching me intently.
The thought of it being poison flits around my mind like an intrusive thought, and I look more closely at the berry.
Coy worries his bottom lip with his teeth. “Sorry, I grabbed the first ones I could find. The ones hanging around the treehouse are a lot bigger. Should I climb to get you more of—”
“No.” I give Coy what I hope is a reassuring glance. “These look good.”
“O-okay.” He nods.
I could toss the berry back onto the plate, but what good would it do? I’m hungry, tired, and completely out of my depth. So I refuse to overthink it. Opening my mouth, I pop the berry in and chew.
It’s juicy with a strange tang I don’t recognize.
But it’s sweet, kind of like a plum with a hint of orange in the high note.
I can’t place it, but I don’t have to. It’s not like I’m falling over dead or foaming at the mouth, so I take another one.
Then another. Before long, I’ve eaten the entire plate.
Once it’s clear, I feel like the whole room takes a relieved breath.
“Better?” Peter asks and hands the plate to Slightly.
“Better.” I still sit on the floor as my stomach adjusts to its new contents.
“What about water?” Slightly hands me a cup.
“It’s real.” I sip it, then down the whole thing, feeling it slosh into my stomach with the berries. “I needed that. Thank you.”
“I’ll ask Tink why you can’t see the food,” Peter says as he rises easily to his feet. “But maybe not right now.” He smirks. “I think she’s still mad, and Tink isn’t easy to calm down. She’ll have to cool off on her own for a while.”
“Why does she hate me?” I think back to the anger that seemed to roll off her in wild bursts, all of them directed at me.
“She doesn’t hate you,” Peter says a little too quickly.
Coy and his brother exchange a look, and the other Lost Boys busy themselves with eating their imaginary pancakes or cleaning up the dishes in the sink.
“Mmhmm.” I’m not convinced in the least.
He offers me his hand. “If you’re up to it, I wanted to show you the rest of the hideout. My scouts tell me Captain Hook is over near the mermaid lagoon, so you’ll be safe.”
“Does he know I’m here?” I feel a little better, the black spots in my vision gone and my stomach no longer grumbling. All the same, I’d love a coffee.
“No.” Peter’s hair falls into his eyes as he shakes his head. “If he did …”
“If he did, we’d be fighting for our lives right now.” Nibs takes a vicious bite of an invisible pancake.
“Coy and Foy, you two are going to be Moira’s guards when I’m not around, okay? Take care of her,” Peter instructs.
Foy swallows hard. “But what about in the washroom? That’s private, Wendy always said. And a lady—”
“Not in the washroom, Foy.” Peter claps him on the shoulder. “But anywhere else. Got it?”
Coy rolls his eyes at his twin.
“It’s fine. I’m good. You said Hook’s far away, right? So everything’s fine.” I tuck my hair behind my ears. “I’d like to go outside. The cave is …” I look around at the chiseled walls and roughly drawn doorways. “Nice, but I need some air.”
“We’ve got a lot of that.” Peter offers his arm in an overly grand way.
I take it, and he leads me through hallways and caverns, on and on we go until I hear the crashing of the sea and strange sounds that can only be caused by wind through rock.
My mother took me to the beach for a vacation when I was young, and I remember spending time on the shore with her as she stared across the water.
It was cold then, but there was still plenty to see and do.
I found shells, tried to catch the sure-footed crabs, and even tickled a starfish or two.
But the thing I remember most is the small cave, rounded and perfect, as if the water had been kissing the rock in just the right place for just long enough to make a divot.
When the wind would sweep across it, it would make a hollow moan, a sound that should’ve chilled me to my bones.
Instead, it only drew me closer. So close in fact, that my mother had to pull me from the water’s edge, my clothes wet, my fingers going blue from cold.
“Moira?” Peter says, and I realize he’d asked me something.
“Sorry, I missed what you said.”
He smiles agreeably. “Just that we need to climb the stairs here.” He points, and I notice the sword strapped around his waist. I half-heartedly hope it’s just a toy.
“Oh, okay.” I follow him, the twins at my back as we go up and up.
Once we reach the top, I’m huffing and puffing, my legs burning.
“You know, there’s a reason I don’t go to the gym.
” I wipe the sweat from my brow and look around.
We’re at the edge of the jungle, a high ocean cliff falling away below us.
The stairs are etched into the rock but remain hidden behind other masses of stone.
You’d never notice them unless you knew right where they are. “Wait. It’s still dark?”
The twins exchange another one of their looks, the kind that tells me they’re saying plenty with just their eyes.
“I thought it was like, almost noon?” I pat my pockets even though I know it’s no use. My phone is still back on my desk. In my dorm. On the ‘mainland.’ I have no way of knowing what time it is.
Coy looks up at the sky, the moon low on the horizon now. “I’d say it’s betwixt 9 and 10 or so.”
“In the morning? Where’s the sun?”
Both twins look at Peter.
Peter sighs sadly. “The sun stopped rising in Neverland a long time ago.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I seriously need coffee.”
“Coffee?” Foy’s brows draw together. “That’s familiar. I think I’ve heard of it. Like bits of sticky caramel that get in your teeth and—”
“That’s toffee.” Coy lightly smacks his brother on the back of the head. “Coffee’s a drink. At least I think that’s what it is.”
“Yeah, where’s the Starbucks around here?” I snicker at my own joke as all three of them stare at me blankly.
“What’s a Starbucks?” Peter asks.
“Never mind. Where’s the tree you wanted to show me?”
“We took the long way so you could get your bearings.” Peter points through the jungle.
I glance around at the roping vines and jagged rock. “I don’t think I could find my way out of this place with GPS and Magellan at my side, but sure. Thanks, I guess.”
Peter’s brows draw together in confusion.
“Sorry, I did it again. Doesn’t matter. Lead on.” I gesture toward the woods, a breeze soughing through the trees.
He moves to stand behind me, his body heat racing along my back. “Look up.”
I do and find the stars still laughing at me from their perches way up in the darkness.
Peter’s fingers graze along my chin, directing my line of sight toward the space above the jungle. That’s when I see the wide canopy, the towering branches blotting out those giggling stars and swaying slightly in the wind.
“It’s huge.”
“It’s home.” Peter wraps his arm around my waist, and we rise from the ground.
I manage to only squeak once as we fly over the jungle to the impossibly huge tree that shimmers gold in the moonlight.
That’s when I see the structures created around its trunk.
Like houses glued to its side, some haphazard and leaning, others perfectly square, and still others brightly painted and done with a clear design flair.
In between are hammocks here and there along with the neverberry vines that seem to offer fruit at every level of the great tree.
“Wow.” I try to compare the bottom of the trunk to something, anything. But it’s so huge—bigger than photos of any redwood I’ve seen in books, that I’d have to say it’s base is like that of the pyramids. Daunting, to say the least. “How is that even real?”
“Why does it matter so much to you what is real and what isn’t?” His mouth is close to my ear, his warm breath sending tickles along my skin.
“Because then I know if I’m headed for a padded room or simply passed out in my dorm.”
He clucks his tongue. “Wendy didn’t talk like you.”
“Wendy was from another time, another continent. Wendy thought being a mother to the Lost Boys was a good time.”
“You don’t want to be our mother?” I can feel the smile in his voice.
“Gross.”
His laugh is deep and low, rumbling through me where we’re pressed together.
It makes me almost as breathless as the flight does.
It’s dumb, and I’m clearly suffering from some sort of Stockholm Syndrome at this point.
If I could kick myself, I would, but Peter still has a tight grip on me as he aims for the biggest structure on the golden tree.
A whistle cuts through the air, followed by another, and another. The walkways begin to fill with men, all of them staring out at Peter and me.
“Whoa, so there are more of you.” I try to track all the movement, but I couldn’t possibly do it. There are a couple dozen men. I don’t recall how many Lost Boys Wendy counted in her story, but I feel like it was only a handful. “A lot more.”
“This is actually less than I’d like. Barely enough to hold off attacks from pirates or Neverian raiding parties.
Our numbers have stagnated and declined ever since Hook began stealing the island’s magic.
Don’t worry. They’re all loyal to me. You have nothing to fear from any Lost Boy.
They’ll defend you with their lives if it keeps you out of Hook’s hands. ”
“How does that work, exactly? How does someone steal magic from an island?”
We land, my knees a little wobbly as I hold onto a vine that twists up the side of the massive tree.
“Hook began his evil deeds as soon as Wendy left. First, he started with the Neverians.”
“Um, what?” I force myself to keep my eyes on the vines, because if I look down, I might barf, or worse—I might hit the deck and refuse to move. Because even without looking, I know I’m a long way up. “What’s a Neverian?”