Shahrazád's Ghosts
Chapter 19: Peter (Edward) Part VI
2415 A.D.
Slightly kept Peter busy with tasks that took him away from Neverland for longer and longer stretches of time. It was cathartic, in a way, to be constantly busy, constantly moving, constantly floating on the thoughts of others instead of allowing his own thoughts to torment him. There was so much more to see and experience in the world than he had ever even imagined existed beyond the halls and tunnels of Neverland.
Sometimes, Peter delivered messages or gathered intel. Other times, he worked on Slightly's secret side project – the one known only to Slightly and Peter.
"You want me to do what?" Peter had exclaimed, that day nearly fifteen years ago when Slightly had first given him his task.
"You have all the worst tasks now, my friend, and I am sorry for it," Slightly responded with a rather patronizing toss of his feathered hat. He flapped the hand-drawn map between them and poked his fingers unceremoniously at each of the markings on the map. "I hate to give this to you, but you are the only one I can trust to make sure it is done and you are the only one who understands how important it is to keep this secret. If the others found out… well, let's just say it's better not to give them any more…inspiration…than they already have."
"Let me see if I am understanding you properly. Each of these lists of numbers and symbols is the dead body of a human clone of Darling and Tiger Lily?"
"Yes."
"By the Jolly Roger, what was Darling up to? Why did she create so many?" Peter exclaimed, his brow furrowing as he saw all the columns of listed locations before him. It went on for pages upon pages.
Not Darling. Slightly's mind whispered in response, an edge of warning in his tone. This was before Darling…and concurrent with a human Darling. As far as I have gathered, she was turned around the time this place ended.
"Her sire?"
"As far as I can tell, yes. This is his original version of Neverland," Slightly said, distaste coloring his tone and he grimaced. His mind filled with his own imaginings of just what the old Neverland must have been like.
"Do you believe her sire still lives?" Peter asked.
Slightly snorted. "Do you remember what Tootles was like, near the end there?"
Peter grimaced. It was a memory he would have preferred not to have injected into his thoughts by the collective mind.
"That was after only a few years of over-consumption. By the very numbers and time frame discovered in those records, either there were more vampires there than just this alleged master, or the master's appetite was greater than that of four normal vampires."
"You don't think he could have survived it."
"Absolutely not...at least not while keeping hold of all his marbles. I don't know how our Lady survived it. Either she was an accident or something else occurred."
"Did you ask her? About what all happened?"
Slightly gave a humorless laugh and shook his head. "I prefer to keep my head on my shoulders, thank you. Augustine tried, once or twice. She didn't speak to him again for nearly a year…and that was only after he asked her if her sire still lived.
"Nobody knows for sure what happened in there or why Darling survived and was turned. Maybe he kept her as his mate, but if that's the case, why did the vampire disappear? I can't imagine Darling volunteering relinquishing her mate, if the mating bond was fully formed, that is. Tootles was convinced that the first vampire failed to finish eating Darling and turned her by accident. He figured she chose to get her revenge by killing him, but he still had the potential to be her mate, and so she's been driven mad by the loss of him and keeps trying to recreate him in us. I think he simply made her so mad that she ended him herself. You saw the reports said it ended in a fire? Someone had to throw that match. I'd bet money that it was Darling."
"What if he is still alive, still out there, and that's what makes Darling so paranoid? Maybe that's who she really is preparing to fight against?"
Slightly shrugged. "I guess that could still be a possibility. Whether it's a gluttonous vampire or a coven of power-hungry vampires, it doesn't change our next tasks."
"And you want me to dig up every body listed here and destroy it?"
"Yes. So no one else can find them. So no one else can get their own ideas from what was done there or make their own versions of Tiger Lily. If Darling is the only one left, then she cannot be duplicated again."
Peter had agreed to do it, of course, but it had been a long and arduous assignment and one which took a toll on his mind more than his body.
It was slow work. He could only dig during certain seasons and when he was sure no one else was prowling around the area, difficult in such a populated area. Weeks upon weeks each year, Peter dug through the lands of what used to be the desert, but had now grown into the sprawling farms and the suburbs of a city. In some instances, he had to construct tunnels to reach the graves and these took time and care to ensure they did not collapse in on themselves or damage the buildings and crops overhead. Other times, he had to listen carefully for the thoughts of passersby and quickly hide his work with a boulder or his truck until he knew he was alone again.
When he found the spine of the original bunker, the place he assumed where Darling was first created, it became easier. For one, all the graves spiraled out around the bunker with the old building as their center. For another, it was already so deep underground that if he knocked out a wall, he could dig from there without needing to construct additional tunnels down into the heart of the earth.
Over a hundred and fifty years had passed since the old bunker was first discovered and dug up. The original team which excavated the site took meticulous records – both of the original graves and those the team constructed after their investigation was complete. Their records, those pulled from publication at a heavy price, were thorough both in their analyses and their descriptions of all they had found. Very thorough. Peter would have preferred a much less detailed description of just what had occurred within this underground facility.
Peter understood why Slightly did not want the other Lost Boys to know about it. There were some forms of creativity that were better left unexplored…and the former master of Barzakh was certainly gifted with a truly sadistic form of inspiration.
After the excavation was completed, the old bunker had been filled in nearly entirely with sand. This was done intentionally. After reinterring all the skeletal inhabitants of the bunker to their newly constructed graves, the workers had buried the bunker itself as a symbolic end to the place they called "Barzakh." A side note, scrawled in the messy hand-writing of a Dr. Peabody, stated "the Chadian excavation crew insisted on burying the cursed place to ensure no ghosts could dwell there, trapped between the living and the dead, causing harm to those who happened to pass by."
Two hundred years after its doors closed, and the place still felt cursed. How many ways could sisters of his sweet Tiger Lily die? How many ways did she meet her fate at the heartless hands of an insatiable appetite? While the recent importation of rain had helped the many former bodies begin to disintegrate and decay, he could still see more than he had ever wished to see written in the stories only old bones could tell. The sheer number of bodies was enough to make him feel ill.
No, this was not a task Peter could take much pleasure in. He gained some grim satisfaction in knowing he was freeing each dead woman from the horrors of such a resurrection as he knew was possible. There were some fates worse than death and the price of immortality was far too high. He would help Tiger Lily rest, once and for all, and ensure Darling was the final remaining survivor of her sire's creations.
When Peter was not digging in Barzakh, he was assigned other duties. It was only five years after Tiger Lily's death that he was posted to Tinkerbell's house. To say Peter was less than pleased would be an understatement.
"I thought you said Tiger Lily's death was necessary… and THE LAST ONE! I thought you said we were destroying all the others so that this would never happen again," Peter accused angrily. Anger was not a strong enough word. Peter was so furious that he felt as though he would gladly tear all Neverland down with his teeth and then chew it into powder…and then find a way to immolate that powder in flames hot enough to melt it all into ash.
"I am sorry, Peter," Slightly answered. His tone was so resigned that Peter could only clench his jaw tighter and look away. "I am. I did not know she was planning this. I told her everything. She knew… She had promised… not that it means anything now. But Tinkerbell has been made, without my input or approval or knowledge, and she can't be unmade. If you don't want to take her on, I understand and we will find someone else, but Darling specifically asked for you to take charge of her."
"Find someone else," Peter had hissed back and he left.
Slightly didn't bother finding anyone else. He knew, as Peter did, that Peter would come around. No matter what Slightly explained about "the plan" or "the dangers" or "Darling's promises," it did not mitigate the bitterness he felt or the overwhelming sense of waste. It didn't make sense to him. Why did Tiger Lily have to die just for a new one to take her place?
He should have left. He should have cut all his ties to Neverland and sought his fortune in the wide world of Overland. He should have stuck to his "no" and never looked upon the sleeping girl. His first mistake was agreeing to see Tinkerbell. His second mistake was in not fleeing the room the moment he entered it.
He failed.
When he agreed to his task, he tried to complete it by rote and without emotion. He tried to stay detached and aloof. He attempted to perform his instruction of Tinkerbell with all the impassive disconnect of an assembly line worker screwing on hubcaps of a new car. He had raised enough Pirates. He should be able to do this with his eyes closed and not care about the outcome.
He failed.
How could he do anything else? He never ceased to care about any of the Pirates he taught and Tinkerbell was no different. One glance at those guileless brown eyes, so brimming over with delight to see him, and he could not do anything but melt.
He was there when she first opened her eyes and he taught her to sit upright, to talk, to feed herself. He did not need to teach her to laugh or to cry. Those she did freely enough all on her own without his instruction. It was Tinkerbell who taught him the healing power of an embrace and how the warmth of genuine affection could be a greater balm to a sore spirit than any amount of medicine could ever be.
His entire life quickly became wrapped around that little human woman who came to own his heart more than Tiger Lily ever had.
Oooooo
"This is a harp," Peter informed his young charge one day. She struggled to pronounce the word in response. She could now walk and speak fluently, but "harp" was a new word and it would take time for her to master it.
These days, he filled their lessons with reading, writing, music, and stories of Overland. His favorite, of course, was introducing her to the world of music. He showed the small lap-size harp to her. She ran her hands over the wood and then she cautiously plucked at the strings.
"This is a banjo," Peter continued and he handed the instrument to her. He played her a song he had learned on it after and taught her to sing along with him.
For days, Peter exposed her to each and every instrument in his collection. Her bright smile and studious attention fixed on him filled him with more joy than he had felt since Tiger Lily's death. She clapped her hands and kept time with her feet and her laughter filled the entire room like steam from boiling water. He gained even more delight when he listened to her learn to pick out a melody with the instruments herself.
She was especially interested in his collection of hand bells. He only had a few varieties, though they had always been a favorite among the Pirates for their ease of play. Her favorite was an old brass bell engraved with an angel, a bird, and a cross on its face.
"This one was a gift from… a friend," Peter told her. "It is very old and came from far, far from here. It is called a 'deid bell' or a 'dead bell' or a 'soul bell' and it was believed that the sound of its ring will frighten away evil spirits and protect souls on their way to heaven."
"What is a soul?" she asked.
"Ah, that is the part of you that makes Tinkerbell you. It is the part of you that lasts forever and makes you come alive and shine so beautifully."
She nodded and let the bell's metallic sound echo throughout the cavernous room until all the air felt to be bursting with the sound.
"It should be very safe in here now," she said. "I have frightened away all the evil and kept your soul very safe."
He laughed, but it was a sound tinged with sadness. She could not know that the bell was a gift from John, who brought it from Scotland, and left it outside his door after Tiger Lily's death. It was the only apology that John could muster and that Peter could try to accept. They had never spoken again and both had avoided each other avidly. Despite all his show of smug bravado and self-satisfied glee in his life choices, John still gave Peter the bell.
Peter could not explain to John or Tinkerbell or even himself how he sometimes brought that bell to ring it throughout Barzakh, on especially dark nights when no one was near enough to hear it. He just felt it was somehow right to let the bell's mourning song ring throughout that solitary graveyard and dispel any evil spirits still clinging to the place. Granted, the souls of the departed had passed many years ago, but he doubted few of those buried were sung for when they died and so he let the bell sing for them.
"What kind of a bell is a 'tinker bell'?" she asked him, her brown eyes wide in her curiosity.
He laughed. "I do not think your name comes from a real kind of bell. You were named after a character in a storybook."
She stuck out her tongue and shook her head. "Then may I be called 'Deid Bell' instead?" she asked. "I should like to be named after a kind of bell that I recognize and know the voice of."
"No, no!" He answered, not hiding his grimace. "I do not think that is a good name. There are other kinds of bells… but what if we simply call you 'Bell' instead? Then you could think of the sound of all your favorite bells at once and not have to choose one in particular."
She rung the bell again as she considered this and then she threw her arms around his neck. "I like it," she said. "From now on, you will call me 'Bell.'"
"Ah, that is an improvement over Tinkerbell and it suits you well," Peter answered with a chuckle. He ran his hands through her short, pale hair and he smiled.
Yes, Bell proved herself to be every bit as powerful as his deid bell in driving away the darkness that still haunted him. Her presence reminded him to pray for the dead and seek to cast out the evil that still lurked around them with even more diligence. He knew, with every fiber of his being, that he would not let his Bell's fate follow that of Tiger Lily… or any of the women he found in Barzakh.
ooooo
His tasks in Barzakh were made all the more difficult after he met Bell. To go from hearing Bell's first peel of laughter and listening to her sweet voice stumble over her newest words, to exhuming the tormented remains of her identical sisters, created a cognitive dissonance that not even steel pliers could force together in his mind. He felt like he, too, now lived caught between both life and death and he struggled to bind the disparate parts of his experiences together.
Some things he understood better than he ever had before. He finally could understand Darling's anger… and her wrath. He could understand why she hated him - because of who he reminded her of. If this was part of his make-up, part of his DNA, a path he could someday follow, he could understand why Darling hated him as she did. He could understand Neverland more now than he ever had before. He would do everything possible to ensure his Tinkerbell was safe. If it required creating an army of clones of himself, he would do it. If it required destroying an army of clones of himself, he would do it. He would do whatever was possible to make sure that Tinkerbell never succumbed to the same fate that befell the women he found in Barzakh.
However, other precepts of Neverland continued to elude him. No matter how he considered it, he could not accept Darling's methods. The use of wine and the use of Tiger Lily he found amoral to the point of repugnancy. He could not bear to consider what future Darling had in store for Tinkerbell, once her usefulness was overshadowed by the threat she posed, simply for existing. He did not trust Darling's promises that she would not follow Tiger Lily's fate.
He rarely, if ever, saw his mistress now. She kept to Neverland and he stayed far, far from there. To aid in his freedom of movements and his secrecy, Peter was moved well outside of the confines of Neverland and kept separate from all the others for the safety of the secrets he now carried. None were to know about Tinkerbell and so her house was cut off from the rest of Neverland. In the mental and physical silence, it gave Peter a chance to be away from the Braves and Lost Boys, but he missed the Pirates. Oh, he missed the Pirates.
He was not sure if it was torment or relief to be separated from the Lady of Neverland. He tried not to think of her – but how could he not? When each day gave him the flourishing, unrestrained adoration of Bell or the dismal tales of past tragedies told through the bones of the women of Barzakh, they were still manifestations of Darling. They were all her. In each, Peter saw another way Darling's life could have transpired, another path she could have tread upon, another promised future she could have fulfilled. Darling must have once had a heart as warm and capable of love as Bell… and Bell could also grow and morph to become as cold and hardened as Darling.
The exact circumstances that created the Mistress of Neverland remained shrouded in as much mystery as the fate of Barzakh's Master. Peter hated to think of what Darling's role had been in all that he unearthed.
Had she been one of those cowering, quivering women, created for the sole purpose of death? Or had she delighted in their deaths and looked upon them as nothing more than cattle destined for the slaughter? Had she been the one to bury the bodies and callously throw them into shallow graves once their purpose had been fulfilled? Or had she sought to undermine her creator and free those poor creatures from his insatiable thirst? Most importantly, had she been the one to light the match that finally ended Barzakh or had she been the one to stay the hand that wished to light it?
He did not know and the fact that he could not know for certain what her role or motivations had been bothered him more than he could say.
He had to admit to himself that John had been right. He had not truly loved Darling for he had never truly known her. He felt the natural draw to her. He admired his perceptions of her virtues, but he had not dwelt deeply enough on her to truly know her vices. Could he gaze upon the unholy expanse of both Barzakh and Neverland and still claim to love Darling? Could he know both her potential to become like Bell and her potential to destroy Bell and still call himself devoted to her?
He did not know. Sometimes, he did not wish to know.
ooooo
Tinkerbell's home was a vast underground structure far outside of Neverland. It consisted of three separate living compartments separated by glass barriers and extensive halls. For three years, it was only Bell and Peter there. A drone delivered Peter and Bell food and supplies each week. Occasionally, Slightly sent him messages or instructions, but other than that, Peter received very few other communications from the outside world.
At first, Bell and Peter stayed in two of these compartments, with no barriers between them. Once she was able to take care of herself, Peter relocated to the most distant compartment, separated from Bell by a translucent barrier and nearly half a kilometer. He was close enough to hear all that occurred within, but far enough that none would notice his presence.
He did not see her as often, then, because it was time for her to take on the responsibility of her own little charge. Once each month, the barrier was removed so she could go to him to have her hair tended and any other supplies delivered which could not fit through the small slot meant for her food.
The fragile, thin Michael was entirely hers to grow and take care of. From the moment Peter deposited him into her care, Bell doted on her pupil. She delighted in watching him come to consciousness, grow, learn, and develop. She thrived as his teacher and mentor… and it did not take long before she became even more to him than that. Similarly, from the first moment he woke, or perhaps even before then, Michael had been smitten with his teacher. They were enamored with each other before he could even sit upright and both overflowed with a saccharine sweet devotion to the other which was not fazed by their captivity, a condition which both seemed entirely ignorant of.
Peter couldn't help the twinge in his heart when Bell was separated from him and then began to take care of the silent human man. He watched as all her love and sincere, unrestricted affection was poured onto the growing human. How he would have loved to have even the smallest portion of that affection as his own and how he wished he could return it with untarnished vigor!
How jealous he remained of Michael! The man woke to a feast of adoration that he did not have to do anything for but return, and in return he could gorge himself on her devotion. It was not that Peter wished for Bell in that same way… but he wished, oh how he wished… that he had woken to a similar banquet! When he thought back to his earliest memories, those hazy, murky days of sounds and syllables, how he longed to also have woken to unearned warmth and immediate acceptance! He wished those initial vibrant golden eyes would have overflowed with their own sincere adoration.
If he was honest with himself, he still hoped that someday he could still experience his own crumbs from Darling's table. For, watching the interaction between Bell and Michael, he had to admit to himself the truth. Michael and Bell were what was always meant to be. In a world without vampires and Volturi and wine and disposable souls, this was what should have been. Darling and Peter were the products of a vastly different reality and Neverland forced a chasm between them before Peter even was born. Yet this breach was one that Peter still wished could be crossed...that it really would be as simple as "learning to fly" or "growing up" which could cure it.
But it was impossible...for Peter and for Michael. Unbeknownst to either of the happy pair, they were not in a world unto themselves and their little island of happiness could not stay as it was.
They wept for days when they first found themselves on opposite sides of a glass partition and they hardly dared to move away from the partition for fear they would find themselves separated farther.
"Why do they need to be separated already?" Peter had asked Slightly. "Michael only learned to walk this month. Surely, we are not turning him so soon?"
Slightly laughed. "Even the human varieties are dangerous…or didn't you hear about the fate of Tiger Lily the Second?"
Peter shook his head. "You told me about the others, I think, but not that one."
"Oh, you she was, perhaps, my favorite experiment of Darling's yet. Darling thought she could put the care of that Tiger Lily in the hands of a Pirate. You know, so she wouldn't be so alone all the time and her life wouldn't be in danger in the same way. She was as naïve as you back then."
Peter groaned. "What happened?"
"Well, let's just say it didn't work out the way Darling expected."
"He hurt her?"
"Not exactly… they were both quite taken with each other, actually. So taken that she was pregnant within a month."
"Oh!" Peter exclaimed and his eyes grew wide. Then he frowned. "What did Darling do?"
"What could she do? Darling sent them to work for a human connection of Augustine's in Garden City. From what I heard, they did quite well for themselves there and lived into their sixties. They popped out half a dozen children and now their descendants are crawling around Garden City, interspersed with the general population with none the wiser for it."
"They died, then?"
"Oh, yes, but of natural causes. They were in a car accident together and it took them both out. Darling followed up on them quite meticulously. She is very territorial over her Tiger Lilies, you know."
"This is absurd. All of it. How can you stand it?"
Slightly only shrugged.
"So, that is why Michael and Bell have the barrier?"
"You got it! Michael needs to make it to Volterra and he can't do that if he is too busy changing diapers and mopping a warehouse."
Thus, the human pair were able to speak and interact with each other, but they could no longer reach out and touch each other. The thick barrier separated them from physical contact, but it did not keep them truly apart.
Oooo
One day, while Peter travelled back to Tinkerbell's home, he received an alert from the security perimeter protecting the isolated fortress. He quickly checked it and then called Slightly. Slightly appeared on his screen and by the expression on the general's face, Peter knew it was not a false alarm or a drill.
"What is it?" Peter asked.
"A newborn escaped from the southern hatch. He has been prowling around Captain Hook's pond and he's approaching your post now."
He felt his stomach turn at the implications. "Where did he go?"
"You can guess. He came across vent number 52. The perimeter fence is stalling him for now, but it is only a matter of time before he figures out a way around it and attacks the vent itself."
"I'll be right there," Peter said and he sprinted the rest of the way to Tinkerbell's home as if his life depended on it… Because he felt it did.
Sure enough, the newborn was there when he arrived, desperately clawing at a vent and growling ferociously when it failed to give way beneath his fingers. His mind was overwhelmed with the single-minded desire to consume whatever was within those doors. Peter always made sure to remove the scent clinging to the vents as much as he could, but the newborn's nose was so sensitive, he could pick up the traces of scent that not even Peter could catch.
Peter dropped into a defensive crouch and growled. In an instant, the newborn lunged and soon they were rolling across the ground and leaping off the nearby date palms and rocks to land on each other. They could both read each other's minds and so the only true advantages each claimed came either from the strength of youth or the experience of age and the battle could have been claimed by either.
When the newborn lay dismembered on the ground, Peter could finally relax and try to calm himself. The newborn would be reassembled back in Neverland and trained more appropriately, his memory wiped of the existence of this wing of Neverland, but Peter could never erase the memory of that day.
Peter sprinted into his compartment so he could check on his charges. There, through the video feed, he could see the pair of humans, sleeping peacefully within, undisturbed by any of the night's events. They had each pulled their mattresses to lean up against the glass partition separating them and slept pressed up against the glass, each facing the other.
He gave a sigh of relief. At least this time, he wasn't too late.
Oooooo
After Michael was turned, Peter had to stay even farther away. He retreated back through a tunnel that led him far enough from Michael that his thoughts could not be read, but close enough that he could still intervene, in case of any problems.
With a newborn vampire housed in close proximity to Bell, there were inevitable problems… but none that Bell… and the partition between them… could not handle. Still, for the better part of a year, Peter did not leave his post once. He stayed, constantly watching both through the video feed, and calling Bell away to come to him whenever he felt Michael, or Bell, required a break.
It was not easy. Training a newborn vampire constrained in a small space and constantly tantalized by the scent of its singer would be formidable even for Peter, but the young human only saw the image of the man she loved and she remained undaunted. No matter how he growled or lunged or cried out, she refused to see him as anything but her Michael, and that was enough to calm him faster than Peter had seen any of the other newborns before him.
To Peter, it seemed more shades of cruelty to continually separate Michael and Bell. First, with a pane of glass, then by an injection of venom, and finally by the hundreds of miles between Chad and Italy. He knew this had always been their intended destiny, but they had not. They had never been more than a few inches apart and now they could not even speak to each other.
What was to become of Bell now that her "purpose" had been completed? What was to become of Peter, for that matter? He knew what it was to be discarded after usefulness to Darling ceased and he knew how terrible a sore heart could be. He could not leave his little pupil to such a fate. He knew what it was like to be alone in Neverland so he visited her nearly every day after Michael left, each time bringing books and pictures and puzzles and papers for her. He passed these to her through her food slot and then he sat across the partition from her, letting her speak of how she missed her beloved Michael and listen to her long to see him return.
How many decades would he spend in Volterra? How many grey hairs would Bell grow before he returned to her? Would he even survive his time in Volterra? He didn't have the heart to tell her that Michael might very possibly never return to her. If Aro grew suspicious, he could dispose of Michael without a second thought. Based on how much she was already withering and growing thin in his absence, Peter did not think her heart could bear it.
Peter could not fathom spending the rest of Bell's life in captivity, watching her pine and wither away. Peter knew what he would have to do. He would help Bell escape Neverland. Then, if Michael still lived, Peter would turn her and ensure the pair were reunited. If Michael did not survive Volterra, well, he would still help Bell escape, but he would not trap her in immortality in such a state of grief. He would give her the reprieve of mortality. He would take care of her and look after her till then and ensure she never wanted for companionship, love, or protection. While neither could ever fill the hole created by the loss of their first loves, they could perhaps be a comfort to each other. He would be what she needed, even if he could never be what she wanted.
So fondly did Peter hold onto this wish that he began to seek out possible avenues of escape and places he could take Bell once they no longer lived in Neverland. Once he completed Slightly's task, Peter decided he would leave and never look back.
ooooo
"It's done…or nearly done," Peter said. He smashed his dog-eared map onto the desk in front of Slightly and crossed his arms over his chest. It had taken him sixteen years and more tons of dirt than he ever hoped to dig through again, but he had done it. Slightly cocked his head to one side and then nodded.
"How close is 'nearly done'?"
"I exhumed and then destroyed each and every one listed in the archaeologists' very thorough records. Thankfully, they kept records not only of their original burial sites, but where they were reinterred after examination. I have cross-checked their lists five times."
"Excellent! So, where is the 'nearly' part? Give me the bad news."
"There are a few unaccounted for."
Slightly frowned and cursed in his mind. "What do you know of them?"
"Well, first, there is the one Darling has been using to create Tiger Lilies and Bell. Then, the archaeologists mention in their notes that one body mysteriously vanished during their excavation. They could not determine the culprit or even any suspects. It was there one day and then gone the next."
"Let us assume they are one and the same."
"You are assuming that Darling was present at the excavation and stole a body?"
Slightly gave a dark chuckle. "I would not put it past her."
"But do you know that for a fact?" Peter asked. He ran one finger along each of the carefully formed "x's" he had made next to each catalogue number until he came to one highlighted in yellow. "It is dangerous to assume."
"Facts? What facts about Darling's past can truly ever be known? She won't speak a word of it to anyone and, as far as we know, she was the only one who survived."
"Well, that's going to be a problem, then. As I was saying, there is the one Darling has been using for DNA, there is the one that went missing from the Barzakh, and, unless you've already taken care of it, I am assuming Tiger Lily the Second is still buried in Garden City somewhere?"
Slightly's mouth fell open and he knocked his forehead with his palm. "By Hook's claws, you are right! I had not considered that! I do not know what happened to her body after she died. It was before my time and all I know comes from Tootles...and he only found out about it after that Tiger Lily died."
"Well, my point is that we have up to three bodies missing and at least one of those requires Darling's cooperation."
Slightly groaned and then brightened up and snapped his fingers. "I'll bet Garden City will have records of all the burials in its archives. Let me get you her formal name and date of death and then you can go poke around the city to see if you can find anything."
"And the others?"
"Ugh. There's no way around it. We will need to talk to Darling and hope we keep our heads on our shoulders. I wonder if we should try together…or flip a coin over which of us should go."
"I nominate you," Peter answered.
"A coin it is!"
"Or we could guess where Darling keeps her DNA samples and we could break in to steal it?"
Slightly shook his head. "Heads or tails?"
"You know, I think you owe me. After all, I did agree to do all your dirty work for you. I think this one is on you."
Slightly grinned. "Come on, Peter. Heads or tails?"
"Fine. Heads."
"An excellent choice!"
Oooooo
Author's notes: We are getting closer...four or five chapters left!
Be aware…if the perspectives and points of views of my characters contradict or are inconsistent, it is usually because none of my characters are omniscient. Each has partial information and a skewed perspective and so they can come to conclusions that are sometimes right, and sometimes wrong.
I should also note that Bell and Michael arrive in Scotland around the beginning of February, 2416…meaning all my dates in 2015 may be closer or farther from that date depending on what month they occur in. ;0)
