Tinker Bell flutters around it, then moves faster and faster, encircling the shadow in golden light.
I throw my arm up to ward off the intensity of it, but I can still see when the shadow begins to break apart.
It screeches and morphs into Peter’s form, his hands clawing at his throat as bits of the shadow lift and float away like ashes from a roaring fire.
I kick away, scooting back as Tinker Bell continues her circuit, creating heat and light where the shadow cannot hide. It screeches again, a dying wail as it completely disintegrates and floats into the sky and toward the Silver Mountains.
The golden glow ends suddenly, and Tinker Bell stands in front of me, her hands on her hips as she gasps in air. Her own golden glow has dulled, her eyes no longer sparkling.
“Are you okay?” I get up.
“I’m great, dummy.” She straightens, but wobbles on her feet.
I catch her under her arm. She’s so light I think I could carry her.
She leans on me, and it’s no heavier than a fluffy scarf. “That took a lot,” she admits. “Too much.” She groans and wipes her forearm along her forehead. Golden sweat comes off, and she shivers.
“I’ve got you.” I grip her waist.
“I always hated that shadow.” She makes a face. “Nasty piece of dark magic.”
“Thank you. You saved my life. Again.”
“The one thing I don’t want to make a habit of, and here we are.” She groans and takes a step back toward the village but sways against me.
“You’re still rude, so don’t worry. I won’t assign any warm feelings to you for saving my life.”
“Small miracles.” She coughs. “Come on. We have to get to the beach.”
“Are you sure you should—”
She gives me a death glare.
“All right. Here we go.” I half carry her down through the village, under the arch, past the houses and toward the sounds of the fight. The ground is stained with blood in places, but I haven’t seen any bodies, though I was careful not to look at poor Nibs as we passed.
“There were children here, Moira.” She looks at a particular house on the right. “Beautiful children with the rainbow in their eyes. He killed them.” She brandishes her little fangs. “He drained them and left their bodies to rot. That was the only time I managed to break his hold over me and fight back. Just enough for him to give me this.” She drags her finger down the dark scar on her cheek. “He called it a little lesson in obedience.” She points ahead. “Go. We’re almost to him. I can feel him like oil on my skin.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to rip his throat out.” She tongues one of her fangs. “That’s the fae justice he deserves.”
“Tink, I don’t think you’re in any shape—”
“Tink?” She scoffs. “Are we friends now, emptyheaded Darling?”
“Maybe in a ‘Mean Girls’ sort of way, I guess?”
“I’m not mean.” She looks at me, a golden sparkle reigniting in her eyes.
“If you say so.”
“You think I’m mean?” Her broken bell voice grows stronger.
“You’re probably the meanest person—fae or otherwise—I’ve ever met. Even meaner than the mermaids who wanted to eat me. That’s how mean you are.”
“Lies.” She wrinkles her perfect nose. “You’re a liar on top of being stupid. Worst combination.”
“Now you’re just flirting with me,” I crack.
