Dark and Stormy Page 11

  “Who are ye?” I asked, keeping my bat at the ready just in case.

  “My friends call me Barbie,” she replied, her voice high and clear, like a bell. “So you might as well do the same.”

  I frowned. “What do ye want?”

  Barbie grinned. “To help you.”

  “By keeping me away from Alucard?” I asked, recalling her warning. I felt a sudden surge of anger; no one would be keeping me from anything, ever again. If I wanted him, he was mine.

  It was that simple.

  “Not exactly. Trust me, I would love to sit back and let that happen,” Barbie said, licking her lips suggestively. “But you have other things to worry about right now, don’t you?”

  “I do?” I asked, scowling down at her.

  “Why are you here?” Barbie asked, cocking her head to look at me.

  “I…” I realized I didn’t have an answer to that. “I don’t know.”

  Barbie nodded, then stared pointedly at my wrist. “Does that hurt?”

  I glanced down, wondering what the hell she was talking about. That was when I noticed the bracelet. It looked the same as it had before, still glowing with the same intensity—except the skin around it had changed; the flesh was blistered and bruised, even a little bloody where some of the blisters had popped and oozed. Strangely enough, however, I felt nothing. No pain. Of course, once I took a good look at myself, I could see that I should have been feeling a lot more pain than that; I was bleeding from dozens of tiny cuts all over my body. My shirt had been sliced to bits, and my jeans shredded. The handiwork of Tinkerbell and Co., I was guessing. But why didn’t I hurt?

  “What’s wrong with me?” I whispered.

  “Would you like my help?” Barbie asked.

  I shook my head, my thoughts a jumbled mess. Now that I wasn’t fighting, or stopping one, I wasn’t sure what to do. How to feel. “I don’t even know ye,” I replied, feeling slightly dizzy, overwhelmed. “I don’t know what I’m doin’ here. What’s goin’ on?”

  “Shhh, it’s alright. Come on, I’ll take you somewhere safe. Somewhere you can find answers,” she added.

  Answers. That’s right. I needed those. I found myself nodding. “Aye, answers.”

  “Come on then,” she said, waving me towards the front of the boat.

  “What about Alucard?” I asked, turning slightly to find the vampire.

  Barbie appeared in front of my face as if by magic, blocking my line of sight. “He’ll be fine. But if you two stay together, you’ll either end up screwing him, or killing him. Probably both.”

  I grinned. I had to admit, both options sounded pleasant…but they shouldn’t have. I groaned, pressing my free hand against my scalp. “Jesus Christ, what’s wrong with me?”

  “Come on, just follow me!” Barbie yelled, taking off. I nodded and did as she suggested, sprinting away from the rest of the crew towards the bow of the ship. I found Barbie sitting on the bowsprit a moment later, kicking her legs. “You ready?”

  “For what?” I asked.

  Barbie grinned mischievously, then leapt out into the mist, her silver light disappearing from sight. “Jump, I dare you!” she squealed, laughing delightedly.

  I was over the rail before I knew it, staring down at nothing but mist—a cloud bank so thick I’d mistaken it for fog. Part of me, the same part of me that wondered why I felt nothing, how I could so easily disregard the value of Alucard’s life, screamed at me, warning me not to jump.

  But she’d dared me—and I never backed down from a dare.

  And so I dove into the clouds.

  Chapter 17

  The wind whipped past so violently I could barely keep my eyes open, tearing at my hair and clothes, nearly yanking the Fairyville Slugger out of my hands. But part of me refused to let it go; it was mine, and anything that was mine, I kept. I pinned the bat to my chest, ignoring the threat of the barbed wire, and tried to enjoy the ride. It wasn’t hard; falling through the clouds without so much as a parachute felt like nothing I’d ever experienced before. I felt free, perhaps for the first time in my life. No memories washed over me. No thoughts. Just the pure bliss of being cradled by the sky.

  And then—so suddenly it threatened to take my breath away—I broke through the clouds.

  Sun as bright as I’d ever known it to be assaulted my eyes. I pinched them shut and turned away, blinking through tears until I felt them adjust to the light. I swung my face around, unable to look away now that I’d seen it—the island. It was fucking beautiful, the foliage a green so vibrant it was like seeing color for the first time, the water a crystal blue so clear I could see through it to the sand below, as if it were little more than a layer of glass. All the landmarks from the storybook were there: Skull Rock, Cannibal Cove, Mermaid’s Lagoon, and more. It was stunning and completely, utterly ridiculous.

  And it was getting closer.

  Fast.

  I felt something brush my back, like the tongue of a lover, sliding up my spine. I shivered, my body wracked with pleasure, and—when at last I could focus—the wind no longer felt like it was trying to molest me. In fact, the breeze was light and pleasant. The island grew closer, but incrementally, which meant I was no longer plummeting to my death. In fact, I found I could control how quickly I descended, not to mention my direction, with the slightest thought.

  I was flying.

  I was fucking flying.

  “What’s so funny?” Barbie asked, fluttering nearby, her silver glow surrounding us both, hugging our bodies. I realized it was her magic keeping us aloft, similar to how Tinkerbell’s pixies had aided Tiger Lily’s braves.

  I shook my head as I considered Barbie’s question. How could I begin to explain what I was feeling? I was flying over an island that shouldn’t exist, defying gravity and logic at the same time…I’d never been happier in my life. I whooped and dove, turning somersaults in the air as I headed towards the island, eager to run and jump and taste and feel. Soon, Barbie’s laughter joined my own.

  “Come on! It’s time you met the Lost People,” she called a moment later, angling us towards a landmark I hadn’t recognized—a towering medieval fort past Mermaid Lagoon on the island’s far side. I zoomed after her, content to let her lead. So long as she let me fly by her side, I’d follow her anywhere.

  Both the island and the fort—positioned on top of a flat mound the size of a soccer pitch—were much larger than I’d imagined; it took us considerably longer to get there than I would have thought. Up close, it was possible to make out the individual logs, so wide and thick they rivaled California redwoods, that had been stacked atop one another to create the massive, imposing walls. As we neared, I spotted a lookout in the closest tower, sighting down a long, cylindrical spyglass.

  We’d been spotted.

  “Don’t worry,” Barbie said, “they know not to shoot us down.”

  I grinned, not worried in the slightest. If they fired at me, I’d simply fly down and kill them. I swung my bat free, letting it dangle behind me as we soared over the walls. We angled our descent slightly, headed for the rear of the fort, where the majority of the dwellings had been erected—teepees formed of wood as opposed to animal skins, the timbers layered over one another to curve inward, secured at the top by thick rope. The whole place looked like a pyromaniac’s wet dream.

  Too bad Alucard wasn’t here.

  We could have had some fun.

  Barbie landed first, balancing gracefully on the tip of a fence post. I followed, landing as delicately as I could manage; I ended up skidding forward on one knee, using my bat to prop myself up. I grinned, still high from the experience of flying. The instant I stood, however, everything changed. The bright, beautiful sun dimmed. The green of the trees faded.

  And I hurt. I hurt a lot.

  I fell to my knees, clutching my wrist. It ached and burned so badly it was all I could do not to remove the bracelet, to tear it off even if it cost me my hand. I whimpered, then screamed in pain, every movement bring
ing tears to my eyes, the lacerations on my body lighting up sequentially with each new muscle spasm. I scanned until I could see Barbie, who remained on the fence post, looking concerned…but not the least bit surprised.

  I wanted to ask what was happening, but I was already falling. I dropped my bat, collapsed onto one side, and lay there until—mercifully—the pain receded.

  But then so did the world.

  I came to on a cot, my arm slung across a man’s lap, paralyzed. I tried to sit up, to turn my head and draw away, but I couldn’t so much as twitch a muscle. The air was bitter, acrid, and swelteringly hot. I started to panic, making small, whimpering noises in the back of my throat. I couldn’t even speak.

  But I could think.

  I mean really think. I knew who I was—Quinn MacKenna, a black magic arms dealer from Boston. I even knew why I’d come to Fae; I’d hoped to find answers—trying to solve the mystery of who, or what, I was. I knew other things, too. Like the fact that I decidedly was not interested in killing a certain Southern vampire, and only moderately inclined to yank him into my bed. I liked watching cult classics, the occasional pun, and the familiar burn of a good glass of whiskey going down.

  I knew I was not, however, a homicidal maniac, willing to kill anything that stood in my way.

  Although, up until this moment, I knew I had been.

  “I am sorry about the drug’s effects, but you were in so much pain you were thrashing in your sleep,” the man said, his face outside my field of vision. I watched as he dabbed his fingers into a worn, wooden bowl and applied its contents liberally to my wrist. The unguent was thick and red, like bloody pulp. He smeared it over my blistered flesh. “This salve was made from the heartwood of a Nevernever tree. We used to apply it often as boys to heal our wounds, during our war with Hook.” He retrieved some more and began dabbing it across my other cuts, his fingers long and tapered—perfect for a musician. He ran one of those clever digits along my jaw, turning my head so I could look up at him. “Tinkerbell and her pixies sure did a number on you. They must have grown quite savage since I last saw them…or perhaps they were always like that, and I simply didn’t realize it.”

  The man was about my age, but had the eyes of an immortal, haunted by a past his body couldn’t contain. Aside from his eyes, however, everything else about him screamed youthful exuberance; he had tight, curly blonde hair and bow-shaped lips, a pointed chin, and the body of a dancer, lithe and athletic. He wore a thick, white cotton shirt and tan breeches.

  “Who…” I asked, the single word as much as I could articulate.

  The man smiled. “Don’t worry, the effects will wear off soon. I’m Peter.”

  My eyes widened as the pieces fell into place. Neverland. The Lost People. “Pan…”

  His smile dipped, and he shrugged. “Once, maybe. But it’s just Peter, now.”

  But, when had Peter Pan become a full-grown man? What had happened to the Lost Boys? My head ached from trying to figure it all out, and my throat felt dry. “How…”

  Peter chuckled. “You know, you’re very inquisitive for someone who can barely talk. How…” he trailed off, repeating my vague question with an amused glint in his eyes. “How did you get here? Barbie brought you. She’s one of the renegade sprites who came here looking for sanctuary, a deserter from King Oberon’s army, and a friend to the Lost People. How did she know to bring you here? Your guess is as good as mine. I’m assuming she saw your wounds and realized you wouldn’t last long, running around with Hook and his men. Your wild side had almost taken you over completely. Mortals from the human realm typically don’t survive very long here for that very reason. Too reckless with their bodies, ignoring their limitations.”

  “How…does the water taste around here?” I asked, finishing my original question, my words only a little garbled.

  “Oh…good, actually, although I have no comparison for it.” Peter rose and fetched another bowl, this one with a ladle, and brought it over. He spooned a little water into my parched mouth, carefully. It tasted heavenly—so much so that I didn’t even care some of it had spilled down the side of my face. Peter snatched up a bit of cloth and cleaned me up.

  “Wild side…explain,” I said, finding it much easier to speak now that my throat was no longer an Apocalyptic wasteland. For some reason, the thought reminded me of Alucard, who I vaguely remembered leaving behind. I cursed, inwardly—God only knew what that crazy bastard was going to do once he found out I was gone.

  A silver light shot in as Peter prepared his reply, and suddenly I had a pair of very small—well, relatively small—breasts hovering above my eyes. I pinched them shut, unable to do much else since I couldn’t exactly look away.

  “Is she alright? She looks like she’s still in pain,” Barbie said.

  “I think she’s a little uncomfortable with your…assets, so close to her face,” Peter said.

  “Oh, right. Humans,” Barbie said, clearly amused. The silver light receded, and I opened my eyes to find her sitting on Peter’s shoulder.

  “She wants to know about wild sides,” Peter said, sounding reticent.

  “So tell her!”

  Peter sighed. “It’s what happens when you come across into Fae. For some of us, especially the original Lost Boys, it came as natural as breathing. We were all raised here, although I was the first. The pixies took me in. They showed me how to fly, how to fight. Soon, the other boys came. It seemed like all the mortal realm’s missing boys ended up here. I formed us into a tribe, hoping to give everyone a family…but we were a tribe of boys who felt no pain. Can you imagine?” He chuckled, but his voice held a note of sadness. “By the time Hook and his men came, few still remembered their homes or their lives from before. Taking on the Jolly Roger became just another game. That’s all. And when Tiger Lily and her fellow Fae made contact, we simply added them to the mix. And—all the while—we were dying by the dozens. So many boys. So many sailors. So many pixies and Fae warriors. It was the grandest, deadliest game…and none of us felt like losers.”

  “What happened?” I asked, voicing the question that had been plaguing me ever since Ryan told me we were on the Jolly Roger, ever since I saw the years written across Hook’s face. “What changed?”

  “Time came to Neverland,” Peter said. He rose and stepped out of view. Barbie remained in place, hovering, watching the man with curiosity. “A couple and a little boy arrived in Neverland. We’d never seen a man or woman like them before. Not together. We knew nothing of romance, or love. Nothing of parents. And the boy…we’d never seen anything like him, either. He was human, and yet so much more. He played with us, but he could do things no child should have been able to do—we showed him how to fly, and he showed us how to call the clouds. We taught him to fight, and he created swords out of shadows.”

  “The Manling born in Fae,” Barbie said, her chest puffed up with pride. “Nate Temple.”

  I jerked a little in surprise, ears ringing as if I’d been cuffed upside the head. Nate…Temple? What in the actual fuck?!

  Peter grunted. “That wasn’t his name, then. We only knew him as Wylde.” Peter laughed. “And boy was he that. But that’s another story altogether. To fully answer your question, I think it would be best to show you.” He came back into view holding my bat. “This is a nasty weapon. Cruel.” He met my eyes with a disappointed look on his face, then tilted the bat and pressed its thick edge into the ground. “But a fairly useful cane. Can you walk?”

  I frowned, then realized I did have some feeling in my legs. In fact, I could turn my head if I concentrated really hard. I struggled, but—after perhaps a solid minute—eventually sat up, my skin on fire. My wounds ached…but they weren’t debilitating. My wrist, however, looked awful; the thick red paste had crusted over, and it looked like I’d delivered a baby one-handed.

  I stared down at the bangle, wondering what had set it off this time. It’d heated up twice in the past—both instances resulting in time spooling backwards. But that had
only been for an instant, nowhere near long enough to do this kind of damage—judging by the state of the wound, the bracelet must have been burning ever since I entered Fae. I held up my arm, trying to examine the bracelet, to see if it was dormant or still active, held at bay by the paste.

  “It was warning you,” Barbie said, flying in circles around my arm. “Trying to tell you to leave. That’s what drew me to you. But don’t worry, it won’t hurt you here. Not in the Land of the Lost.”

  I frowned, sincerely hoping Barbie wasn’t suggesting we were in an alternate dimension full of dinosaurs, proto-humans, and lizard people prepared to capture and kill us at any given moment. Neverland was hard enough to believe in as it was, and I had Peter-fucking-Pan standing not five feet from me. I swung my legs around and tested my weight, then took the bat from Peter, using it to keep myself from falling down face first. He was right; as a cane, it functioned pretty well.

  “Come with me,” he said.

  Together, we left the hut, wandering out into the fort. A few men and women busied themselves here and there, not the least bit concerned to find an ichor-covered redhead in their midst.

  “Women?” I blurted, too thrown to ask a real question.

  “Sailors, mostly,” Peter explained. “We took in anyone who didn’t feel like joining up with Hook and his crew.”

  Oh, right. There were female sailors, after all.

  Hell, I was somewhat sure Ireland had its own pirate queen, back in the Elizabethan era.

  It turned out they hadn’t taken me far from where I’d landed; I could make out the fencepost Barbie had settled on in the distance. Peter began walking, slowly, allowing me to keep pace, but not offering any help. I appreciated it. I’d always hated feeling weak, and having some strange man doting on me every second would have only made me feel worse.

  “Where are we goin’?” I asked, a little concerned that I wouldn’t be able to keep up, should Peter have something crazy in mind.

  “To look at a tree,” Peter replied, not bothering to turn around.