“The rest we can figure out in time.” Mary grins, showing the gap between her teeth, and Wendy’s heart turns over.
Tears threaten again, hot and full behind her eyes, making them itch. This time it isn’t fear though, but hope that they might all be together after all. A family. She blinks rapidly to bring them under control.
“I can speak to Ned. I’m certain he would agree to help, though we’ll have to find a way to hide it from his father. Perhaps my brothers might help as well—”
Mary holds up a hand, cutting Wendy off. Surprised, Wendy falls silent.
“I won’t take charity.”
Wendy’s cheeks flush, stung, as though Mary has struck her. Mary continues, light glinting in her eyes again and one corner of her mouth going up.
“But,” she says, “I will come work for you, if you’ll hire me at a fair wage.”
Wendy stares, stunned all over again. Of all the things she might have expected Mary to say, this was not one of them. The way Mary’s eyes glint, it almost seems as though she’s laughing at Wendy, but there’s no malice in it.
“If your cooking is as bad as your sewing when we first met, I imagine you’ll need someone helping you with every single meal, someone living with you and not just coming in to cook every now and then.” Mary’s smirk turns into a full grin, and Wendy can’t help it, she finds herself smiling in return.
“If room and board is part of the wage, I can save up, and one day I’ll have money to open the shop all on my own.”
Wendy seizes Mary’s hands again, squeezing them hard.
“I’m certain Ned will agree to those terms. I can’t wait for you to meet him.”
“I look forward to it.” Mary pauses a moment, considering Wendy. “Am I right?”
“About what?”
“Your cooking?”
Relief bubbles through Wendy and comes out as laughter. Tears finally stream from her eyes, and she wipes them away.
“Absolutely. I’m a dreadful cook.”
“Lucky for you I’m brilliant, and an excellent teacher, too.”
PETER’S SECRET
Tiger Lily stands and beckons Wendy back to the cave wall with its black and red paintings. She runs her fingers over them—Pirate, Mermaid, Ship, Boy—crouching as the ceiling slopes down, crab-walking. Wendy follows, unease growing into a physical pressure against her skin as the pictures grow more abstract. Tiger Lily stops, her fingers resting against the wall.
“Here,” Tiger Lily says, but she’s angled in such a way that Wendy can’t see the image her fingers rest against.
Tiger Lily glances over her shoulder, then shifts, letting Wendy see. Wendy has to get on her knees, shuffling closer. Tiger Lily draws her hand away, and it’s as though the cave floor drops out beneath Wendy, sending her stomach into free-fall.
I’ll show you a secret, Wendy. A really good one.
She can’t make sense of what she’s seeing. Horns. Claws. A jagged shape that makes the skin at the base of Wendy’s spine crawl. Even without firelight, the drawing seems to ripple, warm to the touch.
“What is this?” Wendy hears her own voice, breathless and strangled.
Tiger Lily shakes her head. Their shoulders touch in the cramped space.
“An old story. A very old one.”
“Tell me.” Wendy grasps Tiger Lily’s wrist, her grip tight enough that her friend flinches. “Please.”
Wendy tries to gentle her tone, but her voice is barely under her control. This… whatever it is, she’s seen it before. She knows. Or she almost knows. There’s a hole where her memory should be, a door in her mind slammed over it long ago. Now, the door rattles, assaulted by a violent wind. No, not a wind. A breath.
“It’s a story of the monster at Neverland’s heart,” Tiger Lily says.
Wendy relinquishes her grip, as though all at once Tiger Lily’s skin burns. She looks down, expecting to see the seams of fire beneath Tiger Lily’s flesh again, but there’s only her ash-colored skin in the dark.
“The monster.” Wendy repeats the words; they taste of heat, charcoal still smoldering and laced with smoke.
Tiger Lily shifts, so she’s sitting. Wendy sits beside her, but even seated the space is claustrophobic, and her breath sounds over-loud in her ears. Tiger Lily draws her legs up against her chest, and wraps her arms around them, resting one cheek against the bony points of her knees. Her face is cast in shadow, but even so, her eyes are unnaturally bright, shining with a hint of the fire Wendy saw beneath her skin, from when Peter made her burn. Her voice is quiet, sorrowful almost, and her gaze focuses on nothing in particular. Wendy draws her legs up too, and listens.
“There are many stories about the monster, but all of them start a very long time ago, before there was a Neverland. None of the stories are clear on exactly what kind of creature the monster was to start off with—not an animal, or a man, or a raging fire, but all of those things mixed together, with blunt teeth and sharp horns, hooves and wicked claws. Or maybe it only became those things afterward. Stories that old tend to change over time.
“One thing all the stories agree upon is that it was already ancient when Neverland was born. Some claim the monster is the seed from which Neverland grew, and others that it was simply the first creature to step foot on the island, calling it into being.
“The way it came to the island, or created the island, is that it committed an unspeakable act, and it was sent into exile. Because of the act, the creature was split in two. Part of it was buried deep underground, and part of it lived on the surface in the light. The two halves were never meant to know the other existed.”
Tiger Lily shifts her gaze slightly
