Thanks to the candles in the wall sconces, not even a shadow.
There’s a whiskey in front of her, a mug of something steaming in his left hand, which is covered by a leather glove. His right hand is out of sight under the table.
“Not drinking?” she says, nodding at the mug. She doesn’t touch the glass.
He shakes his head, his eyes dark and watchful. “I’m working.”
There’s no time for niceties. She plunges in. “When we spoke before, I didn’t tell you everything,” she says.
“Surprise, surprise.” He cocks an eyebrow. “And now?”
“Now I will.”
This time, she tells him who Peter really is. She explains about magic. And Neverland. About Grandma Wendy and Great-Uncle Michael. About Eden. She leaves nothing out. She doesn’t spare herself.
“What do you want me to do?” he says when she’s finished.
“You believe me?”
He looks at her thoughtfully. “I believe you believe this. I also believe you are in way over your head and it’s liable to get much worse if you don’t get help.”
Holly exhales with relief. A start, at least.
“One thing doesn’t make sense. If this story of yours is true, Ed should be growing the same way as your daughter, right? Faster than normal. But nobody’s mentioned that to me.”
Ed is taller than normal, true, but not abnormally so. He’s handsome and flush with vitality, but so are many teenage boys.
“Maybe Peter was right,” she says slowly. “Maybe it is us.” At Christopher’s blank look, she elaborates. “The Darlings. Maybe there’s something in our blood.” She pictures Wendy of the portrait, then her mother. The glowing health, the seductive smiles, the extended life spans.
“Ed doesn’t have that. He isn’t a Darling like Eden, so he isn’t affected the same way.”
“Interesting theory,” Christopher says. His matter-of-factness surprises her, makes her take the last step.
“There’s something else.”
“Why am I not surprised?” he says dryly.
She ignores this. Her hands are in her lap, and she’s squeezing them together so tightly the tips must be white. “Peter said something . . . it made me think of you. Not you, exactly, but . . .” She’s stammering; she can’t find the right words. “He said that Neverland is a shadow place, like a . . . a threshold between worlds. And he said . . . he implied . . . that Captain Hook fought to stop him from bringing people in. From hurting them. And I thought . . . I mean, with your arm and what you do . . .”
“That I must be some long-dead foe of Peter’s, returned to vanquish him,” he says, deadpan. “Only, of course, better-looking.”
At her look, he shakes his head. “You think I haven’t noticed the coincidences? Or that I’m too sophisticated to consider them? I’ve lived enough to know that there’s more out there than most people think,” he says. “And I’m smart enough to keep an open mind. But who you think I am, or may have been, is a topic we can debate later. Right now we don’t have much time. Not if you want to save those kids. Where is Peter now?”
She gives Christopher the address of the cottage.
“What can you do?”
It must be her imagination, but the pool of menace around him grows, expands, until it almost reaches her. Instinctively she leans away. When she looks up, Christopher’s smile is gleaming and white and treacherous.
“I’m a man of many talents,” he says. “That’s all you need to know.”
* * *
He walks her to her car, stays until she’s inside. It’s started to rain. Puddles shimmer on the ground, reflecting light and images. Holly locks the car doors and starts the engine. Then, on impulse, she rolls down the window and calls to him.
“Please be careful.” There’s so much that could go wrong. For Jack, for Eden, for Ed, even for Christopher himself. “You have no idea what he’s capable of.”
There’s a flash of silver by his side, magnified in the water on the ground. Christopher has uncovered his hook. “Don’t worry,” he says over his shoulder as he strolls into the night. “That’s exactly what they say about me.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
At home, Nan and Jane are still at the kitchen table, a pot of tea between them. Jane stands when Holly walks in, relief flooding across her face.
“He listened and he’ll help,” Holly says, sinking into a chair. She has no desire to share details about Christopher or anything else in front of Nan.