Hi, my dear readers!

Thank you for the feedback and I'm happy that you still eager for updates, even if this story is longer than intended. But I think, you don't mind (laugh).

So, let's see how Mr. Darling confronts Dalton Ashford, to what Peter and his friends are up and that Victoria can be adventurously, too.

Have fun,

Yours Lywhn / Starflight

Chapter 71 – On with the Rescue Mission

George Darling felt a welcome sense of confidence as he followed Victoria into the viscount's study, steadied by a cold anger. A tall man with a scar on his left cheek, unkempt blond hair and a Scandinavian accent had waited for them at the manor's entrance and led them to the study, ignoring Victoria's statement that she "had no need for a guide." The man preceded them into the office.

Dalton, still formally attired, rose as they entered. "Victoria, Mr. Darling," he acknowledged his two visitors, then address the Dane. "Thank you, Mr. Anders, that is all."

Einar nodded. "I'll be outside, Milord," he said, then closed the door. For several heartbeats of an unpleasant silence, the men stared at each other. Then Victoria took a deep breath.

"Can you explain why those gorillas you hired would only allow me to enter under conditions? And why you sent that uncouth … Viking to escort us to your office?"

The young man sighed as if he speaking to a little child. "Dear Victoria, you of course know that I have a rather … um … unwilling guest here and his own men are not known for their civility. Thus my understandable precautions. And recalling our last meeting was anything but pleasant -"

"Bellowing at a lady in public – even shaking her like a doll – must have raised the ire of the more honorable men around us," she interrupted. "They may have been simple dock workers, but they have more decency in their little fingers than you have in your whole body!" Victoria now drew closer. "Have you completely lost your mind, Dalton? After all you've done over the last few days, now culminating in the abduction of Captain Andrews in order to kill him?"

Dalton scoffed. "So, you know of the ultimatum?" He dared a look at Mr. Darling. "And, if you know about it, then the brat must have informed you of it." He smiled wickedly. "AND, I can infer that the imp didn't fly back to Neverland like Shalford hinted but went to you." He still glared at Mr. Darling, whose mind was racing. Hook had told Ashford that Peter was on his way back to Neverland? Clever. So the captain had made the viscount think that he had lost? That Peter was out of reach for him? Better to leave it that way.

"The boy came to us, utterly beside himself after you kidnapped the man he regards as his father, and -"

"I know by now that Mr. Kempton – that scribbler you're so taken with, Victoria – interrupted my men's attempt to bring the boy back to the manor." Dalton glanced at his cousin. "Of course he took the brat to your friend's house, but -"

"Peter was injured! Your men made certain of it," George exaggerated the story to bring the viscount's attention back to himself. "His fairy and a lot of others came to our house and transported him back to his home only when it grew dark. I phoned my wife from Guildford station before I came to this not-so-peaceful residence, Viscount. The boy returned home to heal – and to recruit assistance for his friend." Mr. Darling drew nearer. "He is out of reach to you. Your ultimatum is for naught!"

Dalton had pressed his lips into a thin line; angry and uncertain if the older man spoke the truth. Then his thoughts shifted: George Darling was bluffing, as in poker. Well, two could play that game. "I don't believe the brat was injured. My men would have told me. But even if so, the ultimatum worked: You're here now – and I really want to make you pay for your lack of gratitude after all I did for your family! You -"

"What you did for my family? What a fiction!" George said in a tight voice. He stood by Victoria and fixed the viscount with a glare, cold, strong. "You kidnapped and drugged my daughter, you lied to her and to us concerning her 'rescue' and the supposed death of the man she loves – your own attempt at murder! You pursued my wife, and three of our boys through half of London, nearly causing an accident that could have killed them all! And now – now! – you abduct your rival, breaking my Wendy's heart! You, Viscount Ashford, are beneath contempt! Every member of Hook's crew is more honorable than you!"

Before Dalton could answer, Victoria pointed at the telephone. "One call to your father – or the police – and you're finished, dear cousin! You've done so much in front of witnesses that I'm sure they'd lock you up for the rest of your life, IF we told them. So, release Captain Andrews to us, before you end up in prison – or in a madhouse. Which could indeed happen when they learn that you stole a boy's blood so your old nanny could regain her youth, not to mention the claim that 'dragon-blood' will cure your father and yourself."

"But you know it's true, dear cousin," Dalton sneered.

"Yes – but who else would believe it?" Vicky retorted wryly. "Look at the calendar – This is the 20th Century! Magic is regarded as fantasy, a delusion. So you would tell them of an island among the stars and a boy who can fly – or an ordinary man they believe is from America is in truth a real pirate from two hundred years ago? Dear Dalton, they'd lock you up in a trice – and Brynna, too."

Dalton flushed, his eyes now slits. "But it won't bring Shalford back if I stay true to my ultimatum. And I haven't changed my plans."

"You would hang for murder!" Vicky snapped. "Ever thought how it would affect your parents to have an insane son? That he believed witches' tales from his old nanny and kidnapped and killed people because of it?" That struck home, and she knew it.

"Leave my parents out of this!" the viscount shouted; his hands balled into fists. "You never really cared for them."

"The feeling was mutual," the young woman replied, "but I am grateful that they took me in after my parents' death. And I do care enough to worry about their health if they learn what you did – even if it is only the official version."

"Hah, but what if the police hear a completely different story?" Dalton challenged.

"Whatever story you cooked up – there are too many witnesses who can firmly report what you did, just as Mr. Darling said. At least your deeds here in England can be tried in court!"

The two cousins glared at each other, Dalton scowling. George Darling realized that they had to go further, and so he spoke up again: "Milord, before you make a decision concerning Captain Andrews, you should consider your own position, which is not rosy, even without the crimes you committed." Before Ashford could answer, George turned to Victoria. "I think, my dear, the viscount and I should speak in private. Noting his tendency to blame everyone for his own mistakes, he might think that you present a threat to him if you learn what I know."

Victoria frowned. Mr. Darling had already mentioned on their ride to the manor that he wanted to speak alone with Dalton about something, but she hadn't agreed to it. Dalton was dangerous, she could see that, and might restrain himself if a family member were present. But then Mr. Darling had reminded her that someone had to find for the dragon-egg. This was her opportunity.

"Alright. I'll go upstairs and pack the rest of Wendy's belongings and my own." She indicated the large suitcase she'd brought along.

"Brynna or Olivia can do that," Dalton objected.

"Don't bother," Vicky snapped. "I'm perfectly capable of doing it myself. Don't think I'll set foot in this house again until you've recovered your sanity!" With those words she turned on her heel and stalked out of the room, banging the door behind her.

The room was silent. Then Dalton glanced at the older man. "You want to speak with me about my 'position'?" He snorted disparagingly. "I already heard that you were nosing around in our company's businesses -"

"I didn't 'nose' around in your company's businesses, Milord, but in yours! And there's the rub. The credit you acquired and were promised for new investments are based on false offers and unsigned contracts."

Ashford placed his hands on the desktop, leaning forward. "That's a lie!" he snarled.

"It's the truth, and I can prove it!" And then Mr. Darling sat without invitation and revealed what he had uncovered in his research …

* PP *

Victoria walked from the study to the entrance, ignoring the 'Viking' who loitered outside of Dalton's study. She was surprised at how thoroughly the discussion with her cousin had agitated her. She was warm with anger and shame – the latter because that egotistical and nasty blighter was related to her.

Reaching the entrance hall, she saw the slender figure of Brynna Lunette moving her direction, the strange pendant rested on her décolletage above the black dress. One of the strangers Dalton had hired was behind her, but left as his gaze found the young lady. Quickly Victoria assessed the woman. A part of her hoped that Peter (and Wendy) might have exaggerated Brynna's 'witchy' nature, but it was obvious that they had spoken truthfully. Lunette's once grey-white hair now showed black mixed with it, her face and throat were smoother. Brynna looked thirty years younger than the last time Victoria had seen her, but she was not the 'young woman' Wendy had seen.

So, whatever Brynna had mixed with Peter Pan's blood – it hadn't lasted. The woman was aging again. Quickly. So, Hook's suspicion that Lunette was seeking Peter was indeed true. She wanted the boy for his blood. And the ultimatum the henchman gave Peter said the same thing.

Vicky shuddered. To read about witchcraft and to see it in practice were two different 'pairs of shoes.' Her instinct told her to tread very carefully! She turned to meet the older woman.. "Brynna," she greeted the housekeeper. Even if Lunette was, in a strict sense, a household servant, her age and status in this household demanded that Victoria greet her first.

"Victoria," Brynna nodded; her voice strangely cold. "Mr. Alister informed me that you and Mr. Darling had arrived. So this isn't just a familial visit?"

'As if you didn't know!' the young lady thought. "Hardly," she replied. "I'm here to pack Wendy's and my own belongings." She passed her but Brynna laid a firm hand on her arm.

"That can be done by Olivia," Lunette suggested.

Victory gave the hand on her arm a glare before she lifted her eyes to the cold face. "Thank you for the offer, but I would rather do it myself. Who knows? Perhaps you hid some eye of newt in our clothes – or you might bewitch our undies to prevent us from having children." Gathering her skirts she crossed the entrance hall and headed toward the stair.

"You shouldn't believe everything people tell you," Brynna said sharply, following.

"I don't have to believe people, I can see it for myself," Vicky replied offhandedly. "Having trouble with your hairdresser?" She turned on the first step. "Or perhaps you could tell me the brand of face cream you use. The results are extraordinary – but not very long lasting, don't you agree?" She knew that she was being childish, probably baiting the tiger, but she was so angry about seeing what happened to older nanny they'd depended on so long – and how her influence had changed Dalton – that she didn't rein in her ire.

Lunette lifted both brows. "Be careful, young lady, you're walking on thin ice here." She gestured up the stairs. "If you desire to do the work of a servant, then – by all my means – go to your room and pack. I'll see to Miss Darling's clothes."

Victoria only exhaled loudly and ascended the stairs; Brynna on her heels. Exactly as Vicky had hoped. Then they parted – Lunette left to the guestrooms, Vicky to the right to the private chambers and her own room. A moment later she had tossed her hat and suitcase on the bed. But that was all she did for now. Taking a smaller carpetbag from her wardrobe, she peeked out into the hallway. Everything was silent. Slipping out of her boots and taking them in hand, she left her room and darted back to the staircase. Listening closely, she could hear noises from the room in the guest wing where Wendy had been staying. Brynna was indeed packing the girl's belongings. In other words, the 'witch-kitchen' where the dragon egg was kept was not occupied.

Now or never!

Silently, Victoria descended the stairs, glad that they didn't creak. Then she saw one of Dalton's henchmen.

Dammit! What now?

Pausing, seeking options, luck came to her aid. A door opened and Vicky saw Olivia Simpson enter the hallway. The man turned towards the maid, which gave Victoria an idea.

With only a quick bob of Victoria's head in Jackson's direction and a view of the carpetbag, Olivia understood that the young lady needed a momentary distraction. She took a deep breath, cleared her throat and addressed the hunter. "Oh, Mr. Jackson!" she called. As the man turned to her, she tried a shy smile. "Sir, I know it's not proper for a servant to ask a guest for an assist, but … I need two strong arms to … to … to move the range. I dropped a dishtowel behind it, and I fear it could catch fire when the oven gets too hot."

Jackson grinned magnanimously. "Need some help, lass? I'm happy to help." He walked toward the kitchen, and Olivia forced a smile, then led the way. She walked in front with a gentle sway of her hips, allowing his appreciative gaze over her slender, youthful figure. He never noticed Vicky on the staircase, who looked at him with disgust, but waited impatiently until they were gone.

Victoria rushed down the steps holding the carpetbag. With a pounding heart, she hastened to the door that would lead into the cellars and slipped through. The dim light lit the worn stone stairs; she put on her boots, and quickly descended, one hand on the wall. She'd only been here once as a young girl, when she was 'exploring' the manor together with Dalton. She remembered that the two doors to her left led to storerooms and the coal cellar. The other led down, where presumably Hook was locked up. For a moment she considered going to him first to let him know that help had arrived, quickly discarded that thought as this was her only chance to get the dragon egg. So she went directly to the fourth door at the end of the short hallway – the door they had never been allowed to open.

Seeing lock and knob, she saw that a padlock usually secured the door, but now only the latch was in use. Taking a deep breath, Vicky pulled it back – opening the door to Brynna's very private domain. Pushing the door open she carefully peeked in – and found herself peering into a pair of eyes behind spectacles. Startled, she gasped, then she realized it was: "Professor Hutchings?" she whispered.

The scholar momentarily gaped at the youthful red-headed beauty who had suddenly appeared on the threshold. "Lady Victoria?" he asked, and sighed in relief as the young woman nodded. "So, rescue 'as coom?"

Vicky slipped into the room. "Yes, I came with Mr. Darling – and a dozen pirates now wait outside for our signal if Mr. Darling can't talk sense with Dalton." She moistened her lips. "Have you seen Captain Hook? Is he down below?"

Hutchings nodded. "Aye. 'E's foin despite one o' Lunette's spells after 'e challenged 'er." He sighed. "Th' man 'as a temper, no question."

"Yes, so I've been told." Looking around, Victoria gulped. "Ye gods, I never thought it possible, but this really is a witch's-kitchen."

"In ev'ry sense of th' worrrd," Archibald agreed, spotting the carpetbag. "Fer th' young'un?" She nodded and he smiled. "Gud, quick now, before Brynna r'turns." He took her to the nest with the egg in the center – an egg larger than an ostrich egg. Its shell seemed to be made of many scales, and it was coming apart. Vicky bent over the 'nest' and gasped again, as her eyes met a single golden brown one looking out of the shell. One small nostril – golden red – was at an opening, then the second followed. "It's … it's hatching," she whispered in awe.

"Ach nooo!" Hutchings groaned, bending over the nest beside her. "No, little one, stay inside. 'Tis dangerous for y'ere." He glanced around. "Tha' egg be most 'ot." He found some long tongs. "I 'ope, tha'll do it. Open y'r bag now, so we c'n leave this madhouse."

"We can't leave – not without Mr. Darling and Captain Hook," Vicky protested but opened the carpetbag and crouched down beside the heated stone-nest.

"Th' pirates'll take care o' their own –" Hutchings stopped, hearing a loud 'crack' and a moment later a long scaly snout appeared before her face. Holding her breath, Vicky lifted her glance and her mouth formed a perfect 'O' as she looked on the extended blunt snout with golden-red scales. Large golden brown eyes beneath a brow ridge stared at her, and she was sure it was asking her a question. Then a long tongue slipped out and licked her cheek, while the dragonling squeaked. With clumsy movement, he pushed himself out of the rest of the shell, breaking it apart. He struggled and certainly would have fallen over if Victoria hadn't reached out to him. The body was warm and wet, the scales beneath her fingers felt smooth, even soft, and she turned her face away as a pair of little wings flapped twice. Then tiny claws were wrapped around her wrists and she saw that the amazing little creature was attempting to scramble into her arms.

Hutchings stared in awe at the beast, and tears welled up in his eyes. He was witnessing the birth of a real dragon! A miracle – a wonder! Had any human ever done this before? He felt deeply touched, and very protective. Vicky, too, didn't know what possessed her, for she pulled the dragonling into her arms and against her chest. The newborn seemed to cuddle closer with a throaty mewl and lay his snout on her shoulder; smelling her. Then Vicky felt it: the dragonling was trembling.

"I think he's cold," she said quietly.

"Certainly. 'E'd been warmed by th' 'ot stones and now feels th' cool air." Archibald slipped out of his jacket. "'Ere, wrap 'im up. 'E needs it."

Victoria pulled the garment around the damp little body, making cooing sounds, as the trembling continued. She spent a long moment holding the newborn dragon like this, rocking him like she would a human baby. Then she felt him wrap his long tail around her arm and his back legs around her waist, pressing his belly and chest against hers; close enough for her to feel his little heart beating. "He's so sweet!" she whispered.

"Aye, an' in a few years – or decades – 'e'll be large enough to fill the 'alf o' th' manor," Hutchings sighed; unaware of his wide grin as he touched its back.

Manor … That word reminded her where they were and their danger. "Let's go," she murmured. "Quick, before Brynna returns."

"Too late for that, girl! Did you really think you could trick me?"

The voice behind her was both irritated and amused. Still crouching, Victoria turned, and Hutchings straightened. Brynna Lunette stood on the threshold, Morton Wickham and Oscar Alister flanked her. The witch's cold eyes noted the beast nestled against the girl. "So, the creature has finally joined us. Dalton will be quite happy. And he will be even happier for his additional leverage." Then she gestured to the two men and stepped back.

"She wants t' lock us in!" Hutchings shouted, and started toward the door.

Lifting a hand, she barked a word and the scholar was hurled back. With a cry, he fell to his knees. The next moment, the door was slammed shut and bolted. They were locked in.

Victoria rose, holding the dragonling in her arms, and she did something very un-ladylike: She cursed – using language she didn't remember hearing before. Then she looked at Hutchings, who had risen. "What now?" she asked quietly.

"Noo?" Archibald shook his head in frustration. "Noo we wait f'r 'elp – ag'n!"

* PP * PP *

Rescue was on the way – one they hadn't guessed; one not even Lunette had anticipated. The tunnel was, of course, dark, damp; the floor uneven. It had been completely lined with brick, but its path through the hill and down into the soil toward the lower levels over three or more centuries had allowed some deterioration. Roots had slipped past the bricks, forcing the boys to hack them out of their way. The tunnel had also become home to many small creatures that lived beneath the earth – mainly spiders.

Wendy – carrying Bumblyn on her hip – remained near Peter, who didn't mind the creepy-crawlies. She clamped her jaw shut, determined not to squeak every time she saw one, but she had never seen so many large spiders as there were here. A lover of animals, she had never loved spiders. She gagged a few times following Nibs and Slightly through the tunnel and through the old webs. But she continued, keeping up with the boys: because this was how she would get to James. She knew that he was moments away from death. Much like the time she had ridden the unicorn to the foot of the volcano in Neverland, she wouldn't allow a few eight-legged beasties to keep her from his side!

"Uh-u-ugh!" Slightly quietly exclaimed, hacking at roots and avoiding webs. In the illumination of John's lamp, they all saw something larger than a spider rushing away. No-one – not even Peter – wanted to know what exactly it was.

"Hook said a secret tunnel – but this is a mole hole!" he grumbled. Tink, whose light clarified the roots they had to cut down, agreed vigorously.

"For very big moles," Nibs added and swung the cutlass again. Again his foresight in packing blades and lamps with them proved its usefulness.

"How far to the cellars?" Wendy ventured, trying to keep her voice steady, shuddering as something like a millepede crawled over her foot. She felt Bumblyn trembling.

John dug into his pocket for his compass. "We're still going south-east. The tunnel must have been dug straight from its opening to the manor. It's the shortest way, but how long we'll need … I don't know."

"What? You left without your beloved pocket watch Father gave you for Christmas?" Curly teased.

"We were in such a hurry, I only remembered the compass."

"Not far anymore will you have to go," a pixie informed, who just came back from scouting ahead. Cadan and ten of his warriors had gone before them. One of them had returned, skirted past Tink to Peter (most of the pixies couldn't get used to the thought that their kin and the fairies were no longer in conflict in Neverland.) "Word Cadan sends. The end of the tunnel is near. But a wall is there – a strong one made of wood."

Peter heaved a sigh of frustration. "Of course! What is a rescue without obstacles?"

"No problem, we chop it down like these … many … insistent … miserable … roots!" Nibs groused, hacking at every word.

"You sound frustrated?" Slightly jibed.

Wiping his forehead and leaving a brown-green streak behind, the other boy glared at him. "Why wouldn't I be? I'm a Lost Boy, not a lumberjack!" he said sarcastically.

"Well, you already look like a lumberjack," John replied.

Nibs huffed, "As do you, dear brother!"

"Aunt Millicent will love seeing us like this," Curly snickered, carrying Nibs' backpack, where three hilts stuck out the top.

"Don't remind me!" Slightly sighed. "I do love my mother, but her sense of propriety certainly ruins a lot of fun!"

"We all have our family peculiarities," Curly said, shaking his head and remembering George's math quizzes at the breakfast table.

"Yeah, especially this one," Slightly grumbled and glanced up. "The roof seems solid enough. If you can call this mixture of roots and bricks a roof at all."

"Don't complain – at least it hasn't fallen in," Nibs sighed.

Peter smiled at their badinage. Listening to the familiar bickering of his friends again was like coming home. The new Lost Boys had a different approach. This was an exchange he was used to; they had been something like a family. And he knew that he didn't want to be separated from them ever again. They were his family, no matter what.

He looked at Wendy. Seeing her in her Elvish clothes reminded him, too, of the time five years ago when she had still been a child - like him. Now, her clothes fit her differently. He once again saw that she had become a young woman – a … a grownup! Yet still they were sharing an adventure; she remained his friend, stayed loyal to him. She was the best girl he ever met –stronger, cleverer and far more reliable than even Maimie had been. And she had agreed to become his real mother and not a pretend one. He knew that she would not try to make him into something else but would accept him as he was – as Hook did.

And for the first time the prospect of remaining brought a feeling of warmth, and not cold dread.

He found himself listening to the pixie, Nibs and Slightly as they wondered how to remove the wall at the end of the tunnel. He shook his head, "Lost Boys, let's first get there, and see what we're facing, then we can decide what to do." Nibs and Slightly shrugged, the pixie threw his hands up, and continued forward.

"What if the wall is where James' father closed up the tunnel?" Wendy asked quietly.

"I don't think it's a blockade wall. Hook's father would have used stones for that," Peter replied. "Wood was probably used to keep the animals out. Let's have a closer look at it."

A dozen more yards and they saw Cadan, the other pixies and the 'wooden wall' in the dim light of the lamp. They had reached the end of the tunnel; or, rather, the entrance to the manor. Peter came forward and placed a hand on the wood. "John, come here with the lamp," he whispered over his shoulder.

John lifted the lantern. Both boys peered at the barrier, and John frowned. "I could be mistaken, but isn't it just boards?"

"Planks – or boards," Nibs mused.

"They barred the entrance with boards?" Curly asked surprised.

"That – or it's the back of a … a cabinet," Peter said and straightened. "Right! Nibs, Slightly, to work." He turned to Curly. "Give me one of the blades," he demanded, and the other boy opened the satchel with a grin.

"Peter Pan and the Lost Boys are coming!" Slightly announced and raised his cutlas like an axe.

* PP * PP *

In Dalton's study the atmosphere was not icy – it was harsh! The viscount stared furiously at a calm George Darling, who sat on the visitor chair, solid as the Bank of England, disclosing what he had discovered about the younger man's dodgy dealings. And Mr. Darling had been thorough. Dalton spoke through tight lips. "Is it now your plan to ruin me?" he asked sharply.

"You've taken all the steps in that direction yourself," George replied. "And even if I have the irrational but understandable desire for payback, I've never been led by my gut feelings. There are only three things I require: Let Captain Andrews return with Miss Victoria and me, stay away from my family and my children's friends. Finally, release the other gentleman now captive under your roof – Professor Hutchings – and the kidnapped beast accompany us. That's all I want for my silence. I think, you will have enough problems to resolve after that."

Ashford stared at him and began to smile without any humor. "You thought this all through, didn't you? Of course you did. You're a banker; your thoughts are limited by your numbers and charts. And this is your true weakness. I could pity you, but I don't. Everyone chooses his own way." He leaned back. "You see, Mr. Darling, you climbed up the career ladder with diligent hard work that kept you away from the more pleasant aspects of English life, and yet you always will be nothing more than a clerk. I, on the other hand, was born into the society you are so desperately trying to reach. I'm also the better businessman because I broke free from the limits which -"

Surprisingly, Wendy's father began to chuckle. In earlier times such taunts would have angered, even hurt George Darling, but he had learned a lot over the past twenty years. He appeared relaxed as he interrupted the viscount: "You, young man, may have been born into nobility, but you have proven that a 'gentleman' can be nothing more than a ruthless, spoiled boy. You broke free of society's limits? A lie to cover your crimes. And you make the fatal mistake of projecting your own low character onto others. I have absolutely NO desire to enter the nobility – and I'm more than happy that my daughter was spared that fate. And I reached my position within the Bank of England through hard work that brought me the true respect of my family and my colleagues – even my boss – and not by a twisted kind of birthright. And concerning who the better businessman is: I don't need to deceive others by making dodgy dealings to be successful."

"No, you got your little fortune by a miracle – literally," Dalton said with a nasty smile. "Your so-called inheritance from a fictional aunt in America is in truth a share of Hook's booty that your sons brought with them after their first adventure in Neverland. And -"

"And who is going to believe it? Neverland, pirates, mermaids, a treasure – this all was born in the fantasy of a young girl who wrote two books about it and drew a few pictures," George threw in, still calm. "And you accepted them as real – the reason for your deeds. Do you know how the authorities will view this? Lady Victoria was right. They would put you into a madhouse."

Dalton's eyes were two silver slits of fury. "And yet we both – we all! – know the truth. You, Mr. Darling, are nothing else than a simple thief and-"

"I'm no thief, Milord. I got a small fortune – I have used it to support my family, and the former owner is all right with it. I'm sure the same can't be said about your father if he learns how you betrayed his trust and soaked his companies."

For a long moment Ashford only stared at him "So you want to blackmail me," he stated flatly.

"No, Milord, I am trying to show you a way out of the financial swamp you've gotten yourself into. It's easy: You agree to my suggestion to let Captain Andrews, Professor Hutchings, Victoria and the dragon go and stay away from my family – meaning, completely away! And in return, your father and the banks will never learn from me what I discovered."

Dalton smiled an icy smile. "First Victoria and now even you have brought up my parents. But what if I don't care what my father thinks? What if he doesn't get as agitated as you think?" He placed his folded hands on the desktop. "You tell your boss whatever you want, I'm sure my father will forgive me the moment I can present him the healing potion for his debilitating illness. The end justifies the means – that was always his motto when handling problems, and mine as well." He cocked his head. "You are so mistaken. I have nothing to lose, but you could lose a lot. I know I have your cripple. Your absurd daughter would cry her pretty eyes out if he died. And given her 'noble heart' we know she also wants to help the old bookworm who – of this I'm convinced – helped her to escape the manor in the middle of the night -"

"That she had to escape at all is another crime," George interrupted. "You drugged her and kept her here against her will."

"That has yet to be proven," Dalton waved it off. "You and she can rather be grateful that I haven't pressed charges against her for stealing my motorcar. But I can forgive a little girl a prank, after all, the vehicle was returned to me. At least she isn't a true thief - like her father."

"Viscount Ashford, I advise you not to-" George began in a warning tone, but Dalton continued:

"- But to end this I make a suggestion: Hand over the information you certainly have neatly written down and I will let you go – you, and possibly Shalford."

"Then you let me go?" Mr. Darling echoed, disbelieving. "Do you intend to lock me up? And, what makes you think I brought the documents with me?"

"You left them at home?" Ashford chuckled darkly. "Clever – but not clever enough. I'm sure your family would hand the documents gladly over to get you and the cripple back, and-"

That was enough. George Darling bent forwards and lowered his voice into a dangerous whisper. "Be aware, Milord. Know that my wife will call the police if I'm not back by eleven o'clock. And I have left instructions with a messenger to deliver the documents I collected. And the same would happen the moment you try to blackmail my family!" He had said 'not before midnight', but a little pressure seemed necessary. This was a poker game with much at stake.

"You're sure?" Dalton reached for the receiver of the desk phone. "Let's test that now, what do you think?" He lifted the receiver and demanded to be linked to the household of George Darling, Bloomsbury, London.

George felt the tension rising in him, and determined to shout to Mary to give the documents instantly to Sir Edward. But nothing happened. After a minute and more the girl from the telephone exchange station reported that there was no answer at the residence. The banker frowned inwardly. Neither Mary nor the boys received the call? How could this be? Why? But this gave him another idea. Smiling triumphantly, he stated: "I suspected that it could come to this and left clear instructions. None of my family will answer the phone until I'm back with Captain Andrews and Professor Hutchings – by eleven o'clock."

Dalton stared at him, flushed. But before he could reply, there was a sharp knock at the study door, and Lunette stepped in.

"Dalton, a problem. I just caught Victoria in my … room downstairs – with Hutchings and the … egg." Her eyes flickered a few times to Mr. Darling, not knowing how much he had learned.

George rose as the woman entered, and recognized her as the housekeeper, who – indeed! – had grown younger. She appeared now to be in her fifties; Wendy had described her looking twenty after calling the 'Horned King.' So the nanny had aged perhaps thirty years over the last two days. This was a true witch, and it sent a shiver down his spine.

Dalton rose, too, and glared at her then his visitor. "Very clever, Mr. Darling. You sit here and try to blackmail me while my cousin shoves her nose in other people's business. What was your plan? She gets the dragonling and vanishes, while you arrange for Shalford's release?"

"No, I spoke the truth, to make a deal. A good one; but if you insist that everything be done the hard way, it's your choice!" George surprised himself, as he sounded calm yet stern.

The two men looked at each other, then Dalton acted as he always did when he felt cornered. He saw that Alister appearing at the door and ordered: "Mr. Alister, retrieve the captain. You, two of the men, Shalford, Mr. Darling and I will make a little trip to London!" He watched the man go and turned to Lunette. "The beast is ready? Then finish the potion -"

"Only if you bring me the boy!" Brynna snarled.

Dalton groaned, throwing up his hands. "Good God, Brynna, I don't know where the brat is. If he really returned to Neverland we'll have to go back to that cursed island and catch him there. It might be easier since that damned pirate-friend of his won't be there to protect him." He took out wallet and keys from the desk drawer and then slammed it shut. "But first I have to make certain that this banker here does nothing stupid! And that my father won't learn of my… 'adventures'."

The housekeeper crossed her arms. "No. You first go back to Neverland and catch the boy," she demanded.

The viscount frowned. "Brynna, I know you care for my father and me. The medicine is for our survival, so-"

"I care nothing for the old fool!" the older woman snarled; her eyes turning black. "And I have spoon fed you long enough. Keep your promise, nothing else matters!"

Dalton felt as if showered in ice water. What had Shalford said only two hours ago? That Lunette had turned into a witch and the woman, she once was, didn't exist anymore? It seemed the man had been right. A deal with the devil always came with a price – one's soul. But Dalton Ashford wasn't giving up. "If your affection for us was only pretense, so be it. But if you refuse to finish the potion, I'll tell my father how this fiasco was initiated by you – and I'm sure the police would be very interested in the odd cauldron you stole from Farnham church, and whatever else you have down there in your room."

Lunette gasped. "Are you threatening me?" she demanded.

"You wish to betray me, I have no other choice!" the viscount snapped back.

"What a delightful pair you are," George Darling murmured to himself humorlessly.

"Shut up!" Dalton snarled, then he glared at Brynna; his fury was born from deep disappointment. At the next moment tumult sounded from … from below, to be precise. "What in hell?" Ashford breathed.

"Maybe your dear cousin is raging," Brynna sneered.

Then a shot – muffled, but definitely a shot. Dalton whirled around to the banker. "What's going on here?" he demanded sharply.

"How should I know?" George answered. "Neither your cousin nor I had a gun," he said calmly, pulse racing. A shot! Two options: Mr. Alister had fired it or Hook's pirates had invaded the dungeons. George Darling couldn't tell what type of gun had fired.

Dalton paused, thinking hard, then he returned to his desk, opened a drawer and took out a small pistol. "You finish the potion and I'll take care of the rest!" he told Lunette, then he walked to the door. "After you," he said, indicating the woman, who swept out of the study with raised chin. Dalton put the pistol in his jacket pocket. "You stay here!" he commanded Mr. Darling, taking the key.

"I certainly will not," George said, rushing to Dalton and taking his arm.

Ashford was surprised. "Let go of me, man, or you'll regret it!" he ordered harshly.

George didn't answer but reached for the key in Dalton's hand. There was a brief struggle for the key, but Lunette returned to the doorway. "Enough!" she cried, both hands raised. George felt himself hurled through the air, falling hard in front of the desk. Gasping for air and trembling as though from electrical shock, he lay there. The door was slammed and locked.

Pocketing the key, the viscount growled: "If you think I'll be your pet poodle, George Darling, you're wrong!" He strode down the hall, Brynna on his heels. Morton Wickham and Kenly Fulsom were just entering the manor.

"What's going on?" Wickham asked.

"Follow me!" Dalton growled. "Are the grounds secured?"

"Einar is outside – with his rifle," Morton replied before he and Fulsom followed the viscount and the housekeeper. They all knew there was trouble afoot …

TBC…

Really, what a nice pair Dalton and Bryanna are. But Lunette really changed a lot, last but not least because of her becoming a real with and pledging loyalty to the evil. This always comes with a price. She and Ashford feel safe and think they have the upper hand. Well, it will be seen if their arrogance isn't the beginning of the ending…

And finally the dragonling has hatched. I hope, you like the little guy; I rather imagine him as cute (for a dragon). And Peter and his friends are creeping through the secret tunnel. Really, I don't want to switch place with them. Large spiders…. Uh!

In the next chapter the battle begins. Wendy shows one time more that it is really better to NOT meddle with her beloved pirate, Peter more or less admits what Hook means to him by now, the boys show that they still can be the wild kids from Neverland and Mr. Darling proves that even a decent banker can grow over himself.

I hope, you liked the new chapter and like always I would LOVE to get some reviews.

Have a nice weekend,

Love

Yours Lywhn / Starflight