“I’m not taking drugs.” She knocked his hand away. “But at least that explains your hallucinations.”
A sudden and overwhelming disappointment settled over her. Although she hadn’t believed Deacon’s story, somewhere inside of her had been a glimmer of hope. For a few brief moments, she’d thought there could be some hidden secret that made her remarkable.
“I’m not hallucinating,” he grumbled, “and technically it’s not a drug. At least not in the way you mean.”
“It’s technically a funny looking pill handed to me by a guy who is still technically a stranger.”
“Your body needs an adrenaline spike to fly,” he explained. “You don’t know how to do it on your own, so you need to take this. Just stick it under your tongue and wait for it to dissolve.”
“Unless Tinkerbell appears and sprinkles me with a magic wand, I’m not taking it.”
“It’s only stinging nettles and sugar and”—he mumbled something incoherent—“in a fancy pill.”
“What was the last thing you said?”
He coughed the word, “Epinephrine,” into his fist.
“You want me to swallow the stuff used to stop an allergic reaction?” Just when she thought this couldn’t get any crazier . . .
“No, Vivienne.” A grin. “I said I want you to put it under your tongue.”
“You first, smartass.” And if he didn’t keel over, she’d consider it.
Deacon popped the pill into his mouth. Then he pulled another out of his sweatshirt pocket and handed it to her. Vivienne removed the lint stuck to the pill, broke it in half, and slipped the smaller piece into her pocket. Then, against her better judgment, she tucked the other half beneath her tongue.
The taste was earthy and leafy, like an unwashed salad, but also sweet, like the lettuce had been sprinkled with sugar and cinnamon. Ten slow seconds later, flames of adrenaline burned within her chest, and she staggered backwards. Her entire body tingled as if there was a swarm of ants dancing over her skin. Then she felt lighter, as if the easy breeze dancing between them could carry her away like an errant leaf.
“How do you feel?” he asked, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.
“Like I’m standing in the middle of a bonfire covered in ants.”
His mouth curled into a slow smile. “And your mood?”
“Less skeptical.”
“Good. Now clear your mind.”
With so many questions swirling through her head, it was tough. But with a little effort, all that remained was the darkness, the fire, and Deacon’s steadying commands.
When he told her to isolate your happiest memory, she pictured the Darling children thinking “happy thoughts” before soaring around their nursery ceiling.
“Make sure it’s not superficially happy,” he qualified. “It needs to be the kind of memory that brings so much joy it cannot be snuffed out by even the darkest sorrow.”
She sifted through her past and realized the last time she was that happy was long ago, before the tragic fire had stolen hope from her world.
“There.”
Vivienne’s eyes snapped open. Everything looked the same as it had a second ago.
Then Deacon told her to look down.
HOLY CRAP. Her toes. Weren’t. Touching. The. Ground.
Like . . . not at all.
She had to be eight inches up at least. Not exactly flying; levitating really. But close enough.
How could this be happening?
How did it work?
Why the heck was she sinking back down?
The soles of her shoes connected with the ground, and her skepticism returned with a vengeance. “What happened?”
Deacon’s broad grin grew wider. “You flew.”
“But why did I stop?”
“If I had to guess, I would say your brain got in the way.”
Maybe half of the pill hadn’t been enough. Maybe she needed to take the whole thing. She reached a hand into her pocket, but Deacon stopped her. “I want to do it again.”
“And you will—if you come with me. What do you say, Vivienne? Will you leave all of this behind”—he opened his arms in the darkness—“to join our family?”
Family.
Vivienne’s memories of a true family were few, but they were strong, and they were safe. The sense of love and acceptance that came with being part of something bigger than herself was what she wanted more than anything else in the world.
All she could do was nod.
“Yes!” Deacon spun into the sky. When he landed, his eyes sparkled with excitement. It felt like his smile had the power to clear the shadows around them. “We need to leave right away. We’re already days behind schedule.”
“I can’t leave right now.” She retreated toward the streetlights. “I need to go home, pack, and tell Lynn what’s happening.” And get her phone, some money, her toothbrush—
He settled his hands on her shoulders and bent so their eyes were level. “Someone alerted HOOK to your whereabouts. Who do you think it was?”
Right. People were trying to kill her.
“It wouldn’t have been Lynn. She’d never do that to me.” Lynn wasn’t very maternal, but that didn’t mean she was a villain.
“I’m not saying she’s the one who made the call.”
“Good. Because—”
“It could have been Lyle, or Maren, or any number of your friends and acquaintances.”
“That doesn’t make me feel any better.” She wrenched her sleeve to her elbow to scratch her arm. Lyle? No way. Not possible. Maren though . . . she was another story. If anyone in Vivienne’s life was a villain, it was Maren.
“It wasn’t supposed to.” He gave her a slight shake. “I need you to understand the reason you’re not allowed to return home. It’s all or nothing.”
“Give me a second to think, okay?”
She shouldn’t do this, right? It was insane.
But she wanted to. She peered through her lashes at Deacon. She really, really wanted to.
“Come with me to Neverland, Vivienne. I promise you won’t regret it.”
Deacon held out his hand, and she placed her palm in his.
Vivienne squinted against the harsh fluorescent lights at the Greyhound Station. A man in the line next to them shoved his duffel bag closer to the ticket counter with his foot. Nobody, including herself, looked happy to be there.
She tugged on the back of Deacon’s sweatshirt and asked him again why they were at the bus station.
“As I told you five minutes ago, we’re taking the bus.”
She hadn’t believed him. Taking the bus was so . . . normal.
Deacon smiled at the tired-looking young woman behind the counter. “Could we have two tickets for the half eight bus to Cleveland, please?”
The woman clicked the keyboard in front of her and, before she could ask for the balance due, Deacon handed her a fifty-dollar bill.
The girl dropped the change in his palm and gave him two tickets from the printer. Deacon thanked her and turned toward the seating area.
“Why don’t we fly instead?” Vivienne asked, taking the ticket he shook at her. “And why are we going to…Cleveland?” It was just her luck. She had been invited to freaking Neverland and didn’t even get to go out of state.