Chapter Eighteen
James
I’m wracking my brain, but I can’t recall the exact plot. I mean, I read it, but I didn’t memorize it. I certainly don’t know it inside and out like Vera does.
I’m just kind of guesstimating my way through this because I don’t want to tell Vera that Idon’tremember in exact detail what happens. She might take it personally.
I remember that Neverland in this story is a sort of shadow realm, something that exists in dreams. Peter Pan was creepy. I am able to recall those elements because they were what originally drew me into the script. I thought I could lowkey make it have a horror element even though I don’t have a scary bone in my body.
I run my hand over the tip of my hook. I suppose I should be glad they let me keep my prosthetic, althoughI’m not sure why. It seems like it could be used as a weapon. Then, again who am I going to stab with it? The rats currently keeping me company?
“Let’s see… there’s Peter and Neverland. Everything is shadows including that dratted croc,” I mutter to myself.
That’s about as much as I remember.
Oh, and they both die in the end. Which technically means that Vera and I die in the end, doesn’t it? I grimace at that thought. For all our diabolical plans earlier in the night, Vera and I still seem to be on track for that.
Although by my reckoning a lot of the other plot has changed. Which I think goes to prove that Vera’s belief that the plot is a near unbeatable force is wrong. I make a mental note to bring that up to her if and when I see her again.
Frederick and Naia haven’t seemed to play as big of a role in this as they did in the original script. But then, I suppose in the original script Moira loved Frederick and had to learn to forgive her family through Naia. They were both her paths to redemption.
Verahopefullydoesn’t love Frederick no matter how much she says he is hot, after all, she still wanted me to kill him. And she doesn’t have any grudge against Naia. To be honest, Vera doesn’t even need a redemption arc. She hasn’t even done anything bad, except for maybe thatassassination attempt, but that was ill-conceived, and no real harm came from it.
So why are we here? Are we supposed to learn a valuable lesson? Because right now I’m learning how numb my legs can get when I sit on the hard stone floor. A few more hours and I won’t be able to feel my feet.
I shift my position and grimace. The chains holding me in place, release an ungodly rattle. I think I’m losing my mind locked up down here, because I could swear that I hear something breathing. Something that would be significantly bigger than a rat.
I turn my head and jump with a yell when I see a figure sitting there next to me. It’s a boy, probably between the ages of eleven and thirteen. He has shaggy brown hair that curls around his ears. He’s sitting there cross-legged next to me. His eyes are pressed shut, but they pop open as soon as I yell.
“There you are, James,” he says with a grin. “You know, I’ve been looking all over for you.”
Of courseheuses my name. Why can’t he call me Captain Hook? James feels too personal like he is talking to memeand not the character that most everyone thinks I am.
“You must be Pan,” I say flatly. I was kind of hoping to avoid this part of the plot but I guess I will get my semi-horror elements after all. I should pay attention so Ican figure out how to produce this part of the movie after I get back, but I find it hard to focus past the sinking in the pit of my stomach.
He wrinkles his nose. “You grew up.” It’s not a statement, it’s an accusation.
“Believe me, I wish I hadn’t,” I grumble. Being an adult is taxing and boring and kind of stressful. Especially today. Today has been particularly stressful. I release a sigh. “Listen, buddy, I don’t want to have beef with a twelve-year-old so let’s just clear something up. I am not the James you think I am. I’m a different James, a less cool one, you don’t want me as your arch-nemesis.”
Peter Pan chuckles, his voice ringing like bells. “But I guess some things never change. You’re still always willing to accommodate my love of games.”
I roll my eyes. “I’ve never met you before today so I’m going to tell you one more time nicely, beat it kid.”
Peter reaches out and flicks my hook. It must be just a trick of the light, but I could swear that his eyes flash red. “Do you remember my parting gift to you? Well, my crocodile liked your taste so much that he has wanted nothing else since. You were clever enough to remain one step ahead of me for so long, but now you spend the night in such a shadowed place? It’s as if you invited me to findyou. It’s as if youwantedme to return you to Neverland. Isn’t that right, Tink? I think our good captain missed us.”
Something small and golden zips out of Peter’s worn jacket. It buzzes through the air like a bee, but when it lands on the tip of my hook, I see that it’s a person. A tiny person.
Demon might be the better word for it.
With ashy gray skin and sunken in black eyes, the tiny face I look at will probably remain in my nightmares forever.
Tinkerbell—if I can even rightly call it that—smiles up at me revealing a mouth lined with tiny needly teeth.
I jerk back, shaking my hook. Oh, that isn’t right.
You know, I’m going to have to seriously have a talk with Vera about how dark her mind is. Now Peter Pan is ruined for me. All I’m going to be able to imagine is the skinny twerp sitting next to me with his squeaky voice and a little demon fairy.
Peter giggles and leaps to his feet, he does a little dance. Which might make him look more like a kid, but instead he is floating about a foot off the ground. Black specks float off of him which I take to be the pixie dust since they also float around the demon Tink.
