Pan's Revenge (3 page)

Maybe it’s time to take off that necklace. I
sniff and wipe my nose with the back of my hand, then I reach
behind my neck and open the closure. The moment the glass heart
comes off, it feels like a very heavy burden drops off my chest.
Breathing doesn’t hurt any longer and I let go of a deep sigh.

Right then, a cold breeze wafts through the
tilted French door leading to my Victorian balcony and blows some
sheets of paper from my desk. I spin around. The curtains, which
have been dreamily hanging in their usual place all night, now
dance in the wind.

This is all too crazy, and I blame it on my
lack of sleep. I’ve never done well without enough rest. And rest
is what I didn’t get these past few nights. Swallowing hard, I
cross to the window and close it, banning the cold and the wind
from my room. When I climb back into bed, something hard presses
into my palm.

The red glass heart. I’m still holding it
tight.

Shaking my head at myself, I scurry to my
desk, pull out a drawer and place the necklace to the far back.
Then I pick up the papers from the floor, adjust them to a nice
pile and drop them on top of the heart. Out of sight, out of mind,
right?

I bang the drawer shut and go back to bed.
Sleep comes fast this time.

A SHOCKWAVE rocks the Jolly Roger on the
water, pulling me out of my sleep. In the blink of an eye, I sit
upright in my bed, staring into darkness. The echo of a low thud
sounds outside, one so loud it makes me think a part of Neverland
has split off and dropped into the sea.

What the hell—

Getting out of bed, I forgo donning my shirt
and boots and walk out on deck only dressed in my rough leather
pants. Everything is quiet. We’re still anchored close to the
seaport. The sails are curled in, the crew is asleep in their
quarters. Nobody so much as peeks outside. I couldn’t possibly be
the only one who heard the noise. Could I?

My gaze skates out to the quiet sea. No wind,
no waves, no sound whatsoever. Everything is too quiet. The thought
that it only happened in my dreams takes up room in my mind. But
how, when it felt so real? So final. I still bear the goosebumps
from it.

Rubbing the
chill from my arms, I walk back into my cabin and light a candle.
It’s twenty minutes past midnight. I went to bed less than an hour
ago.
Ah no...
Dragging my hands over my face, I sit on the
edge of my bed, then I slump backward and stare at the
ceiling.
Not another sleepless
night.
Recently, I really had too many of
them. But as expected, the night wears on and sleep stays
out.

In the morning, my eyes burn like someone
washed them out with rum, my head aches and I’m in no mood to bear
up with my crew that started working and shouting on deck with the
first sunrays sparkling on the ocean’s surface.

With a
stretch that helps my stiff limbs a little, I walk to the small
table by the wall and pick up the white shirt that’s hanging over
the backrest of the chair. I could wear it today. Or…I could do
what I did every morining the past few weeks: breathe in what’s
left of Angelina McFarland’s soft scent clinging to the fabric. She
wore this shirt at her last night in Neverland. I just don’t find
it in my heart to let go if this final bit of keepsake. No, I’m not
going to wear and ruin it. Pressing the crumbled shirt to my lips,
I squeeze my eyes shut and breathe a kiss into it. Then I drape it
over the backrest of the chair once again and find another shirt to
wear in my closet.

Black is the color that draws me today. The
buttons of this well worn shirt slide easily through the holes. No
sweet memories are connected with this garment. All the better.
With my hat under my arm and the bottle with the bathwater in my
hand, I leave my quarters and head for the gangplank.

Smee falls in step beside me. “Off to see the
fairies, Cap’n?”

I nod. “Take command until I’m back.”

“Aye.”

The wooden board jolts under my jogging
steps. A briny wind wafts into my face. I may not bring a rainbow
this time, but with any luck Bre’Shun is willing to barter more
answers for something else.

Bypassing the sleepy town, I take a turn for
the forest behind the port. Mushrooms and tiny wild flowers litter
the mossy ground left and right to the narrow path leading deeper
into the woods. High up in the brittle branches of an oak tree, a
raven peeks down at me with beady eyes. It pushes out a single
hoarse croak, announcing that I’m about to enter the most
bewitching part of Neverland.

Daylight struggles to break through the ever
thicker growing trees and bushes. It’s darker here than anywhere
else on the island, and cold. But instead of raising the feeling of
discomfort in me, like one would expect when walking through a
forest that seems to have eyes and ears, a homey sensation fills
me. This phenomenon surprises me each time I come here. It’s like
the entire forest strives to bribe me to stay. And part of me wants
to give in.

But another part of me, and it’s actually a
much bigger part too, urges me to hurry, get what I need, and leave
again so I can continue searching for a way to get to Angel.

“Captain Hook,” a soft voice coos beside
me.

I whirl about
and face one of the fairy sisters with hair so fair and smooth it
reminds me of silvery waterfalls. “Remona,” I say and acknowledge
her with a nod.

“
Bre’Shun
will be delighted about your visit.” She purses her pale green lips
and tilts her head. “Where’s the rainbow?”

“Remona, where are your good manners? He
hardly stepped a foot into the forest,” a detached voice echoes
gently all around us. “Welcome back to the empire of fairies,
James.”

I spin on the spot to find the source, but
I’m still alone with Remona. Or so it seems, until a butterfly with
silky purple wings lowers to Remona’s open palm. Frowning at the
tiny animal, I take a step closer. “Um…Bre?”

“Oh, James Hook, you silly boy.” An ice-cold
hand lands on my shoulder and warm laughter chimes in my ear. “I’m
many things, but certainly not a shape shifter.”

I pivot to my
old friend while, from the corner of my eye, I see Remona closing
her fingers around the butterfly, scrunching it in her fist. She
lets the dust run through her fingers. From the purple powder
raining to the forest floor, another new butterfly is born from
each grain of dust and together they flutter away through the
specks of light beaming through the leaves and branches. Remona
skips after them.

My jaw drops
in fascination. Bre’Shun lifts my chin with one of her cold fingers
and closes my mouth. Only now, my focus is truly on her and, as
always, her beauty and unearthly appearance take my breath away.
Her honey golden locks are wound up to the top of her head today,
with a few careless strands framing her pale face. Turquoise eyes
pierce mine as she smoothes the bodice of her burgundy dress and
smiles.

“I can’t smell a rainbow on you,” she says in
a soft voice. “You didn’t find the time in your day to collect one
for me then?”

Grimacing, I rub the back of my neck. “Well,
no. I was—”

“
Busy.” She
inclines her head, still friendly and in no way looking
disappointed. “I understand.”

If I learned one thing from the fairies, it
is that time is irrelevant to them. They know where they are going
and it doesn’t matter in the least how long it takes them to get
there. I wish I could say the same about myself.

Her gaze lowers to the bottle with a rum
label in my hand. Quickly, I lift it and tell her with newfound
enthusiasm, “I got your bathwater.”

“I can see that.” Her eyes grow bigger with
joy. “Hopefully, you washed the rum out of the bottle before you
filled in the water. Rum is a nasty addition to any potion. One
never knows what side-effects it causes.”

It’s probably best not to answer to that, but
a traitorous heat rises to my neck.

Taking the bottle away from me, Bre places
one of her cold as heck hands at my back and steers me to the
right, sweeping her arm invitingly. There’s nothing in this forest
that should really surprise me, and yet I take in a sharp breath
when out of thin air her tiny white house with a straw roof and a
white picket fence appear.

Together we
stroll
through the front garden where
daisies grow all over the place. The low wooden front door forces
me to stoop not to bang my head. From the outside, one would expect
to find a room no bigger than a hog house, but entering the home of
a fairy is like walking into a palace. A pleasant scent of mint and
coriander greets me in the ever familiar hall with a chessboard
floor of black and white tiles.

Bre’Shun has
me sitting down at the big round glass table. It’s the place where
bargains are made.

“May I offer you a cup of tea, James Hook?”
she says as she lowers into the iron chair with a high back and
soft pink upholstery opposite from me, steepling her fingers in
front of her smile.

There’s no
time to decide if I’m up for her mystic brew that will make me spot
another piece of furniture inside her house at each sip, just like
last time I came here with Angel. A sophisticated white porcelain
cup with tiny flowers on a saucer appears in front of me on the
table. Ignoring decency and conventions, I close my eyes and down
the whole cup of tea at once. Full of expectations, I open my eyes
again and…still, I’m surrounded by cold stone walls and a
chessboard tile floor. Where’s the neat and cozy house of a fairy
this hall should have turned into? I blink several times, but
nothing changes.

“Is there something wrong with the tea?” I
ask.

“
Why, no.
It’s peppermint tea. Known for its refreshing effect. What did you
expect to happen when you drank it?” Her brows quirk, but there’s
an unmistakable edge of mockery in her voice. “That animals of the
forest storm the house and flitter all about in here?” She laughs.
And I feel stupid.

Fortunately, she changes the topic. “What can
you do for me, James?”

“
Obviously,
not much. I don’t have the rainbow.” Leaning back in the chair, I
fold my arms over my chest. “Still, I need some answers. And
urgently.”

“Oh, don’t you say that, James. A rainbow
isn’t everything. You have so much more to give.” She rises from
her seat and sweeps her arm to the back of the hall, where a high
door appears. “Come.”

Never in my life and the many times I have
visited here did I ever get to peek into another room of this
house. The iron legs of the chair scrape on the tiles as I shove
back and stand. The glass table disappears the moment I circle it
to follow Bre through the door that opened on its own accord.

With the
first rays of warm light gracing my face, it’s clear we’re not
walking into another room of the house, but outside again. And
more, we seem to enter a totally different place inside the forest.
It opens to the sky, no tree tops blocking out the sun
here.

There is a
tremendous vegetable patch—actually several of them with pebbled
paths leading through the greenery. Farther back to the garden, a
few tall trees stand like dominant trolls, watching over us. Behind
them…it’s dark. Nothing at all to see at either side of the garden.
This is a spot of light in the middle of darkness. I whistle
through my teeth.

Bre’Shun
acknowledges my amazement with a beam of her own and leads me to a
stone fireplace, where a black cauldron bears some herbal smelling
soup. She stirs it several times, producing funny bubbles that
explode on the surface. The color of the soup has me frowning.
Because it has no color at all. It’s clear. Clearer than water.
Even clearer than air. Suddenly I wonder, how I can even see that
it’s liquid. And then the bubbles… I shake my head.

“
So you want
to know why Neverland doesn’t let you go,” Bre’Shun states like the
question was tattooed on my forehead. Obviously, there’s nothing
more to say so I lift one eyebrow. Bre mirrors that move, then she
smiles. “Would you allow me to cut a strand of your
hair?”

If that brings me anyhow closer to Angel, I
don’t mind. “Go ahead.”

She produces scissors from a pocket of her
dress which I believe is nothing but a big pleat and she uses it to
cover her magic from me. With it, she cuts the strand of my blond
hair that constantly falls over my left eye. “Now, isn’t that
better?”

I give her a disbelieving stare.

Her mouth curls up. Then she holds my hair
over the soup until the ends catch fire. Letting go of the thin
strand so it trickles into the potion, she says, “Neverland’s gates
are closed. Peter Pan sealed them when he decided he wouldn’t grow
up.”

“Fantastic. So because of the brat he used to
be, I can’t get away?”

“So it seems.”

Frustrated to the bones, I rub my hands over
my face. “What can I do to open the gates?”

Blatantly
ignoring me, Bre skims some of the soup with a wooden ladle and
sniffs the potion, closing her eyes. Next, she takes a tiny sip and
swishes the liquid inside her mouth. “Too feminine,” she points out
with knitted brows like I should have any clue as to what this
means. Then she holds the ladle in front of my mouth.
“Spit.”

I know better than to question a fairy and do
as I’m told. Bre dips the ladle into the cauldron, stirs a few
times and then tastes the soup again, cutting a distracted glance
to the sky.

“M-hmm. Much better.” She samples another
mouthful. “But know what would make this perfect?” Her tone is
meaningful, almost a whisper. “The dirt of a sailor.” Quickly, she
reaches for my hand and twists it, inspecting my palm. Her face
turns sad in an instant. “Your hands are way too clean, James
Hook.”