No matter how tempting, we can’t just leave our parents, our home. It wouldn’t be right or proper. I’m already shaking my head, preparing to say no, when John slips his hand into mine.
“He said there’s not sickness or death, Wendy,” he whispers.
“I know, but we can’t leave.”
“If we don’t, Michael is going to die.”
“I will warn you,” Peter interrupts, watching intently, “just because there is no natural death or sickness, Neverland is still a dangerous place. You must agree completely for me to take you there. I can’t take the unwilling.”
“What do you mean dangerous?”
“Creatures, pirates, pixies, and other monsters. Neverland has it all, and each one can slaughter you as if you’re nothing more than paper.”
His words touch some dark fancy inside me, some adventurous side I never even knew was there. Pixies? Pirates? That sounds exciting. “Why us?” I ask. “Is there a reason?”
Another wicked smile. “Something tells me Neverland needs you, Wendy, so here we are.” His eyes flick to my brothers. “I’m willing to take all three of you, if you say yes.”
“Can you promise Michael won’t die from this sickness?” I ask, holding on to him. I care so much for my brothers. We’re all each other truly has. “Can you promise he’ll be okay?”
Peter hesitates, and I know the next words out of his mouth must be taken with a grain of salt. “I promise your brother won’t die from the cough.” The unspoken words hang in the air; there are other things he could die from.
The shadow leaps from the wall and crawls closer to Peter. I watch in horror as it seems to attach itself to his feet, becoming his shadow again.
I stare into Peter’s eyes, searching for answers and finding none.
“Michael will be alright here,” I say out loud, but even as I say them, I know the words are false. Michael is dying. I know it. My parents know it. And still no one helps him.
“He won’t be,” John argues, repeating what’s in my mind. “You know he won’t be.”
John is only thirteen and already he knows so much, growing up far too fast, as we all have. We try to keep Michael young, to allow him the childhood we hadn’t been afforded. To not go to this place, where he’ll live indefinitely, would be cruel, and I can’t leave him here to die, not if I’m able to help.
I take a deep breath and lean down, gently shaking Michael’s shoulder. “Michael, sweetheart, wake up. We have to go.”
A rattling cough shakes from his chest as he rolls and looks up into my eyes. As sick as he is, his eyes remain bright and innocent, the bright blue color that all Darlings have staring up at me. “Where are we going, Wendy?” His voice is weak and rough, a side effect of the sickness.
I meet John’s eyes for a moment before looking back at Peter, not sure what to say. I don’t want to scare him or cause undue worry. Little boys don’t want to be afraid, especially ones who know nothing but fear.
Peter waits patiently, but when I don’t speak, he moves forward, and Michael’s eyes jumps to his. Peter kneels beside the bed, his face softer than it had been when talking with me.
“We’re going on an adventure, Michael.” He meets my eyes. “We all are.”
When he offers his hand for me to take, I slowly slide mine into his warm palm.
Something in my heart tells me this is the right thing to do, but I didn’t know what I would find heading into the second star to the right and straight on until morning. I didn’t know what was waiting for me in Neverland.
If I had, I might have never taken Peter’s hand.
Chapter One
“Man your stations, men!” I shout, my hands clasped around the wheel. The seas are rough today, not unusual in Neverland, but it has come on without warning. Normally, we can watch as the storm clouds roll in, as the sea begins to churn, as the wind picks up and our hats are in danger of being sacrificed to the sea creatures. Today, the waves hit so suddenly, it has thrown us all off our feet, nearly tossing some of my crew from the ship itself. Being in the waters of Neverland is never a good thing. There are too many dangers here, and while we know what to expect, it doesn’t mean we’re safe. No, it’s best to never set foot in the oceans, if we can avoid it.
A large crack of lightning streaks across the sky, nearly striking the main sail, and I grit my teeth against my worry. The storm isn’t what makes my heart race; no, something is wrong with Neverland, and the electricity in the air makes my hair stand on end, as if telling me something big is coming.
The only reason we’re even still sitting in the ocean and not anchored behind the natural wave breaks is because it’s time for Peter to bring a new child. We must stay out here all day, waiting for the moment he decides to drop in with a different frightened kid. He doesn’t always show up, and lately, he’s shown up even less. Not all children Peter brings end up on my crew, or within the safety of the Daughters’ people. Some never make it past the first step. Either way, we must wait to be sure. Peter always drops the new children on my ship before anywhere else.
“You’re the softest of the Daughters,” Peter had once told me. That had been his reason for bringing the children to me first. I’d held my blade against his throat for saying such words, but he’d only smiled, because he was correct. Being the softest Daughter doesn’t necessarily mean I’m soft, however. It’s easy to be soft compared to Tiger Lily and Tink. I started as a Daughter of another world. Tink and Tiger Lily were born of Neverland and have all the brutality that comes along with it. I’m still a little bit human.
Last cycle, Peter had arrived with a young boy – we hardly ever got girls – who had immediately taken to life aboard the Jolly Roger. Anthony was small for his age of thirteen, far scrawnier than he should have been, but he’s already proven he’s a hard worker. Already, after a few weeks of hard work and regular meals, his body is starting to fill out, his muscles growing under the labor of cleaning the deck and helping move crates around the ship. He looks less like a skeleton now and more like a pirate. Someone had given him new clothes, and while they hung off him, it was easy to see that eventually, he would fill them out with pride.
I hold the helm steady, fighting against the violent waves, watching the skies the moment it opens, and rain pours forth like a waterfall. The blistering heat of the water soaks into my clothing quickly, my hat just barely keeping it from running into my eyes. I sigh. Can this day get any worse?
My men rush around the ship, securing anything loose, wrapping ropes around their waists to avoid an accidental tumble over the side. The seas are dangerous on a clear day; they’re deadly during a storm.
I watch through the pounding rain as Anthony rushes across the deck, chasing something that rolls freely. With a start, I realize there’s no rope tied around his waist, nothing securing the lightweight child to the Jolly Roger.
“Someone grab Anthony!” I shout, but I already know I’m too late.
The moment the words leave my lips, a massive wave sideswipes my ship, sending her violently to the side. I wait for her to barrel roll, to dunk us all beneath the waves, to put us all in danger. My crew clutch tightly to anything they’re close to, ropes saving more than a few men, but Anthony wasn’t secured before we lurched sideways. I watch in horror as he’s thrown into the air, a hoarse scream on his lips.