“Don’t you miss home though?”
“No.” He shakes his head. “I can’t even remember it. Not really. Come on, breakfast is waiting.” He swipes a hand through his red hair. “I’m Coy, by the way.”
“Moira,” I say stupidly.
“I know.” He gestures toward the door. “You have to be hungry. I think Slightly’s making pancakes.”
“Bathroom?” I ask.
“First door on the right. This way.” He shows me down the narrow hall and into a bathroom. It seems to be roughly hammered from the granite, but there’s a shower, a sink, and a toilet. The whole room is nice, pristine even, as if none of the men even use it.
When I walk out, Coy’s still waiting.
“That was Wendy’s. She demanded it.” He mimics a young Wendy, waggling his finger as if berating a child, his voice rising an octave. “A lady needs her own washroom!”
“So you knew her?” I follow him through the halls and caverns.
“I was here when she came. Yeah. I wanted her to be my mother so badly. I don’t even remember why. Seems an odd thing for me to want. Anyway, I still think about her every so often.” He sounds almost sad. “I’m sorry she’s gone.”
“I wish I could’ve met her. Then again, I may have had her committed after hearing her tall tales about Peter Pan and Neverland.”
“You remind me of her.” He guides me past the stalactites and a small waterfall I missed on my way through the first time.“Not the way you dress or even the way you talk, but there’s something of her in you. I know it.”
I look down at my now-grubby sweatshirt and even grubbier jeans. “Yeah, I can’t imagine she wore clothes like these.”
“No.” He pushes through a creaky door that leads into the kitchen from last night.
The men are crowded in again, some going in and out and carrying plates.Emptyplates.
My stomach growls.
“Moira!” Peter slides a plate down the table, and it stops perfectly in front of where I’m standing. “I made an extra-big stack for you.”
There aren’t any pancakes. I sigh. “I can’t tell if you’re serious.”
“Why wouldn’t I be serious?” He walks over to me, his brown eyes curious.
“Because, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but there aren’t any pancakes.” I wave my hand at the stove where Slightly is flipping nothing into the air. “There isn’t any food.”
“What?” He cocks his head to the side.
“There’s no food, Peter.” I sit at the table and press my palm onto the empty plate. “See? Nothing.”
Slightly makes a low grumble from his place at the stove. “Didn’t have to ruin ‘em, Moira.”
Guilt tries to rise in me, but I bat it back down. Because it’s ridiculous. Thereare nopancakes! “I didn’t ruin anything,” Isnap back, admittedly crabby from the lack of caffeine and food. “There’s nothing here.”
The firefly is back, flitting around the kitchen and ringing its odd little noises. It comes closer to me, and I swipe it away.
Peter goes preternaturally still as do the others.
I look up at him. “What?”
A flash of light blinds me, and from nowhere, a woman stands in front of me, her skin sparkled with gold and her eyes of an even more brilliant hue. “You almost hit me, you stupid bitch!” she yells, her voice like a shattered bell.
I slap my hands over my ears and try to lean away from her. She’s small, but she came out of fucking nowhere, and she has wings on her back and a vicious black scar running down one side of her face.
“I could kill you right here, right now. I could end you with nothing more than a snap of my fingers!” She lifts her hand, her finger and thumb poised, a vicious glint in her golden eyes.
