I sink onto the bed and rub my eyes. Mysunkeneyes. Damn, I look like a monster. And Hook had the nerve to say I’m pretty? When I look like a ghoul? God, what if this is permanent? Whatif I’ll always look like I’m two days of sun out from being a full prune? I snatch a pillow from the bed and scream into it. And what was Nessie even talking about? Riddle after riddle. Magic?Ihave magic?
Holding my hand out, I say, “bibbipity fuckity boo” and snap my fingers. Nope. No magic.
“What was that supposed to be?” Widow leans against the doorframe.
“Thank heavens.” I jump up and drag her into the room, then sit her on the bed as I pace in front of her.
“This is nice.” She gives me a quizzical look. “But I rather like the little home I was assigned.” She hitches a thumb over her shoulder. “Running water and everything.”
“That’s great. Okay, you’re going to answer my questions, and—” I hold up a finger. “You willnotspeak in riddles.”
A wary look crosses her face. “All right. I’ll answer what I can.”
“Why do people keep referring to me as Peter’s boon?”
Her gaze darts away.
“Hey!” I stomp over so I’m in her line of sight again. “Tell me!”
She sucks on a tooth, then shrugs. “I can only tell you what I’ve heard.”
“That’s better than what I’ve got which is a whole heap of nothing.” I put my hands on my hips. “Go on.”
“I’m relatively new to Neverland. Sure, I’m part fairy, but just because I have an ancestor from here doesn’t mean I know a whole lot about the island. I mean, look, my wings didn’t evensprout until I got here—that’s how far back in the line my fairy is. It took the island’s magic to wake it up.”
“You’re stalling.”
“All right, look. This is what I think I know, but I can’t promise it’s the real deal. So take it with a pinch of salt over your shoulder.” She clears her throat. “The island grants wishes.”
I scratch the side of my head. “Okay, so …”
“So, when Peter Pan brought you over from the mainland, we all assumed it was in answer to a wish. It’s extremely uncommon for Peter to bring anyone from the mainland. They say the last time he did it, he brought?—”
“My great-great-great grandmother Wendy.” I finish for her.
“Right.”
“Was she a wish, too?”
“I don’t know.”
I glower at her.
She throws her hands up. “I really don’t know. You’d have to ask Peter. The island’s magic isn’t something people like me understand. The fae in my blood is too thin for me to even hear the island speaking. I think maybe the longer I’m near it though, the louder it will become. I can’t say for sure, but I feel a pull to this place. Even when I was over on Blackbeard’s Cay, I could sit on the pier and stare into the mist for hours, just wondering what awaits me here.”
A wish. Peter made it clear I was never allowed to use that word on the island, that wishes were dangerous, especially if they were granted. It would mean you owed someone something. Does heowe the island? It’s all so tangled, and the way Widow describes Neverland, it’s as if it’s a living, breathing person.
“Good chat.” She stands and claps her hands. “I should go and see what Cookson is making for?—”
“Wait!” I scoot back and block the door. “I have more.”
“One more.” Now she’s the one with the hands on her hips. “Not because I don’t want to help you. I do. But I can already tell that the person you should be asking these questions isn’t me. It’s Pan or Hook. They’re the two people who know the most about the island.”
“Do you know about the shadows?”
“Only rumors about Peter Pan using his shadow like it’s another one of him.” She shakes out her arms as if the thought unsettles her.
“No, not that shadow. That’s true by the way—it’s how he took me from my dorm room. I’m talking about the shadow children I saw when Hook came for me at Peter’s hideout.”
