“Who are you?” He cocked his head.
Glowering, she gathered the cover around her body as best she could. “Take me back, right now, Peter Pan.”
“No.” He narrowed his eyes, then hopped into the air, hovering in front of her. “You know my name, what’s yours, and why were you in Hook’s room?”
Jeez, he was obnoxious.
“None of your business. Take me back right now.”
“Are you a whore?”
She sucked in a breath so hard it made her gag and then cough. “Excuse me, a… Oh my God, were you looking earlier?” She growled, ready to grab his arm and fling him over her knee.
He sniffed. “Hook only allows whores onto his ship. Well, there was one other, but I saved her. Sort of.”
Talia.
She couldn’t deny the curiosity to learn more made her tongue looser than it otherwise would have been. “What do you know about Talia?”
For a second, so quick she wasn’t sure she’d even seen it; regret flashed in his eyes. Then he was shrugging and planting his fists on his hips in that familiar stance all actors assumed when playing him.
But that was about the only thing the stories seemed to be getting right. Peter Pan was looking less and less like a romantic figure symbolic of perpetual childhood and more like a snot-nosed imp in desperate need of a good old-fashioned butt whooping.
Flying up to a branch in the nearest tree, he ripped off a stem, and then smacked his palm with it. How had she ever thought his gaze honest, the boy looked like a schemer, like he was debating whether to swat her with the stem or break it in two.
Shooting him a withering look that said: Don’t even think about it, she thinned her lips.
Snapping the twig between his fingers he dropped it to the ground. “It wasn’t supposed to happen, okay. I was just playing with her is all, she wouldn’t stay still. It wasn’t my fault.”
“Peter, hush!” A shot of gold streaked by Trisha’s cheek, and then another bug demon flitted in front of her, eyeing her with cold, calculating blue eyes. “Why are you asking him these questions?”
The fairy had porcelain fair skin, pale blonde hair, and large blue eyes. Wearing a dress of baby’s breath and nothing else, she flitted large wings and frowned. Heart stoppingly beautiful and so frail looking, she fit exactly the stereotype she’d always had in her head. Except of course for the tiny fangs poking out from beneath her upper lip.
So this was the famed Tinkerbell. Walt would roll in his grave if he knew how wrong he’d gotten it. Not wanting to continue looking up, Trisha stood, holding onto the edge of the cloth as she did so. It was definitely magicked, because it stretched to fit her now longer frame. “Excuse me,” she bristled, “But he kidnapped me.”
“My boy would never do that, clearly you did something to antagonize him.”
A sound of utter disbelief fell from her lips. “Well no wonder.”
“What?” Tinker frowned.
“No wonder he’s as awful as he is. Do you always make excuses for him?”
Blue eyes widened, then narrowed and a calculating, hard glint filled their depths. “What’s happened here, Peter?”
Peter shrugged as he flew down from his vantage point, until he was more on level with the two of them. “I kidnapped her.”
Trisha swallowed the smug I-told-you-so. Barely.
Tinkerbell rolled her eyes. “Why? I’ve promised Danika you would leave them be.”
He curled his lip. “Because she was with him. Hook.” He spat close by Trisha’s feet, making her take a bouncing step back to avoid getting hit.
Growling at him, she tugged on the cloth tighter. “Look, just get me back. You have no right to take me away, especially without any clothes on.”
“But don’t you see?” Peter said to Tinker, still ignoring Trisha. “If she is with him, then clearly she holds value, which means she holds value to me too.”
Scoffing, she tapped her foot. “I will not be your mother, if that’s what you’re implying, boy.”
“Mother.” He curled his nose, finally looking at her. “I don’t want a mother, I want a prisoner.” Then with a terrible little grin, he grabbed a strand of rope tied around his belt.
“What?” Trisha scooted back, tripping over an upturned root and twisting her ankle, causing her to slam hard onto her butt. A squeal trapped in her throat as she realized how close to the edge they all still were. Pulse pounding, she scrabbled backwards, only once she could no longer see clouds floating by was she able to take another breath.
“Peter,” Tinkerbell said slowly, “as much as I love playing games with you, this is one game you cannot indulge in. I’ve given my fairy oath.”
Pouting, he pointed back at Trisha who was gingerly making her way back up to her shaky feet. Ankle twinging as she tried to plant weight on it. “She must be tried by a court of my peers, I will let them decide if she is innocent or guilty.”