“To bring the line of ancient Spinners back home. It worked perfectly.” She waves her arm branches at me. “Here you are. Both Hook and Peter will do whatever it takes to keep you alive and here in Neverland. I never should’ve allowed Wendy to leave in the first place, but I fixed that mistake with nothing more than two wishes.” She smiles, then taps her chin. “Though I must say I didn’t foresee all the other trouble—with the sun, and Peter, and the shadows, and all that. But I’m certain once you kill Peter, the scales will balance again.”
“You’re ‘certain’? You don’t sound ‘certain’. You sound like the man behind the curtain pretending to be the Wizard!”
“I’m the magic of dreams, Moira. I’m just as trustworthy and forthright as they are.”
So, she’s neither. I learned long ago to never trust anyone in Neverland, but I didn’t realize that also applied to the island itself.
“Okay, let’s forget all that and focus on the problem. Can you turn Peter back into the little boy who wasn’t a homicidal maniac?”
“No.” She shakes her head, another leaf falling to the pool. “That time has passed. He’s gone too far, taken too many souls. He’s grown stronger with each one he’s stolen. He has to die, to leave this island and these waters forever. It’s the only way the ones he’s taken can be free.”
“Kill me?” Peter’s voice wraps around the cavern and warps as it echoes back and forth. “Is that really your plan, Moira?”
The tree melts away into a golden haze that disappears as Peter flies over the pool, headed right for me.
“You can’t be here.” I draw my sword.
“Don’t be silly, Moira. Neverland is my home. I can go wherever I like.” He eases to the crystal ground in front of me, planting his feet where the tree was standing only moments ago. His face is lined now, older than he was when I first met him on campus. Grays dominate his hair, his lips no longer as full, though his eyes are just as bright as they ever were. He looks at my sword. “Really?”
“You killed Tootles. You killed—”
“Geo, Nibs, Foy, Carstark, Lincey, Puck …” He lists names one after the other, so many names that he has to stop and take a breath, but then he keeps going. When he’s done, he smiles down at me. “Yes. I drained them all, but that’s only because I couldn’t findyou.” He steps toward me. “But here you are. Come back to the cave with me where it’s safe.”
“Never.” I keep edging backwards.
“Don’t be like that.” He pouts and advances. “We can still make this fun. Like a game. I won’t be able to drug you this time, but I can still make it enjoyable for you. It’s just a little make-believe, that’s all. You tell me stories, and I’ll make you happy.”
“I’ll never tell you another story, Peter. I’m done. You won’t steal any more children.”
He pulls back as if wounded. “I don’tstealthem. They’re already dead. I bring them here so they can live forever with me, having fun in Neverland.”
“You trap them, enslave them. They can never move on to whatever’s next. Never see their families again. They even forget their mothers.”
“No one needs a mother. Wendy taught me that.” He grins. “I just need the island. Then I can keep bringing more children here so we can all have fun. No more growing up for anyone. Think of all the adventures we could have.”
“I think you used to believe that. You thought you were giving the children a reprieve, granting them a life outside of the one they’d already lived. But you don’t believe that anymore, do you? You stopped believing in the magic of children the moment you began preying on them.”
“It doesn’t matter what you think, Moira. It never has.”
“The island is tearing itself apart because of you! You used to be good. You used to love children. You used to—”
“I used to be weak!” he yells, his voice shaking the surface of the water. “Not anymore. Iwillhave Neverland, and I will haveyoufor as long as I wish.” He adopts a stern tone, the monster inside him mocking our conversation. “Now stop playing games, and come home.”
I can’t back away anymore. I’m at the end of the small island, and Peter is still advancing on me.
“Stay back.” I swipe my sword through the air.
“Are you waiting for Hook to save you, Moira?” He smirks, a vicious glint in his eye. “I heard a sad story about his death at sea. I can’t wait for you to retell it to me again and again. I do believe that will be my favorite story of yours. Why don’t you go ahead and tell it to me now? I’d love to hear a firsthand account of how he drowned, his body torn to bits by the creatures in the deep. Do you think anything is left of him? I doubt it. In fact, I’d like you to tell me that story tonight at bedtime while I’m inside you. Seems fitting, don’t you think? He may have had you, but now I get to keep you. My little pet from the mainland.”
The wound was already open and bleeding, and Peter just poured gasoline into it and lit a match. Even though my heart aches, my spine straightens, and I step toward him, my sword at the ready.
“You want to play?” He pulls his own sword. “Do you need to bleed before you’ll give in?” He licks his lips. “I can give you that.”
He swings hard. I counter, and our swords meet. I immediately counter-attack, the way Widow taught me, and draw my sword along his upper thigh.
He lets out a yell and backs up, then reaches down and looks at the blood on his fingers. “You cut me.” He sounds nothing short of incredulous.
“I’ll do it again. Come at me.” I bare my teeth and think about Coy, Tootles, Nibs—all the Lost Boys Peter hurt and killed. The island was right. He’s beyond saving. He’s become the murderous villain, the nightmare feared by all children. I have to put an end to it.
