Unhooked

by Lisa Maxwell

the Queen to win, Gwendolyn. Not after all I’ve done to make this world my own. “Have you any idea what it is to discover the only mother you’ve ever known hates you for what you are?” He smiles then. “The Queen thought I was weak and insignificant. She believed man to be less than Fey, but it was I who defeated her. I, a mere human, who remade this world for my own pleasure. . . . Do you truly believe I’ve come so close to finally being able to destroy her only to let you stand in my way? “I will not allow all I’ve done to be undone, and I won’t allow you to get away from me again, Gwendolyn.” He presses the knife until it dents the tender skin at the base of Olivia’s throat. “It would be such a waste if I had to kill this girl just to make you understand reason.” “Please.” I close my eyes, trying to think. Trying to find a way out of this. “Please, just let her go.” “Not until you surrender to me completely,” he taunts. “Not until you vow to sacrifice your power and your life to me. Once you do, I will finally be able to finish what I started ages ago. Once the Queen has fallen, I will control the boundaries between our worlds, and only then will your dear Olivia have any chance of returning.”

Rowan between them—his face is bruised and bleeding, and a dark stain is spreading across the front of his drab-colored coat. “No—” I step toward him, but Pan steps between us, Olivia still in his grasp. “Ah, Rowan. How delightful of you to join us,” Pan drawls. “Gwendolyn was just deciding how much she values the life of her friend.” Rowan coughs, blood dripping from his mouth. “Too late, Pan,” he says in slow, halting words. “You’ve lost.” Pan smiles. “No, my dear boy, I don’t think I have.” “Any minute now the Queen will be coming for you.” Rowan tries to struggle, but the boys hold him tight. “True enough,” Pan says, “but by then Gwendolyn will have made her choice. Because she knows I am her only hope of stopping the Queen. Of saving her dear friend.” Rowan practically growls, his breaths coming in difficult bursts. “Villain,” he rasps. “No, boy. You’re quite mistaken. Have you not heard the story? I’m the hero of this piece—the victor,” Pan says. “It was I who conquered the Queen of this world. I who ruled over the Fey, Light and Dark alike.” “You who murdered the helpless,” Rowan chokes out, his face contorted with hate. “Well, yes, that was unavoidable,” Pan tells him pleasantly. “Though that ridiculous story did help.” Pan looks at me, his eyes alight with amusement. “Imagine my surprise when that first boy gave himself willingly to me, all because he mistook this world for something out of a storybook. As entertaining as it always had been to listen to their scre...

“You’re not really Peter Pan?” I say, finally comprehending. “Of course I am,” he says pleasantly, his eyes flickering with amusement. “Ask any of my boys.” “Nothing but lies,” Rowan says, barely able to get the words out between his painfully gasping breaths. “The boys never see through them.” “But you saw through them, didn’t you?” Pan asks, his voice sharp. “When you first arrived, you were like all the others—broken, lost, wanting to believe in a place where you could forget every miserable part of yourself. Like the rest, you wanted to believe I was who I said. You were much too old for fairy tales, Rowan. You should have known better.” His expression goes murderous. “And I should have killed you when I had the chance. Luckily, fate has given me an opportunity to right that particular mistake.”

But I hadn’t forgotten, and neither had Olivia’s parents. I once thought the Fey were cruel with their lives built from nothing more than wanting, but after I returned to my own world, I came to understand they’re not alone. By our very nature, humans are heartless things. The Fey, at least can be excused—their world, after all, wasn’t made from memory. We humans, however, select the memories that suit us to remember and forget the rest—the wars, the tragedies, the lost. Neverland might have helped with the forgetting, but it didn’t create it. That we do well enough on our own.