Page 4 of Lost Girl

I almost stumble because of it, struggling to keep up.

Hook chuckles darkly behind me in response. “Almost there, my little pixie. Just keep it moving.”

Yet again I want to ask where we’re going, but I quickly decide against. It’s not like they’re going to answer me and, given how irate Tinksley seems to be, it’s probably better I keep my mouth shut.

Miles later it seems, the thicket of palms finally opens up to a clearing where a stoned path begins. At the very end of said path? A dark majestic castle. It’s otherworldly and, naturally, I’m awed, but that’s not what I’m focused on. My legs already ache from the nerve-wrecking uphill trek and now, after seeing how much further we still have to go, they tremble like jelly.

“Can we take a break?” The words leave me before I so much as realize my mouth is moving.

Tinksley stops and sighs profoundly, head falling back in clear frustration.

“I’ve got her,” Hook chimes, and before I can so much as internalize what he means, I’m swept off my feet.

Thrown over his shoulder like an errant child.

“Put me down!” I squeak, death-gripping the back of his ebony shirt to keep myself upright.

I feel rather than see him shake his head, tone humorous as he replies, “Can’t do that, little Wendy. You wanted a break, yeah? Well, here’s your break.”

“This isn’t what I meant!”

“I could break your neck if you’d prefer,” Tinksley counters. “Just zip it, Wendylocks. It’s for your own good.”

“But—”

“I’d take her word for it if I were you,” Hook murmurs, halting what remains of my protest on the tip of my tongue.

That’s when it happens. When trepidation and grief finally best me, leaking free from my eyes in steady, uncontrollable streams.

I’m going to die here.

It’s a whisper in my mind, one I can’t ignore. I’ve been taken from home, without any explanation other than I’m connected to Peter, and it’s clear as day I’ll never make it back. They’re going to slaughter me in the same fashion they did him, and no one will ever know.

If they note I’m crying, neither one comments on it, a small act of kindness—for lack of a better word—I’m grateful for. At least they’re letting me have this moment, although I’m sure I’ll end up drowning in my own tears when it’s all said and done.

* * *

“I’ll tellViolet to get one of the rooms ready,” Hook says as he sets me on my feet beside Tinksley and starts up this grand curved staircase.

I’d say this place is beautiful and majestic, but I’m too exhausted after the journey to care, my legs weak despite being carried the last couple of miles, emotions stirring at an all-time high.

Tinksley scoffs, her small hand wrapping around my arm once more. “I think not. She’s not a guest, my love.”

The two of them exchange a look, one I’m not privy to other than it’s obviously regarding me.She’s not a guest.My blood runs ice cold at what that could possibly mean. Not that I didn’t know this, of course, but is this the part where they kill me?

Or are they, perhaps, going to torture me first?

“About time you made it back,” a man’s voice resounds suddenly, drawing me away from my inner thoughts.

My head snaps toward the source of the sound, somewhere on my right, where I find him strolling out of a room.

He’s tall and lean, dark hair, the perfect amount of scruff dusting his jaw. He seems quite elegant, too, his torso encased in a white dress shirt and gray pinstripe vest. What he doesn’t appear to be, in this realm or any other?

Friendly.

“Unlike you, we had a pesky little man-child to take care of, remember?” Hook says to the man.

His lips quirk as they exchange the typical back-slapping man hug, but it’s not remotely close to an actual smile. I do note, though, that his brown eyes soften a smidge as he flicks his gaze on Tinksley.

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