“Where are the children you took?” Wendy demanded, refusing to give in to the shaking creature in her chest. “Bring them back!” She tried to wrench herself free but only sank deeper into the oozing blackness.
The shadow threw its head back. Screeching laughter filled the room. “They were merely pawns to get to you, Wendy! Haven’t you put it together yet? Haven’t you remembered? Hasn’t he told you?” it asked, peering at her through narrowed eyes. Its face—Peter’s face, but cruel and dark and distorted—held sick glee in every sharp angle.
She heard its words, but they didn’t fit together in her head. She couldn’t make sense of it or of the plummeting sensation in her gut, as if it knew before she did. Wendy wanted to rage and scream. “Bring my brothers back!” Her voice quaked and broke.
“Oh, Wendy.” Its grin was cruel, its chuckle amused. “I don’t have your brothers. I never did.”
Wendy froze. What? She shook her head. The shadow was lying, of course it was lying. It wanted her to be frightened. It was trying to mess with her head. Wendy looked at Peter for answers, but he didn’t meet her gaze. His attention was locked on the shadow. The muscles in his jaw bulged.
The shadow leaned in close. It smiled as if reading her mind. Its breath reeked of decaying leaves and the thick must of wet dirt. “Lost children are the souls of children who have lost their way. Peter is their guide.”
“Guide?” Wendy repeated. Confusion and panic ripped through her body. She felt dizzy. She couldn’t breathe. She shook so violently, she was nearly convulsing. It was like her body knew what was coming but her brain couldn’t keep up.
“It’s his job to ease their suffering, to help them become unafraid so they can pass on.”
Her breath became sharp and frantic. Wendy shook her head. “Peter, what is it talking about?” she asked.
But the look on Peter’s face …
This was just a nightmare. She wanted it to stop. She wanted to wake up in her bed and for this not to be real. She thrashed against the tendrils as they gripped her tighter.
“Wendy—” Peter voice was pleading and weak.
“No, don’t,” she said feebly, shaking her head. Wendy tugged, and the tendrils stretched taut as she tried to stand, tried to run away. They purred and flooded over her skin, excited and hungry. As Wendy struggled to her feet, they tightened around her torso and clawed toward her neck.
“You have to understand—” Peter pressed.
“Don’t.” Wendy’s stomach gave a nauseated twist. No. No no no.
“I—” A black gag twisted around his mouth, silencing Peter with a choke. He fought against his restraints with renewed vigor. His back arched and the muscles in his arms strained. His eyes sparked, frantic and rimmed with red.
“Allow me to help explain,” the shadow said. “After all, I’ve been completely honest with you since we’ve met,” it pointed out with a lift of its eyebrows. “Peter guides the souls of dead children to the afterlife. When they’ve died in a particularly horrible way”—the shadow made an exaggerated cringe—“he takes them to Neverland.” It was talking so plainly, so simply. Loss fell on her like a heavy weight, threatening to pull her to the floor. “It’s like a sort of limbo, really. Where dead kids go and come to terms with what happened to them, and then they can cross over.”
The shadow leaned forward, catching Wendy’s chin in its icy grip. It inhaled deeply and its eyelids fluttered, savoring the fear as it poured from her. It spoke slowly and deliberately, savoring each word as it hit her. “Which is exactly what he did with your brothers. When he saw you next to their bodies, begging him to let you go with your brothers, he caved in. But live girls don’t belong in Neverland, Wendy,” it said.
“Your brothers have been stuck in Neverland ever since, unable to move on, too worried about you.” It released her chin and gave her a gentle pat on the cheek. “So, here we find ourselves. Peter, without his magic, and you, without your brothers as they spend the rest of eternity stuck between this world and the next.” It steepled its fingers together and looked back and forth between the two, simply beside itself with glee.
No, this wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be true. Peter wouldn’t lie to her. He’d told her they were trapped, that he and Wendy only needed to defeat the shadow and they would be released. Her eyes searched out Peter’s for answers. “Is it true, Peter?” she asked. Her voice broke. Her vision blurred. “Are my brothers dead?”