Page 31 of Losing Wendy

Simon follows, clapping Peter on the back in a swift embrace.

One by one, all the boys file up to him, beaming like he’s theirreturned savior. Like he’s a father, home from a long day of work or a faraway journey.

The image of my father’s neck streaked with blood flashes across my memory.

I blink the image away behind muddied tears, focusing back on the reunion before me. When Peter greets the boys, it’s the first time I’ve seen him offer a smile that isn’t a smirk. He uses all the muscles in his face, complete joy written all over his beautiful features as he clasps the boys’ hands like they’re the oldest of friends.

Something threatens to shift in my perspective, but I refuse to let it.

“All right, Pete,” says Simon, once all the boys have gotten a chance to greet the Shadow Keeper. “Who’re the new kids?”

“This, Simon,” says Peter, gesturing toward my brothers, “is John and Michael.”

Interestingly enough, none of the boys comment on the way Michael is rocking back and forth, whispering something I can’t make out.

Simon nudges Peter in the shoulder. “I think you’re forgetting someone.” He winks, his copper eyes glinting in the light of the torches lining the walls.

Peter’s brilliant smile falters a bit, but he regains his casual disposition quickly enough. He spins toward me, bowing low as he nocks a mocking grin like it’s an arrow. “This, boys, is your new mother.”

A chill runs up my spine, confusion at the Shadow Keeper’s words rattling my bones. Is this what the Shadow Keeper has wanted from me all this time? A kidnapped woman only fit for raising this group of boys?

Questions bombard my mind. Do they see Peter as a father figure?IsPeter their father? He certainly doesn’t look old enough to be, but he’s fae. If he’s from any other realm than mine, it’s likely he’s not cursed with mortality, so it’s possible he could be hundreds of years old.

I glance at the faces of the boys, searching for any resemblanceto the copper-haired fae who’s haunted me since childhood, but other than the pointed ears I find none. Besides, from what I remember, fae have difficulty procreating. It would be unlikely that Peter had sired all of these boys.

So who are they? And where did they come from?

If I’m flabbergasted by Peter’s expectations for me, then the boys are even more so. A silence settles over the dark space, confusion wrought over each face. Even Simon, who practically exudes confidence, has a smile barely hanging onto his lips.

“What’s got it into your head that we need a mother?” says a solemn boy in the corner. Shadows underneath his eyes provide a stark contrast to his ghostly face.

Even the charming Simon looks concerned and grabs Peter by the shoulder, leaning into him to whisper something into his ear. “Pete, if this is about Tom—”

Peter swiftly removes himself from the boy’s grip. “Don’t get your corset tangled, Simon. I was only checking to see if the lot of you are still as gullible as when I left.”

“That was only a few hours ago,” mumbles the redheaded boy.

“I didn’t bring you a mother. Wendy’s much too young and beautiful for that. Simon,” he says, taking the dark-haired boy by the shoulders, then nodding toward two others, “Joel, Victor” —I note the boy with shadows underneath his eyes—“you’re hardly boys anymore. And men need mates to look after. I brought Wendy here for the three of you to compete for. Winner gets to make her your bride.”

My stomach turns over, horror wringing my insides as I consider the boys standing before me.

John jumps up from the corner. “You’ll do no such thing—”

Peter releases a whirl of shadows, keeping John in place.

He’s not looking at John. He’s not even looking at the boys, who hardly dare to glance at me, their faces blanketed with mortification. The Shadow Keeper is looking at me. For a moment, it seems the cruelty he apologized for earlier has returned, despite having taken his fae form.

“What do you say, Wendy Darling? You up for a game?”

My mouth goes dry, my tongue too. I want to cry, to hold back the tears. This is a nightmare, the worst sort. It was bad enough when I thought I was being kidnapped as the slave of the Shadow Keeper, but for him to auction me off to adolescent boys…

Peter sighs, his trickster eyes glinting with mischief. “I didn’t think so. You, Darling, and the three of you boys by the looks of you, will be glad to know I’m just teasing. Wendy will live here like the rest of you, and you’ll treat her as one of the Lost Boys.”

Lost Boys?

A set of grumbles fills the room, but Simon at least looks relieved. When he glances my way, there’s a softness in his eyes that makes me feel the tiniest bit safer.

Then, without deigning to acknowledge me any further, the Shadow Keeper stalks through the nearest darkened hallway hewn from the earth.

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