Page 132 of Losing Wendy

“I’m done with him,” I say, hugging my torso. I know better than that, know it will only signal weakness to the vile captain, but I can’t help myself.

“If only,” he says, considering me. “Then perhaps you and I could make a good team. But we’ve already established I know him better than you do, and I’m aware of his devices—the type of weak minds he preys upon. And you, Wendy Darling, are weak-minded. I’ve known it since the moment I laid eyes on you, saw you dolled up in that horrific wedding garb, decked out like a porcelain doll up for auction. As empty-headed as one, too.”

“I’m not stupid,” I say, clenching my torso as I bite back tears.

The captain’s face almost softens. “No. No, you’re not. And isn’t that the tragic bit of this story?”

I’m sobbing now, and I hate myself for it. Hate myself for baring my weakness in front of this awful man, for reinforcing every unflattering word he says about me.

“Don’t fret, Darling. I’ll see you when the winged boy has his claws in you again, when he’s convinced you that your mind is playing tricks on you. Of all the ways you were wrong to doubt him. Then the two of us can go back to our typical banter. It’s much more pleasant that way, don’t you think?”

“I hate you,” I seethe.

“I hate you back, Darling.” He smiles.

I throw a rock at him on my way out.

CHAPTER 48

Angry tears sluice down my face, rinsed away in the rain of an oncoming storm as I hurtle myself down the beach and toward the cliffside.

Stupid, stupid man. I could have helped you. I could have saved you, I think to myself, though that’s the opposite of what I should be concerned about in the moment. Still, I can’t help but wonder what will happen to the captain when the tide comes in. I’d left him close to the mouth of the cave out of spite. I’d only wanted to frighten him, make him wonder whether the waves would get close enough to carry him away, swallow him in their greedy depths.

I’m unsure that I judged the distance correctly.

I imagine his corpse rotting away like Victor’s father’s, except instead of worms laying their young in his eye sockets, it’ll be the fish and the bottom-feeders.

My heart aches, and it’s stupid for doing so.

I push the captain from my mind, cursing him and leaving him to rot in my past. I have my brothers to save.

Sand scratches against my bare feet as I run, and I can’t help but regret that the captain didn’t decide to assist us. It was a risk, offeringmyself in exchange for him helping get John and Michael to safety. But leaving Neverland through a gap in the Fabric seemed like a more sure way of getting my brothers out of here than my current plan.

But I suppose faerie dust is how we entered, so faerie dust is how we must go.

I’m hesitant to dose my brothers again. When I think of it, I remember my mother tipping the faerie wine to my lips. The way I scorned it at first, but then, after exposure, began requesting it. John and Michael didn’t seem to have trouble after that first dose that had carried them here, but neither had I when Peter gave me the tiniest bit at the storehouse or when he’d offered me just enough to dance with him in the stars.

It was the third dose that had done me in. This will be their second. No, I realize with dread. Peter gave Michael another dose when he panicked outside the reaping tree. Still, better addicted to faerie dust than dead. That’s what I tell myself, anyway. A gnawing voice in the back of my head can’t help but wonder if that’s what my mother told herself, too.

I’m so lost in thought, I don’t notice the figure until I smack into him.

He’s all lean muscle, and at first I think it’s Peter. Fear shoots through me, but then I realize the pull of the Mating Mark is absent, and I breathe a sigh of relief.

“Going for a nighttime run? You are insane,” says Simon, his dark eyes glittering with friendly teasing. “Better back away from me before Peter sees and gets the wrong idea,” he says.

I do just that, stepping back quickly. “Peter’s here?”

Simon wrinkles his brow. “No. It was just a joke.”

“Oh.” I force my mouth into a smile. “Right.”

Simon’s cheerful disposition dips into concern. “You all right, Winds?”

“Of course. Just couldn’t sleep, that’s all.” I’m breathing too heavily. “Thought I’d wear myself out pretty good before trying to go back to bed.”

Simon wrinkles his nose. “You think you’re gonna sleep better when you stink like that?”

I’m not in the mood for it, but I punch him in the chest playfully, trying to keep up my ruse.

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