My interest was piqued. If Lochlan had been working with Roderick for all of his adult life, he would undoubtedly have information about my family.
“I’m open to that arrangement,” I told him carefully. All I had to do was lie about the questions he asked me, then extract information from him. But could I trust him to tell me the truth? Or would he simply lie to me exactly the way I planned to lie to him?
“Get healed up a bit first, then we can start in on life stories,” Lochlan said, leaning back into the rocking chair. “Though I have a feeling mine will be dull compared to yours.”
“Probably so,” I said with a slight smile. My body relaxed back into the many pillows and blankets around me, and I allowed myself to sink back into slumber.
If I had been a betterpatient and actually listened to Lochlan, I would’ve stayed put to recover. But when Roderick told Lochlan that he needed his help the next evening and they left, I couldn’t stay still. I got to my feet and hobbled out of the bedroom. Peter was sitting at the table, staring hard into the contents of a cup.
“How are you feeling?” he asked when he heard me enter. “Lochlan said you got hurt yesterday.”
“I’ve been better. I fell and cut myself on the way home, and Lochlan said it’s becoming infected.”
Peter looked up from the cup. “What did he give you for it?”
“He’s been cleaning it with vinegar, but it still hurts like the devil.”
Peter drummed his fingers on the table and went back to studying the cup. “I might have something that can help with that,” he said. There was a quiet intensity to his voice that both interested and frightened me at the same time.
“What?”
Without another word, he handed the cup over to me. I examined it and saw that the milk inside had a shimmering, golden glitter.
“Did you mix in pixie dust?” I asked curiously, swirling it around in a circle. “You weren’t planning to drink this, were you?”
“Pixie dust does more than make people fly,” Peter said in that same low voice. “Drink it.”
I eyed it skeptically. “What does it do?”
“Wards off disease and infection. It isn’t as useful as pixie blood would be for your wound, but it’ll help. Try it.”
“Isn’t it a drug?”
“Not at all.” Peter took the cup back and looked in at the mesmerizing swirls of gold. “It’s medicine. One of the greatest medicines ever discovered. I’m sure you think that Roderick and I are doing illegal drug deals, but we’re helping people.” He locked eyes with me and slowly handed the cup back. “I want to help you, Gil.”
I took a sniff. It didn’t smell strange. And it couldn’t be an illegal drug if it was just blowing off Tinkerbell’s wings. This was more like aloe vera or mint or chamomile—a natural remedy. Hesitantly, I took a sip of the heated milk. There was no flavor, but my stomach still turned. “Isn’t this the equivalent of human dandruff? I don’t know how I feel about consuming it,” I told him, wrinkling my nose.
“Trust me,” Peter said, leaning back in his chair. “This will help you more than Lochlan cleaning your injury would. It’s most effective while it’s warm, so you’d better finish it.”
I drank the rest of the cup and felt a strange lightness and renewed energy flow through my limbs, edged with a bit of youthful recklessness. The pain of the injury was still present, but I felt revitalized like I’d gotten a good night’s sleep every day for years on end and had just woken up.
“That’s amazing,” I told him. “How did you know it would do that?”
“A lot of study and research,” Peter said with a self-satisfied smile. “Years upon years of trial and error.”
“You look too young to have had years and years to study.”
Peter smiled. “Appearances can be deceiving.”
I knew that better than anyone. But a sudden concern tugged at me. “Wait, I thought we weren’t supposed to take any of the shipment. Does Roderick know you took some?”
“What Roderick doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” Peter said slyly. “And I didn’t consume any of it. You did.”
Fear stabbed at my heart. Was he planning to frame me for taking it?
“I don’t intend to tell him anything if you don’t,” Peter went on. “It’ll be our little secret.”
Suddenly, I didn’t want to be anywhere near Peter Pan. There was something off about him, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.
