***
25
***
The forests in the Heart were old and knotted, swelling with infections where the blisters of white mushrooms nestled in their flesh. The mess of gnarls gave Slightly the advantage of his size, for he could slip through cracks and contortions Hook and Mason had to circumvent. Slightly tore a weaving path towards the caverns through the thickest parts of the woods, keeping the pirates well behind him.
There was, however, one advantage that the pirates did have, and this was stamina. Slightly, being one to fly in normal conditions, rarely had the need to run anywhere, or even walk any distance. Long before they reached the caverns he began to slow down. Mason and Hook did not.
Slightly bolted through the fairy ward without feeling a thing and tripped down to a deer path that ran alongside the heart. He couldn't afford to follow it, or to let the pirates, and turned to run an arc that would (hopefully) keep them off the path and a comfortable distance behind him through the trees.
He lost track of them halfway through the upward turn.
Three hundred meters from the edge of the forest, Slightly's path would reconverge with the deer trail and he would pull the rest of the distance as fast as he could. When he reached the mouth of the cave, Hook would have to be close enough to him to follow the boy in total darkness. He would have to be close enough that Slightly would hear his breathing, that his curses would sound right in his ear. He would have to let him catch up a little.
Slightly did not expect that HE would be the one catching up. The arc dropped him through a screen of dead lilacs and onto the slope running down to meet the deer trail, steep enough that he wouldn't be able to stop himself once he came to it. The boy burst through the dead, cracking branches, tripped onto the slope, and missed his step, sliding on his backside down the crumbling clay. At the foot of the slope, standing patiently on the deer path, was Captain James Hook and his lackey. Neither was sweating from the run, and Hook's eyes had taken on that deep, red, lethal spark. Slightly jammed his feet into the dirt to stop his slide but didn't make it. Captain Hook had his sword at his throat before he could fly away.
"Do you really think," the Captain said, his voice low and acidic "That after a year of chasing Peter Pan I don't know the little tricks like these?"
Slightly didn't dare swallow. The sword point was too close.
"You're going to tell me where young Mr. Jukes is and you're going to tell me now. Otherwise, dear Miss Wendy is going to be loosing one of her charges. Understand?"
The boy couldn't answer. Hook eased the sword point off a little bit.
"I'm waiting."
Slightly was ashamed to find his voice was shaking. "He's in a cave. Underneath the mountains."
"Is he now?"
"Yes."
Hook stared down at him. "Do you take me for a fool? Lost Boys have no concept of death, you wouldn't betray your friend for the threat of it. Not so easily, anyway."
"That's where he is. I swear on it." And it was, strangely enough, the truth.
"I didn't say I didn't believe you. But I do not think he's waiting for me helpless. This all rings clearly to me of a trap. You tried too hard to lead us, when any sensible lad would have flown away the second he was spotted."
Slightly felt his eyelid twitch. "I slightly can't fly anymore." He lied.
Hook snorted. "That I don't believe."
"I mean it. I can't fly. Peter kicked me out of the Lost Boys and without him I can't fly anymore."
"You're a terrible liar."
Hook pushed the point of his cutlass into the soft flesh of Slightly's shoulder, breaking the skin through his shirt. Slightly didn't cry out.
"We'll go to the cave. You'll be coming with us, and whatever young Jukes is planning to do to me, he'll also have to do to you." Hook's eyes flashed to Mason. "Tear up that blasted cape and tie him up!"
***
Not all that far away, Aborigine was a little to active to be dead, but for all intents and purposes he might as well be. Sprawled in the middle of the fairy ward, he couldn't breathe or push away, just lay there as the implanted magic ripped away control of his nerves and muscles and turned his blood to electric acid in his veins. He was only dimly aware of movement. Frankly, he was too far gone to care.
"We should take him to a doctor." Picadilly said, wincing as the great egret burbled on bloody mud. Popper stared at him.
"A doctor!? Are you crazy, that thing just tried to kill me!"
"Well you can't exactly bring him to justice if you let him die out here."
Popper stared at the egret. "I consider this very nice justice. That looks very painful."
"…that's sick, you know." Picadilly said with a raised eyebrow.
"Would you rather I go eat his eyes?"
Picadilly made a face. "That's just eww."
"Yes it is."
The fairy frowned at Captain Popper, but Aborigine made a strange sound with the bones in his leg as he twisted it under him, and Picadilly flinched sympathetically.
"Dante, go find some vines or something. Carson, Johnny, pick him up. We're taking him to the healer."
"What part of 'HE WANTS TO KILL US' don't you comprehend?!?"
The entire herd stared expectantly, and the jackalope Picadilly was riding let off a set of clicks, like he was confirming the order. One animal bounded off into the bushes. Two, who looked entirely identical, from the white spots on their rumps to the arrangement of their antlers, twitched their noses at each other and crept towards Aborigine with mincing, nervous hops. The egret had been laying such for almost a minute now, and didn't flinch when either Carson or Johnny, Lord knew which was which, stuffed his head under the bird's breast and rolled him onto his antlers. The other did he same under his rump and together they managed to push themselves to a shaky stand, a massive, dragging bird on top of their heads.
Aborigine made a sound like pitch popping and gave the ground a good kick. His head was at a most unnatural angle.
"Under his head and his legs! Quick!" Picadilly chirruped, and the little horned thing he'd called Lavidia went to put the murderer's head on her back before the leader even confirmed the order. She looked all too pleased to be useful.
A little less than two minutes had passed since Aldus Aborigine missed his step and crashed to the ground in a seizure. Now, with four jackalopes supporting his body in this rather uncomfortable fashion they were ready to dash off to the island doctor (if Carson and Johnny could support him that far; their necks were already a little wobbly). Dante came tearing back to the spot with what looked like ivy tendrils trailing from his mouth, and Picadilly quickly tied Aborigine's beak shut.
The first step was a disaster. Carson and Johnny, in perfect unison, hopped forward and fell face first in the dirt from the extra weight on their heads. Lavidia fumbled the head completely and the one supporting his legs simply ducked as Aborigine thumped onto the ground and rolled, a splay of wings and long, scaly legs. Out of the ward, he abruptly came to in one great motion and gasped, getting a lungful of the muck in his beak and falling into a hacking fit till it pushed out his nostrils and threatened to suffocate him. He had enough coordination to get a claw to his beak and kick away the offending ivy tendrils, roll over, and cough the bloodied mud out until he just lay on his chest with his tail in the air, panting, and partially lucid. His muscles had turned to flour pudding and his brain had too.
"THAT was good." Popper said flatly. "Bravo, Picadilly."
"Bite me, feather duster."
Aborigine was at least breathing. From one perspective, this was an improvement of his condition. From the much more sensible perspective that had wanted to run away and leave him dying, this was very very bad. At least it didn't look like he'd be getting up anytime soon. Popper said as much.
"I wonder if we should try moving him again." Picadilly said.
"I wouldn't."
"You mean bring the healer to him?"
"No," Popper said as though he were talking to a very slow child. "I mean run away really fast and hope a cougar eats him."
Picadilly stuck his tongue out and flitted over to investigate Aborigine. His eye tracked the fairy sluggishly as the little thing circled his head.
"Funny he went out when we crossed the ward. Do you think it short circuited his brain or something?" He poked Aborigine in the forehead. Aborigine didn't twitch.
Popper frowned. "Whaddaya mean, ward? We crossed the fairy ward again?"
"Of course, right back there. That was where he fell down."
"Show me where."
Picadilly retraced his steps until he felt the jolt and tingle of the warning ward shoot through him. "Right here!" he said a little shrilly.
Captain Popper hopped past and dragged a sharp little line in the dirt beside Picadilly's feet.
"I think everyone should get on this side of the ward now." He said. The jackalopes looked at each other blankly.
"NOW, people!" he snapped. The leader hit him with a mean glare and no one moved.
"Umm, WHY are we getting on that side of the ward?" Picadilly asked.
Popper sighed. "Because Aldus Aborigine has been in a fairy prison. He can't cross wards. And if he snaps out of it and wants to eat my eyes, I want to be on THIS side."
"Ah." Picadilly said. The jackalope leader glared at Popper, nattered to the others, and they all hopped casually to the Heart side.
***
The messenger wasn't the sort of creature one would suspect to work for the fairy council. He appeared to be about three years old, a tiny sliver of spritely green with wings the size of pennies and about as useful. To compensate for this, he had strapped a saddle to a bumpy old toad, and had tethered three dozen flies to the toad to make it float. When Peter and Wendy arrived, the messenger and his mount had settled into the middle of a circle formed unconsciously by the Lost Boys: the buzzing flies were unbearably irritating to be close to. As they watched, the toad determinedly ate one of its flies, only to have it absently yanked back out by the tether cord.
"Peter Pan?" the sprite buzzed. He had a voice like a humming bird.
"Who else would I be?" Peter asked blankly.
The fairy stood up straight and cleared his throat. "I've been sent of behalf of the High Fairy Council to deliver a message. It goes 'Peter Pan: Your presence is required immediately on Small Monday Island by the High Fairy Council and Their Majesties, King Oberon and Queen Titania. You may bring your Lost Boys-" the toad ate another fly, and the messenger yanked it out. "your lady, and the diamond dove seen in your company by Council agents this day. Report to General Tory for an escort upon arriving on the island."
The dove, who had been sitting on the small twin's head and engaging in some sort of activity between pouting and fuming, looked up, startled.
"What does the council want with ME?!" it blurted.
The messenger shrugged. "They don't tell me nothing. Maybe they need bait to get the psychopath back in his cage."
"You don't know why they're summoning Peter at all?" Wendy asked.
"Something about the ghoul. That's all I know."
The messenger whacked the toad on the rump and all the flies strained up, lifting its bulk up into the air, legs dangling. The fairy crawled up onto its back and gave Peter a little salute. "See you later, Gracie."
As the toad floated lazily past Wendy, the little sprite winked at her. She wasn't sure whether or not she ought to smack it somehow.
Peter, oblivious to that all, grinned. "The council must want our help capturing Billy Jukes! When all else fails they always come to me!"
The dove rolled its eyes. "The secret weapon of last resort indeed."
Peter ignored that. "Lets go. I bet we have this all fixed up by sundown." He took off from the ground. The other boys followed, though Wendy gave one terrible glare at him as he left. The last to leave was the twins. They looked around, and frowned at each other.
"Has anyone seen—"
"--Toodles?"
25
***
The forests in the Heart were old and knotted, swelling with infections where the blisters of white mushrooms nestled in their flesh. The mess of gnarls gave Slightly the advantage of his size, for he could slip through cracks and contortions Hook and Mason had to circumvent. Slightly tore a weaving path towards the caverns through the thickest parts of the woods, keeping the pirates well behind him.
There was, however, one advantage that the pirates did have, and this was stamina. Slightly, being one to fly in normal conditions, rarely had the need to run anywhere, or even walk any distance. Long before they reached the caverns he began to slow down. Mason and Hook did not.
Slightly bolted through the fairy ward without feeling a thing and tripped down to a deer path that ran alongside the heart. He couldn't afford to follow it, or to let the pirates, and turned to run an arc that would (hopefully) keep them off the path and a comfortable distance behind him through the trees.
He lost track of them halfway through the upward turn.
Three hundred meters from the edge of the forest, Slightly's path would reconverge with the deer trail and he would pull the rest of the distance as fast as he could. When he reached the mouth of the cave, Hook would have to be close enough to him to follow the boy in total darkness. He would have to be close enough that Slightly would hear his breathing, that his curses would sound right in his ear. He would have to let him catch up a little.
Slightly did not expect that HE would be the one catching up. The arc dropped him through a screen of dead lilacs and onto the slope running down to meet the deer trail, steep enough that he wouldn't be able to stop himself once he came to it. The boy burst through the dead, cracking branches, tripped onto the slope, and missed his step, sliding on his backside down the crumbling clay. At the foot of the slope, standing patiently on the deer path, was Captain James Hook and his lackey. Neither was sweating from the run, and Hook's eyes had taken on that deep, red, lethal spark. Slightly jammed his feet into the dirt to stop his slide but didn't make it. Captain Hook had his sword at his throat before he could fly away.
"Do you really think," the Captain said, his voice low and acidic "That after a year of chasing Peter Pan I don't know the little tricks like these?"
Slightly didn't dare swallow. The sword point was too close.
"You're going to tell me where young Mr. Jukes is and you're going to tell me now. Otherwise, dear Miss Wendy is going to be loosing one of her charges. Understand?"
The boy couldn't answer. Hook eased the sword point off a little bit.
"I'm waiting."
Slightly was ashamed to find his voice was shaking. "He's in a cave. Underneath the mountains."
"Is he now?"
"Yes."
Hook stared down at him. "Do you take me for a fool? Lost Boys have no concept of death, you wouldn't betray your friend for the threat of it. Not so easily, anyway."
"That's where he is. I swear on it." And it was, strangely enough, the truth.
"I didn't say I didn't believe you. But I do not think he's waiting for me helpless. This all rings clearly to me of a trap. You tried too hard to lead us, when any sensible lad would have flown away the second he was spotted."
Slightly felt his eyelid twitch. "I slightly can't fly anymore." He lied.
Hook snorted. "That I don't believe."
"I mean it. I can't fly. Peter kicked me out of the Lost Boys and without him I can't fly anymore."
"You're a terrible liar."
Hook pushed the point of his cutlass into the soft flesh of Slightly's shoulder, breaking the skin through his shirt. Slightly didn't cry out.
"We'll go to the cave. You'll be coming with us, and whatever young Jukes is planning to do to me, he'll also have to do to you." Hook's eyes flashed to Mason. "Tear up that blasted cape and tie him up!"
***
Not all that far away, Aborigine was a little to active to be dead, but for all intents and purposes he might as well be. Sprawled in the middle of the fairy ward, he couldn't breathe or push away, just lay there as the implanted magic ripped away control of his nerves and muscles and turned his blood to electric acid in his veins. He was only dimly aware of movement. Frankly, he was too far gone to care.
"We should take him to a doctor." Picadilly said, wincing as the great egret burbled on bloody mud. Popper stared at him.
"A doctor!? Are you crazy, that thing just tried to kill me!"
"Well you can't exactly bring him to justice if you let him die out here."
Popper stared at the egret. "I consider this very nice justice. That looks very painful."
"…that's sick, you know." Picadilly said with a raised eyebrow.
"Would you rather I go eat his eyes?"
Picadilly made a face. "That's just eww."
"Yes it is."
The fairy frowned at Captain Popper, but Aborigine made a strange sound with the bones in his leg as he twisted it under him, and Picadilly flinched sympathetically.
"Dante, go find some vines or something. Carson, Johnny, pick him up. We're taking him to the healer."
"What part of 'HE WANTS TO KILL US' don't you comprehend?!?"
The entire herd stared expectantly, and the jackalope Picadilly was riding let off a set of clicks, like he was confirming the order. One animal bounded off into the bushes. Two, who looked entirely identical, from the white spots on their rumps to the arrangement of their antlers, twitched their noses at each other and crept towards Aborigine with mincing, nervous hops. The egret had been laying such for almost a minute now, and didn't flinch when either Carson or Johnny, Lord knew which was which, stuffed his head under the bird's breast and rolled him onto his antlers. The other did he same under his rump and together they managed to push themselves to a shaky stand, a massive, dragging bird on top of their heads.
Aborigine made a sound like pitch popping and gave the ground a good kick. His head was at a most unnatural angle.
"Under his head and his legs! Quick!" Picadilly chirruped, and the little horned thing he'd called Lavidia went to put the murderer's head on her back before the leader even confirmed the order. She looked all too pleased to be useful.
A little less than two minutes had passed since Aldus Aborigine missed his step and crashed to the ground in a seizure. Now, with four jackalopes supporting his body in this rather uncomfortable fashion they were ready to dash off to the island doctor (if Carson and Johnny could support him that far; their necks were already a little wobbly). Dante came tearing back to the spot with what looked like ivy tendrils trailing from his mouth, and Picadilly quickly tied Aborigine's beak shut.
The first step was a disaster. Carson and Johnny, in perfect unison, hopped forward and fell face first in the dirt from the extra weight on their heads. Lavidia fumbled the head completely and the one supporting his legs simply ducked as Aborigine thumped onto the ground and rolled, a splay of wings and long, scaly legs. Out of the ward, he abruptly came to in one great motion and gasped, getting a lungful of the muck in his beak and falling into a hacking fit till it pushed out his nostrils and threatened to suffocate him. He had enough coordination to get a claw to his beak and kick away the offending ivy tendrils, roll over, and cough the bloodied mud out until he just lay on his chest with his tail in the air, panting, and partially lucid. His muscles had turned to flour pudding and his brain had too.
"THAT was good." Popper said flatly. "Bravo, Picadilly."
"Bite me, feather duster."
Aborigine was at least breathing. From one perspective, this was an improvement of his condition. From the much more sensible perspective that had wanted to run away and leave him dying, this was very very bad. At least it didn't look like he'd be getting up anytime soon. Popper said as much.
"I wonder if we should try moving him again." Picadilly said.
"I wouldn't."
"You mean bring the healer to him?"
"No," Popper said as though he were talking to a very slow child. "I mean run away really fast and hope a cougar eats him."
Picadilly stuck his tongue out and flitted over to investigate Aborigine. His eye tracked the fairy sluggishly as the little thing circled his head.
"Funny he went out when we crossed the ward. Do you think it short circuited his brain or something?" He poked Aborigine in the forehead. Aborigine didn't twitch.
Popper frowned. "Whaddaya mean, ward? We crossed the fairy ward again?"
"Of course, right back there. That was where he fell down."
"Show me where."
Picadilly retraced his steps until he felt the jolt and tingle of the warning ward shoot through him. "Right here!" he said a little shrilly.
Captain Popper hopped past and dragged a sharp little line in the dirt beside Picadilly's feet.
"I think everyone should get on this side of the ward now." He said. The jackalopes looked at each other blankly.
"NOW, people!" he snapped. The leader hit him with a mean glare and no one moved.
"Umm, WHY are we getting on that side of the ward?" Picadilly asked.
Popper sighed. "Because Aldus Aborigine has been in a fairy prison. He can't cross wards. And if he snaps out of it and wants to eat my eyes, I want to be on THIS side."
"Ah." Picadilly said. The jackalope leader glared at Popper, nattered to the others, and they all hopped casually to the Heart side.
***
The messenger wasn't the sort of creature one would suspect to work for the fairy council. He appeared to be about three years old, a tiny sliver of spritely green with wings the size of pennies and about as useful. To compensate for this, he had strapped a saddle to a bumpy old toad, and had tethered three dozen flies to the toad to make it float. When Peter and Wendy arrived, the messenger and his mount had settled into the middle of a circle formed unconsciously by the Lost Boys: the buzzing flies were unbearably irritating to be close to. As they watched, the toad determinedly ate one of its flies, only to have it absently yanked back out by the tether cord.
"Peter Pan?" the sprite buzzed. He had a voice like a humming bird.
"Who else would I be?" Peter asked blankly.
The fairy stood up straight and cleared his throat. "I've been sent of behalf of the High Fairy Council to deliver a message. It goes 'Peter Pan: Your presence is required immediately on Small Monday Island by the High Fairy Council and Their Majesties, King Oberon and Queen Titania. You may bring your Lost Boys-" the toad ate another fly, and the messenger yanked it out. "your lady, and the diamond dove seen in your company by Council agents this day. Report to General Tory for an escort upon arriving on the island."
The dove, who had been sitting on the small twin's head and engaging in some sort of activity between pouting and fuming, looked up, startled.
"What does the council want with ME?!" it blurted.
The messenger shrugged. "They don't tell me nothing. Maybe they need bait to get the psychopath back in his cage."
"You don't know why they're summoning Peter at all?" Wendy asked.
"Something about the ghoul. That's all I know."
The messenger whacked the toad on the rump and all the flies strained up, lifting its bulk up into the air, legs dangling. The fairy crawled up onto its back and gave Peter a little salute. "See you later, Gracie."
As the toad floated lazily past Wendy, the little sprite winked at her. She wasn't sure whether or not she ought to smack it somehow.
Peter, oblivious to that all, grinned. "The council must want our help capturing Billy Jukes! When all else fails they always come to me!"
The dove rolled its eyes. "The secret weapon of last resort indeed."
Peter ignored that. "Lets go. I bet we have this all fixed up by sundown." He took off from the ground. The other boys followed, though Wendy gave one terrible glare at him as he left. The last to leave was the twins. They looked around, and frowned at each other.
"Has anyone seen—"
"--Toodles?"