Page 70 of The Last Lost Girl

Pan won’t resurrect him like he did Wraith…

Hook tenses, his attention snapping toward the vines. “Go!”

I turn and jog down the sandy stone toward the dark, placid lake at the cavern’s bottom. The water is crystal clear and freezing as it fills my shoes. At my back, daylight flares for a breath, until that brilliant light is severed again. Whoever was following us outside, is now in here. I’m terrified to move even to wade in farther or dive under like I told Hudson I would.

For several long seconds, all is quiet. Too quiet. Save for the dripping of water from pencil-sized stalactites that look like a thousand slick, pale worms stretching from the ceiling.

I look back at the water and bite my thumbnail. Hudson told me to dive under the rock wall, that behind it was another room, but I don’t know how deep to dive or how far I need to swim until that rock gives way to the next space.

I won’t be able to see anything once I go under.

What if the way has caved in?

What lives in water like this?

The person near the cave’s mouth begins to whistle – sharp and sure. I don’t recognize the melody, but I don’t like it. Bare feet loudly slap the smooth stone as the person confidently makes their way further into the cavern. Then I see the top of his head, his shoulders, and the contours of his bare chest.

The hair on the back of my neck rises.

Is it Pan?

Something way larger than a moth wildly flutters over my head. Then a shrill, animalistic shriek echoes before the flapping wings track across the ceiling and up toward the boy.

His whistling stops.

He finds me and I hear him smile, even though I can only see a ghost of movement.

His bare feet grind grit into the cave floor as he starts toward me in earnest, his arms swinging. He’s shirtless and wearing shorts, like Wraith had been, but I can’t tell from here if it’s Pan. Darkness cloaks his face.

“Didn’t Hook warn you about that lake, Ava?” he asks gruffly.

“Did Pan warn you about me?” I fire back.

The boy laughs. “Of course he did. Not that it was necessary. We all saw what you did to Wraith.”

What I did to him?

Why did Peter tell the boys I was to blame? I thought about Hudson.

If this boy thinks I killed Wraith, why is he charging forward? Why isn’t he afraid? Maybe he’s been torn apart and pieced back together by Pan too often to fear a true death.

He’s too close and gaining ground.

I step backward farther into the water. One step. Two. The splashing sounds echo over the cave, stirring a few more bats.

When I extend my foot a third step, feeling with my heel, then toes, for the rock that should be there, it isn’t. The lake is deep like Hudson said. No matter how far I stretch, I can’t touch the bottom. I ease into the water, keeping the boy in my sight, and swim to the far wall, treading water but ready to dive.

Fear tells me to listen to Hudson, to swim away and trust him to deal with this guy. But I’m afraid to leave him alone. Afraid to face what’s in the water and move farther into this cave without him at my side.

Footsteps in a familiar, unhurried, and cocky stride echo through the room.

The Lost Boy stops and turns to find Hudson just a few feet away.

Hudson’s deep laugh echoes all around us. “Hello, Grim,” the pirate greets in a voice as smooth as silk. “It’s been too long since I’ve scattered pieces of you across Neverland for Peter to find and knit back together.”

Holy. Shit.

Every muscle in my body goes taut as the pirate glides closer to his prey.

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