Page 27 of The Never Queen

To Pan, I say, “The coffee shop? Then the Lost Knife?”

Darling sighs and scrubs at her face.

“Yes,” Pan affirms. “The coffee shop is probably closed but it’s worth checking.”

“Is anyone going to tell me what is going on?” Darling says.

“Come on, Win.” Vane corrals her, urging her forward. “We’ll fill you in as we walk.”

We leave the dead bodies behind. John Judy is fast and efficient with cleanup and the bodies will be gone within the half hour.

“The people who attacked us were Witch Killers,” Pan says as we walk down the middle of the empty street. “They have only one driving mission.”

“Let me guess,” Darling says. “To kill witches?”

“Yes.”

“But I’m not a witch.”

“You have Myth Maker power passed down to you from Captain Hook,” Kas points out.

“And Merry went into the Lagoon when she was pregnant with you,” Pan adds.

“But I don’t have witch power. I only have the Shadow. Which I took and could easily give away.”

“The fuck you will,” Vane says.

“In theory,” Darling corrects.

“It’s clear that Merry did not just wander away,” Pan says as we reach the end of the block.

“Leo was drugged,” Vane adds. “Probably at the coffee shop.”

“Which means Merry is being used as bait,” my brother says.

“Yes.” Pan crosses the street.

“Is my mother in danger?” Darling asks.

“Not yet,” Pan assures her. “But only as long as she’s useful to them.”

The glowing lights of the city proper come into view just ahead. Beech Lane ends on a median where a row of beech trees create a natural border between the city and the more suburban streets.

“Part of me wanted it to be Doren.” I drape my arm around Darling’s shoulders. “It would have given me the perfect excuse to gut him.”

“We still could.” Kas comes into step beside me. “Make an evening of it.”

A gray tabby cat crosses the street a few yards from us, hissing at Vane before darting beneath a parked car.

“We have more important things to worry about now,” Vane says, lighting another cigarette as we step up onto the median and cross beneath the canopy of beech trees.

South Wind never truly sleeps, but this part of town is quiet and still, making it feel like we’re interlopers looking for fun, or trouble, or both.

“And Hansel?” Darling asks. “I know his story. My mom used to read it to me as a child. He’s the most famous of witch killers.”

“Actually, Gretel is,” I correct. “Gretel was the one who killed the witch. Hansel was the one who got them home.”

Darling sighs, but it comes out through her nose.