Page 23 of Losing Wendy

I’m not sure what to say to that, but the Shadow Keeper’s attention has already been diverted to the rattling ladder where the pursuing captain now climbs.

“Best hurry then.” He grabs the pouch from his waist and tosses it to John, who catches it out of the air. “Just enough to coat your forefinger should do for the young one. Might need two for yourself.”

John peers skeptically down at the pouch, then unties it and dips his finger inside. When he withdraws it, it’s brushed in a shimmering gold powder. “This is concentrated faerie dust. It’s not edible,” he says.

The Shadow Keeper shrugs. “Says who?”

John frowns at him from behind his spectacles. “Says anyone who knows better than to drink from the tank of a faerie dust lamp.”

“Wendy Darling,” says the Shadow Keeper, turning to me. “You didn’t mention in your bargain that your brother would be so difficult to convince.”

This seems to incite John, because he groans and presses the powder to his tongue. His expression shifts ever so slightly, like he’s surprised by the taste. Quickly, he goes for another. When he seems satisfied withthe fact he hasn’t dropped dead, he goes to hand some to Michael, but Michael, who has always had an affection for shiny things, has already dug through the pouch and brought the faerie dust to his lips.

After a moment, John’s eyes widen, and his feet lift off the ground.

One would expect a nineteen-year-old boy to be thrilled at flying, but John just whispers, “Fascinating. I wonder how this works,” as he stares at Michael, who is now spinning in circles in the air.

“Not really the time or place, John,” I say, reaching for the bag. As John tosses it to me, the Shadow Keeper snatches it from the air.

For a moment, my heart sinks. Does the Shadow Keeper intend to leave me to the pirates?

“Don’t worry, Darling,” says the Shadow Keeper. “I don’t like the idea of those men touching you.”

“Then why not let me take the faerie dust?” I ask, eyeing the bag, well aware of how close the captain is to gaining on us.

“Because,” says the Shadow Keeper, slipping back into shadow form, then reappearing behind me, his arms wrapping around my waist, pulling me into his chest as he leans in to whisper in my ear, “I like to keep what’s mine close.”

In midair, John tenses across from me, but the Shadow Keeper nods for him to go on ahead.

“Where are we supposed to go?” asks John, staring up at the closed ceiling above us.

“We’ll have to teach that one to have a bit more imagination, won’t we, Darling?” the Shadow Keeper says. “Tell me, where’s your imagination leading you?”

Before I can answer, a golden-laced hand appears at the top of the ladder. The captain pulls himself halfway up, a curse on the tip of his tongue, rage flashing in his sharp and beautiful face.

His eyes search the landing for me.

He finds me sure enough, but he finds the Shadow Keeper, too.

I’ve lived my entire life adjacent to the shadows, but I’ve never seen one overcome a man’s face so fully.

“Peter,” the captain whispers.

The Shadow Keeper traces his thumb around my hip. “Hello, old friend.”

Fear seizes my heart, but the captain is momentarily stunned by the Shadow Keeper’s—Peter’s—arrival. With a beat of his wings, our feet escape the ground, and we shoot toward the glass clock.

I let out a scream, sure that the glass will slice my skin, but Peter curls his body around mine.

We burst through the glass.

Glass rains down, coating the landing below us, showering the captain, who throws his arms up to cover his head. Shadows twirl around the shards falling toward my brothers, catching them before they pierce their skin.

John’s eyes go wide, but his gaze quickly finds Michael, and something resolute overtakes his features.

He grabs onto Michael’s hand.

And my brothers fly.

---