ThePan lived in a huge pirate ship, its deck skewered with towers and its worn planks hiding a glorious palace. His tracing chamber was a separate building outside the ship—an arbor covered in grape vines. It stood at the bottom of the hill that the ship perched on. So, we had to walk a path of yellow bricks to get to the wizard. I mean, to get to the ship. I preferred to skip along it. It seemed more appropriate. The yellow brick road led past a lake full of mermaids, a carnival of outrageous and ridiculous rides, and a train conducted by cartoon characters. The train wasn't running, the mermaids were asleep, and the rides were all dark. It was night in Neverland and even Lost Boys needed their sleep.
Pan practically ran up the path. To the right was a thick forest. Tucked away among those trees was a gingerbread cottage where Pan's son, Pierce, lived with his mother. And just so you know, when I say gingerbread, I don't mean Victorian architectural details. They live in a real house made of sweets. Like a witch. I was seriously considering making one for mykids, but I worried that they'd simply pull a Hansel and Gretel and eat the thing. I wasn't sure if Pan was living in the cottage now, but that's not where he led us. He went up to the ship's front door, set into the bottom of the hull.
Pinocchio threw open the front door and declared, “Finally!”
The real boy was actually a Greek historian whose name I couldn't recall. I was surprised that he was still in his Pinocchio guise when all the kiddies were down for the night. Especially with Hermes in attendance. You'd think he'd want to look more mature in front of his boss's dad. But I suppose they'd known each other for centuries. It wasn't as if he had to make a first impression.
“They were in the middle of something important,” Pan snapped as he pushed past the stringless puppet. “Are they still in the garden room?”
“Yes,” Pinocchio said as he dashed after Pan. “I gave them some food. And beverages. But your father is anxious.”
“I know!” Pan growled. Then he looked over at Pinocchio. “Sorry, Polybius. I'm anxious too.”
“I know, master,” Pinocchio (or Polybius if you don't want to be fun) said. “It's all right.”
The duo led us past a rocket elevator that had once shot me and my husbands up to one of the towers. Instead of going up, we went down a wonky hallway. Pan opened a door, and we piled into the garden room.
Having come from the Golden Citadel, the words “garden room” conjured an image of the greeting room with its plants growing out of the floor. And that wasn't too far off. The major difference was the size of the plants. Flowers towered over us, mushrooms formed umbrellas, and blades of grass taller thanthe Faerie God frothed around them. We followed a dirt path around all the giant greenery. Then one of the flowers—a tiger lily, I believe—bent its head to sniff me.
“Alice in Wonderland!” I declared with glee. “This is the Garden of Live Flowers!”
“Well, fucking finally,” someone ahead grumbled. I was pretty sure it was Hermes.
“This is awesome!” I said, undaunted by Hermes's grumbling. “I can't believe you've never brought me here, Pan. You know how much I love that book.”
“Do I?” Pan looked over his shoulder at me. “I don't think you've ever mentioned it.”
“Oh.” I frowned. Then I grinned as I stroked the tiger lily and made it purr. “Well, I do. Hello, kitty.”
“Vervain, could you please stop petting the flowers and join us? I've been waiting awhile.”
I looked away from the tiger lily to see Hermes standing before Pan, his hands on his lean hips and his eyes narrowed. He had the same curly hair as Pan, but whereas Pan was a brunette, Hermes was blond. And Hermes didn't have horns. But other than that, they were pretty similar in appearance.
“What's wrong, Hermes?” I asked, giving the tiger lily one last stroke before stepping forward. “Pan hasn't told us anything.”
“Maybe we should sit down?” Pan said, waving us into a clearing full of normal furniture. Well, normal in size. It was, of course, the Mad Hatter's tea table.
I squealed and ran past Hermes. “It's time for tea!”
“Hello, Vervain,” Thor drawled as I skipped up to the table, its mismatched chairs full of the members of the God Squad.
“Hey, Thor,” I said absently, my focus on the tiered trays of scones, tea cakes, and tiny sandwiches.
There were several pots of tea in assorted styles to go with the hodgepodge of teacups and plates. I snatched a plate and loaded it with food before inspecting the teas.
“For fuck's sake!” Hermes declared. “Pick one. They're all just stewed leaves.”
“I like black tea,” I said, then lifted a lid on a teapot to sniff its contents. “This smells good.”
“Wonderful. Can you sit the fuck down now?”
“Hey!” Trevor pointed at the Messenger God's face. “We're here to help you, without even knowing what you need help with, and my wife is a huge fan of Alice in Wonderland. If you wanted serious-Vervain, you should have met with us in a normal room.”
“Thanks, babe,” I said as I poured my tea.
Hermes looked ready to explode, his face gone as red as a rose—a painted rose, of course.
“Hermes, what has happened?” Odin asked as he laid a hand on the other man's shoulder.
