“I was just reminiscing about my tragic childhood,” Wendy drawled. “Wanna play confidant?”
The feline finished tucking its paws away, then twitched its tail without looking at her again.
Wendy waited a beat, then decided to take that as acceptance. “My dad loved books, the Verified Histories especially. We used to pour over the historical accounts for hours.” Faithfully recorded by the Editors, each yellow volume contained the true story of an amazing thing that had happened in another part of the continent.
The cat yawned, revealing needle-sharp teeth.
“His favorites wereThe Golden Goose,Rumpelstiltskin,Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves, and the newest one:Peter Pan. Bah!” Wendy resisted the urge to spit.
Her furry companion turned uncanny eyes toward her. Wendy barely noticed, as she was remembering thatPeter Pan—both the story and the man-child—were the reasons she was in this mess. A few slow, deep breaths calmed her.
“It’s all his fault, really.”
That wretched creature disguised as a hero certainly held all the blame for her current position (and who knew how many murders), but none of this would have happened if her father hadn’t died.
“Or, more accurately, if my beautiful, spineless mother hadn’t remarried,” she said, not bothering to connect the dots for her listener.
She eyed the fluffy white clouds as they drifted past with a lack of urgency. The ship clipped along at a steady pace, and Wendy could have been lulled into a nap if not for her fear of being discovered. The green-eyed stare boring into the side of her head helped, too.
“That might not be fair, either,” she admitted, gently lifting Disa so she could shift her legs. He slept through the removal and replacement. “But it probably is.”
No doubt finding her conversation lacking, the cat faced forward once more and closed its eyes.
Arina Maddox had captured George Darling’s eye less than two years after the death of her first husband. She married the assertive man within days of Wendy’s twelfth birthday.
Wendy honestly hadn’t minded the change much. George moved his new family to his modest estate along the coast and promptly ignored his stepdaughter. She returned the favor by staying away from him whenever possible. She had never been sure if his distaste for her person stemmed from the fact that she was a girl or the fact that she wasn’t his offspring like John and Michael. Sure, she bore his name now, but that was probably her mother’s doing.
“George hates his nephews, too, so that’s probably it. Can’t you tell from the beautiful outfit I’m wearing?” She gestured to the hand-me-down nightgown that had belonged to George’s mother once upon a time. Her stepfather was ever so economical when it came to providing for her.
Neither the cat nor Disa responded to her non sequitur.
The Darling grounds occupied a less desirable portion of land nestled between the bay and the swamps. Depending on the weather, Wendy would set out with her lunch and a stack of books to either a sheltered bit of beach or a dry patch of land on the edge of the murky waters. The sea breeze kept the swamp from being too malodorous and encouraged the biting insects to seek prey farther in.
A grunt of frustration escaped as she realized she was scratching her elbow again. She slapped the offending welt in a futileattempt to alleviate the itch. The noise was louder than she intended, and for a tense moment, she froze, worried that her safety had been compromised. When the cat didn’t flinch and nothing else changed, she relaxed against the curved wooden wall again.
Disa sneezed in his sleep, drawing her attention and a genuine smile. The swamp also hosted a colony of sheeries. Some of the blame for her predicament could arguably be laid at their feet. Or a lot of the blame, technically. But Disa had led her safely off the island, and their actions toward her had never been malicious.
Sheeries were a type of faery that seemed to exist purely to promote mischief. Sometimes called will-o’-the-wisps, the small, glowing creatures frequently led lone travelers astray. Sure, there were stories of them helping lost children find a way home, but everyone in Jocestria knew to be on their guard when one of the blue-and-white balls of flame beckoned.
Wendy’s experience had been somewhat different. One cool morning, when her mother and stepfather were entertaining a house party of adults who “did not care to be bothered by children,” according to George, she had slipped away to her refuge under a weeping willow at the swamp’s edge. The beach was off-limits because the party attendees had plans there later. Tucked against the trunk with a blanket across her lap and her father’s favorite,Peter Pan, at hand, Wendy had decided to readaloud. Nobody but the fish and frogs could hear her, and none of them cared.
As she read, flickers of light danced at the edge of her vision. Eventually, she paused and looked up to discover no fewer than four sheeries hovering within earshot. Curious and polite, Wendy had greeted the faeries and was surprised to learn two things: First, the sheeries could speak her language. Second, they had another form.
A very dumb or very brave seagull landed on the railing of the crow’s nest not far from the dozing cat’s back. Wendy silently waved her hands under the intruder, careful not to dislodge Disa. Wearing her nightgown was bad enough; adding droppings to the outfit was a step too far, thank you very much.
The gull relocated with an indignant squawk. Wendy brushed her too-long fringe out of her eyes and wondered where her other sheeries had disappeared to.
She didn’t know if her discoveries about the faeries were common knowledge or not, as she had never shared them with anybody. Not only did the sheeries speak and have a tiny human-shaped form, they could also turn completely invisible and had a hankering for human stories. That day at the swamp, Wendy had learned that the sheeries especially loved stories about Peter Pan. This had predisposed her to fondness right from the start. By the end of the day, Wendy had met and read to ten different sheeries. Over the next thirteen years, she becamesomething of an expert through a mix of research and her own observations.
Eventually, she collected a select few who accompanied her nearly everywhere. Disa, Iniq, Shaye, Leq, and Horas had come to Neverland with her.
Iniq and Shaye’s current whereabouts interested her the most at the moment. The most reliable of the group, they could probably be trusted to stick with her brothers. Except she hadn’t explicitly asked them to do so, as Peter had interrupted her plans this morning. If Horas, or even Leq, popped in to see what she was doing, she would give instructions for the pair to stay with John and Micheal.
“If only Peter had slept in like usual!”
The cat opened its eyes, then moved its head in a weird manner, likely tracking something she couldn’t see. When the feline stared at her, Wendy closed her eyes and dropped her head against the boards behind her.
“Why?”
