A/N: Elizabeth George Speare died on November 15th, 1994. While this story is set in that year, I'm not pinning it down to a single month. But then, Google won't launch until 1998, so there's no easy way for Emma or Aja to find out her status.

Chapter 17

Eyes wide with terror, Tamara froze.

For one half-mad moment, as the Shadow dived down, Wendy wondered whether Pan had, in fact, ordered it to rip out her own shadow, as he'd sometimes threatened he might if the fancy struck him. It wasn't a farfetched idea; she'd seen Pan turn the Shadow loose on more than a few boys during her time in Neverland. Usually, there had been some pretext for it: Pan would declare that the hapless victim had allowed a pirate scout to slip too close to the camp or failed to forage as many berries as the others. Sometimes, though, Pan simply… got bored. While Wendy's first shriek had been part of the role she was playing, her next was genuine.

And then, a strong, warm hand gripped her arm and a voice, urgent and authoritative shouted, "Run!"

Wendy didn't have much choice. The man they'd just met was dragging her along, and when she turned her head, she saw that he had Tamara's wrist in his other hand. Struggling to break loose would slow them all down, and if the Shadow intended to do more than just frighten them—

—Then it would have overtaken them already.

…Unless it was playing with them, as a cat would a mouse.

Wendy wasn't about to wait around to find out. Stumbling and trying to match her strides to that of her new companion, she ran.

"In here! Fast!"

As one, the three stepped inside some sort of enclosure. Wendy heard a door slam and suddenly, all was blessedly silent apart from their labored breathing.

"Are you two okay?" the man asked.

Tamara and Wendy looked at one another. Both nodded cautiously.

"Good. Um… for the record, this is my trailer. We can hunker down here until that thing moves on. Hopefully, it can't get in."

It could, Wendy knew. If the Shadow wanted to, it could slip through any hole or crack, no matter how tiny, and she doubted that this… trailer… was airtight. Of course, if the Shadow were truly bent on harming them, it would be upon them by now. This was all part of Pan's game. Or plan. Really, it wasn't as though there was much difference between the two.

"What was that thing?" Tamara asked, nearly whimpering.

The man shook his head. "Never seen anything quite like it before," he said. "But if I had to lay odds? I'd say it was magic."

"What?" Tamara gasped. "That's not possible. Magic's… card tricks, and pulling rabbits out of hats and making doves fly out of pans. It's not… flying shadows." She took a breath. "It's not real."

The man shook his head sadly. "There was a time that I used to believe that, too," he said. "Unfortunately, I learned better." He held out his hand. "Owen Flynn."

Tamara took it uncertainly. "Tamara Williams."

"Wendy Muir," Wendy said, trying out the alias John had provided her for the first time.

Owen's smile was tinged with sadness. "I wish I could say it was a pleasure."

Near the entrance to the park, John stared up into the trees nearby. Not all of the shade overhead was due to their leafy canopy. John focused on two slits of light that no sun had produced and swallowed hard. "Is it done?" he asked.

The shadow drifted lazily closer. "They are joined," it replied. "The future appears to be secure. But your role in this is not yet complete. You will wait for them to emerge and approach them with Pan's proposal."

John swallowed hard. "Suppose they refuse?"

"I don't believe they will. But their response is not something within your control. If they need a greater incentive, it can be provided. Perhaps by you, perhaps by another."

"Another?" John's eyes widened behind his round eyeglasses. "There are more…?"

"Agents?" the Shadow laughed. "Surely you don't believe that Pan would pin everything on one, or even two operatives. You know Peter Pan never fails. Do you imagine he has no contingency plan in the event that you should? You aren't the first fish Pan has tossed back in the sea. You won't be the last. Play your part properly and your brother's safety will be assured, regardless of the outcome. But if I should detect some lapse of… enthusiasm, something to show that your heart isn't in your performance…" His voice trailed off ominously, and John gulped again.

"I'll do what's needed," he said at a rush. "That is to say, I'll do my best."

"That's all that's required," the Shadow replied. "Nothing more, nothing less."

With that, it soared back into the branches. John mopped at his brow with a cloth handkerchief—one of the few affectations he retained from a childhood spent partly in Victorian London—and settled back to watch the trailer and wait.

By the time Owen had finished his story, Tamara's mouth was gaping open. "So, your father…?"

"As far as I know, he's still back in that town," Owen nodded. "I never saw him again, but if the mayor had let him go, I know he would have called me or turned up at Uncle Ronnie's as soon as he got free."

"But you've tried to go back," Wendy said.

Owen exhaled. "I haven't been able to find the place again," he said. "After I finished high school, I spent six weeks in the Maine wilderness looking. I remembered the last town we'd passed through, Dad and me—a place called Thomaston—we filled up with gas there. And once I went back there, I recognized a few of the businesses we'd driven past on our way to the woods. But once I hit the forest…" He shook his head. "I felt like I was close a couple of times, but I never did manage to find it again."

He leaned forward. "Now, I work as a nature photographer. It gives me an excuse to travel around. And every place I go, I keep hoping I'll find some hint of real magic, like there was back in that town. At one point, I thought I might find the answer on one of the Native reserves, or maybe in the bayou, but," he sighed, "while I've met a lot of fakes and more than a few people I'd freely say were either spiritual or scary insightful, I can't say I've encountered anyone or anything magical." His expression hardened. "Until now."

"Uh," Tamara frowned. "I mean, no offense, but this is LA. Maybe we blundered onto some horror movie set and we got spooked by some… cheesecloth or something."

"Cheesecloth is white," Owen pointed out. "It doesn't have glowing eyes. And I've seen enough on-location shoots to know that the filming area would be cordoned off. There'd have been vans and boom mikes and klieg lights around. Not to mention that as soon as we started screaming, somebody would've yelled 'cut' and either apologized to us, or, more likely, started screaming about how much money we'd cost them by spoiling their scene. That was magic."

"Tamara," Wendy thought it was time for her to speak up now, "I… I do think he could be right." She let out a deep breath. "John and I had another brother," she said, almost whispering. "He was carried off by a creature very much like that. Perhaps even the same one."

Tamara's eyes widened and Owen's face grew harder. "You never mentioned that," she said. "I-I mean I know we've only met recently, but I've known John for months and this is the first I'm hearing of another brother."

"Would you have believed either of us?" Wendy asked softly. "If you hadn't seen the Shadow for yourself?"

Tamara was silent.

Owen hesitated for a moment. Then he opened up a small refrigerator at his elbow and withdrew several cans of soda. "I think we have a lot to talk about," he said slowly, setting the cans on the table. He got up and walked several steps to a small cabinet, opened it, and took out a package of cookies. The cellophane crinkled loudly as he ripped it open. "And since we might be here for a while, I guess we might as well dig in…"

Aja had just been about to warm up with her guitar when Emma eased the auditorium door open. The blue-haired woman looked up with a smile. "Emma, right?" she asked, setting down the instrument. "How's it going?"

Emma froze. "Okay, I guess," she said. "Thanks. I… I didn't want to bother you. Sorry. I'll just…"

"No, it's fine!" Aja laughed. "Come on in!"

Emma took a step backwards. "No, seriously. It's okay. I…" She smiled sheepishly. "I was just trying to find a quieter place to do my homework. The dorm floor—"

"Too much noise?" Aja asked knowingly. "Guess some things never change."

Emma didn't think she'd ever get used to how… normal… these people were. "Um, actually, it's more like the bathroom's off the common area and you guys get better TV shows than I ever got to watch in Boston. I keep hanging out when I shouldn't be."

"Ah."

"B-but if you're rehearsing, I can go someplace else!" Emma said quickly.

Aja grinned. "I don't have anything to rehearse for. I was going to get a practice session in, but I can do that later. Do you usually work in here, or in one of the backstage rooms, like Joellen?"

"Uh… last time, I was backstage," Emma said, "but seriously, it doesn't matter. I just need to figure out this essay."

Aja glanced at the book Emma was clutching. "Hey, I remember that one," she said. "Do you like it?"

"More than I expected to," Emma admitted. "But it's still hard reading about how Kit just… doesn't fit in."

Aja nodded. "Been there, done that."

"You?" Emma blinked.

Aja shrugged. "When I was your age, well, I wasn't the only kid in my class with a Chinese mother and an American father, but when you add in that I was an orphan in a group home, kinda geeky, and already dying my hair blue?" Her smile widened. "Okay, that last bit was me owning my 'not fitting in'. I figured if everyone already thought I was a freak, I might as well go all the way. Jacqui and Emmett let me; they figured it was something I needed back then and maybe they were right."

"Jacqui and Emmett were your foster parents?" Emma asked.

"Yeah. Jerrica and Kimber's mom and dad," Aja said softly. "After my folks died, I got placed with them. I won't pretend we were best friends from the start," she added. "Jerrica and Kimber were pretty tight and I don't think they were thrilled with the idea of sharing their folks with a stranger."

"Been there," Emma said with feeling.

"They came around," Aja said. "But it was a lonely few weeks."

"I just worry that I'm reading too much into Kit," Emma said, tapping the book. "Like do I think she's lonely and scared because I am, or is that what…" she looked at the cover, "…what Elizabeth George Speare really meant us to see her?"

"You know," Aja said, "it would be a lot easier if we could just call her up and ask her."

"Could we?" Emma asked, brightening.

"Only if you can find her in the LA phone directory, and I don't even know if she lives here."

Emma groaned. "It was a thought."

"It wasn't a bad one. But you know, the thing about literature is, if you can find anything in the book to back up what you're seeing, you're on pretty solid ground. So, is there anything in there that supports your thoughts on Kit?"

"Only on practically every page!" Emma exclaimed, brightening.

"Well then give those as examples in your essay!" Aja said. "And hey, if you want me to look it over when you're done, maybe I can give you some tips."

Emma lowered her eyes. "Maybe," she said. "Thanks." She wouldn't, of course. Aja might be nice, but she was also a big-time star and she had to have better things to do than work on the essay. She'd already helped point her in the right direction. No, Emma thought, the rest had to be up to her. She smiled weakly and wondered why she felt guilty when Aja grinned back.

"It's quiet out there, now," Wendy ventured after some time had elapsed. "Perhaps, we might risk looking outside?"

"Oh, no way," Tamara exclaimed. "If I peek out the window, there's going to be a glowing magical eye peeking back at me. I know it's a trope that the black guy always dies first in horror movies, but this black girl isn't taking any chances!"

A sharp rap on the trailer door made all three of them freeze. Wendy sighed. "Oh, very well," she said, getting up.

"No," Owen said. "It's my trailer. I'll do it."

"That makes no sense," Wendy protested, but Owen was already hefting a large wooden bat out of bin she hadn't noticed earlier.

"By the way, Wendy," Tamara frowned, "I thought you were John's sister. How come you've got a different last name?"

Wendy was glad for John's coaching. "Because," she sighed, "it can be very tiresome sharing the same surname as a character in a popular book. John doesn't care, but I've decided to use Mother's maiden name for now and change it legally once I'm of age." A pang struck her. Would she ever truly be 'of age'? Or did Pan mean to keep her a child in Neverland forever once this task was done?

Tamara, however, broke into a startled laugh. "Wendy Darling?" she gasped. "Oh my god! No wonder!" She grinned. "I guess that explains why the shadow came looking for you. Probably needs you to sew it onto Peter Pan's foot!"

Wendy laughed weakly. "I suppose so," she murmured, thinking that her face might be looking quite green. One learned fairly quickly in Neverland never to joke about Pan or his Shadow, and while she had tried to make her way through the book John had given her, she'd been so incensed by the drivel that she'd shoved it into the deepest recess of her bookshelf before she'd got more than four chapters in.

Owen, however, was opening the door. "Am I glad to see you!" he said. "Did I get the day for the show wrong?"

John stepped inside the trailer. "I see you've met my sister," he said. "Hello, Wendy." He turned back to Owen.

"You're his sister?" Owen exclaimed.

"I knew she was going to be here today," John said smoothly. "Though I'm afraid the plug was pulled on the exhibition at the eleventh hour. A paperwork issue," he said, looking a bit embarrassed. "I was able to contact the other vendors, but when I tried your phone, there was no reply and no opportunity to leave a message."

Owen winced. "I never did figure out how to set up voicemail," he said apologetically. "We've… uh… had some excitement."

"A shadow," Wendy said. "John, it was horrible. So cold and cruel and…"

"Yes," John said, his expression serious. "I know."

"You… know?" Tamara said.

John sighed. "It's not the sort of thing one can generally discuss unless one's certain how the topic will be received. I'm still not entirely sure it's safe to bring up, but since you've encountered it, I suppose I'd best tell you what I know. For some time, now, I've been involved with hunting creatures like that."

"Hunting?" Owen repeated.

"Creatures like what?" Tamara asked.

"Magical creatures," John replied.

"Magic," Wendy repeated. "John, do say you're funning with us." She looked from Owen to Tamara and back to her brother. She had to do this properly. "When the Shadow was chasing us, I thought... I-I mean we all thought... but surely, I mean, now that we're out in the sunlight again, it... it couldn't have been. What I mean to say is that Magic simply can't be real. It can't!" For once, she was grateful that Pan had sometimes insisted she make up stories to quiet the younger Lost Ones when homesickness overtook them. She was drawing on that skill now, as she turned artful eyes on Owen. "Can it?"

John sent her a fleeting look of approval before he took a breath. "It would be more accurate to say that magic isn't native to this world," he said. "It doesn't belong here. I've been tasked with routing it out, and perhaps one day, finding its source. And destroying it."

Owen's eyes opened very wide and a wondering smile broke on his face. "Tell me more," he said, leaning forward intently.

John gave Tamara a lift home. "I'll be in touch when I can," he said, when he dropped her off.

"But… won't I see you at the Y this week?" she asked.

"Sadly, no," John replied. "I've already arranged for a replacement to take over my swimming classes." He shook his head. "They were only ever a cover for my other operations. But now, my work will be taking me farther afield. I'm afraid it will be some time before our paths cross again."

Tamara frowned. "But they will cross, right? I-I mean, knowing what I know now, I'm not just going back to… to…"

"Being a college student with part-time employment?" John asked with a smile. "For now, you must. From time to time, I may reach out to you with the suggestion of a skill you might seek to acquire. For the time being, though, I would urge you to continue with your existing plans. And as there will be a physical component to your training, I would suggest that you keep up with some form of sport."

"No problem," Tamara said. "I've been doing track and field since I was a high school sophomore. Not giving that up."

"I'm delighted to hear it."

Tamara opened the car door, then turned to John with an anxious look. "You won't forget me, John, will you, when the time to destroy the magic comes?"

John's smile broadened. "You're part of the Home Office, now, Tamara. You and Owen will both have your part to play when that day arrives. Be ready."

Tamara nodded solemnly. "I will be."

"I don't understand why you needed me for that," Wendy told John, once they were alone in the car. "Couldn't you have approached them on your own?"

John shook his head. "Owen, perhaps," he admitted. "Though it would have been more difficult. True, I could have still lied to him about a craft show—perhaps not at that park, but some other place where Pan's Shadow could strike with no other souls about, but as for Tamara…" His expression turned wistful. "Even children today are far more cynical about magic than we were, too quick to grow up and stop believing. Owen believes because it was shown to him and because his father was lost to him through it. Tamara has no such experience. She needed to be shown and I couldn't do it without making myself appear to be a fool. Or a masher," he added.

"A masher?" Despite her annoyance, Wendy's lips pulled into a teasing smile. "You?"

"We've been apart for years, Wendy," John reminded her. "For all you know, I might be. I'm not," he added hastily, "but Tamara can't know that. And if I were to try to lead her to some secluded place where the Shadow could reveal itself to her, but not to a crowded public, she'd surely protest. At that point, even if the Shadow did appear, she'd think it some trick on my part to, well, to gain her trust, or have her see me as a hero or some such."

Wendy nodded slowly. "She did think that it might have been a bit of cheesecloth or some… movie film work. Did she mean the sort of thing I've been watching on that television machine?"

"A bit more sophisticated than a magic lantern, isn't it?" John smiled. His expression turned serious. "You were needed in this, Wendy, because in this circumstance, Tamara trusted you more than me. And because Pan has it in his head that she and Owen unite in this and you were the catalyst that drew them together."

Wendy heaved a sigh. "Well, it's done now," she said. "So, Michael is free?"

"Not yet," John replied. "Uniting Owen and Tamara was a task Pan set for me, and I judged that using you to achieve it would be the likeliest way for me to succeed. But your task hasn't begun yet. It couldn't until you became familiar enough with this time and place to pass notice."

"And now?" Wendy asked nervously.

"Now, there's a girl in a foundling home whom you're to befriend. And later, when the time is right, you'll betray her."