Page 113 of Freeing Hook

“Peter wants me.”

Charlie doesn’t try to argue with me anymore.

CHAPTER 44

JOHN

Ihaven’t been able to find Tink since the night I almost kissed her and panicked like an idiot. She’s been avoiding the cave where we usually meet, though I’ve been leaving fresh tiles there every day. I wish we’d come up with a symbol for an apology, but as we haven’t, the best I can do is leave her empty tiles and hope she understands that my not knowing what to say isn’t a lack of desire to speak with her.

Still, the weight of what Simon saw that day bears down on me. Bothering me is the combination of three facts: Wendy could see the visions too, she and Simon are both gone, and most concerning of all—Peter seems desperate to keep the rest of us from seeing those same visions.

Which gives credence to Tink’s story about Peter selling Wendy to the captain.

Peter’s been gone on a mission for the Sister for the past three days. I have little knowledge regarding how long it takes for faerie dust to work itself out of the blood, but given the pounding headache I woke with today, I’m assuming it’s out now. The problem is that if Peter’s been gone for three days, it’s likely he’ll be back soon. Meaning I’ll have to return to eating the onions under his watch.

Meaning I’m only guaranteed tonight to figure out what it was that Wendy and Simon saw.

I’ve been mulling it over, and the more I do, the more I’m convinced that Simon killed himself in the same place Thomas was murdered. That would explain why he was yelling for someone not to hurt someone else. I considered trekking there tonight, but I have limited time. And I need to find out what happened to Wendy. And why.

Which means I need to scout two places.

The only problem is that I don’t know if I’ll have time for both.

According to Peter and Tink’s story, Wendy was taken from the beach. But there are several beaches on this island, and I don’t know which one it was. I could search all night and not find the correct location—and that’s assuming that story is true to begin with.

Then there’s the storehouse, where Nettle died while I was unconscious. Everything seems to track back to that night. Whatever it was that Wendy witnessed. Whatever made Simon stop eating the onions. If my hunch that Peter’s willingness to give Wendy away had something to do with Nettle’s death, I have more of a chance of actually finding evidence there.

I’ve been debating all day which to choose.

In the end, I land on the storehouse. If I start with the beaches, there’s a good chance I won’t make it around to whichever one Wendy was taken from. At least with the storehouse, I know exactly where it is. If my hunch is wrong, I can always leave quickly and search the beaches.

The pathto the storehouse is as arduous as usual. If only my left hand weren’t useless, then I could climb instead of going the long way around. By the time I reach the top of the cliffs,I’m antsy, already abundantly aware of how much time I’ve killed. Second-guessing my decision. I should have scoured the beaches.

Irritated with myself, I scan the area. If I’m right about the land having imprints of what happened on it, ones Wendy and Simon could see when they weren’t being dosed, there should be imprints of Nettle’s death lingering.

I’ll give myself three minutes to find it. If I’m unsuccessful, I’ll turn around and head toward the beaches.

As I near the empty storehouse, voices fall off the slope and through the leaves, piquing my interest. The closer I get, the more confident I am that the first voice is Peter’s. Strange. He’s supposed to be off on an errand. The other is a woman’s that I don’t recognize.

What’s happening on the cliffside, I have no idea. The trees obscure my view, and I’m hesitant to get any closer, lest I be heard. Part of me—the part that has any sense of self-preservation, says I should turn around. But if Peter is talking to the Sister like I think he is, there’s a chance I’ll find out what’s going on around here that I’ve been missing. Assuming I can get close enough to make out the words without either of them detecting me.

Remaining undetected is arduous in the dark. Twigs have a tendency to want to be stepped on, thorns walked into. But the matter is made worse with my smudged glasses, even with the moon shining in full force—strange that Peter’s back already. He’s usually off running errands for the Sister, especially the night of the full moon.

“This place is incredible, Peter,” says the female. Now that I’m closer, her voice sounds like honey and brass. There’s an edge to it, but the excited sort. Like she’s bouncing about, buzzing with an energy nothing can quite help her shed. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“You mean you’ve never seen trees and water?” says Peter, in a light and lilting voice.

“Oh, you know what I mean,” the woman says. “It’s a paradise. Well, the sullen sort. But it’s beautiful. And it’s ours.”

My mind catches on that last word. Ours. Has Peter brought some poor, unsuspecting girl back to Neverland? A replacement for Wendy now that she’s nowhere to be found? My stomach hardens.

“Ours. And the boys’,” says Peter.

I wait for the woman’s confused reaction, but Peter must have told her ahead of time about the Lost Boys, because she says, “I can’t wait to meet them. Especially Simon and Thomas. You’ve told me so many stories. I’m eager to put faces to their names.”

My stomach turns over at the sound of the dead boys’ names. Peter clearly didn’t inform her sufficiently.

Peter chuckles in a fond sort of way. An odd reaction given this woman just brought up that she’d love to meet two dead boys. “You might not be so eager once you get to know them,” he says.

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