Pan's Revenge (6 page)

As I hurry forward to look down at the sea,
there is no sign of the crazy woman anywhere. She just disappeared,
and even before any splash was to be heard. I shake my head.

The three
beans are still in my palm. I examine the tiny white things for a
minute, then I pick one and pop it in my mouth. It’s time to put
the fairy’s present to test. Ready to set a new course, this little
bean might just show me which.

Eyes closed, I hold my breath until Angel’s
image comes up bright and clear in my mind. In that vision, my
fingers slide through her silky black hair. I kiss her tender
heart-shaped mouth. Then I swallow.

The bean gets stuck in my throat, chocking
me. I cough it up and spit it into my hand. What the hell—

“Maybe you have to chew it first.”

I look up and find Smee standing a couple
feet away, leaning backward on the railing and rolling up the
sleeves of his black shirt. Too absorbed with the fairy’s visit, I
didn’t notice him standing there all along. “Maybe you’re
right.”

With a new surge of hope swamping me, I put
the bean between my teeth and bite down, thinking of Angel.
Immediately, a sour apple taste explodes in my mouth. I have the
feeling, if I open my lips, a gush of reddened saliva might come
out. Tiny bubbles burst everywhere, on my tongue, against the roof
of my mouth, at the top of my throat. It’s hard to swallow the
tingling mash.

When it goes
down, I wait for something to happen. For miraculously iterating
the right course to set and to reach a city called London in a
different world. But the only feeling that overcomes me, is a
quenching thirst. Hurrying to the rum storage under deck, I gulp
down half a bottle. The thirst stays. Maybe rum wasn’t the right
liquid. I try a jar of water next, but the burning feeling in my
throat doesn’t go away. Instead it spreads to my chest and upper
gut, the strange heat of it nearly killing me.

Breaking out in a sweat, I return on deck and
peel my shirt of in the light of the rising sun. The crew stares as
if a curse has come over me. Maybe that’s just what happened. I
need something to cool me down. Water. Or wind. Yes, wind should be
fine. Glancing wildly around, I find the place that pulls me in.
The highest mast on deck.

Swift and practiced steps up the net take me
to the very top. My lungs expand with a deep breath. But I’m still
not where I long to be. Lifting my gaze to the sky, I make out the
fading moon, opposite the sunrise. Naturally, it’s impossible to
fly to the moon—for a pirate anyway—but the brewing storm inside my
chest urges me to let go of the net and just try. My fingers ease
off the rope.

“James!”

Smee’s sharp
voice sucks my attention out of the sky and down to the main deck.
His face is horrorstruck. Hands cupped around his mouth, he shouts,
“What in the world are you doing, Cap’n?”

My gaze switches back and forth between him
and the waning moon that so eerily pulls me in. My grip tightens
around the ropes once more. Blow me down, what rode me to think I
could fly like Pan?

Warily, I make my way back down the mast.
Jack Smee puts his hands on my shoulders the moment my feet are
back on the floorboards. “Scuttle me bones, James. What the hell
was that?”

I have no answer for him, only a shake of my
head and a shrug.

“Did the bean do that to you?”

It’s possible. Most likely, even. “I’ve never
felt an urge so strong before.” Fishing the remaining two beans out
of my pocket, I open my palm and stare at them. “That’s devil’s
work, for sure.”

“Did it give you an idea where to go? Do you
know the right course now?”

I lift my head and lock determined eyes with
my first mate. “Hoist anchor, Smee. Set sails. We follow the
moon.”

HUNCHED OVER MY essay on Shakespeare’s King
Lear for English literature, I get distracted by the noises coming
from the room next door. Paulina and Brittney Renae are fighting
over yet another hairclip from a new princess magazine I bought
them on the way home from school. It’s hard to concentrate when
listening to one five-year-old twin calling the other an ugly toad.
A couple more years might have to pass until either of them
understands just how such an insult backfires. Biting the backend
of my pen, I chuckle then focus on the last paragraph on my page
and try to continue.

A drop falls
onto the paper. Onto to the words
his heart
in particular. The blue
ink blurs.

Confused, I lift my gaze to the ceiling to
see if water is dripping from there somehow. No sign of a leak. It
would have been strange in this noble mansion anyway. With a
tissue, I tab the damp spot on the sheet and write on. Only seconds
later, another drop lands on the paper. What the heck?

I wipe my hand over my cheek. There’s a wet
trail. Surprise makes me drop my pen. Why in the world am I crying?
I’m feeling alright.

Gazing out through the window above my desk,
I enjoy the warm caress of sunlight on my face. It’s almost the end
of March. Trees start to bloom, birds are chirping in the twigs,
the adorable scent of lilac drifts through my open balcony door.
There’s no reason at all to be sad, or worse to cry.

Maybe it’s
just a dust particle causing those tears. I squeeze my eyes shut
and rub my thumb and forefinger across them toward the bridge of my
nose. No more tears fall after that. But something strange freaks
me out just a second later. The faint
beat beat pause
of somebody’s
heart echoes in my ears. The sound repeats over and over. And it’s
not my own heart, I can tell, because it beats in a slight
disharmony.

Jerking up from my chair, I move a few steps
backward, away from my desk, but my gaze keeps focused on the small
drawer at the bottom right side. I know what’s in there, but it
can’t be that a glass heart suddenly starts to beat. Can it?

I rake my
hands through my hair. Obviously, I’ve been sitting over this
homework one hour to many. A break, that’s what I need. But the
consequent
beat beat
pause
draws me in like a beacon, slinging
its noose around my neck and pulling me forward. My fingers
trembling slightly, I open the drawer. At the back lies the red
glass heart. Of course it’s not beating. In fact, the sound has
stopped the moment I squatted in front of my desk ready to take a
look.

Very. Very. Creepy.

Slamming the drawer shut, I rise and walk out
into the wide carpeted hall on the first floor of our mansion.
Brittney Renae runs squealing out of her room and toward me. I
catch her, scoop her up, twist her in the hall and press her to my
chest. “What’s going on, fairy bug?”

“The toad wants to steal my hairclip.”
Pouting, she holds her tiny hand out to me, showing me the clip
with a Snow White image on it.

Only seconds later, Paulina joins us in front
of my room, folds her arms over her chest and taps her foot. “Put
her down, Angel. She has my hair clip. I want it back.”

My laughter spills out over how much
determination comes from that five-year-old. I set Brittney Renae
to her feet and take both girls by their hands. “Come on, get your
coats. We’re going out and I’ll get you another magazine, with
another hairclip.”

Both their
faces light up like birthday cakes. They hurry to slip into their
identical Alice in Wonderland shoes and red coats. With a quick
shout to Miss Lynda, our housekeeper, I usher the girls out the
front door.

EVERYTHING HURTS. I moan as I turn around in
a place that feels a lot like my bed in the tree. My eyes open
reluctantly. Colors swim in front of them, light fading in and out
of my vision.

“Loney! Quick, get the others. He’s waking
up!”

“Tami?” I croak through a sore throat,
identifying the voice as that of the pixie among my friends.

A cold, damp cloth is pressed to my forehead.
“Yes, Peter. It’s me. How are you feeling?”

“
Like a
dragon had me for lunch and spit me out again.” Trying to focus
without real success, I slowly drag my hands down my face.
Something on my cheek scratches my palms.
By the rainbows of Neverland
, what is that?

“And you look like exactly that happened to
you. Peter, what’s going on?”

“
You ask me
that?” A biting pain in my back makes me yelp as I sit up. It’s
gone quickly, but the aftermath leaves me breathless. I hunch
forward, resting my arms and forehead on my bent knees. “Why am I
hurting so badly? And how did I get here?” The last thing I
remember is looking into the mouth of Hook’s gun and then tossing
our father’s watch into the volcano. Anything after that is a
blurred image of colors and sounds. And loads of pain.

Goddammit! Did he shoot me?

“You didn’t come back from the boar hunt, so
after some time, the boys and I went looking for you. Toby found
you close to the tree house. You were unconscious and had so many
bruises. We didn’t know if we should even touch you, but we
couldn’t let you lie there either, so the boys carried you
home.”

My vision comes back. I tilt my head and look
at Tameeka’s worried elfin face. “How long have I been asleep? What
time is it?”

“It’s almost noon.” She gulps and the new
look on her face scares me. “Peter, you’ve been knocked out cold
for thirty-three days.”

The air freezes in my lungs. “And I’m still
alive?” This seems impossible.

“
At the
beginning, we tried to feed you berry mash and pour water down your
throat, but you choked on it and we almost lost you then. We didn’t
try to feed you after that.” Her soft hand strokes over my forehead
and down my cheek. “Peter, we were out of our minds. No one knew
when or if you would wake up again. The Lost Boys and I took turns
in keeping watch over you. They’re out on the hunt now but—” Her
eyes take on a more gleeful shine. “Oh, everyone will be so happy
to see you finally came around!”

“What’s that in my face?” I ask her, rubbing
my palm across my chin.

There’s a long pause before Tami answers.
“Stubble.”

“
What?”

“It started a couple of days ago.”

In her look I
can read there’s more. “What else?”

The pixie’s
wings sink behind her back. “You grew. About six
inches.”

This is impossible. Complete bullshit.
Throwing back the covers, I get out of bed, ignoring the pain that
comes with the movement. I jump from the booth to land on wobbly
legs. The moment I look down at myself and see how the hem of my
shirt has ridden up my belly, I know Tami was right. I grew. And I
sprouted a beard too. What the hell—

The pixie glides down beside me. Her hands
are clasped in front of her chest as my frightened gaze finds hers.
“You’re aging again, Peter,” she whispers.

“
No!”
The word is a painful croak.
“This can’t be.”

“It’s happening. I just don’t know what
brought it about.”

“
I
do.
” My voice has gone deathly cold.
“Hook.” Whatever it was that started this plight, it has something
to do with the pocket watch he forced me to destroy in the volcano.
“He found a way to end the standstill.” Pulling the too tight shirt
off over my head, I fling it aside and clench my teeth. “But I’m
the Pan!” Hands fisted, I fly through the hollow tree toward the
hole at the top. “I won’t grow up! Never!”

The warm wind
of a race through the sky slaps me in the face. At least, flying
still works. Beneath me, the jungle is a blurred sea of green.
Headed north, I pass Mermaid Lagoon and fly out over the ocean
three quarters of a mile. In front of me rise the peaks of the
treasures den, the waves splashing against their rocky
sides.

I land on the one with the hidden trap door
and start moving stones aside. Lifting the second one, my finger
gets crushed between two rocks. “Ouch!” I stick the finger in my
mouth and suck until the pulsing pain ceases. Then I pull it out
and stretch all fingers as I twist my hand in front of my face to
examine it.

My hands are bigger now, and so are my feet.
Coordinating my movements takes some adjusting. I stumble a few
times and have bruised knuckles before all the stones are carried
out of the way. By God, I swear Hook will pay for this. He’ll pay
dearly.

When the entrance is free, I pull on the
leather strap attached to the wood and the door flaps open. The
familiar scent of rusty silver and gold that usually wafts at my
face then is missing. I peek inside and my heart stops for a couple
of seconds. A small jet of daylight lands on the ground of the
cave. It’s empty.

With a racing heart that obviously tries to
make good on the missed beats, I glide down and stand in a shallow
water puddle. All around me there’s only rock face. The floor is
wet and deserted. Nothing of the treasure is left. Nothing but a
small chest that carried the pocket watch for so many years.

The ultimate betrayal.

James gave me the key to the watch so I could
free it and deliver it right into his hands. I don’t know how he
found out about this hiding place, but I sure can count one and one
together. Angel. She told him before she left Neverland. Now my
brother has it all. The treasure—and the satisfaction to see me
grow older.

Every muscle inside me tenses to an aching
point. I start to shake, the blood draining from my head and limbs.
Falling to my knees in the puddle, I lift my chin and fist my hands
at my sides. A soul-tearing cry bursts out of my lungs.

“
Hook, you bloody bastard! I’m going to
run a sword through your heart for this!”