“But then Peter went and did the same bad thing—asking the island for something—and that threw it off even more. Which has now led to the island’s magic fading, missing Guardians and fairies, the creepy shadow children, and the forever night.”
“And the terror at the full moon,” Shiner adds. “It was dangerous before, but each full moon brings the whole island a little closer to …” She looks up, searching for a word.
“The island is going feral. Bit by bit. Soon, it won’t allow Lost Boys, fairies, or even Guardians to survive here.” Tiger Lily sighs.
“I believe your minutes are correct, lass.” Hook squeezes my shoulder, his hand warm against me. “But there are a few things I’d like to add. I think the shadows are entirely Peter’s doing.”
“How so?” Tiger Lily asks.
“It’s a theory, one I can’t prove. But ever since I visited the cave, Peter and the Lost Boys began to age far faster than any of the rest of us here. Tiger Lily, you look the same as the day of our first duel, the time when you tried to carve out my liver.”
Tiger Lily nods. “I would have done it, too, if it weren’t for Smee running through the forest and screaming so shrilly that I thought there might be a child in danger.”
I let out a small snort, then cover my nose with my hand. “Sorry,” I say. “I just kind of hate that guy.”
“Can’t stand him. He looks like he enjoys counting things and arranging them in neat little rows.” Shiner wrinkles her nose. “What sort of person enjoys that?”
Tiger Lily puts her hand on Shiner’s knee, and she falls silent. I suppose our misbehaving is at an end.
“The point is, Princess, Peter is the one who’s losing the magic far faster than anyone else.”
“Where are you going with this?” she asks.
“I think Peter has been doing something to the Lost Boys. Their numbers have dwindled to—”
“You kill every Lost Boy you find,” Tiger Lily interrupts. “You can’t seriously think I’ll blame Peter for that.”
“I don’t deny that. I set them free to go on to wherever they belong.”
Tiger Lily sighs. “If you’d just let them live, the conflict between Peter and—”
“I won’t.” His words are clipped.
“Why?” I blurt.
Hook turns to me so fast his neck cracks.
“Why won’t you just let them live?” I hate the prickle of tears behind my eyes when I see Coy’s face. Will I see it forever?
“Because they’re trapped here.” His voice softens, and he speaks only to me. “When I was a child a long, long time ago—longer now than I can truly remember, I had a sister.” He pauses for a while, then continues. “She was younger than me. A little blonde thing that followed me around our small house.” He smiles a little. “She had a dolly she loved. She called it Frenchie, though I’ve no idea where she got that name. I don’t recall what it looked like or even what happened to it, but I remember she loved it dearly. One day, we went to the market with our mum. My sister took Frenchie with her, dragged it all around the market while my mother sold her knitting and bought some food. When we got home, Frenchie was gone. My sister cried herself to sleep that night, her heart breaking because her doll was gone. I remember holding her. She was so wee in my arms, her tears consuming her.” He looks down as if he can still see his sister. “That morning, a man from the market came to the door and handed over the dolly. He said he’d found it in a rubbish bin at the back of his stall. My sister was overjoyed, and I remember that day as one of the happiest of my childhood.”
For some reason, I lean into him. I don’t know why. I don’t know what he’s going to say next, but I can sense something inside him that’s brittle and cracked, and with any force at all, it could break.
“The next week we were getting ready to go to market again on our usual day, but my sister wasn’t feeling well. I stayed home with her while our mum went out. She was tired, so tired. Not hopping around the house like usual. Instead, she kept to her bed, her Frenchie always by her side. By the time Mum came home, she was coughing, her face pale, her skin cold. I held her again, kept her close to me as she began to burn with fever. My mum left to get help, to try and find a doctor who’d work for very little. I stayed with my sister. Held her as she burned and wept. She held Frenchie in her pale hands, her fingers wrapped tightly around the harbinger of her end. And when our mum finally came home, my sister was already gone. I held her as she took her last breath.” His eyes are glossy, the memories old but the pain still fresh. “The only comfort I ever had from losing her was the thought of her being in a better place. Somewhere with no hunger, no pain, no sickness. Somewhere our father could never find her and hurt her the way he used to. Somewhere she wasfree.” He turns back to Tiger Lily. “So, yes, I will kill every Lost Boy I find. I will set them free to escape this endless night and into whatever heaven every innocent child deserves. Because make no mistake, that’s what they are. Children who were led here by a pied piper who has no intention ofeversetting them free.”
I wipe my wet cheeks, my tears still rolling as I try to brush them away. I’ve never heard that kind of pain in someone’s voice, not the sort of raw emotion that leaves a lifetime of scars. I felt it when my mother died. I felt it when Coy died. And now I know Hook feels it, too. Some scars can never fully heal.
Tiger Lily’s stony countenance has softened somewhat. “I understand,” she says quietly.
He gives her a nod.
“With that aside, I still need to know how you plan to use Moira to break the curse over the island. If she is a boon from the island, I won’t let you harm her.”
“You letPeterharm her.” Hook snaps with sudden ferocity, his pain transformed to anger. “You let him sink his claws into her and said nothing.”
“We didn’t know.” Tiger Lily meets my gaze. “I had my suspicion, especially when you said you would tell Peter stories.”
“Why? I still don’t know why he asked for that.”
