Unhooked

by Lisa Maxwell

“It’s impossible to kill a shadow, Gwendolyn. The Dark Ones can only be killed when they’re fully corporeal, and they have the inconvenient habit of melting into the darkness they’re born from. Besides, without the Queen to hold them in check, there are far too many of them for any single blade to do the job.”

As we walk on, I think of the thick walls of the fortress, the impenetrable-looking facade. I think of the fairy lights that guard every entrance and the dagger, which is supposedly so deadly to the Fey, and I can’t help but wonder how anyone managed to penetrate the defenses the Queen had built up around herself. If she was all-powerful, I can’t imagine how the Dark Ones rose up and overthrew her after she’d already killed their King.

“It wasn’t always like this,” Pan says, his eyes scanning the ceiling of the tunnel before he leads us on. “When the Queen was in power, the island bent to her will, and all who lived on it were protected, but when she fell, so too did the protection her power provided. Since then, this land has grown evermore unstable. Recently it’s been getting much worse,” he tells me. “I’ve done what I can with the gifts she gave me, but I’m not strong enough to hold this world alone. Without her power, Neverland will eventually tear itself apart.”

“There’s a way to stop it?” I ask. “To save Neverland from destroying itself?” And from destroying everything and everyone within it, I realize. “I believe there is,” he says, his expression steady and calm. “And by saving Neverland, I shall save us all. Would you not pay any price to do the same?” When he says it like that . . . Maybe he’s right. Maybe we’re not so different. I’d pay almost any price to get home, wouldn’t I? To make sure Olivia gets home too?

“Pan believes so,” she says. “He believes you could be the heir to the Queen’s True Child, the Fey prince she left in your world many ages ago in exchange for the human child who became Pan. He has long heard whispers of this Fey prince and the children he left unprotected, a halfling with the Queen’s blood—the Queen’s power—in its veins. It is why he sent his Dark Ones to find you and bring you to this world.”

“The Queen was never his mother,” she snarls. “The one who calls himself Pan was nothing more than a plaything for her. When she grew bored with his weakness, she cast him out of her palace, banishing him to the farthest reaches of the island. She never expected him to survive.

But she’d given him too much of her own power, revealed too many of her secrets.” Fiona’s sharp teeth glint in the night as she sneers at me. “Instead of dying, he found the Dark Ones, and they were more than willing to lower themselves to a mere human in exchange for the opportunity to exact their revenge for their fallen King.” I take a shaking breath, willing her to be wrong. “But he hates them,” I counter. “Of course he does,” she hisses. “He hates any reminder that he is not truly Fey, that he is weak and dependent upon our power.” Her mouth curves into a mocking smile. “But I’ve seen—” “Only what Pan wishes you to see,” Fiona interrupts, taking a menacing step toward me. “He showed you the Captain’s greatest secret in order to turn your affections, did he not? But Rowan is not alone in requiring the assistance of the darkest Fey to survive in this world. Pan also needs the lives they bring to him. “This is why he has searched for one of your kind. He thinks he can claim the Queen’s power from your blood, the same as he has claimed countless human lives over the ages. And he believes that with that power, he could rule this world once and for all. Without need of the Dark Ones’ assistance. And with complete power over this world and my kind.”

I shake my head in denial, even as Pan’s words echo in my memory: I’m not trying to find a way out of this world. I would do anything to save it. “I’m not—” B...

The way Fiona’s looking at me makes the prickling across my skin a hundred times more painful. “It is true that you do not seem as we do, but the one who calls hi...

sure now that the other girl holds no such power. But you, he has a great interest in.” “No,” I say. “I’m huma...

“And?” Fiona drawls. “Who is your sire, Young One?” I take a step back in shock. My sire . . . my father? “I don’t know,” I tell her honestly. “But he can’t be . . .” But when I start to step back again, my heel reaches the edge of the chasm, sending a few small bits of rock tumbling into the depths. Fiona only smiles. “Perhaps not . . . but I wonder, then, how you came to have these?” Fiona reaches out a single, claw-tipped finger and lifts the necklace I’m wearing made from the few blue-gray stones I managed to salvage from my bracelet. “Humans call these deora sí. Fairy tears,” she says with a sneer. “A stupid enough name, but such a powerful and dangerous gift can only be bestowed by one of the Fey.” Before I can stop her, Fiona gives an abrupt jerk, and the thread breaks. The second the stones fall away, her finger transforms, the sharp, clawlike nail shrinking into a softly rounded manicure. I’m too surprised by her transformation to bother to worry about the stones at first. Instead of the Fiona I’m used to, a lovely and very human-looking girl stands before me. Her skin isn’t iridescent, and her teeth are completely normal. She smiles—a perfectly normal smile now—but the...

“And then what? There’s nowhere to go,” I say, remembering the monster-filled sea, the dangers that lurk on the ever-changing island. Fiona’s eyes go dark, the pupils glossy and fathomless. “And then, Young One, you will free my Queen.” I gape at her. “Your Queen is gone. She was defeated by the Dark Ones.” “Defeated, yes, but not yet destroyed,” Fiona says, her voice buzzing with a dangerous satisfaction. “My Queen created this world, and is the source of all within it. Without her, this world—the island, the seas, and everything in them—would have already ceased to be. The one who calls himself Pan knew this. “When he and his Dark Ones rose up against her, they did not destroy her. Until now the one who calls himself Pan has been able to do no more than hold my Queen as his prisoner, keeping my people hostage to his demands and the dagger he stole from her. But she grows weak, and as her power fades, so does this world. Find where Pan has hidden her and free her, or you shall die along with Neverland.”

seen, and if he discovers you here, the time for pretty stories will be over.” “You told me yourself that he can’t take my power, whatever power that may be.” Fiona continues to smile dangerously. “True. But you are not completely immune to the dangers of this world, Young One. Your human blood makes you susceptible to Neverland’s charms. How long do you think it would take before your feeble memories of that other world disappear completely? Until you are no different than your empty-headed friend? How long did it take for her to abandon herself to this world?” Days. It only took days for Olivia to lose herself. And my own memories are not much better. Fiona’s right. I have to find another way home. Because if Pan gets me, I doubt he’ll try plying me with his charm this time.

“Because the one who calls himself Pan made an oath with only a small assembly of the Dark Fey,” Fiona explains. “The rest were content to assist in defeating my Queen, but they are not bound to him. And even

those who made the oath promised obedience, not loyalty.” She gives me another sharp-toothed smile, as though she finds it amusing the Dark Ones have managed to exploit this loophole. “But the boy is not wrong. My kind cannot break oaths without being unmade by them. If you do as I require, I will make sure the human girl comes to no harm.”

“That’s not enough,” Will says, glancing at me. “Make her swear it on her Queen’s life, and then let’s be on with it. Because I don’t want to be here when...

I knew she’d been mistaken,” he says, never looking away from me. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I charge. “You could have warned me. I never would have gone with Pan.” His dark eyes are steady, composed. “You wouldn’t have believed me, lass. You could barely believe you’d found yourself in Neverland.” I open my mouth to argue. . . . But he’s right. I wouldn’t have believed him. Not then. I’m still not sure I believe it.

“You must want it with the whole of your being, Gwendolyn. This island is of the Fey, and the Fey live and breathe desire. It creates them, sustains them. But in its purest form, desire has no thought of fear or misgiving. Neither can you.”

“What have you done with my crew?” the Captain growls, tightening his grip around my neck. “That is the question, is it not?” Pan’s eyes dance with cold delight. Suddenly an explosion tears through the silent calm of the day. “No!” The Captain’s voice is filled with rage and pain, but his grip never loosens. Below us, his once gleaming ship is nothing but a ball of riotous flames. Black smoke billows as fingers of orange-red fire climb up the tall masts. “They were but children,” he rasps, his chest heaving against me in ragged bursts. “Ah, yes. The ever-protective Captain. So kind and caring to the boys under his protection.” Pan’s smile is terrible now. “Until, of course, he kills them. Jealous I beat you to it?” “You are a monster,” the Captain rages. His grip is so tight and fierce, I can’t help but whimper. My neck is at such a severe angle that my shoulders are starting to ache. “Perhaps,” Pan says pleasantly. “Or perhaps someone took the lads to safety before this terrible tragedy occurred. Perhaps someone has them under his protection . . .” The Captain goes very still.

“ . . . for now,” Pan finishes. “They’ve done nothing to you,” the Captain says. His muscles are rigid against my body, and I couldn’t escape if I wanted to. “They mean nothing to you.” “But they mean everything to you, Captain, don’t they? And I think you’ll do most anything to protect them.” Pan’s face turns serious then. His crystalline eyes go stormy. “Give me the girl, and I’ll let them live, including this one,” he says, nodding to Will. “You won’t be so lucky, of course, but then, you’ve nowhere to run. Nowhere to go. Save your boys or watch them die, but either way, the girl will be mine.” “If I give you the girl, you’ll assure their safety?” the Captain asks. I struggle against his grip, trying to wriggle free. There’s no way I want to go back with Pan, not with the way he’s looking at me, all anger and anticipation lighting his eyes. “Of course,” Pan says. “I’ve no reason to harm them, so long as they renounce their loyalty to you, of course.” “And Will, you’ll ensure his life as well?” “No!” Will says, writhing against Pan’s grip. “It’s not worth it, Cap’n. I’m not worth it.” “Never doubt that, Will,” the Captain says, and the desperation in his voice chills me.

Will’s eyes are sharp with pain, but they are no longer filled with fear. “You know what needs to be done,” he tells the Captain. “You’ve delayed long enough.” Then, with a violent wrenching, Will twists and rips at the

bandage on his arm. It falls away, revealing the black, menacing crack. And before Pan realizes Will’s intention, Will thrashes, pounding at the crack with his fist. Pan’s eyes widen as he realizes what Will’s about to do, but it’s too late. With a vicious shout, Will smashes his fist through the cracked skin, and the weight of his body does the rest. One moment he is staring at us with challenging eyes, and the next, he’s gone. Fallen to the depths below.

“When I took that first boy’s life, it gave me more time in this world. But it also gave me the child’s long-buried memories. They helped me to remember the world I came from, the person I’d been. Otherwise, I might never have left Pan’s keeping.” “But you did leave,” I say, focusing on what seems most important. “Aye, I did.” His eyes meet mine. “I began to see Pan’s games for what they were. He believed himself to be a bloody hero, and I came to believe he needed a suitable villain. Someone who could stand against him in this world.” “I can’t imagine he let you go willingly, though,” I say, the question in my voice clear. “No, that was Fiona’s doing. Because she knew I’d been close to Pan, Fiona believed me to be useful. It was she who helped me escape from the fortress. And she who arranged for my ship and my arm”—the clockwork hand clenches, as if to accentuate his point—“which she enchanted, so I could stand against him as a true equal.” “But you never did help her free the Queen,” I charge. “You didn’t even tell Fiona where Pan was hiding her. “I couldn’t.” He glances across the fire to where I’m sitting. “Do you think Pan just has the Queen tucked into a cage somewhere? Perhaps in a chest or behind a locked door in the Great Hall of his fortress?” He shakes his head. “He’s buried her in the heart of the island, and none of the Fey who remain are strong enough to unearth her—Pan made sure of that. It took the Queen’s power to put her there, and it would take the Quee...

leans forward to stoke the fire. “Not that I let Fiona know right away, mind. But that secret would have been no use to my lads if Neverland had continued to tear itself apart. So I told her of what Pan had done to keep her Queen hidden for so long. Because until he’s defeated and the Queen is released, none of my lads have a chance to return to their world.” “That’s why Fiona was in London,” I say, understanding. “She was looking for me too.” Rowan’s expression is clouded with regret. “And for that, I’m sorry. Had I known then what I know now—had I known you—I would have allowed this whole bloody world crumble to dust before I uttered a word.” “That wouldn’t have stopped Pan,” I told him. “It wasn’t Fiona who finally got to me. One way or the other, I think I was always going to end up here. But I’m not sure if I can do what Fiona thinks I can,” I tell him honestly. “That thing that happened in the dungeon—it was the first time I’ve ever managed to do anything remotely Fey-like.”

Cold and dark and the forest reaching for me as I run, but I am brushing aside its spindly branches as the voices whisper. And then the image shifts, and my mom is there, her blue-gray eyes wild as the sky before a storm. Her face this close to mine, her breath sour and hot. “You have to forget this. You cannot speak of it ever again. Not to anyone, Gwendolyn. Do you understand?”

“They promised our sacrifice would be the last.” Rowan pauses, as though gathering his courage with his words. “I should have expected that would be a lie as well,” he says darkly. Then he releases me and sets to work adding more debris to the fire. He is careful not to look at me as he speaks. “The day Michael turned eighteen, he enlisted, of course. I was so bloody jealous of him the day he left. My mam was crying her eyes out, but Michael’s smile lit his whole face. I didn’t see him again for almost a year, when he was on leave. He looked so completely different—my Michael and yet not. There he was in his starched uniform, all gleaming with the bits and bobs he’d won for doing what soldiers do. When my time with him was over, he put me on the train for home, but I didn’t go. I found myself in a recruitment office, telling the man behind the desk I was nineteen years old. I could tell he didn’t believe me, but it didn’t matter. He took my name, and I signed the paper, and it was done.” “How old were you really?” He glances back at me. “That was the spring of ’17. I’d just turned sixteen the month before.” Sixteen—he looked older than that now, but not nearly as old as he should have looked. “And they took you? Without any proof?” “And why wouldn’t they? They needed men, and I was close enough.” His eyes turn back to the fire, and I know he is there, reliving his brother’s death again. “I never imagined it could be like that. They’d told us tales of blood and glory, of ad...

up, a wry smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “You’d think I would have seen Pan’s tale for the lie it was sooner.”

I don’t know what to say to him, so I don’t speak. I simply sit as witness to the story he tells. “Michael thought he had to take care of me.” He huffs out a rough laugh. “He probably did at that. But it was my fault he went on that patrol the night it happened. I was angry at him for trying to mother me, so I volunteered. I was so convinced I was ready to be a man. So bloody convinced of my own bravery. Of course he volunteered as well.” He glances up at me again then, his eyes filled with the pain of all that happened. “I was the only one who made it off the field alive that night. And I barely made it at all,” he said, gesturing toward his arm. “That’s what happened to your arm?” I ask, thinking of the scarred skin on his shoulders and back. He gives me a terse nod, but doesn’t say anything more. He raises the steel hand then and clenches it, watching it move with the kind of terrible wonder he must have had in his eyes the first time he learned that his own arm was missing. Finally his voice comes again, small and broken in the darkness. “I don’t know what happened after. I woke in a French hospital without my arm and in more pain than I ever dreamed imaginable. I was in suc...

His breath is ragged. His voice no more than a whisper. “The dreams torture me with what I’ve done, but they’ve saved me as well, for without them, I’d have been lost long ago. Without them, I wouldn’t be able to stand against...

He raises his other hand, then, and frames my face with his hands—metal and flesh, one hard and unfeeling, the other callused from unknown trials. Both equally Rowan.

Of all the things I’ve seen since I’ve come to this world, of all the horrors I’ve witnessed, these creatures are the most horrible, the most terrifying yet. These beasts are more than twice as tall as any man, and they

are like nothing I could have imagined. Their long, claw-tipped arms and legs are corded with sinewy muscle that ripples and shifts as they move. Bloodred eyes set into their massive shoulders watch us as the beasts lumber into the clearing on long, powerfully muscled legs. Their leathery skin is drawn tight over their misshapen bodies, and their whole torso seems to be nothing but a huge, gaping mouth ringed with rows of teeth. Those horrible jaws are already open in anticipation, cavernous voids built to consume. To devour. And the smell of them. They make the entire clearing reek with the stomach-turning stench of bloated, rotten corpses and the bitterness of despair. The beasts close in slowly, taking their time, as though they know we have no chance of retreat, nowhere to run. Next to me, Rowan shifts, balancing his attention on both of the monsters. I raise the dagger I’m holding too. Not that I have any hope of actually injuring one of these creatures, much less killing one, but if I’m going to die here, I won’t die without a fight.

“What do you want me to do?” I ask, my voice rising in panic. The second beast is watching me with those bloodred eyes, but Rowan darts in front of me before it can attack. “We both know what you did in the tunnel, Gwendolyn. Try something. Anything,” he demands, his voice tight with more than impatience as he swivels to account for the other beast’s location. “You’re half bloody Fey, aren’t you?” “I—” The second beast lunges for me, but I stab at it with the dagger. Surprised, it backs away, shifting uneasily on its strong legs as it considers me with its burning eyes. “I don’t know how.” I clench my hands into tight fists. I’m still not sure what made the rock disappear in the tunnels. I have no idea what I finally did to get him out of that prison. “Figure it out,” he snaps, fending off another attack. “I have bet everything on you—my life, my friend. My crew.” “I know.” My voice comes out angrier than I intended. “But it’s not like I asked for this. It didn’t come with a set of instructions.” “You don’t need a set of bloody instructions, Gwendolyn. It’s what you are. And if you don’t stop running from it, we’re not going to be making it out of this particular mess alive.”

world will be lost right along with me. All because I’ve been too afraid to do what needs to be done. I remember now what my mother did that night when I was barely five years old, and I know how to fix it. In this world, power requires sacrifice, Pan had once told me. The pain of his Queen carving into his skin had given him tremendous power. But my mother had done the opposite. Pain. Sacrifice. Power. The words come together to form a terrible truth. When we’d come home that night, my mom had started packing, but not before she took me into the kitchen and held ice to my arm. Not before she sharpened the point of a knife and opened my arm so she could place a sliver of metal beneath my skin. A rune, a protective spell against the voice in the darkness that called to me. A defense against what I was. What I am. Because she was afraid of me.

With a violent jerk, I use the tip of the dagger to pry the small, dark object from my skin. A thin, curved bit of metal rips free, leaving a jagged wound where the scar had once been, and something inside me breaks open—a painful shattering followed by a feeling of relief that almost brings me to my knees. I don’t have time to examine the strange sense of lightness I feel, but I look at the object dangling from the tip of my knife, and I know the Dark Ones didn’t lie. The bloody metal glints in the afternoon light. It’s a tiny rune my mother used to mute my power in the human world. Because she wanted to protect me . . . and to protect herself from me.

“We’re not going over.” Rowan’s eyes are sharp, assessing the space for danger. “We’re here, lass. From here,” he says, pointing to where the falls cascade over the stepped rock, “the water flows from that point, down and out to the sea, filling it constantly. This is the center. The heart.”

“That can’t be,” I tell him, certain he’s wrong. He quirks a brow in my direction. “He brought me here,” I say, confused. “Pan, I mean. When he took me from your ship, this is the first place we came. He told me to call the island. Why would he do that if this is where he hid the Queen?” “Cocky bastard,” Rowan mutters, but there’s a hint of admiration in his tone. “He always did enjoy showing off, lass, but he most likely brought you here to test you. If you’d have shown any indication that you sensed the Queen’s presence, I’m thinking your stay at his fortress would have been a mite different than it was.”

“Test me?” A feeling of unease creeps across my s...

Pan pressing his hands over mine, tempting me to call Neverland my home. I had sensed something that day, but I’d felt stupid about trying to explain it to Pan. So I hadn’t said anything. He glances down at me. “He needed you to trust him, lass. It’s what he does—seduces those who follow him with promises of ple...

them all he can. They sacrifice themselves to him and for him. It’s what he would h...

He gives a small nod, but there’s no fear or pity or regret in his expression. Only resolve to do what he must. I look at this boy before me—this boy who has lived through so much. He’s killed and he’s protected, but he’s managed somehow, miraculously, to survive in this place. And I understand now that whatever happens, he doesn’t expect to live through this—maybe he never has.

Since being brought to this world, I’ve come to understand that everything I’ve ever learned about good and evil, about the choices we make and the choices we must live with, have been nothing more than convenient fictions invented by those who have never been confronted by the darkness and actually forced to choose. The choices Rowan has willingly made, the evils he has committed should give me every reason to fear him. He is, by his own admission, a murderer. A pirate. A man without anything left to lose. But I don’t fear him. Not anymore, and maybe, not ever really. I trust him more than anyone else in this hellish world, because he’s never spun fairy tales about good or evil. He has simply stood in the space between and not pretended the choice could be otherwise. I take Rowan’s face in my hands and make him look at me. It’s

been such a short time since we met, shorter since I came to understand who and what he is. I touch his cheek, tracing his scar with the pad of my thumb, memorizing every inch of his face. The sharp set of his jaw. The gold flecks in his eyes. How could I have ever thought he had cruel eyes?

His eyes are not cruel now. They contain everything we are both too afraid to say. Every hope, every desire we both understand we can never have. “Nothing good can come of this, lass.” His voice is no more than a rasp, and it shakes with the same uncertainty I feel. I know that, but he’s standing there, so close, and looking so very far away, and I don’t want to leave him in that place. “I don’t care,” I whisper, the words nothing more than a breath caught in my throat. He studies me, his face too shadowed by ...

“I don’t feel brave.” I feel nervous and scared and hopeful, all together in one overwhelming moment. “You’re shaking,” I say as he brushes my hair back from my eyes. “Maybe,” he whispers, his mouth against my forehead. “But it’s been ages since I’ve felt as human as you make me feel. I’ve tried no...

Finally the tunnel opens, flaring out to reveal a large roomlike cavern that is a dead end. The ceiling is higher here, and it glows like a miniature night sky. Rowan notices the strange starlike lights at the same time I do and raises the torch higher so we can make out what’s causing the

effect. Dark crystals embedded into the rock glow like tiny false stars, but they aren’t randomly scattered. There is a pattern to them, like tiny constellations. Familiar constellations. The crystals in the ceiling form lines and angles that remind me of the runes on my mother’s stones. The runes carved into Pan’s skin.

“I don’t even know my father,” I tell her truthfully. “And besides, if Fiona’s right, he’s your son. Your blood.” Which makes me her blood too. The Queen’s lips pull back into a snarl. “But he was not only of our blood,” she snaps viciously. “Why do you think we cast him out of this world? Why do you think we abandoned him to his fate? The Dark King was his sire.” I blink, confused. “But you killed the Dark King,” I say, remembering the story that Pan had told me. “Yes,” the Queen hisses, looking far too pleased with herself. “We did. Because his devotion to us was naught but an act. He promised we would rule this world as one, but we soon enough learned that the Dark King never intended to rule by our side. Once he knew he had a son, he betrayed us. And so, we brought down his reign and made his court our slaves,” the Queen says, smiling that awful smile. “Why not just kill the child as well?” Rowan asks, pushing me back.

He’s trying to distract her, to divert the Queen’s attention from me. But the Queen doesn’t fall for it. Her cold dark eyes are still on me. “Because the True Child held our own power as well.” The fiery glow in her dark eyes flares as she considers me. “But we could not risk the Dark King’s court using our own True Child against us. And so we left him in the world of men, where he was no danger to our rule.”

“For ages we have been a prisoner in our own world. For so long we have dreamed of this moment, and now it is here. Once we finish with you, my people shall wipe your kind from our world like the vermin they are. And when we have made our world whole again, we shall turn ourselves on yours.”