Hook's Pan (19 page)

She’d shaken her head, ready to tell him no way in hell, when he’d tossed a brown cloth over her head and body. The rest was a blur of soiled smelling linen and then the incredible rush of air blowing over her. Absolutely no light spilled through the fabric, which meant she couldn’t see a thing and could only imagine what he was planning. Was he going to drown her, drop her against some rocks?

She had no idea how he’d gotten her out the window, because she knew she couldn’t fit, which meant it had to have been magic of some kind. By the time she’d gotten her senses in order, and screamed for Hook to help, she’d known it was way too late. She might not be able to see, but she could feel the rush of the wind, Peter was moving fast. Really, really fast.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she prayed that whatever he did he didn’t drop her. Her stomach lurched and swerved and skidded and threatened to make her puke all over the place. “If you don’t stop soon, I won’t be responsible for what I’m about to do,” she growled.

“Hush.” He wiggled her inside the bag and he must have sprinkled fairy dust on the cloth, because he was definitely carrying her and she really, really hoped the dust would keep her light as a feather because otherwise those scrawny arms of his were gonna give out soon and she shuddered to think how high up they actually were.

Thankfully, she felt their flight begin to slow. Good thing, because the way her heart was racing, she was pretty sure she was about two seconds away from complete cardiac arrest. Then she was tossed onto a hard surface and all the air rushed from her lungs on impact. A scream trapped in her throat. What was she on? Where were they? She hated not being able to see. “Get me out of here,” she yelled, shoving at the cloth, not caring that she was as naked as a day old baby chick.

Light flooded her eyes when he untied the makeshift pouch and let her out. Blinking, eyes watering, she strained to see. It took at least a minute before her vision cleared. First thing she noticed was that she wasn’t precariously balanced on the tippiest, top most spire of a mountaintop. No, she was sitting smack dab on the edge of a cliff, a cliff that looked to be a good thousand feet above the water. Oddest thing about this cliff was that it also seemed to be floating. Peering uneasily over the edge, she saw nothing but water and sky below.

Oh God.

Butt puckering, she scooted back a little. A strong wind, and she’d be a goner. She still had no idea where she was. A floating forest maybe, trees covered every inch of land as far as her eye could see. The trees themselves were enormous, the size of ancient redwoods, but these weren’t pines, they were more like oaks with extended branches that draped almost everything in shadow. Dangling from thick branches were long roots that reached nearly to the ground. She’d never seen trees like these on Earth.

Feeling the weight of his stare, she whipped her head around. The little brat was crouching down, peering at her like she was a bug under a microscope. His dirt-smudged face so close she curled her nose at his stench. The kid needed a good scrubbing.

“Who are you?” He cocked his head.

Glowering, she gathered the cover around her body as best she could. “Take me back, right now, Peter Pan.”

“No.” He narrowed his eyes, then hopped into the air, hovering in front of her. “You know my name, what’s yours, and why were you in Hook’s room?”

Jeez, he was obnoxious.

“None of your business. Take me back right now.”

“Are you a whore?”

She sucked in a breath so hard it made her gag and then cough. “Excuse me, a… Oh my God, were you looking earlier?” She growled, ready to grab his arm and fling him over her knee.

He sniffed. “Hook only allows whores onto his ship. Well, there was one other, but I saved her. Sort of.”

Talia.

She couldn’t deny the curiosity to learn more made her tongue looser than it otherwise would have been. “What do you know about Talia?”

For a second, so quick she wasn’t sure she’d even seen it; regret flashed in his eyes. Then he was shrugging and planting his fists on his hips in that familiar stance all actors assumed when playing him.

But that was about the only thing the stories seemed to be getting right. Peter Pan was looking less and less like a romantic figure symbolic of perpetual childhood and more like a snot-nosed imp in desperate need of a good old-fashioned butt whooping.

Flying up to a branch in the nearest tree, he ripped off a stem, and then smacked his palm with it. How had she ever thought his gaze honest, the boy looked like a schemer, like he was debating whether to swat her with the stem or break it in two.

Shooting him a withering look that said:
Don’t even think about it
, she thinned her lips.

Snapping the twig between his fingers he dropped it to the ground. “It wasn’t supposed to happen, okay. I was just playing with her is all, she wouldn’t stay still. It wasn’t my fault.”

“Peter, hush!” A shot of gold streaked by Trisha’s cheek, and then another bug demon flitted in front of her, eyeing her with cold, calculating blue eyes. “Why are you asking him these questions?”

The fairy had porcelain fair skin, pale blonde hair, and large blue eyes. Wearing a dress of baby’s breath and nothing else, she flitted large wings and frowned. Heart stoppingly beautiful and so frail looking, she fit exactly the stereotype she’d always had in her head. Except of course for the tiny fangs poking out from beneath her upper lip.

So this was the famed Tinkerbell. Walt would roll in his grave if he knew how wrong he’d gotten it. Not wanting to continue looking up, Trisha stood, holding onto the edge of the cloth as she did so. It was definitely magicked, because it stretched to fit her now longer frame. “Excuse me,” she bristled, “But he kidnapped me.”

“My boy would never do that, clearly you did something to antagonize him.”

A sound of utter disbelief fell from her lips. “Well no wonder.”

“What?” Tinker frowned.

“No wonder he’s as awful as he is. Do you always make excuses for him?”

Blue eyes widened, then narrowed and a calculating, hard glint filled their depths. “What’s happened here, Peter?”

Peter shrugged as he flew down from his vantage point, until he was more on level with the two of them. “I kidnapped her.”

Trisha swallowed the smug I-told-you-so. Barely.

Tinkerbell rolled her eyes. “Why? I’ve promised Danika you would leave them be.”

He curled his lip. “Because she was with him. Hook.” He spat close by Trisha’s feet, making her take a bouncing step back to avoid getting hit.

Growling at him, she tugged on the cloth tighter. “Look, just get me back. You have no right to take me away, especially without any clothes on.”

“But don’t you see?” Peter said to Tinker, still ignoring Trisha. “If she is with him, then clearly she holds value, which means she holds value to me too.”

Scoffing, she tapped her foot. “I will
not
be your mother, if that’s what you’re implying, boy.”

“Mother.” He curled his nose, finally looking at her. “I don’t want a mother, I want a prisoner.” Then with a terrible little grin, he grabbed a strand of rope tied around his belt.

“What?” Trisha scooted back, tripping over an upturned root and twisting her ankle, causing her to slam hard onto her butt. A squeal trapped in her throat as she realized how close to the edge they all still were. Pulse pounding, she scrabbled backwards, only once she could no longer see clouds floating by was she able to take another breath.

“Peter,” Tinkerbell said slowly, “as much as I love playing games with you, this is one game you cannot indulge in. I’ve given my fairy oath.”

Pouting, he pointed back at Trisha who was gingerly making her way back up to her shaky feet. Ankle twinging as she tried to plant weight on it. “She must be tried by a court of my peers, I will let them decide if she is innocent or guilty.”

Tinkerbell twisted the wand in her hand, looking between him and Trisha. “Peter, but…”

“No, Tink,” he shoved a dirty lock of hair out of his eyes, “she was with him, which means she is not our friend. We have to find out why she is here and what she knows about that mermaid.”

“Oh my God,” Trisha threw her hands up, momentarily forgetting her nakedness.

Tinkerbell’s eyes widened as the cloth slipped, then a glittering rainbow spray of power flowed from the tip of her wand, tingling like static against Trisha’s skin. When the color cleared she was wearing a dress. Lifting an arm she stared at the material. The threads were white as snow, covering her from her breasts to mid-thigh and when she moved it was tacky to the touch, reminding her of a spider web the way it clung. Curling her nose she decided not to ask, because if it was a spider web, she’d do something really embarrassing. Like rip it off and squeal like a deranged, little girl.

At least it was pretty, in a spider-webby kind of way. She suppressed another shudder.

“If you want to know something,” she continued, “just ask me, I most certainly don’t need to be tried by, what I can only assume must be your lost boys, to determine my guilt or innocence. Far as the mermaid, I don’t know anything about her, not really, just what others have told me. I don’t belong here and I just want to go home. Now.”

Peter crowed like a rooster, then laughed, throwing his head back as he floated in front of them.

“Your
boy
,” Trisha stressed with a sneer, “has no manners. As you can see he yanked me from the bed without even allowing me to put on a stitch of clothing. Make him send me back.”

 
“Tinkerbell, doesn’t control me. I am the master of my own destiny and I say you must be tried.” Cupping his hands around his mouth, he crowed again.

This time louder and longer. Suddenly the forest erupted into a thunderous cry of crows. It came from within every tree branch, and then faces began peeking out.

Small, dirty faces. All of them boys.

Trisha’s eyes widened as she watched boy after boy after boy scale down from the heights of the trees. How hadn’t she seen them hiding? They’d been so still, she’d never even realized how many pairs of eyes had been on her, watching her. She shivered at the thought.

And as they came out of hiding, she figured out why she’d missed what seemed so obvious now. They were all camouflaged; wearing leaves and bark as clothing. What she’d assumed to be dangling roots from branches was actually a sophisticated pulley system that helped them get down with ease.

They moved like marching ants, when one would land on the ground he’d get into single file behind the one in front of him, all coming forward to form a circle around their leader.

Hard, little eyes stared at her. Some kids were young. Like ridiculously young. Two, three maybe. Others looked older, but none looked older than Peter himself.
 

An army of tiny people, she’d laugh at the absurdity of it, if it weren’t for the fact that they didn’t look like a bunch of sweet, innocent boys. She took a miniscule step back.

“Peter, now stop it. Think of what you’re doing. Should the fairy council learn of this I could be de-winged,” Tinkerbell zipped in front of him, waving her small hands in his face, her pearlescent wings buzzing furiously behind her back. “A fairy is never to interfere in the machinations of a godmother, ‘tis the law, child.”

“Not my law.” His bird chest puffed out. “Lost Boys,” he cried as the last child settled into place, “she is our prisoner!”

A great squawking cry rose up as all the boys joined in with jeers and shouts of “Hoorah!”

There had to be at least fifty boys. Mouth going dry, Trisha couldn’t believe this was happening, that she was really here. Had it only been two days ago that she’d been set to play Peter Pan? It made her feel absolutely stupid now to think of it. How had this terrible kid become immortalized this way and Hook had gotten the shaft?

Sure, Hook might be a killer and a bit of a wino now and again, but not once since the moment she’d landed on his ship had he treated her with anything other than kindness. Then here comes Pan, the hero of every childhood tale, and he’s ready to throw her in jail. Or maybe even to Tic-Toc, who knew with this wild child?

“What should we do with her?”

“Burn her at the stake!” a small voice cried.