Hi! Big chapter, haven't updated in a while so this will hopefully make up for it. Thank you times a hundred to the awesome people

who've viewed/reviewed this story, I'm nearly at 500 views, which is HUGE for me. Hope you enjoy this chapter, it was fun to write

although it took forever because I didn't want to stop! REVIEW!

I was sitting in the back of my English classroom, leaning back on my chair at an angle that would likely see me on my ass before the bell went. Bouncing in and out of the conversation, I gathered we were having some class discussion on a book we were supposed to have read. Adrian, the pompous git that sat in front of me, was halfway through a spiel that was, as always, littered with gesticulations that made my dirty mind snigger and ten-syllable words that made even our teacher's eyebrows knit together. So not what I needed today.

As people who hadn't read the book began hastily agreeing with him, he sat back in his chair with smugness-was that even a word?-oozing from literally every orifice, but I was among the few unimpressed. Although by simply opening his mouth he was rattling my infamously short chain, my pissed mood was not to do with Adrian; in fact, far from it. It had been four days since the attack and I'd been sent to school for all of them whilst my father and brother flew around Neverland speaking to the Faeries, the Wanderers, visiting the Indians and the Mermaids. And me? I was stuck in a stupid, pointless class with people that I was sure were going to drive me beyond insanity. I did not suit sitting still and letting other people take over the action, and I couldn't stand not knowing something. As I was running through possible illnesses I could mysteriously come down with that would a) convince my mother to let me stay home, and b) be not serious enough to make me stay in bed, Mirella Darling cleared her throat. Although a year and a half older, our English classes were joined to save space whilst the school underwent renovations. I watched as she tucked a tumble of golden blonde curls behind a baby-blue satin headband that perfectly matched her large, doe-like eyes.

"Excuse me, Adrian," she said, smiling prettily. "I think you've overemphasised the importance of juxtaposition in the third chapter, which undermines the pathetic fallacy used in the latter chapters and thus is detrimental to the foreshadowing the author employs so vividly." Adrian rapidly blinked a few times, and as he opened his mouth to retort, the teacher changed the subject-thanks be to god, and I watched her pop a few headache pills once she set us a task. Mirella, to her credit, was right, but unlike anyone else who'd ever managed to outwit Adrian, had a perfectly balanced, sweet countenance. If it had been me, my reaction would have probably constituted licking my finger and holding it up whilst making a hissing noise.

Whatever. Call me immature.

But she wasn't-she was already gracefully bent over her newest task, writing earnestly, her slender, pale limbs artfully arranged in the small chair in a way that made the rest of us look like cavemen. Her perfectly pressed and crisp white dress made her look like an angel. I never knew how to feel about her. Mostly it was a combination of amazement that one person could actually be so prissy and disgusted amusement as I wondered if she'd ever had a day of fun in her whole life. But I couldn't fully scorn her-she was just too good.

The girl simply didn't seem to have any faults. Sometimes she reminded me of Darcey, but although Darcey was the good one in our friendship, she didn't have a stick up her ass like Miss Darling seemed to and was always up for a bit of mischief though she might protest to begin with. I had been friends with Mirella back when we were younger; we used to take dance classes together and our moms were good friends. Our friendship ended rather abruptly when we were nine or ten and I got kicked out of ballet class (yep, kicked out) when I told the teacher rather rudely that I didn't see the point in prancing about like sanctimonious little bitches. I hadn't known what the words meant, but I had adored the reaction that started with the teacher going an interesting shade of purple, and ended with her marching me by the ear from the studio and telling my mother something to the meaning of "don't ever bring that little vermin back."

Personally I had thought it was hilarious, my mother was unimpressed, and Mirella even more so. I think I'd stung her a little by insinuating that she was a sanctimonious bitch, but after that, I didn't care. I met Darcey a few months later and we'd been best friends ever since.

But I digress.

I didn't know much about her life now other than the fact that she was still dancing at the same studio and wanted to be an actress or a singer. She was the perfect model daughter; patient and sweet and caring, she helped her mom around the house and took good care of her younger brother, Frankie, who was about eight or nine, and was apparently renowned as a storyteller. It just didn't seem possible for one person to have so much goodness, and as a result she was constantly getting under my skin.

The bell rang suddenly, jerking me out of my reverie and the two front chair legs came back down to ground level, clearly living to see another day. As people scrambled to get the heck out (it was last class) I dragged my feet, still unable to comprehend exactly what my father was making me do this afternoon. I knew he was not a person to make empty promises, or threats, but I'd still choked on my breakfast when he'd informed me I was to go to the Hook's after school for history tutoring. Needless to say a huge fight had ensued and nearly escalated to a food fight if it had not been for my mother's diplomacy. Thus I had lost the battle, and probably the war as well, I thought as I grumpily made my way towards my locker.

"Oh, Ally," Darcey's voice chimed in, reading my expression. "It won't be as bad as you think."

"Really?" I said, trying not to take my mood out on her, but my tone was still irritable. She laughed.

"Really. You need to pass this class, and besides"-she snuck a furtive glance around the clamouring room-"and besides, he's really cute." I arched a disbelieving eyebrow at her over a huge pile of books, and she blushed.

"Don't look at me like that! I'm just saying. Besides, I know you think he's hot, too," she said defensively. I rolled my eyes, searching for a rebuttal.

"Darce, Rainer was easy, but I think Hook'll be a little more of a worthy opponent if I have to take him on in a month's time," I grinned, and she scowled at me.

"You can say what you want, but I know you think the sa-ame," she sang.

"Ahh," I groaned, banging my head on the locker, and it made a satisfying clanging noise. "Ahh, ahh, ahh!" I complained. I looked around to see James Hook besides my locker. Speak of the devil, and the devil shall appear, I thought dazedly as he grinned wickedly at me, an action that served only to exemplify Darcey's point.

"Don't do that too much, Pan," he told me, a half-smile playing at his lips. "You're going to be needing every last brain cell you can find," he drawled, then sauntered off with that irritating walk, just casual enough not to be called a swagger. Darcey giggled again as her eyes lit up.

"See! He's. So. Cute!" She squealed, poking me in the ribs for extra emphasis. "Heck, who cares if he's a dick, with that face, he could tutor me any day," she said thoughtfully. I smiled grimly at her as I shut and locked my locker, shouldering my book bag.

"That is exactly the kind of talk that gets your heart broken and my ass suspended," I told her, but couldn't resist a smile. She rolled her eyes.

"Whatever. Have fun, Ally!" She sang, and danced off.

Half an hour later, her words echoed in my mind. Have fun, she said, my dazed mind repeated. It won't be as bad as you think, she said. No, she was right. It had been worse. Aside from the fact that this unit of study was possibly enough to reduce grown men to tears of boredom, my teacher was a complete and utter asshole. I mean, I'd always known that, but spending more than ten seconds of one-on-one time with him only made my judgement seem all the clearer. He was studying the assignment we'd been given, and finally nodded, forcing me to come back from a pleasant fantasy of breaking out of the window declaring to him, my father and the history textbook that they would never take me alive. A pair of dark eyes considered me over the top of the paper.

"You seriously can't understand this?" He asked.

"I wouldn't be here if I could," I said, rolling my eyes. He ignored me.

"Don't lean back in that chair," he told me absent-mindedly as he looked back over the sheet. I snorted and tilted it a little further back, and suddenly a gentle wave rocked the boat, sending the chair to that dreaded angle where it became certain I was going to die. I shrieked as the chair toppled and crashed to the ground, cracking my head on the hard dark timber floor.

"You could have told me the chair was broken," I said, glaring at him. He was only just barely smothering a grin, but managed to shrug casually.

"It wasn't until you sat in it." I glared again, righting the chair and cautiously sitting on the edge.

"Are you suggesting I have a fat ass?" I bit out, satisfied when his eyebrows shot up, before he regained control.

"I said nothing of the sort," he replied in that maddeningly calm tone. He handed me back the sheet.

"All you've got to do is pick a constitutional law and write an essay on why and how it was passed, and the trial it took precedence at." I frowned.

"It's that simple?" I studied the sheet, and found that in fact it was. I looked up, and he was smirking.

"If you'd wanted to talk to me, you could have just asked," he drawled, and I spluttered.

"Yeah right, buddy. You flatter yourself." He shrugged, brushing it off.

"Maybe." I glanced at the clock, if was four-thirty. I stood.

"I'm gonna go," I said a little awkwardly. "Thanks." He shook his head, now leaning back in his chair. Freaking hypocrite.

"I have orders to keep you here until five," he informed me, and I rolled my eyes.

"Whatcha gonna do, Hook, lock me in the brig?" I taunted, and watched his eyebrows knit together.

"Don't tempt me," he muttered. I took a step towards the door.

"My class, my call," I told him, he grinned.

"My house, my rules. Sit down." Stung, but knowing I was beat, I sat.

"It's not even a house, it's a boat," I muttered sullenly. "Who the hell lives on a boat?"

"It's a pretty big boat," he told me amusedly, I had to agree. It was a pretty damn big boat, at least three levels high, and a proper pirate ship. If I was honest, although I'd die before telling him this, I thought it was pretty awesome. Because if was super old, practically a family heirloom in itself, the old captain's quarters, or which there were many had been converted into bedrooms. We were in the kitchen right now- a grand, surprisingly high-ceilinged room with elaborate wooden carvings and paintings on the walls. Although it was technically below deck, it felt like a room in a mansion. There were more levels below, I'd never been down there, and hoped I never would. I really, really hoped he'd been joking about having a brig, although if family history was any indication, I shouldn't put it past him.

"So," I said, breaking the silence. "How do I start?"

"Pick a law," he advised me, and groaning, I ran my finger randomly down the page and picked.

"Sir Patrick Walter's law states that no one person shall attack with the intent to maim, injure or kill another," I read quietly as a tense silence settled between us. I found that I had to break it, and attempted a chuckle.

"Wow. Good one, Walter," I drawled.

"This is the first time it's been needed," his voice said quietly, and I looked up.

"What?" I asked, frowning.

"Nothing like this has ever happened before," he said darkly. "Neverland has never needed this law, up until four days ago," he finished. I blinked.

"I don't understand," I sighed. "How could somebody-

"They don't think it was somebody from here," he said, cutting of my question. "They believe it was a ShadowCreature." I shifted in my chair, remembering my father's words. But he continued.

"The level of violence needed...plus the...the, ah, marks," he said, looking uncomfortable.

"Marks?" I repeated, feeling clueless and hating it. He swore.

"They didn't tell you. Shit. Your father'll have my head." I smiled pleasantly at him.

"As much as I'd enjoy watching that, if you'd rather not have to have this textbook removed from your colon in the near future, I suggest you tell me, now," I said sweetly. He grimaced.

"On the back of her neck...There were bite marks," he said grimly. The room temperature seemed to drop about ten degrees.

"Something drank her blood?" I whispered, feeling sick.

"Not enough to drain her. Just to weaken her," he said coldly, but was unable to maintain an air of indifference. He was worried, of course he was.

"So...What exactly is a ShadowCreature?" I asked haltingly. "Is it a human, or an animal, or some kind of darkly magical thing?"

"All of the above," he replied grimly, and flicked to a page near the end of the history textbook, pushing it over to me.

On the page were several different illustrations of...well, creatures. They couldn't be described any other way. Some was humanoid but with fangs and claws, able to shapeshift or become invisible, they were also known as Vampyres. Others were hunched and travelled on four legs-but were as large as a man when upright, and much, much stronger, a cross between a chimera and a boar with ugly, twisted faces. Yet more hardly seemed to have faces at all, and were lizard, serpent-like things with huge jaws and tiny, black, beady eyes. The list went on, mostly descriptions and pictures taken from the Indian legends. They were varied in almost every way possible from things that could fool you into thinking they were sweet or normal to creatures you needed only one glance at to know they were the enemy of everything good or light about the world. There was only one thing that bound them together- a twisted kind of Dark magic and a constant thirst for blood and violence.

"They don't look very friendly," I noted, and he smiled tightly at me.

"No, they don't."

"If they are here...What does that mean?" I asked, feeling his eyes bore into mine, unable to hold their gaze for too long, but even less capable of pulling away.

"More attacks," he replied. "Lots more, and soon." A sharp rap on the door made me nearly jump out of my skin as Viktoria Hook, who was fourteen and looked distinctly like a smaller, nicer copy of her brother peeked in the door. She had dark auburn hair that was cut short in a pixie do, and a mischievous look on her face I did not trust one iota. As far as fourteen year olds go, she was cool, wearing ripped black jeans, a cut-off bloodred shirt that peeked at her midriff and banged up, shin-high black boots.

"Some people are here for you," she informed me, and I rose, puzzled. James handed me my books, the expression on his face back to unfathomable, contrary to the emotion I had seen only minutes earlier. He seemed afraid to show his true feelings, but in the same breath, afraid not to.

"I'll see you around," I said quietly, feeling a little stupid. "And-James?" I called, he arched an eyebrow.

"Just-thanks. For telling me." He nodded back.

"You didn't hear it from me," he muttered, then turned and disappeared down a corridor. I followed Viktoria up through the staircase and more hallways to the deck, where two people were waiting for me, their silhouettes on the railing. I rolled my eyes, because I knew exactly who it was, then turned to Viktoria.

"Thanks, Vik," I told her with a smile, she nodded.

"'S cool. Oh, and Ally?" She asked, then blushed a little. "Could you...Could you tell Kane I said hi?" She blurted out, and then covered her mouth as if she couldn't believe what she'd just said. I couldn't help but laugh.

"Yeah, sure thing." I wasn't a very good matchmaker, that fact had been proven time and again, but I'd be damned if they wouldn't make an amazingly cute little couple. She nodded, by now her cheeks as bright red as her shirt, and disappeared. I crossed to the two people waiting on the opposite side of the deck, sitting on the railing talking and shoving each other, staring out into the sunset that was splashing over the port and town.

"Hey," I drawled, and four faces looked up at me.

"Ally-bear!" Said a cheerful voice than belonged to Sam, the youngest of the duo. He had scraggly sun-bleached blonde hair that desperately needed a cut, or at least a wash, and was short but skinny. He was about twenty-five, a good bit younger than the other.

"Did he really send two of you?" I asked disbelievingly. Quinn, my father's best friend, smiled a little.

"Why d'you ask, Miss?" He asked teasingly, elbowing me. "Am I interruptin' something here?" He said archly, his voice gruff but full of humor. I rolled my eyes as we jumped off of the boat and flew towards my home.

"Yeah, right. How've you been?" He nodded silently, and I studied him affectionately. He was slightly older than my dad and had a potbelly that came from years of far too much beer and flying. Quinn and Sam were two of the dozen or so outcasts known affectionately to Neverland as the Losties. They'd been thrown out of the town years and years ago, and then thrown out of the nomadic Wildwood clans for fighting, drinking and just generally being a pain in the ass. They were awesome, I'd practically grown up with them as uncles and older brothers. Quinn was the oldest, most were about thirty or so, and I loved them dearly. They'd had strong ties with the Pan family for centuries, and became backup for the Guardians whenever it was needed- which it never had been. A cold shiver ran down the back of my neck. I knew Dad was having them escort me back because of the attack, it wasn't exactly rocket science, but it irked my pride though I tried not to let it show. Clearly it did show, though, because as we landed on the porch, Sam shook my shoulder firmly.

"Oi. It's only for yer own good, Al," he told me sternly. "Don't you be causing too much trouble. Unless it's for the Hooks," he said as an afterthought. "Then, give 'em hell," he said grinning, and I couldn't help but laugh. Sam could always cheer me up, even in this situation.

"Don't worry, lass," Quinn said firmly. "We'll catch this bastard, and then all will be well." But in the dim light of the setting sun, all three of us knew he was lying. James's words rang darkly in my mind and resonated deep down within me.

"More attacks. Lots more, and soon."

So this was a super long chapter, I'm really proud! Over three thousands words! I hope y'all enjoyed it, please keep reviewing! It

makes me write so much faster!

Em xx