The room erupted with laughter, and Wendy found herself frowning. Death was hardly an amusing subject. Peter continued, leaping and flipping in the air, his sword flashing so fast that Wendy could barely make out the golden blade.
“I catapulted over their heads and grabbed a log from the flaming fire, waving them back. There were so many of them now, dozens around me, and I knew I had mere seconds to do what I needed to do. I leapt up into the air again. Unfortunately, an arrow pierced my shoulder here . . .” he pointed near the collar of his tunic, “and I was sent hurtling downward. I hit the black ribs of the ship and rolled a few paces. With a scream, I yanked the arrow out of my shoulder and looked around for my flaming log. It had landed right next to me and was flickering weakly. I crawled toward the flame, blood pouring from my shoulder, one hand over another, dragging myself toward it, thinking only of protecting the Lost Boys.”
At this point, no one in the room was breathing, aside from Oxley, who Wendy noticed was looking mildly bored.
“I reached the flaming log and pushed myself up to my feet. Hook stood before me, the fire illuminating the murderous rage in his eyes. His sword hand was trembling, a smile on his face. Then he spoke.”
Peter dropped his voice to imitate the pirate captain. “‘I swear on the grave of my father—I live to see you buried, Peter Pan.’ My sword was still in my belt, and I knew that if I reached for it, Hook would kill me. He may be many despicable things, but Hook has always been an excellent swordsman. In that moment, time seemed to stop. I looked deep into his eyes and flung the burning timber onto the deck of the Jolly Rodger. As luck would have it, it hit some empty burlap sacks that ignited instantly. Hook gave a scream and lunged toward his ship with his hand outstretched. At that moment, I pulled my sword from my belt, leapt up above him, and slashed at his wrist.”
Peter turned in the air and brought his sword down with incredible speed. Wendy gasped at his sheer physical power.
“I saw Hook’s hand fall from his wrist and the rush of dark blood that came with it. He grabbed his wrist and screamed my name, but I was already on my way up and out of the cavern, up toward the tunnel I had come from. I looked back one more time and saw that the Jolly Rodger had turned into a rapidly consuming flame. The fire had licked its way up the mast and down to the sea. As I watched, the flames reached the stores of the ship where gunpowder was kept, and a massive explosion ripped through its hull. The heat from the flame had turned the cavern into an oven, and pirates were leaping into the water to escape its raging heat. Hook was running away from the Jolly Rodger and toward the black whale bones, screaming to his men to protect her. The heat gave one final blast, so hot I felt it in my bones, and the Jolly Rodger gave a huge creak, as though she were surrendering, and began to sink into the water.
“I watched as her red eye disappeared underneath the black and red sea, the hands of burnt men grasping at her for one last moment before slipping underneath. The last thing I saw before flying up into the tunnel was the outline of Hook, fringed with fire, staring at me as blood dripped from his wrist, and the burning black and white flag of the Jolly Rodger. I knew then that I had started a new story, that Neverland was no longer his, but mine.”
Peter took a breath and pushed back his crown. “I flew through the tunnel as fast as I could, my feet never touching the ground. I had never feared Hook’s wrath as I did that day. As I flew, the white bats that were nesting on the roof of the tunnel stirred, and they began to attack me, their claws scraping my face and arms, their tiny teeth biting my ears. I barreled toward the entrance, fearing I would never make it there alive. Finally, I exploded through the painted wooden barrier and cartwheeled out into the beautiful Neverland sky. The bats flew out all around me, climbing as quickly as they dared toward the bright moon. From there, I could hear the sounds of Hook screaming my name, and I knew that his hunt for me would only intensify now that I had taken his hand and his father’s beloved ship. I returned to Pan Island and told the boys what I had seen.”
He shook his head. “Had I only known the cost then, who is to say that I would have done the same?”
Peter looked devastated, and he turned away from the boys, hiding his face. “Hook’s retaliation was to take Lomasi from me, my princess and the light of her people. She disappeared the next night. I heard from the whores in Port Duette that Hook had thrown her overboard wrapped in chains, a red eye painted on her forehead, a message meant to wound my heart forever. I see her sometimes . . .” He struggled with his words.
“I see her in my dreams, fish flitting in and out of her black hair, pearls where her eyes should be.”
Slowly, he regained his composure.