Unhooked (23 page)

Except I can't help but remember how
I
had felt pulled toward Pan. I can't help but think how easy it was to let myself fall under his spell—and I'm more sure than ever it was some kind of a spell. There's no way the intensity of what I felt toward him could have been real. And I'm not sure it's real for Olivia, either.

But there's nothing I can do, trapped like I am.

And I can't seem to look away.

As they kiss, the soft light of the cavern throws long shadows on the ground behind the two of them, and at first those shadows perfectly mirror their intimate dance. But as they deepen their embrace, Pan's shadow moves. It doesn't move like a shadow should, though. Instead of mirroring Pan's own movements, it slowly untangles itself from Olivia's shadow. The shadow never breaks its connection to Pan, but it stands, prying itself up from the ground until a perfect dark silhouette lurks over the couple.

A sinister hum begins to grow as other shadows in the clearing make their way toward Pan's, and then bit by bit add themselves to it, until they begin to take on the form and shape of one of the Dark Ones.

Pan glances up from the progress he's making down Olivia's neck. His eyes light with anticipation when he sees the Dark One is fully formed and ready.

The dark figure moves closer and then slowly rests its clawlike hands on Olivia's shoulders. She doesn't recoil as the tips of its claws sink into her skin. Instead, she lets out a soft, satisfied moan at its touch.

When the Dark One withdraws its fingertips from Olivia's shoulder, it brings with it that same faint trail of luminescence I saw harvested from the boy. Pan barely pauses in his thorough savoring of the skin on Olivia's neck to lap at the offered thread. But when he does pause, his eyes light in a sort of ecstasy before he begins to consume it.

To consume
her
.

This isn't the violent taking I saw in the hold of the Captain's ship, though. Olivia doesn't writhe in pain. Her body doesn't contort stiffly, like the boy's on the ship did, and she doesn't fight him. From the soft noises she's making, from the way she pulls Pan even closer, angling her neck even farther so he can nuzzle into it even more, it seems like she's enjoying what he's doing to her.

Paralyzed by the horror of what I'm seeing and the regret that I can't stop it, I can't seem to do anything but watch as a dark line begins to travel down Olivia's arm from her elbow to her wrist. Across the hand tangled in Pan's wild hair.

I know with a sickening certainty that if he continues drinking in her life, that line will grow. She will turn as brittle as the boy in the Captain's ship. And then she'll fall to the ground, pieces of a shattered porcelain doll that can never be put right.

I can't let that happen.

Struggling against the hedge, I start to scream to warn her, but the branches retaliate by pulling me back into their thick, thorny arms, pressing their broad, glossy leaves against my mouth. Silencing me. The hedge closes itself quickly, but not before Pan hears my voice and his eyes find me. Just as the leaves block my view, I see those eyes flash with an anger more dangerously feral than any of his boys.

“Gwendolyn,” he calls, confirming what I feared—he saw me. He knows that I understand what he's capable of. He knows I saw the truth of what he
is
.

But I have nowhere to go—the branches are immovable.

“Gwendolyn?” Pan's voice is closer now. His voice has softened, and I can tell he's trying to sound as pleasant and charming as always, but there's a hollowness in his tone that doesn't lie, and I know if he catches me, it won't be good. Because Fiona was right—it
isn't
only the Captain who uses the Dark Ones. And if she was right about that, how much more of what she said might be true?

I slam my fists against the thorny branches, ignoring the way they scrape at my skin. “Let. Me. Out!” I shout, pushing at the dense growth with all my might.

Shadows begin to swirl at my feet, and I shove harder. “Please!” I cry at the immovable branches. “Fiona!”

Without warning, the branches behind me part enough that I fall to the ground.

I'm still panting from the effort of my escape. Around me, the hedge has gone still, and one of the fairy lights now hovers near me, pulsing and growing brighter with each beat as it shivers, as though from the increase in energy.

I glance back at the trembling foliage—I can't leave Olivia here with Pan. I know now for sure just how dangerous he is. And I know this world has made Olivia powerless against Pan's seduction. But there isn't time. The darkness is already gathering around me, the branches already rustling as they part to let him through.

I don't want to leave Olivia behind, but I won't be able to help her if Pan has me. I'm no good to Olivia if I'm dead. With panic fluttering in my chest, my skin cold with fear, I don't hesitate any longer.

The moment I feel the orb's searing cold light on my fingertips, the world tilts. In a flash of blinding pressure, the cavern around me quivers, and then it disappears completely.

His brother asked if he was ready, and the boy nodded, but it was a lie. “I'm sorry,” he started to say to his brother, knowing that he needed to put everything he meant in those three syllables. But his brother's expression went hard as he shook his head to stop the boy from speaking. “There'll be time enough for that after. . . .”

W
HEN I COME TO, THE light is gone. It takes me a second to remember what's just happened, but I have no idea where I am.

It's dark—a dense, unnatural darkness that I recognize too well. The scent of moldering leaves is all around me. I hear a whispering rustle somewhere in the distance, and the echo of the metallic sound grates against my nerves. It all marks the unmistakable presence of the Dark Ones.

The darkness is so thick around me, so deep and dense, it's easy to imagine that I don't exist at all. It brushes against my cheek and inches like ice down my spine. It spins me into itself until I am completely lost, until I can't tell my past from my present, and suddenly, I'm there again, in that mysterious forest. . . .

The forest surrounding me, the night breathing slow and steady, and my heart racing in my chest with a terrible joy.

A rustling, a scuttling scrape that sounds like the wind coming alive. And the forest dressed in night, and something is out there, waiting. A voice in my head, dark and sweet, whispering to me. But I can't make out what it says.

A wailing moan comes out of the darkness—not the night of that image, but the deep dark night of where I now am. I blink, shaking a little as I come back to myself, but the ghost of the memory is still there, just on the edges of my consciousness. I have the sense that I could almost grasp it and discover what's hidden there, but . . . I back away instead and let the memory fade into the darkness that inspired it.

Another moan greets my ears. Shaking, I listen to it reverberate through the spaces around me, and as it echoes, I realize that I've heard that moaning wail before—it's the sound I heard each night I was a prisoner on the Captain's ship. That can't be a coincidence.

I make up my mind to follow the noise, and begin to inch my way forward. I don't know how long I've been moving through the dark when I come up against a wall—a dead end. The screams haven't come for a few minutes, and I have the sickening feeling I'm lost.

“Who's there?” A voice comes out of the darkness and stops me cold. A soft scuttling sounds at my right, and then the voice speaks again with an urgency that conveys fear as much as the demand itself. “I can hear you breathin'. I know you're there.”

I recognize that voice. “Will?” I feel for a space in the wall, something that would explain where the voice is coming from.

There's no answer at first, and then, cautiously, “Who's that?”

I move toward the sound again, following the wall until I come to a small opening, just big enough for my arm to fit into. “It's me. Gwen.”

“Gwen?” I hear him shuffle toward me, and then I feel the surprising warmth of a human hand touching mine. “What are you doing here?” He does not sound overly happy, but considering it's Will, I'm not really surprised.

“I don't know,” I tell him honestly.

“Your friend Pan didn't send you?” His sarcasm is palpable.

“No.” I grasp his hand firmly. “He didn't. He doesn't know I'm here.”
Wherever here is.
“At least I hope he doesn't.” Because after what I saw him do to Olivia, I'm in no hurry to see him again.

The moan comes out of the darkness again, this time closer than ever before, and the complete desolation in it makes my blood go cold.

“What is that? Is one of the boys hurt?”

Before he can answer, the darkness goes blindingly white.

“Good. You have found them.” Fiona's voice comes from the source of the light. “You do not have much time.”

I see then what I'd felt in the darkness. Will's face looks out at me from a narrow space between jagged rocks that both shoot up from the floor and hang down from the ceiling of the cave to create a cage. It looks like they're trapped in the jaws of some huge stone beast.

The familiar moan comes again, a soul-chilling sound of pain that has me peering through one of the narrow openings. In the darkness of their cell, I can just make out the Captain on the floor. He's curled into himself and writhing as though he's in extraordinary pain.

“Is he hurt?” He doesn't seem to be bleeding, but I can't be sure.

“No more than he ever is,” William says.

But Will
is
hurt. His arm has been tied to his body with a sling made from his own shirt. There's still blood seeping through the soiled material. Peeking out from the edges of the bandage on his other arm, the one he had back on the ship, a deadly black line creeps up toward his elbow.

When I look up at him, his jaw goes tight, and he covers the bandaged arm with the one in the sling, as though he knows I understand.

I look away as the Captain moans again. “Maybe you should try to wake him?” I say, chancing a glance up at Will.

“Be my guest,” Will says darkly. “Last time I tried to bring him out of it, he nearly took off me head. Bloody wicked left hook he has. Best to let it pass on its own.”

But whatever it is doesn't seem to be passing. Even with our talking, even with Fiona's light, the Captain hasn't stirred. His skin is sallow and slick with sweat, and the sleeve of his left arm flops listlessly over him in an empty embrace. He no longer looks like the cold, buttoned-up Captain I'm used to. He looks younger and much more human than I've ever seen him.

“What's wrong with him?”

Will narrows his eyes at me. “And I should tell you, when it's your fault we're in this bloody awful mess?”

“It's not exactly like he was honest with me,” I say, but I can't quite dismiss my guilt.

Will staggers a bit as he steps forward, his bruised face again illuminated by a beam of light. “He was as honest as the likes of you deserved.”

“The likes of me?” I blink, outrage stiffening my spine.

“Yes. You,” he says, poking a grime-covered finger sharply into my chest. “Double-crossing little—”

“I saved his life,” I cut in.

“Enough!” Fiona's voice echoes through the darkness around the halo of her light. “We do not have time for this.” Impatience flares in her eyes.

I turn to her. “Why did you bring me here?”

Fiona cocks her head at an unnatural angle and glares at me. It's a strangely inhuman movement that has me taking a step back. “Did you not call me? Have you not made your choice?”

“This isn't what I meant,” I insist. “I needed to get Olivia away from Pan.”

“It is too late for her,” Fiona says simply.

“No. Take me back. Now.”

Fiona's lip curls to expose the sharp tips of her teeth. “If you have any hope of saving your human friend, or your own miserable existence, there is only one path for you now. It does not run through Pan.”

“I need to go back,” I demand.

But before I can finish, the light around Fiona flickers, and we are once more plunged into darkness. I hear Will's panicked gasp, his frantic shuffling as the air goes heavy with the smell of dampness and decay. The skittering hum of the Dark Ones is still a ways off, but the sound is growing, coming closer with each second that passes. If she leaves us here, in the darkness, they'll find us.

“Fine!” I shout, not wanting them to reach me.

“Fine?” Fiona's voice buzzes in the darkness.

The humming pulse of the Dark Ones is closer now. Louder still.

I clench my hands at my sides. “What do you want me to do?” I grind out as the rustling buzz of the Dark Ones begins to surround us. But Fiona doesn't answer. “Whatever you want, I'll do it. Please—”

In a flash, the light around Fiona returns to its original brightness, and the swelling buzz in the air falls silent as the Dark Ones retreat back into the darkened corners of the caverns. The Captain is still writhing in his sleep, unaware of what just happened. But Will is huddled back against the wall, his hands up as though ready for a fight.

Fiona's mouth is already curved into a viciously satisfied smile, her sharp teeth glinting. “I thought you would see it my way.”

I glare at her, wishing I could argue. Wishing I had Pan's dagger.

“You will get the Captain to safety,” she tells me, as though this is already an established fact. “Rowan knows the way through these tunnels, and with you as his hostage, the one who calls himself Pan will be more cautious.”

“And then what? There's nowhere to go,” I say, remembering the monster-filled sea, the dangers that lurk on the ever-changing island.