Hook & Jill (The Hook & Jill Saga) (25 page)

“Rowan. The council will meet today concerning the request of the Golden Boy. He has asked us to join him in war.” She leaned on her staff, and her faded eyes turned toward Lightly. “My dreams tell me not to trust him any more than the crocodile. But you are his friend. What is your opinion?”

Lightly harbored misgivings about the plan, now. He didn’t want harm to befall his new people, and what Rowan could tell him of yesterday’s adventure at the croc’s lair made him wonder if Peter could be trusted in the world beyond his hideout. After one day as a grown-up, Lightly no longer felt sure of the notions he’d accepted as a child. “My mother counsels peace between Peter and the pirates. It is good advice.”

“Rowan?”

Rowan’s eyes glinted with respect for his friend, and for the Old One. “We are honored to speak to you about such matters. I agree with Lightly. I have watched the Golden Boy. He is careless at best, and one who would surely lead us into turmoil. We are safest here on the mountain until their trouble dies down.”

“You are both growing into thinking men. Soon the elders will be considering your futures.” She touched Rowan’s arm, her hand no weightier than a feather. “And Rowan, the council will think on your mother’s actions this afternoon as well. What would you tell me now?”

Rowan stood taller, straighter. “My mother can speak for herself. I would have the council invite her so that she may.” It was Lightly’s turn to feel respect.

The old woman smiled. “You are just like her.” She shifted her gaze to Lightly. “Rowan must take care not to be outcast along with her. Taboo is not easily overcome. Not for the mother, still less for the son and the one who shares his blanket. I caution you both.” She looked to each of them again. “Do not share your new affection with the world.” Exhibiting neither sanction nor censure, she moved off in her uneasy gait.

“She is wise, she will bring your mother back one day, Rowan.” Lightly watched him, but received no answering look. With a troubled expression, Rowan was standing on the dusty earth, staring after the woman. “Rowan?”

“You don’t know the ways of my mother. I will tell you, if war erupts between the People and the pirates, she will stand in the middle, with my sister. And if
she
cannot return to live among the tribe, there is no hope for you and me to remain.”

Lightly threw an arm around his companion’s shoulder. “Then there must be no war. Come on. Maybe we can find her when our quest is done.”

They wound their way out of the village, through the dogs and the children, and began the descent, hiking down the mountainside together, armed with fire, arrows, and determination.

* * *

Again Wendy glanced at the niche, but the fairy’s dwelling remained dark. “Peter, did you send Tink on some errand?”

“No, she’s just on one of her outings, you know how she is. Why do you want her?”

“I don’t want to lose track of her again. She gets into such mischief when you don’t control her.”

He laughed. “I do control her, that’s why you’re still here!”

Wendy looked sideways at him. He was impossible to read, and she stopped trying. “Please go on lookout duty.”

He aimed a knowing smile at her. “From what you told me, Nibs and Tootles are doing that, still! They never came home. Or have you seen them?”

Standing by the bed, John caught the tone of Peter’s question, and looked up. He sent Peter a keen look. Michael and Curly formed a huddle under the covers, searching for something.

Wendy reached for the medicine bottle to water the willow chair, as she had done so many mornings. “No, I haven’t seen them. Why don’t you look in at the Twins’ place? Maybe they have news.”

“I hope they’ll have a good story to tell us!” Shouts among the boys on the bed distracted him, and he swung around to demand, “What’re you two up to?”

“Here it is, I found it first!” Curly held up a small white bead. “I knew I felt something under my back last night.”

Michael tumbled off the bed. “Let’s see the gap, John.” He stood on his toes to peer as John opened his mouth and pointed. Peter strode to the boys and held out his hand for the tooth.

“That’s the first baby tooth you’ve lost in a long time, John.… Right, Wendy?”

Wendy paused for breath, but didn’t falter. “Yes, I suppose it is. I’ve lost track of Time.”

Pocketing the tooth, Peter followed Wendy with his eyes as she moved to tidy the bed. He continued to watch her as he instructed her brother. “Grab your knife, John, and come with me on lookout duty.”

Wendy straightened. She turned as calmly as she could manage. “I can’t spare John just yet. I’m giving everyone haircuts this morning. Yours has gotten very long, shall I start with you?”

Peter returned the teasing, and his smile grew sly. “No, you don’t. I think you
like
long hair now, Wendy. I’ll let it go.”

Her smile froze, but she really looked at him. “You’re right. You look very handsome.” He also looked pleased; she had said the right thing.

“Shall I stay and wait while you borrow my knife?” Drawing it from its sheath, he tempted her with the hilt.

She had to stay a step ahead of him. “No, thank you. Michael is anxious to lend me his. Will you ask the Twins if they’ve heard from Slightly?” This time it was Wendy who watched for a reaction. The discovery of John’s last baby tooth gave her that shuddering feeling again, and she was increasingly concerned about Slightly’s whereabouts. Peter must have realized his oldest boy was nearly a man. If she could just see Slightly one more time… She hoped, and at the same time didn’t hope that the Indian messenger would arrive this morning. News of Slightly would be welcome, but talk of war would be awkward.

With a casual thrust, Peter replaced his dagger. “I already told you, you worry too much. Even with five boys flown.” He sent her a quick dark look, then just as rapidly, he lit up. “Now that we have fewer boys to look after, we can go on more adventures! John can watch these two and we’ll go out tonight like real mothers and fathers, the way you always wanted.” Moving closer, Peter brushed her cheek with his. It was smooth, she noticed, with not a hint of a man’s whiskers. He whispered in her ear. “You can wear the eagle feather in your hair.”

Surprised, Wendy drew back to consider him. “That will be lovely.” Maybe he was beginning to understand, a little? A little too late.

“The Fairy Glade, that’s where we’ll go first. And tomorrow, the waterfall!”

“Peter… you’re right to accept that things are changing. It isn’t clear yet what will happen. But we’ll talk about it later. For now, let’s just think about this morning.” Hook would be watching, she knew it. She wouldn’t cross his will, nor her own. And the endless circle of the question looped around her, and it was no longer what did she want, but what did she dare? If only—

John nudged her. Peter was standing by the entrance in his usual posture, bold and poised to fly, but staring at her with doubting eyes.

“Wendy? Where did you fly off to? I said goodbye!”

But she couldn’t bring herself to say it. She smiled instead and watched him as he ducked into the tree and shot up and out of sight. He was far too clever. How much had he guessed? And what would he do when he learned the rest?

John had been bursting with curiosity, and he seized his chance. “Did you see Nibs and Tootles? I thought you might bring them home last night.”

“No, but I heard news of them.” Hurriedly, she turned to include Curly and Michael. “Get ready to go as soon as Tinker Bell comes back.”

“Go where?”

“Home, to London.”

Michael whooped in excitement. “I’d forgotten about London, it’ll be a new adventure!”

“London! Today?” Curly brightened. “I’ve wanted to see it since Peter first hunted there!”

All expression fled from Wendy’s face. “He
hunted
there?”

“Oh, yes! He boasted about finding you, and he told us all about you and your stories.”

“You were right, Wendy, it has to be today.” John’s look was alarmed but unyielding.

His sister nodded earnestly. “It has to be today. It’s not just the pirates. You’re much taller than Peter now, almost as tall as Slightly, and Peter has your last tooth! I wish we had news of Slightly— but you’ll be fine, I’ve arranged it all.” She sat down and gestured the boys nearer. “John saw me leave, but everyone else was asleep when I slipped out last night. I held parley with Captain Hook, and we agreed on terms of an accord.”

Curly and Michael gasped while John shook his head. “I wish you’d let me come along. Did he call you Jill again, and ask you to join him?”

“Yes. But in the end he ordered me away.” Wendy’s heart quickened at the memory, and warmth rose within her as she said, “But there will be no war. If we do as I promised, Captain Hook will grant us safety.” Looking toward the willow throne, she lowered her voice. “Even for Peter.”

“Wendy… you’re the best mother ever!”

“Soon you’ll have a new mother, Curly. My own mother.” She untied the end of her sash to free the hoard of teeth, then poured them in his pocket. “These are Michael’s and John’s, I saved them for her. Give them to her from me. You’ll have to explain because… I won’t be coming with you.”

The excited expressions vanished, and Michael clutched her hand. “No, Wendy! If we have to go, so do you!”

John leaned forward, frowning. “We can’t leave you here, or Nibs and Tootles, either.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve worried about everyone all along, and Peter’s right. That’s enough. But Nibs and Tootles must stay behind. Hook demands that they join ship’s company on the
Jolly Roger
.”

The three boys dropped their jaws. Michael stammered out, “Pirates— in the family?” and Curly’s wide eyes filled with disbelief.

“You couldn’t get Captain Hook to let them go?”

“I made my best offer, and he refused it.” The pang of his rejection shot through her again, and she barely heard Curly as he persisted.

“Can’t they just fly away?”

“As it turns out, they want to be pirates. But I’ve been thinking about Nibs and Tootles.” She understood now, and she faced it, the truth Hook had recognized at once. “They were brought up to piracy, weren’t they? They simply decided to go on that way.”

“Won’t you be lonely?”

“Yes, I’m learning how Mother and Father must feel since we left home. They’ll be so glad to have you back! But I’ve already made friends with the Twins’ new mothers. Now get ready, and I’m sorry, but you can’t say goodbye to Peter. He’d never let you go if he knew. He’s still expecting to battle Hook.”

John looked as grave as if he were already a grown man in London. “It isn’t right for us to leave you.”

“John.” She addressed the man, and her eyes communicated a message she didn’t want the younger ones to hear. “I need you to stay with Curly and Michael. Your first responsibility is to make sure the window closes. Keep it barred for a while, but only until you think the time is right.”

“But what shall I tell our parents?”

“Mother and Father are grown-ups. They can handle the truth.”

Michael, with plenty of time left to grow, bounced with enthusiasm. “We’ll have lots of stories to tell them!”

“Yes, Michael,” John said, and he turned to face his sister. “But the one they’ll want to hear most is Wendy’s story, about why she can’t go home.”

“You made me see it in the mirror.” Wendy’s kiss played along her smile. “The Neverland is my home.”

Tipping his head, Michael peered at her. “I can see it, too. I doubt our other mother would recognize you any more.”

With a wise look Curly said, “You’ve grown up.”

“Almost. And I can’t go backward. But you’ll finish growing up in London. You’ll be fine men, if you always remember being children… in this colorful place.”

Curly took his mother’s hand and bowed over it, and then he laughed. “We’ll always remember the Wendy lady!”

John grinned, a boy again, but knowing the answer before he asked. “And
is
it a great adventure, Wendy?”

“Yes, it is! Curly, John, Michael.” She gathered them up and gave each one a helping of her kiss. “Don’t ever be afraid. Just follow your hearts, on whatever side of the window you choose.”

* * *

The young men looked at each other in the limp green sunlight. They heard it. Lightly’s voice was hushed. “It’s louder than before.”

“Shall we climb up the tree and watch?”

Lightly shook his head. He crept to the stream and searched it for a stone. It left a trail of damp circles from the water to the wall where, drawing aside the curtain of greenery, he pitched it into the opening. They listened, tense. The rock thumped. They heard ticking, and nothing more.

Rowan slipped his pack from his back and held the bowl of embers to the torch. “We won’t know until we see.” The glow leapt to the pitch and hissed into fire.

Lightly dropped his bundle, too, and gripped the torch above Rowan’s fist. “I’ll go first. Get your arrows ready.” He bent down, thrust the torch in the entrance, and elbowed through it. Rowan slithered after, weapons in hand.

They recoiled from the stench but kept their eyes open. The tick echoed in the chamber, bald and inexorable. They bunched their bodies to spring upright, while the torchlight dimmed and flickered, gasping for air in the reek of the cavern. Lightly held it out, hardly breathing, spreading the feeble light in a half circle. Its aura revealed only two things. Neither was the monster they dreaded.

“The clock!” Lightly crouched, holding the torch above it. His voice bounced back from the walls. “It’s lost the clock!”

“Now there will be no warning of its coming.” Urgently, Rowan’s spirit probed the darkness, but sensed no life there.

But there was magic. The flame jumped, illuminating it. “Look what else.” The glitter sparked to life in the torchlight. Lightly’s face lit up as well. “Fairy dust! Just what we need.” He scooped it up, filtering the dirt through his fingers and hoarding the gold in his pocket. “Now you can be a bird, too!” Then his smile faded. Their eyes met. “But you’re not the only one.”

Rowan’s face hardened. He understood. “I have an obligation to fulfill. Without question, we must move quickly now. Let us find our weapons.” They surged into the dank recess where the mat lay rotting. Rowan grabbed up his tomahawk, Lightly his own bow and quiver. Pressing their hands to their mouths and noses, with no time for reverence or horror, they kicked at decaying remnants of many kinds. But they found no hint at all of the remains of a knife before the torch died, too, and became part of the refuse.