Hi, my dear readers,
I'm so sorry for the delayed update, but business kept my dear beta-reader Cheetah and me busy enough to wish for 30 hours per day and not 24 (smile). Yet I hope the waiting worth it.
Thank you so much for the reviews, I'm happy that you still like the story so much, even if it has become darker by now. And a little warning: the new chapter will be an emotional rollercoaster.
Have fun,
Yours Lywhn / Starflight
Chapter 33 – Interlude
While in the north of Surrey Bumblyn tried to comfort a copiously weeping she-Brownie, Nissa, the new (old) allies on Neverland had a pow-wow. They couldn't simply row to the Jolly Roger, set sails and call the fairies to do the rest. Though all were impatient to get to work – especially Hook – preparations had to be made.
The fire damages had to be repaired. They knew London's April weather was unseasonably cold, including an April snow. It was unrealistic (even in Neverland) to think the broken windows could be replaced, but at least the windows could be covered. The damage to the cannon and the deck below had yet to be assessed. The ship's safety came first, after all a crew depended on a sound vessel.
Additionally the Jolly Roger needed provisions, as they would be sailing into unknown territory. Hook hated to shop (much preferring, of course, to plunder.) And even if they chose to purchase among the "natives," there was the matter of payment – a problem the boys kept to themselves for the time being. They thought it better not to tell him right away that the two large overflowing treasure chests he kept hidden in the secret chamber deep in the ship's belly wouldn't help at all. The day of Spanish doubloons and Silver Pounds was long past, and trading jewels for local coinage would eventually attract unwanted official attention. But this was an issue they would face later.
Then there was Niam's revelation that Hook and his men could not return to Neverland once they left. And another important detail: everything James had used to make the Black Castle livable and wanted to keep had to be returned to the ship.
As eager as all were to pursue Ashford and free the viscount's captives, the pirates couldn't run blindly into adventure in another world. Arrangements were necessary before the fabulous galleon could weigh anchor one last time in the Never Sea. Hook signaled the crew to bring the ship closer to the Black Castle using three shots in succession. The answer came promptly with three shots from the ship, confirmed by Hook with two last shots, handing them back to his men for reloading.
The two dragons had remained, watching and listening closely. Ayden was, if anything, even more impatient than Hook at the delay, and he made no secret about it. He and Hook would certainly have clashed again, if it not for the intervention of Anala and Niam preventing the altercation. And both females were growing impatient with the two short-tempered alpha-males, as well as the stressed unicorn.
Finally, the colder temperatures forced Ayden and his mate back to Dragon Valley. The dragon-lord knew (but would never admit) that this gruff, insolent one-handed mortal was right: lizards could not tolerate the cold. [Note: Something that would later be called 'metabolism' decreased in cold-blooded creatures and made even the overheated dragons drowsy.]
Announcing that he would only allow the men and boys to travel to the Mainland to rescue his son, Ayden took the air together with Anala. Of course, Hook (who had to have the last word) sneered that he didn't need the permission of an oversized flying iguana to do what was necessary. Fortunately, the dragons were already out of earshot.
Hook breathed "Finally!" and glared at Niam, still annoyed that the fairy queen's chief concern lay with Peter's importance for Neverland's survival, and not with the boy's well-being. Peter would be devastated if he couldn't return because of 'some stupid rule,' and Hook was hellbent to get the youth back to the island before the gates of this children's paradise were closed to its little prince. As much as James loved Wendy, he also knew that she was in no real danger at the moment – unlike Pan. Hook knew the boy would be major trouble to the viscount. What consequences the man might invent … the captain suppressed the shudder and put that thought behind him.
Other dark thoughts assailed him as he, his men and the boys finally entered the habitable part of the ruined castle. They didn't get far when the entire pod of Hobgoblins raced towards them. The first was an older Hobgoblin Hook had seen before. It was the same who negotiated with him after the disaster with Bumblyn, Wendy and Cookson in the castle's kitchen during 'the Battle.' Only this time he wasn't waving a white flag, but instead looked … concerned? What …?
"There y' are, Captain!" he called out. "Helpin' y' must our brave Bumblyn! With th' girl and th' boy he went-"
"WHAT?" James' eyes went wide at this news. "That troublemaker did what?"
The older Hobgoblin scowled, answering: "Brave and daring Bumblyn went with the two t'roo the portal to the ot'r world. Alone he be there now and-"
"Bumblyn went with Wendy—" "- and Peter?" the Twins squeaked.
"Then the two aren't alone! There's a friend with them!" Curly beamed.
"I'll bet he eats the viscount out of house and home!" Tootles grinned, nudging Slightly.
"Or make things worse than they already are," Nibs sighed, while Tink nodded.
"He might be able to help them escape, or even look after the egg," Jumper mused.
Hook already had a headache from his fall and the arguments afterwards, but now, the tension had intensified it into a sharp throbbing behind his temples, and his chest ached where the bullet had impacted the dragon scale. Bumblyn, Neverland's own incarnation of chaos, was at the manor. He knew exactly how this Hobgoblin's 'help' might turn out. He looked at Smee as if it were his fault – after all, the old Irishman had even carried the Hobgoblin from the Indian beach to the ship and afterwards to the cliffs of the Black Castle, where the walking, talking stomach had the chance to slip through the portal. Smee just grimaced amusedly. James groaned and rubbed his temples with the metal claw and hand. "Bumblyn is with them. Angels and ministers of grace, defend us."
*** PP *** PP ***
At that moment on the Mainland, the 'incarnation of chaos' sat in a hideout deep inside the walls of the manor, attempting to comfort the wailing Brownie. Nissa's sobs finally decreased to a sniffling into one of the few stolen handkerchiefs. Bumblyn had told her all he knew of Hook, but skipped the details as to whom the man had lost his right hand. The Brownie was upset enough, learning that her beloved 'Master Jamie' had died only today. "During a fight it happened," he had said. "A hook replaced the hand – and so Captain Hook he was called afterwards."
"Hearing the dorcha bhiorach and the others talking about him, I did. The young lady – in her diary, write about him she did," Nissa murmured. "And … longing I did hear in her voice as she spoke to his painting."
"Loves him the Wendy-lady does," Bumblyn nodded and smiled, as her brown eyes widened. "And loving her he does, too." He bowed his head. "He did," he corrected himself before he sighed deeply. "Bumblyn fears her tears when she learns that she willna see him again."
Nissa wiped her still damp cheek. "Help her I will – for Master Jamie." She pulled her small shoulders back and nodded firmly.
"As will Bumblyn!" he affirmed. "The Wendy lady and Peter. And help they're needing now." Taking off his hat, he finger-combed his wild mop of red, wooly hair. "And Neverland more – my family's home – is in danger. Furious the dragon leader will be because the viscount stole his unborn son, and threaten the island he will now." He shook slowly his head. "What purpose the egg for the viscount – and for Peter?"
Nissa looked straight at him. "Answers to your questions I can give – not liking them at all," she whispered. And then she told him what she had heard in the corners over the last days…
*** PP ***
Ashford grimaced as Brynna stitched up the slice in his arm. Bryanna was gentle, he had to give her that, but it was a painful procedure. She had cleaned the cut with the torture of iodine and was now closing the oozing wound with needle and thread.
Washed, shirtless, and seated in his bedroom, the old woman threw him a frown as he flinched for the fifth time. "Keep still. Your man Russell got it worse. The wound on his calf is rather deep, and he was quite lucky that no tendons were severed. Yet it will need time to heal. And those scrapes on his hand – they look amiss. I don't like them."
"Are they inflamed?" he asked, and she nodded.
"Sort of. I cleaned them thoroughly but whatever the fantastical creature carried in her claws was toxic. He sleeps now, but his temperature has gone up. I hope it comes down by the evening, otherwise we'll have to do something serious to fight it." Finishing, she cut the thread and sighed, reaching for the gauze pad. "I can't believe that the girl attacked you – that she was quicker than you."
Dalton snorted. "She caught me off-guard, you know. She was, well … out of her head, obsessed, unwilling to be reasonable and obstinate about staying. Your estimation concerning the Fae's spell was correct. She -"
"And perhaps Archie's estimation was correct, too, you know," she interrupted, giving him a skeptical sneer. "It's possible the young lady was under no spell, but truly wanted to stay because she had feelings for the man." Dalton rolled his eyes, sure that no sane young woman would refuse his suit. She began to wrap his arm. "What will you tell her concerning the man's fate?"
Ashford sighed. "I'm not sure. She will certainly learn the truth when her brothers return. Perhaps I can bend the truth, that he was hit by a ricochet. It happens, and there was a lot going on. Perhaps I can convince her and the boys of this version."
Fixing the gauze with a knot, Bryanna lifted both brows. "That's another topic I want to discuss with you. You and the others barely escaped, but you came without the boys. Do you plan to go back to retrieve them? I don't think the island will accept your return, but the creatures there will make you pay for the damage you and your companions caused. The Fae are intensely resentful – and unforgiving."
Rolling his eyes again, Dalton groaned, "Please, Bryanna, not you too. Yes, I had to use some … questionable methods to rescue Wendy, get the egg and the boy, but we all knew that this 'expedition' wouldn't be a walk in the park." He shook his head, remembering their last few minutes on the fantasy island. "The tiny creatures fought well, and quite violently."
"They wanted to protect the boy. They see him as one of their own. It's no surprise that they reacted the way they did. I warned you not to underestimate them. But they aren't your only danger. Remember the dragons and their missing egg? They will tear you into tiny pieces given a chance."
He shuddered, remembering the roar that was closing in on them as they fled. Yet Ashford was, despite his recent deeds and the darkening of his character, 'a man of his word.' "I can't allow the boys to remain on the island. I read in Wendy's diaries that Neverland sinks into winter when Peter Pan is away. They're in real danger now."
Putting her kit away, Brynna looked at him frowning. "I can brew another bit of Miss Darling's blood to open the portal again, but you should let sleeping dragons lie. Another visit there and you could die. I recommend that you leave them where they are."
"What?" Dalton stared at her. "I gave the Darlings my word of honor-"
"Before you say or do something untoward, listen. The boys already returned from the island twice, so they can surely make the third return trip. And you would then have more time with Miss Darling."
"Both times that truant brought them back – but he is here now."
Bryanna asked, "Since you brought him up, what have you planned for him after I don't need him anymore?"
Another sigh. "I don't know. I fear that he'll cause more trouble if I send him home – especially after he saw how I shot his pirate friend. Wendy could learn the whole story from him. And I think he is not above revenge. And even if he is only a child with the ability to fly, he also can travel between the worlds. I don't want to watch my back for the rest of my life."
"Then let the fairies bring the boys back if they want to leave the island. Otherwise you will only run into a brick wall if you return to Neverland and they refuse to leave, just like today." She watched him closely, knowing that the 'honorable gentleman' he was expected to be was battling the ruthless man he was about to become.
The first character won. "Brew the potion, Brynna. I know that it will take a few days. Perhaps the boys will be home by then, and I can avoid another trip to Neverland. If not, I'll stick by my promise to get them back." He rose and opened the wardrobe.
"It's your decision," Lunette replied. "What about the boy?"
Dalton pulled out a fresh shirt. "When you don't need him anymore, I'll give him to an orphanage. We'll find one that isn't known for its gentility or following the letter of the law, because otherwise there will be difficulty explaining his origins. I'll look for the right institution after Easter."
The Welsh woman rose, also. "Be certain that this 'orphanage' is not around the next corner. The boy will be trouble, I'm sure, and we don't want to be involved with him."
"We'll see. I'll visit him when I'm done here. Maybe I can reason with him. If not, we'll just have to do things the hard way." He pulled out trousers and jacket, and turned to her, grinning like the boy he used to be, "May I dress alone, or do you want to help me for old times' sake?"
She laughed quietly, shaking her head. "After pirates, Faes and dragons? I think you can handle it." She turned to leave but glanced back. "When will you contact the Darlings?"
"Tomorrow after services. I hope I can calm Wendy after she wakens and can reason with your fellow Welshman. The professor is distressed, and I don't want him to ruin everything when the Darlings come here."
Brynna nodded, then left. She knew 'in her bones' that the real trouble was only beginning – and that its cause was down in the dungeons.
*** PP ***
It was cold and damp. Somewhere water dripped slowly, and it was silent all around. Even worse, it was dark, despite the dull light somewhere behind him.
Peter slowly opened his eyes and blinked into the twilight. His throat hurt – inside and out – and his sight was blurred. Rubbing his burning eyes, he became aware of two things: he felt beaten up and there was a rattling when he moved his arms.
The rattling of chains.
Lifting his head he looked around.
He lay on straw, covered with a blanket. He was in a dim chamber of shaped stone blocks, a door made of bars on the fourth wall, locked, if the chain and padlock were any hint. Beyond the bars, a door to a short narrow hallway lit by a torch fastened to the wall. He swallowed painfully. It reminded him strongly of the dungeons in the Black Castle, yet Peter could tell he wasn't in the old ruin. The smell was different. Worse, he couldn't feel the island's magic.
Lifting his wrists to look at the shackles, he saw the chains were fastened in a ring at the wall, long enough for some movement, but too short to reach the door. He was captive and chained!
Great. Usually he loved adventure but knowing that he wasn't in Neverland dampened his spirits considerably. That meant that he was alone.
As he slowly sat up, the blanket fell away, and he saw that he still wore his usual leafy clothes, but also a huge jacket, far – far! – too large for him, yet it kept the clammy chill at bay. The rest of him still bore traces of the soot from the fire. But before he could get clean again, he had to escape. Reaching for his knife, he found it missing. Of course, whoever held him captive wouldn't leave him with a weapon.
That led his wakening brain to the next important question: who captured him and why? It couldn't be Hook, after all, there was a truce and …
Peter's eyes widened as his memories came flooding in. The betrayal of the older boy with the fire-red hair… Hook who came to the rescue but was stopped by threat to his, Peter's, life … The opening portal, Hook's shout as he rushed forward, sword drawn and then the awful sound of a gun firing, the bullet striking the captain in the chest …
Hook lying on the ground.
Peter closed his eyes as these memories fell on him like stones.
Hook was dead! Shot by the viscount! Killed, because the captain wanted to save him and Wendy. Worse, Hook was dead because he, Peter, had brushed aside the pirate's warning and walked with arrogant open eyes into Ashford's trap. Hook had been forced to stay back to save Peter's life, and when the portal was opened, the captain had to act. It had cost him his life.
A sob escaped the boy as he saw the whole thing again and again repeating itself on his eyelids – Hook shot, falling dead to the ground. Again. Again. Again … The pain that seized him was as strong as the moment it happened.
"I'm sorry, James. I'm so, so sorry… I'm so sorry…" he croaked.
Falling back into the straw, he hugged his knees and pressed his fists against his mouth to stifle the scream rising from his broken heart. Guilt and grief overwhelmed him as he wept the captain's name, realizing that he had never apologized for what he had done to the man when he cut off his right hand. He had had the chance to do so many times – especially during their united battle against the dark wizard – but somehow it never happened. Once Hook had been out of earshot as Peter shouted his apology to him, another time the boy had been interrupted as he had wanted to ask the captain for forgiveness on the top of the volcano. And afterwards, when peace had returned and the sunny days had been full of fun and adventure, he'd forgotten about it. And now, too late!
Too late to apologize, too late to tell Hook that he wasn't 'that' old (though still a codfish), too late to tell him that he, Peter Pan, had come to see the captain as a friend. And if the boy had been brave enough to admit the truth to himself (a truth far too mature for his liking) he would have confessed that he held a child's affection for a grownup who was there for him when he needed one.
But now Hook was dead – and the boy didn't waste a thought about why he felt so much pain over a man's demise that he once had tried to bring about himself on many occasions. Rolled into a ball, sobbing, he lay there, shaken by a grief he had only felt once before, when he thought Tinker Bell dead. This pain, too, was all consuming, and Peter – for once just a small boy, alone, afraid and mourning – gave in to his feelings which were too strong to subdue.
"My, my, so many tears – for someone who tried so often to kill you. Are you always so forgiving?"
The voice pierced Peter's grief, and hastily blinking his tears away he looked up – straight into the pair of cool grey eyes in a cold handsome face on the other sides of the bars. The sight made his blood boil.
"YOU!" he shouted, jumping to his feet but able to go nowhere, glad for a target for his rage. Balling his fists he screamed, "You! You killed Hook, you filthy fiend! You craven coward, you KILLED MY FRIEND!"
Ashford peered at the boy. Just a boy standing in his basement, chained, dirty with grime, barefoot, tear-stained; eyes swollen with grief and crying, he felt something nagging his conscience. This was a child – a young boy who had lost someone dear to him, torn away from his home and locked up at an unknown location in the cold dark. It was no wonder that the youth reacted the way he did.
The right thing to do would be to transfer the boy into a guest room, explain to him what happened – and why – and then be certain he could return home after Lunette got what she needed. Yet …
Yet … all the trouble this jackanape had given him stopped the viscount from acting decently. Because of the boy's actions, he, Dalton Ashford, had been forced to do the worst to reach his goals. If the boy had just stayed out of the struggle that evening prior in the woods and at the beach, he wouldn't have been forced to lure Hook away from his ship by attacking the Indians. He wouldn't have had to creep aboard, set fire to the ship or fight off fairies and pixies. The reason everything had gone so far was only because this peppery little cockalorum couldn't stay out of Ashford's business!
And now this puny lout had the nerve to call him names and to scream at him just because his pirate friend was dead! A criminal who should have been hanged two centuries ago!
"Your friend?" he asked slowly. "You call a man who murdered, pillaged and looted a friend?"
"You did the same in Neverland!" Peter shot back. "And unlike you, Hook never destroyed the island, leaving death and injury in his path! Once we were enemies, but he fought with good form. And we learned to respect each other! He may have been a pirate, but he had more honor and bravery in his little finger than you have in your whole body, you grotesque imitation of a gentleman!"
"He showed good form? He had honor?" Dalton sneered, who felt his own temper rising to the challenge. On the one hand, he resented being compared to such a criminal, but on the other hand the boy's words had struck a chord. He, viscount, had shown bad form. And again he felt forced to act in bad form as he struck a low blow. "Would a real friend pinch your girlfriend?"
"My … what?" Peter asked, momentarily confused.
"Wendy," Ashford answered.
"Wendy is a girl and she's my friend, yes, but Hook didn't try to separate us." He glanced around. "Where IS she?" he demanded.
"Sleeping upstairs, in a soft, comfortable warm bed," the viscount said nonchalantly. "But back to the topic: Hook was after your good friend Wendy. You must have seen that," he drove the imaginary dagger deeper into the boy's already wounded soul. The sooner the youth learned and accepted the truth of his 'friend's' nasty nature, the better.
"I don't know what you mean with 'he was after her', but they were friends. I didn't like it first, but friendships happen. Nothing wrong with that," the youth said with distrust written all over his pretty but dirty face.
"Blind little fool," the Ashford taunted. "Wendy has grown up, even if you don't want to see it. And Hook wanted Wendy for himself. He flirted with her, ensnared her, tried to win her over. I was at the beach yesterday evening. I heard the soft music aboard, saw the candlelight in his quarters and-"
Peter's face flushed red with anger, ignoring the part about Wendy being grown. "'Tell you a secret, Ashford. Hook and Wendy both love music! And candles are used for light after nightfall. And I know that they teased each other, that he gave her a thimble or the other way around – because they liked each other. This is NORMAL between friends. But maybe you never had any real friends, so you'd never know that!" His voice was now a rough whisper.
Dalton had flinched at the last sentence, then he closed the distance to the door and looked down on the youth. "I have friends, boy! Probably more than you. And concerning your 'friend' Hook: he was the son of a traitor and became one himself – he even deluded you as he tried to win Wendy behind your back."
Peter narrowed his eyes, remembering a similar situation during the battle between him and the captain in the air. "I know what you're trying to do: you want to make me hate him. You want to manipulate me, but I won't fall for that trick. You sound just like that warlock who tried to get us to betray each other! I also know that you want her for yourself. Hook and I both knew this, so we tried to keep her safe. Wendy didn't want to have anything to do with you, and now even less. She will never marry someone who killed her friend. You will never be 'husband'."
A deep frown appeared on the viscount's forehead as he heard this statement for the third time now. Wendy couldn't love that cripple – never! "He was a villain she foolishly and childishly fell for, that's all. She will realize her mistake soon. Hook was a sneaky and malevolent fiend, who-"
"Don't. Talk. Bad. About. James!" Peter hissed. Something seemed to glow deep in the boy's eyes. "It was you who abducted Wendy! It was you who started the fire aboard the ship! It was you who chased the buffalos through Tiger-Lily's village! It was you who injured and killed my fairy-friends and the other Good Neighbors! It was you who shot Hook before he even had a chance to challenge you to a fair duel – because you're a coward!" His crystal blue eyes flashed, his hands in fists and shaking with fury.
"Watch your mouth, young man!" Ashford snapped, control slipping.
"I'm not a man, I'm a boy. I'm Peter Pan, the best there ever was, and I never hide behind lies or use bad form like you! Hook was my friend. He was there for me whenever I needed advice or help. He cared for me despite what I did to him all those times ago. He risked his health and his life for me on more than one occasion. You took him away from me – and I will get you for it! Mark my words. I. Will. Get. You for Killing. My. Friend!"
The youth was serious. Ashford blinked at the raw emotion in his face. He had been right about Peter's reaction – he wanted to avenge his dead friend. Yet Dalton refused to be afraid because a pint-sized boor swore vengeance. "Don't talk so big. YOU are the one in chains and far from home, so be cautious about whom YOU are threatening. Until this moment, I wanted to make it easy for you. After all, you're just a child, but don't push it. When we get from you what we want, I can send you to an orphanage where you might possibly grow into a reasonable man. I can also give the order to have you killed. Mr. Anders certainly would enjoy pulling the trigger. After all he sees you as no human, but a changeling. So I would keep my mouth shut if I were you." If he thought his threat would make Peter cower, then he hadn't learned enough from Wendy's diaries.
"You took away the only grownup I ever trusted! You stole me away from Neverland. And you kidnapped our Wendy! But one thing you can't do: you can't make me afraid," the youth replied, rising to his full height, fists on his hips, looking like one of the statues of a hero in a park. "I was never afraid to die. Hook could confirm that if you hadn't murdered him. And concerning Wendy: if she ever learns what you did, she will hate you forever! She liked Hook, she was protective of him, just like she is of me. We were a strong trio of friendship that you destroyed. She will never forgive you. And if you really are going to kill me, too, she will avenge us. She once nearly became a pirate herself – Red-Handed Jill – and she is clever, she is brave and she knows how to use a sword. It is you who should be careful!"
Yes, the girl knew how to handle a sword. The wound in his arm throbbed with the memory. Frowning he glared at his youthful captive. "We're no longer in Neverland. The ladies here don't use swords for vengeance—"
"Wendy is more than a lady. Or why do you think she was able to catch my attention – or Hook's? She is a lady and a pirate in one. And you're going to learn it soon enough!" Peter's voice had become a growl.
For a long moment both glared at each other, one uncertain but masking it with a deep frown, the other one confident and proud despite the chains. It was Ashford who broke the tight silence.
"I don't intend to tell her everything, and she will soon forget her silly girlish crush on Hook. Her time in Neverland will be nothing more than the memories of childhood – pleasant but in the past." He turned away, having made his decision. "And she will never know that you're here, so don't count on her freeing you. You're on your own – alone and far away from the wilderness you called home that you will never see ever again. Get used to your new situation and try to make the best of it, or you'll face the consequences."
"It's not Peter Pan who should be concerned here. I will avenge the death of James Hook one way or another. Death is not the worst fate," Peter hissed.
The viscount looked back at him one last time; a cold, almost cruel smile was on his usually handsome face. "That's true – so remember your own words when we don't need you anymore." With those words he left; the door closing heavily behind him.
Peter stared at the spot the man had stood. He knew that his own future didn't look bright. Not if he were forced to stay here for many days, and the way back to Neverland would be closed to him. But he still had some time.
Time!
That awful stuff measured by the clock inside the monster crocodile. When had time truly become his enemy?
Peter shook his head. He had no doubt that he would be free again soon, and then he would rescue Wendy and avenge Hook. He was still Peter Pan, the best there ever was, and Peter Pan never quit!
*** PP ***
Archibald Hutchings watched his fellow Welshman, Brynna Lunette. Here, in her own domain, she had prepared a nest of stones on the floor for the egg, setting glowing briquettes around it to finish the hatching process.
"To keep the young dragon warm enough until he's ready to hatch," she explained. Turning, she went to the large, old cauldron hanging over the fire in the open fireplace. She peered at the fluid that was softly bubbling in the cauldron. "The blood will be the last ingredient needed for the potion. Then, if all goes as planned, Dalton, his father and all their male descendants will be free of the curse."
Archie watched her working in the dim light, and another Scottish scene darted across his mind of three witches, bubble, bubble, toil and trouble. He quickly pushed the thought away, crossing his arms and pressing his lips into a thin line. He had washed and changed clothes, but hadn't eaten. He wanted to be sure that the egg and the boy were well cared for. And he wanted to speak with Lunette – the woman he thought he knew, but obviously didn't. Not when he remembered her reaction when she learned what her protégé had done and how easily she shrugged off Hutching's concerns.
"Are ye sure it be a curse?" he asked. "There're a few illnesses tha' can be inherited an'-"
"Dalton and his father were checked thoroughly by many doctors – the last examination was last year with the newest techniques medicine can offer. With no result. None have an explanation for the declining vitality of all male family members after they reach a certain age. Earl Maxwell, Dalton's father, is already pining away, and Dalton has confided to me that he sometimes feels dizzy and tired suddenly for no reason, as it did for his father and grandfather." She grimaced. "It always starts like this. I have begun to fetch the healing water from Mother Ludham's cave for him." She shook her head. "No, Archie, this is no illness, 'tis truly a curse, mayhap cast by the last Shalford woman, the mother of this ominous Captain Hook. She was Scottish and there was a rumor that she experimented with the dark powers. Regrettably she wasn't executed like her husband and her eldest son, but was sent into exile. She could be the one behind the curse – or someone else. The times were dark here on the island when all this happened."
Hutchings leaned his large hands on the table with the crystal ball. "Answer me a question, please. What be yer plans for th' boy?" She glanced at him sideways. "Ashford said that 'y' got the boy' like 'e got the young lady.' So, the boy was brought because y' want something from 'im. What is it?"
Brynna lifted both brows. "Not much – only a bit of his blood."
"What?" he asked, rising to his full height. The professor was sure that he hadn't heard her correctly.
"A bit of his blood, that's all. After that, he is of no use t' me anymore."
Hutchings gaped at her. "Ye … ye tore a boy away from 'is home, threw 'im into a dungeon and chained 'im up 'cuz y' need some of 'is blood? What're ye, a vampire?"
Lunette began to laugh. "No, Archie, no fear. I'm no vampire. Those creatures don't exist. And even if I were, don't you think that I would have plenty of prey here to feed on?" She shook her head, clearly amused.
"So, why this particular boy's blood?" he repeated.
"Particular boy, yes. He's the eternal boy – with eternal youth. Look at me, I'm old. I have a few years left, but with the boy's blood I can take on many, more years." She smiled wickedly. "I found the formula for a potion ten years ago that makes you young again and allows one to age much slower. I never thought I would have the chance to test it, but after Miss Darling came and I learned about the land of eternal youth, I knew that I could make my wish come true. I'm grateful to Dalton that he could lure the boy here."
"Dalton didn't 'lure' the boy but caught 'im into a trap; Anders threatened to slit the boy's throat! The child was forced to see his friend bein' murdered that gave 'im such a shock that 'e fell unconscious. 'As 'is misery no meaning for ye?" His bushy eyebrows were low over his brow as he spat the words.
Lunette lifted both thin eyebrows. "His misery? No. His background? Yes. Everyone suffers losses during his life. And those who take risks – adventures, as the boy would call them – face death. That's just the way it is. Maybe the boy learned a lesson from this adventure." Her voice was emotionless.
Shocked, secretly disgusted, Archibald murmured, "Wha' has become of you, Brynna lady? What has become of the woman I met all those years ago at a séance, proving her understanding of old natural secrets others call magic?"
Brynna frowned. "That same woman stands before you. I'm still the same. I only have been using the knowledge I've gained."
"Y' mean, you've increased your power by surrenderin' to th' black arts," Hutching said sadly, shaking his head. "We both know it exists; we've seen its devastation." He pointed at the egg. "I agreed t' this whole insane trip to another realm because you convinced me tha' a few drops of dragon blood provide th' only chance t' save th' young man who was once your charge."
"You agreed," she emphasized, "because you were dying with curiosity to learn if fairy realms and dragons truly existed. You agreed because you wanted to show the whole world that you were right and the other researchers were wrong – that dragons are no fantasy but living things. You agreed because you wanted to shut up all those men who laughed at you," she accused, driving her point home. "And now, when you're close to your goal, you hesitate?" She shook her head. "I don't think so. You're as ambitious as I am, Archibald, and-"
"Ambitious, yes, but there are limits," he said with irritation in his eyes and voice. "What th' viscount did on this island was not only wrong, 'e brought catastrophe for 'umans and Fae alike. 'E'en killed a man-"
Lunette threw her hands up in frustration. "Great gobbling goddess, yes, Dalton killed – a pirate nonetheless – but it was self-defense-"
"It was not!" Hutchings contradicted. "It was just murder, nothin' else – because 'e wanted to get rid of a rival. And now 'e holds a lad captive because ye want to brew some kind of elixir vitae from the boy's blood, of all thin's. I don't recognize ye na more! Once ye were proud of raisin' a 'noble boy' into a 'noble man', but there is nothin' noble in what yer charge did. Once ye were proud of being called a 'wise woman' – but now ye're nothin' but a common witch. I'm deeply disappointed in ye." He turned to leave.
"So, will you be tossing it all away?" she asked with a sneer.
He glanced back. "No, I won't leave – not yet. I'll stay 'til the baby is 'atched and ye got what ye want for the Ashfords' cure. But I will make certain that the li'l creature remains un'armed. And th' same for th' boy! Don't ye dare to 'urt 'im! And when ye're done, I will take care of the two – maybe findin' a way to return 'em 'ome." He reached for the door when her voice held him back one last time.
"You now belong now to a secret circle. Do y' really think you could simply walk away to your liking?"
Straightening his bulky figure, he snorted, "I may be an academic, but I'm not that naïve. But unlike Neverland, 'ere yer 'dear boy' would have problems with a dead body with an identity and an 'istory. People know where I am, and are expectin' me back. Be careful, or everythin' ye and 'e worked for so 'ard will go down the sewer."
He left without another word and banged the door closed. Lunette crossed her arms and pursed her lips. The hunters were right: Archibald Hutchings was about to become a problem. But one she would take care of later.
Outside Lunette's 'special room,' Hutching paused to collect himself with a few deep breaths, heart pounding, suspecting that he might have just signed his own death warrant. The next moment, he heard a door slam shut below, where the dungeons began, then feet climbed the stone stair. He heard angry murmurs, and recognized the viscount's voice. Quickly pressing himself into the darkness around a corner, he watched the young man, face red with anger, passing by in the corridor.
"Damn brat! He will learn what it means to offend and threaten me. Who does he think he is? Just wait and watch, boy, I put you down on your knees and into the dirt where you belong!"
Ashford vanished around the corner, and Hutchings emerged, looking down the dark stair. He hadn't heard the door to the dungeons being locked, so it was probably accessible. Pushing increasing anxiety into the back of his mind, he walked down the steps which were barely illuminated by two torches. Carefully he pushed the wooden door open. Flickering light of further torches showed him the way and a moment later he reached the single occupied cell.
He frowned when he saw the small figure sitting on the straw, wrapped in a blanket. The boy was hugging his knees, wrists caught in shackles and chained to the wall. He had dropped his face on his knees, thinking.
Dalton had gone too far! Archibald briefly considered calling the police and pressing charges against the viscount, the hunters and this madwoman he once admired so much. Then he realized what that would mean for the boy: courts, an orphanage, and the chance of returning to the island where he belonged would disappear. And what about the dragon egg? No one would seriously consider that it would soon hatch a dragon youngling! The 'object' would be removed to a storage area where it was far too cold to guarantee the dragonling's survival.
No, there had to be another way. Nothing came to mind that moment, but he wouldn't risk the doom of the unhatched youngling and the boy in front of him. And doomed they would be, for they didn't belong in this world. Never.
When Archie, thoughtfully scratched his whiskery cheek, the gentle noise attracted Peter's attention. Lifting his head he looked up and saw the bulky figure on the other side of the bars. He remembered the man: one of Ashford's henchmen!
Both stared at each other – the eternal youth and the old professor no one took seriously. It was Hutchings who broke the silence. "I'm sorry," he said softly. Peter looked him over, then snorted, not replying. "I dinna know what they planned," Archibald continued. "I tried t' help when I saw what they were doin', but-"
"You did nothing to prevent the destruction," Peter snapped. "You did nothing to stop those evil men from kidnapping Wendy and me – or killing Hook. You did nothing but talk!" His eyes narrowed. "Even now you only stand there. I surely don't need help from a coward."
"I tried t' stop Mr. Anders when he threatened your life, but th' others held me back. There was nothin' I could do after, 'cept give you m' jacket and demand a blanket," Hutchings said gently. "But tha's not all I will do," he added.
Peter frowned, snatching the large jacket sleeve. "This is your coat?" he asked skeptically, possibly remembering the man wearing it.
"Yes. You needed it in th' bad weather. Ye're surely not fitly clad for England at this time o' year," the professor explained.
The boy wiped the sleeve across his eyes. "I'm not thinking about clothes just now!"
"True," Hutchings sighed, "but I canna undo what's been done. No one can. We make decisions and find out later tha' they were a mistake. Tha'ss no excuse for what happened t' ye – or the fairies. I tried t' stop th' others."
"You mean, as they killed my friends, and many others who came to help," Peter growled. "They're dead now – dead like Hook!" His voice broke at the name, and the older man took a deep breath. He had been right. The pirate captain obviously had been a father figure for the boy.
"Yer friend, was 'e?" he asked softly. "Maybe more. I know how 'tis to lose a good man —"
A furious glare. "You know nothing!" Peter spat; grief and pain lingered behind the rage in his eyes.
"I lost m' father when I was ten – a bit younger than you. It left a mighty big 'ole no one was able t' fill." His voice remained gentle.
"Hook wasn't my father, I never had one! I never needed one! I don't need a stupid grownup who sends me to bed when it's far too early for it or who complains about noise I make when I'm playing. Hook was … a friend," Peter told him.
"Not yer actual father, but 'e filled that role for you – at least after y' overcame yer enmity," Archibald pointed out. "A father is more than a 'stupid grownup' married to yer mother and sends ye t' bed far too early. A father is someone ye can go to with yer problems. He listens, gives advice, comforts ye when ye're sad, stands up for ye when ye're in trouble. Yes, sometimes 'e gets angry when y' do something wrong, but only 'e wants to keep you from 'arm …"
"Or blows up when you play a prank on him," Peter murmured, remembering emptying the pitcher of water over the sleeping Hook and how the man reacted.
"Aye, tha' too, but later he laughs about it – or gives ye a good-natured payback."
Peter smiled sadly, tears forming, remembering how Hook pulled his leg in the Indian village concerning his 'beauty sleep'.
"A father can also 'ave fun with ye, play with ye when time allows. Some fathers'll teach y' how to build a kite with ye an' make it fly. Others might go fishin' with ye, or hike with ye through the mountains – or simply sit w' ye and share stories. A father teaches ye things y' need, not only th' stuff ye learn at school."
Peter gulped at the memory of when Hook told him about the natural cycle of water – how the rain brought the water to the mountains, to the rivers and streams, to the ocean, and back up to the clouds for the rain. James had afterwards grumbled he should go to school if he wanted to learn more, but the captain's tale was far better, and stuck in his mind as no school lessons could have done.
"He helps y' get new clothes when y' need 'em, and patches up bloody knees."
"Or feet …" Peter whispered; remembering how Hook bandaged his feet using his own shirt.
"Or feet," Hutching agreed, remembering the story he had read within Miss Darling's second diary. "'E shows then when ye think everythin' has gone wrong and 'elps ye back on your feet again."
"Or tricks a dark warlock to free you – or gives his life when a lousy bloke has a knife at your throat," Peter croaked; tears filled his eyes again. What this old man was saying sounded a lot like how he and Hook had grown closer. Chin quivering, he didn't know what to say. Hearing all this, he just might admit that Hook indeed had been … a kind of father to him. Now he saw it – admitted it. Now, when it was too late. Another drop ran down his still dirty cheek.
Archibald took another deep breath, eyes full of compassion for the youth. That one single tear screamed volumes, and the professor bowed his head against the bars. By all that was holy, the viscount had not only killed a rival, but also a father to the child. And the boy had not only been forced to watch his friend get shot, but he also realized only now what this man had meant to him.
Raising his head, his hands clutched the bars. Someone had to take care of the boy, and after the death of the captain, it was up to him – Archibald Hutchings – to help the child. It wouldn't lessen his own guilt, but at least he could help the boy return home. "I'll get ye out of 'ere," he said quietly. "Somehow, I'll get ye out and back to Neverland. You an' th' dragon babe. But we have to make a plan."
Peter wiped the tear away and looked up. His heart was still hurting, his soul bled, but there would be time later to mourn. First he had to get out of here, avenge Hook, rescue Wendy and the … Hold it. Dragon babe? "What dragon babe?" he asked, confounded.
The professor grimaced, knowing he had another confession to make. "We took a dragon egg with us. One tha's about t' hatch soon. The Lunette woman – the viscount's former nanny – wants t' brew a potion of th' dragon's blood t cure 'im and 'is father of an old curse."
Peter rose, eyes wide. "You stole a dragonling?" he asked, horrified. "Worse than that, an unhatched one?"
Hutching nodded, head hanging. "I know t'was wrong. If th' li'l one's parents want t' roast me for it, I understand. But standin' here and complainin' isna gonna 'elp anyone. You and th' hatchling have to be freed. An' then y' both have t' be sent back t' Neverland."
"Wendy comes with us," Peter said firmly. "I won't leave her to that scoundrel!" He frowned as another thought occurred to him. "Wendy … Hook. Great Fairy-Queen, Wendy will be devastated when she learns about Hook. She liked him and …" He shook his head and swallowed a sob, fighting the threatening tears.
Hutchings nodded, agreeing, then he straightened. "I'll think o' somethin' – you, too? From what I learned from th' lady's books, ye're a clever boy."
"The best there ever was," Peter affirmed with a hint of his old pride, and a distraction from the grief.
Archie nearly smiled, seeing through boy's bravado. Then he sighed. "Right. We'll both think of a way t' get this ridiculous situation under control again." He critically examined the tattered appearance of the youth. "But first, I'll find y' some warm socks and a heavy jumper. It'll keep you warmer than th' jacket."
"You … really do want to help?" Peter asked tentatively; wondering if he could trust this old grownup.
"Aye," Archibald nodded.
"Don't say that," Peter whispered.
"What's tha'?" the professor wanted to know, confused.
"That word – 'Aye'. Hook used it often. It … it sounds too much like him."
Hutchings nodded, swallowing the sudden lump in his throat, then ran his fingers through his tousled gray hair. "I'll return as soon as possible. An' we have t' be verra careful. If one of the others learns that I want to get ye out – you and the egg – they'll send us both away in different directions. I don' think they'll take it kindly when I go behin' their backs."
Peter nodded. He understood the risks the man was proposing to take, but he also bore some of the blame for what had happened. Yet the Prince of Neverland knew when to show manners, so he said quietly, "Thank you."
Hutchings nodded and turned away. And then Peter was alone again, the minutes slid slowly by and he heard absolutely nothing besides the dripping somewhere to his right and the flame of the flickering torch. The boy chewed at his lips; knowing that so many things could go wrong, and that Wendy, the dragon and he were still in dire straits. But pulling his mood back from the edge, he put his hands on his hips, proudly lifted his head and whispered, "This is an awfully big adventure!"
He wasn't aware of the eyes that watched him and the professor from the shadows …
TBC…
Yes, I know, it was a very emotional chapter – mainly for Peter, who faces a real loss for the first time ever (even if said 'loss' is very much alive and eager to come to London). And that he only now realizes what Hook had become for him since 'the Battle' certainly doesn't help, yet he is Peter Pan, and when something is too serious, he gets defiant. This time is no exception, but he will learn that defiance isn't always the best way to deal with problems.
Fortunately, Peter got an alley among Ashford's men, but – let's face it – Hutchings is not made for being the big hero, yet he will try. And that's more than Peter could expected to find in Ashford Manor.
In the next chapter Wendy will learn about James' assumed demise and you can certainly imagine, what this will do to her. Then Peter meets Nissa (and Bumblyn, of course), happy to have two members of the Good Neighbors with him, yet there isn't much they can do for now. Furthermore, James learns what damages had been done to his beloved ship and that he – a pirate – became a victim of robbery.
I hope, you liked the chapter despite that it is sad, but with Peter being captures and thinks Hook is dead, he – of course – feels cornered and devasted. And, what is a more positive aspect, he has realized the true relationship that had formed between him and Hook. It certainly will have a few impacts of the future.
Like always, I would love to get some reviews.
Have a nice weekend,
Love
Yours Lywhn / Starflight