Page 31 of Lost Girl

“I don’t want a happily ever after with Peter. I want to live!” I need her to know that I don’t want him, either.

“Well,” she pushes me forward, “you can’t live here. You don’t belong here.”

“Then take me home, please. You’ll never have to see my face again.”

“Why should I let you go when you’ve done nothing but lie? Had you cooperated perhaps you wouldn’t be in this predicament, now would you?” Another shove, a forceful action that trips me over my own two feet. She catches me before I hit the deck, but somehow keeps me moving with her determined strides.

Every step forward matches the frantic beating of my heart.

“I’ve told you a million times!” I wail, tears stinging in the back of my eyes. “I’m not lying, I never was! Peter didn’t ever speak a word about you or this place. All he said was—”

“Just walk the plank, Wendy. This is the end,” Tinksley grates as we come to stop before the plank.

From here I can see just how dark the waters are. I’m sure in the light of day they’re crystal clear, a luscious teal like the adverts you see in magazines, but right now, they’re pitch black. The surf is calm, only a slight ripple distorting the surface from the breeze now picking up speed.

That’s my destination.

Where I’m going to die.

And here I was all along thinking I’d die in that dark hole. In this moment, I’d rather there than here. Drowning is one of my biggest fears.

“Tinksley, please,” I try again, unable to hold back the tears that spill over my cheeks. “Please don’t make me do this.”

“Walk, or I’ll drag you and toss your whore ass overboard myself,” she deadpans.

The extent of my fear means absolutely nothing to her. She couldn’t care less that she’s bound my hands behind my back and is subjecting me to such a harrowing death.

“Please. Please don’t make me do this. I’ll do anything you want,” I plead, voice clogged with clear emotion. Despite knowing I shouldn’t move, I can’t help myself from spinning around to meet her awaiting stare. Maybe if she sees me, she’ll—

The look she gives stops me in my tracks and freezes every thought speeding through my mind. In nothing but a second flat, I watch her expression darken in the same way it did the night she killed Peter.

Terrifying. Lethal—this is Tinksley in her true monstrous form. Her eyes don’t glow in this state for thereisnothing to glow. Everything, including the whites of her eyes, is blacked out. Her fangs have elongated, the sharp tips dripping with what I can only assume is a venom of sorts.

“I SAID WALK, WENCH!” she roars, shooting my shoulders up to my ears.

The way her chest heaves with each breath tells me she won’t be contained to that spot for long. Either I drop myself on death’s doorstep or she’ll do it for me.

Does drowning hurt? Will it be quick? Will death, at the very least, be peaceful? Will I be reunited with Papa and Granddad?

These are the things flitting through my mind as I inch across the plank, keeping my eyes trained forward. I don’t want to look down, don’t want to see the ebony surface that’s about to claim my life as I sink to its depths. No, I don’t look down at all. I focus on the clear night sky and it’s twinkling stars, on the coolness of the wind that wisps through the wild strands of my hair. From my peripherals, I can tell I’m far from the ship now, probably reaching the end of my—

The next ten seconds happen so quickly, I almost think I’m free-falling toward the water, vision blurred from the flash of movement, until I find myself upright on the deck once more.

“What in the ever-loving fuck is going on?” Captain Hook’s voice booms, his arm unwinding itself from my body.

Tinksley’s features have returned to their normal state, and while he’s asked her a question, she bypasses it in entirety, eyes wide in disbelief. “How did you do that?”

I glance up at the man who just saved my life and watch his dark brow quirk. “Do what?”

“You flashed with her off the plank,” Tinksley explains.

Hook’s lips curl in a smirk. “You can indeed flash with a mortal in tow, short distances only, though, my love.”

“Oh…” her pouty lips form a perfect O as she processes what he’s just shared with her.

“Now tell me,” he starts again. “What the hell is going on? What is all of this?”

And by “this”, I guess he meansme.

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