Page 1 of Losing Wendy

CHAPTER 1

Sometimes the shadows whisper.

Sometimes I whisper back.

They writhe on the white oak windowsill, splaying like handprints clinging to the wood lest they slip and fall two stories onto the cobbled street below, slain by the dingy glow of the faerie dust street lamps.

“I could end your pain, Wendy Darling,” they promise.

My hands tremble, causing the light radiating from my lantern to falter.

“I’m a happy person,” I say, though the way my voice hikes in pitch is hardly convincing.

The shadows lick at the edge of the windowsill, crawling down the wooden slats before spreading outward across the ivory chaise upon which I’m perched.

“Of course you are,” the shadows say, but they’re only placating me.

The shadows slink like spilled ink, staining the plush chaise pillow. They linger at the hem of my silk nightgown. If they were to spread just a hair more, they’d seep into the baby blue fabric.

But the shadows don’t have to close the gap for me to feel theirtouch. A chill chases my dread, my skin tingling just underneath my skirts where the shadows come close to engulfing my knee.

“I could end your pain,” the shadows promise again, as they always do.

“I have no reason to be in pain,” I insist. As I always do.

It’s a tired game the shadows and I play.

So why do I never grow weary of it?

“Of course you don’t.”

We perch together, the shadows and I, in silence for a moment.

“You could come with me tonight, you know. It’s foolish of you to put off the inevitable.”

Blood thuds against my ears, my chest, the forefinger I have stretched out against the windowsill, chilled by the evening breeze that creeps in through the slat where I’ve left the window cracked.

“I don’t want to come with you.”

The shadows laugh, and it’s somehow pleasant and terrifying—the way the sound reverberates through my bones. “What pretty lies you speak.”

I clench my fist, shuddering at the way my perfectly rounded fingernails scrape against the cracks in the wood. “Haven’t you heard? I’m going to free myself of you.”

The shadows tremble. I get a sneaking suspicion it’s not at all similar to the tremble of dread that inhabits my bones, but rather the echoes of morose laughter.

“If you don’t wish to come with me, Wendy Darling, pray tell why you cast the glow from that lantern against the windowsill every night.”

My throat constricts, but I keep my chin level. “If I’m going to be stalked by a monster, I’d rather keep my eyes on it.”

The shadows swirl, spilling onto the floor, weaving warped paths around my feet and skirts, until I’m surrounded by glittering darkness. A dreadful flicker fans at the edges of my fingertips, prickling at the bottoms of my bare feet. The sensation reminds me of standing on the precipice of the clock tower that serves as the centerpiece of my parents’ estate.

“You’re miserable here, you know.”

Anger, hot and bubbling, roils through me. I jump to my feet, careful not to let my toes dip into the swarming shadows. They shift with my sudden movement, splaying out around me in a flurry of smoky tendrils.

Still so careful not to touch my bare skin.

“I’m miserable here because of you. Every second of my life that could have been joyful has been soiled by the knowledge it was all fleeting.”

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