Chapter 87: Tale as Old as Time

Wendy slammed onto her back.

She pushed up. But Peter shoved her back down.

"Don't!" Wendy reached against Peter as he pulled the trap door shut. "Don't! I'm not leaving Jim! He may be still down there! Don't close the – "

BANG!

"How dare you!"

The trap door fell, slamming against the threshold of the Underworld.

Enraged, Wendy darted for the trapdoor handle. Anticipating the move, Peter slammed his foot down. Again, the door slammed.

"That's enough!" Still holding the handle, Wendy pushed Peter's knee. "Get off! I am going back for Jim and you can't stop me! Oh! Oh!—Peter!"

Shaking his head, Peter took Wendy's wrists. Businesslike, he crouched, slung her over his shoulder, and flew away from the trapdoor.

"Peter!" Wendy kicked. Twisting, she pried at his elbow. It stuck like a rusty joint. Infuriated, she switched to threats. "Let me go! Let me go! Ohhhhh if you had your shadow I'd –"

"—shhh!"

"—I'd take! I'd take it right off your –"

"Shhh! Quiet Wendy!"

Peter dropped. Hitting the floor, he gathered Wendy quite nimbly despite the speed she lurched off his shoulder. So concentrated was Peter on the perceived danger, Wendy nearly escaped.

"Hey!" Peter hissed. Zipping up, he grabbed her arm. "Quiet! There's someone ahead!"

Wendy flinched as he squeezed the bruises left by her father. Disregarding his concern, she batted away Peter's hand. "I don't care! I don't care if you – mwmnwhm!"

"Quiet!" Hand covering Wendy's mouth, he lowered to the ground. Wendy struggled for a moment, but calmed as she noticed their surroundings.

They were in a wine cellar. A stone chamber filled with a treasure trove of liquors gleaming on redwood racks and mahogany shelves. There were rows and rows, a library of wines and palates.

Wendy shifted, turning to where Peter was looking.

A soft, warm glow filled the far corner. Wendy's heart skipped. People were talking, but in urgent whispers, as if they knew trespassers had invaded the cellar.

Pressing against Peter, Wendy breathed deep.

Suddenly…she smelled something… wonderful. Spicy. Meaty. Succulent. Sweet.

Spaghetti sauce.

Reminded that she was hungry, Wendy's stomach rumbled.

"Shhhhhhh." Peter soothed, pressing his hand into her stomach. Gently, he rubbed, making smooth circles around her belly button. "Shhhhhh."

Wendy frowned. Still angry, and embarrassed for the rumbling, she twisted from Peter's hand.

Peter turned, dropping his guard.

"What's your problem?" he hissed, squeezing his hand over Wendy's mouth. Tilting his elbow, he forced her gaze. "I'm trying to help! Silver said that Rat Tail joined the villains. You heard it. I heard it. Get over it! Stop treating him like some hero! Rat Tail doesn't care about me, us, or you Wendy! He doesn't! And I…I…"

"Freeze! Imposter!"

Thud.

Peter jerked. Then, eyes rolling back, he fell forward onto Wendy.

"Peter?"

Difficultly, Wendy pushed him up by both shoulders. Peter's head hung and his lower body sagged. He was unconscious.

"Oh no. Oh no. Peter! Peter wake up!"

"Night, night time for the imposture!" said the attacker, with a slurred little laugh. Hastily, Wendy tried to move, dragging Peter with her. The person, whoever it was, sounded drunk.

But, Peter was too cumbersome, and when Wendy turned, she came face to face with the base of a thick wine bottle.

The attacker moved, leaning to the side.

Wendy blinked.

"Edna Mode?"

Edna grinned. Lopsidedly, she brandished the wine bottle like a club. "Ha! Well, hello Dahling! Hello! Come to trespass from the Underworld I see?"

Wendy eyed the wine bottle. She felt the bump forming under Peter's hair. "—No, you misunderstand—"

Edna swung the bottle. "No one outsmarts Edna Mode!"

Wendy ducked. "—I –"

"—villains from the Underworld or not!"

"—Miss Mode—"

"So my Dahling!" Edna said, zapping to attention and raising the bottle dramatically overhead. "Prepare to die!"

"What?!"

Wendy turned, covering Peter's head.

But the blow never came.

Instead, a soft, beefy finger touched her cheek.

"Guendalina?"

Wendy opened her eyes. Peter's hair tickled her nose as she looked up.

"…Tony?"

"Mamma mia! Joe! Joe! Vieni qui! Come-a- here! Tis little Guendalina! Giacomo's Guendalina! Alive! A student – she is alive! And our own Guendalina! Joe! Joe!"

With the speed and care as if he were spinning pizza dough, Tony scooped up Peter in one arm and hugged Wendy with the other. Edna mode spun away deliriously with the wine bottle as Joe tried to steer her steady, all the while beaming at Wendy.

Muttering warmly in Italian, Tony guided Wendy through the maze of shelves. In three winding steps, they were suffused with the smell of pasta sauce simmering in an oil lamp's glow.

As they approached, two dogs lifted their heads. Wendy managed a fleeting glance of a lady and a tramp before Tony knelt, blocking her view.

"Set-a-here. Guendalina."

A red and white checkered cloth waved over Wendy's shoulders. Gently, Tony tucked the ends under her chin, like a blanket. His eyes paused over her bruises before turning to the small pasta pot.

Wendy opened her mouth, but stopped as Tony pushed a mug of sauce into her hands.

"Manja." Tony ordered, handing her a spoon. He motioned, indicating that she should eat it like soup. "Tis hot, yes? Naked without the spaghetti, but hot. Manja!"

Wendy obeyed. Steam rolled up her face as she sipped the sauce. Her tongue exploded with the flavor and her stomach growled appreciatively. Turning to say thank you, Wendy stopped. Tony was attending to Peter, bunching a cloth under his neck.

Guiltily, Wendy looked at Peter. Setting down the mug, she knelt beside Tony. Tentatively, she touched Peter's forehead.

Tony jumped, not expecting Wendy's help. Gently, he drew her away. Replacing the checkered cloth around her shoulders, Tony whistled quick and low.

"Non ti preoccupare." Tony reassured, waiting as the lady cockerspanial responded to his whistle. He placed the little lady in Wendy's lap. The little dog licked Wendy's cheek. "The smallest banga-boom to the head. Ah… Eda-na il Mode…she is a tiger when she drinks the vino, no?"

Wendy was quiet. In the distance, Edna Mode was singing something about "gold-gold-beautiful-gold" and Joe was giving up trying to stop her.

Holding the lady close, Wendy gazed sadly at Peter. The scraggy tramp was sniffing the boy's messy hair.

Wendy shook her head. "If only I hadn't…" Trying not to cry as Tony seated beside her, Wendy hugged the little dog.

So much had happened.

She'd left her brother, Ariel, and countless others in the school. She'd lost her thimble to Facilier and Silver. She'd left Jim. She'd begun to doubt…to actually believe that Jim might have betrayed them. She'd relived the death of her mother. She'd brawled with Peter Pan…wished him away…the only boy that she had ever…

Wendy hid a sob through a rattling breath. She buried her forehead against the little dog.

Tony watched. Haggard patterns crossed his round face as he offered Wendy a sympathetic embrace.

"Non ti preoccupare. The Underworld…tis a place that-a drags at the soul."

Giving under the weight of Tony's arm, Wendy let herself be rested against the Italian's stomach.

"What is that place?" she whispered, thinking of the Underworld.

Tony shifted as the little lady hopped from her lap to join the tramp.

"The Underworld." Tony replied, overseeing the dogs as they nuzzled Peter tenderly. "Tis a place of the magic. Long alone. Long unlived. Lost of light. Lost of heart."

Wendy watched. Peter stirred as the dogs washed his face. "Is…are we in your restaurant?"

"A sí. Il cantina– the wine cellar. A snow storm – she blows through the windows with pirates and mosterous bad a boos! Safer down here."

Wendy's stomach clenched. Snow storm? Pirates? Monsters? She felt more hopeless than ever.

Breathing deep, Wendy returned to her previous question. "Why…why is there an entrance? To the Underworld? In your wine cellar?"

Tony paused. Contemplatively, he rubbed Wendy's shoulder.

"Tis a tale as old as time, Guendalina." he finally whispered, with a small reminiscent smile. "Old as Tony himself."

The tramp raised his head. He barked. Tony laughed and nodded. "Haha! Sí, Pooch! Sí!"

As the tramp yapped back and forth with Tony, Wendy remembered what Jim had said long, long ago on that bella note….that Tony was ancient….that he had magical powers…that he could talk to dogs.

"Can you…understand him? The dog?"

Tony paused. His belly clenched under Wendy's ear.

"Sí." Tony finally said. He sighed and his shoulders lifted from an invisible burden. Face glowing, he squeezed Wendy's shoulders. "A sí. My Mamma. She was a Strega. A witch. A magical mamma, il mamma of mine!"

Wendy sadly smiled. Watching Peter, she cuddled closer as Tony rocked back and forth. A story was coming.

"Strega Nona." Tony remembered, gazing upwards into his past. "She lived – we lived – when magic was a-rich in Fantasia! Ah…my mamma. She was the most magical witch BUT a cook she was first! A cook she was first! Ah, a cook magnifica! Saved Fantasia from a-going a-hungry with her magical, magical pasta pot!"

Wendy's head bounced as Tony laughed. His belly wagged up and down, and his laugher played like an accordion band. "Ah, Guendalina I remember! The food! Mama mia, the food! And Joe's papa – Big Anthony – assistant to my dear mamma! What magical troubles Big Anthony a-made for my mamma!"

Tony wiped his eyes. "Ahhhh. But my mamma – magical Strega she was – always she fixed things. And…we always ended with food. Magical, bellissima food! To connect us. To keep us protected and warm…"

Wendy fingered the mug of spaghetti sauce. The smell was still mouthwatering and divine, despite having been left in the cold.

"Is that why you have your restaurant?" Wendy asked, indicating the mug. "Did you mother teach you how to cook?"

Again Tony sighed. Reaching out, he waited for the tramp to nuzzle his fingers.

"No, Guendalina. No. But…always I wished it."

Wendy turned, surprised. She waited as Tony stroked the tramp.

Finally, Tony spoke. "Joe, Eda-na, and myself…we lived long, long ago between a-changing times. Magic – she was a-dying. A-fewer and a-fewer children were being born with magic power, like my mamma."

"But…you were?" Wendy guessed, nodding at the tramp. "You were born with magic?"

"Sí." Tony said. "Sí. But the magic power, she shows herself when children are a-thirteen…a-fifteen…a-sixteen…a-seventeen…any-teen...I was a-sixteen…Giacomo's age. How old shall you be, Guendalina?"

"Fifteen. And a half."

The tramp snorted. Tony grinned and chuckled something about "looking a-like a bambina" before continuing.

"I so wished for my mamma's magical cooking power." said Tony, closing his eyes. "So wished it. But…our birthdays they came. Joe, forever would he be my amici – like his papa Big Anthony was to my mamma. Eda-na Mode: her magic was…eh…how do you say…stilista…? Eh…di moda…?"

"Fashion designer!" Edna Mode screeched. The wine bottles trembled. "Brilliant! Magnificent! Genius—!"

Her voice disappeared as she guzzled more Chianti, congratulating herself.

Tony smiled, waving a hand as Joe protested.

"Sí. But my magic was not to cook, as my mamma. My power…" Tony scratched the tramp's ear. "…was to talk. To the pooches."

Wendy regarded the tramp. Sweetly, she offered an arm. "Dogs can't talk…well…we can't understand them." The tramp smiled, enraptured as she rubbed his coarse fur. "I think that is a lovely magical power."

Tony agreed. Then, his voice darkened.

"But…as I say Guendalina…times they were a-troubled. One day...they came for my mamma. Put her in a cage, with magical ones. They told her to gather the shadows. Put the shadows in a star."

Tony closed his eyes. Painfully, he held a hand over his heart. "Then…the dogs they told me…they were going to kill my mamma. And all the magical ones. No more magic in Fantasia."

Wendy stopped breathing. She held Tony's hand. "What…what happened?"

Tony shook his head. "I told my mamma. And many a-things happened I did not understand. My mamma…the wizards…the witches…the magical ones ….they tried to save the magic. And the magic places."

Tony gestured behind, towards the trap door. "You ask why the Underworld is below my ristorante? The Underworld…opens to the land. And sea. But the ones on-a land….they were in danger of being found. And closed. Forever. So…my mamma and all the magical ones hid their magical power…and built homes over the Underworld holes."

"So…your mother built a restaurant?" Wendy guessed, looking up into the magnificent, ancient rafters. "Over the Underworld? To protect it?"

"Sí."

"Where are the others?"

Tony sighed. Then he shrugged. "So long…ago. And a child I was. But…Eda-na Mode…she built her fash-ion bus-i-ness over one. There are others…McDuck Bank…Snugg-a-ly Duckling…"

"The magic oven." Wendy murmured, remembering Jim's plan.

Tony did not understand the reference, but nodded. "Sí."

They sat silently, listening to Edna sing and Joe bicker.

Glumly, Wendy watched as the little lady snuggled next to Peter, using his head as a pillow.

"Tony?"

"Sí, Guendalina?"

Wendy pressed against his enormous stomach. "…your mother?"

A single, plump tear slid down Tony's cheek.

"She is an angel." Tony finally whispered. Tilting his head, Tony let the teardrop fall over his heart. "Magic is powerful. And it can be beautiful…so beautiful, it cannot hide from evil."

Wendy felt like crying. Never intending to hurt Tony, she tried to apologize.

But Tony would have none of it.

"Non ti preoccupare, little Guendalina!" Earnestly, Tony rubbed her shoulder until it was warm. "Long have I lived. Since ancient times – yes! And long have I waited for the Wishing Star to pass magical gifts to the students! And here! You are here! You and this boy…what is his name?"

Wendy spoke softly. "Peter."

"Pietro." continued Tony as the lady kneaded Peter's forehead. "You and Pietro can save Fantasia! Bring-a back the magic! Make it good! With your magic gifts. With your magic powers."

Hope churned through Tony, coloring his cheeks and raising his voice. "Guendalina…little Guendalina. What is your magic? From the Wishing Star?"

Wendy did not answer. The scared, paranoid feeling she'd grown to accept warned her not to speak.

But as Tony hugged her, the truth squeezed out.

And for the first time, Wendy Darling christened her magical gift and identity as one.

"I'm…a shadow worker.

Tony stopped. Astonished, he gazed at Wendy as she pulled away. But the astonishment was not fear. It was not terror.

It was…reverent. Awed.

Peter moaned. Groggily, he waved a hand at the lady, licking his eyebrows.

Wendy gazed.

"Peter…doesn't have his shadow." she finally said. She looked up as Peter struggled awake. "I…I took his shadow. And left it…somewhere. Somewhere I'm afraid to go."

Tony stared. His mouth lagged, as if he wasn't sure Wendy was real.

Helplessly, Wendy shook her head. "He doesn't have his shadow. And…if the Wishing Star breaks…I can't protect—"

"—Freeze! Imposter!"

'Tony!" Joe called, voice breaking in fear. "Tony! Tony! Monstro! Monstro! Monstro!"

Wendy jumped. Wine glasses exploded, shattering like blood bombs. Tramp and Lady growled, sprinting to Joe and Edna's aid.

Wendy lurched forward. Spinning her back, Tony grabbed a rolling pin.

"In the Underworld – who else-a was there?"

Wendy's eyes widened. Silver. Facilier. Facileir's shadow.

Joe screamed again. "Monstro! Monstro! Monstro!"

Tony nodded. Propelling Wendy towards the stairs, he raised the rolling pin before disappearing behind the exploding wine racks. "Run Guendalina! Protect Fantasia."

Wendy faltered. The noise was combustive, deafening.

She almost ran after Tony.

Then, a hand took hers.

"Peter!"

Peter squeezed, pulling her from the uproar. Behind them the racks fell like towers.

"Come on." he said, flying up the stairs. Wendy felt her toes leave the floor. "Shadow first. Fantasia second."