“Tell me where he is,” Holly pleads.
“Jack was searching for me. Ed told him his father knew lots of people, that he worked with kids, that he had connections with runaways. He offered to help. So they went to Peter,” she says, her voice shaky. Holly pulls her closer, strokes her hair. “And Peter tricked them. He trapped them. He used them for their blood. He used them as bait for me.” Her blue eyes fill with tears. “It’s all my fault.”
“It’s not. I promise,” Holly says firmly. “But you have to tell me where Jack is now.”
“Inside Big Ben,” she says. “There’s an old apartment there, a room for the guards. Bell showed me. She’s been flying me there, through an opening behind the clock face. But Peter made Bell tell him, and he’s there now, with Jack.” She looks away. “I heard you calling that day.”
Holly’s sick. If she’d found a way into the tower—if she hadn’t lost Jack’s trust . . . But guilt and what-ifs won’t help Eden now. Or Jack.
She gives Eden one last squeeze, then stands up.
“I’m calling the police.”
“No! You can’t,” Eden says, tugging her back down. “He’ll hear them coming. He’ll kill Jack before they even get to the top of the stairs. I have a plan. I can get him out.”
“No,” Holly says. “Absolutely not. If anyone’s going, it’s me.” She thinks for a moment. “Would Tink take me? Could we trust her not to tell Peter?”
“Don’t call her that,” Eden says sharply. “That’s his name for her, and she doesn’t belong to him anymore. She’s Bell now, and she’s with me.”
“Then you need to take me there. You and Bell. Call for help, and then disappear.” She has Christopher’s number programmed on her phone, and she hands it to Eden now. “Do you understand?”
Eden shakes her head. “Peter doesn’t want you. He wants me. And if he catches you, he’ll use you as bait, the same as he did to Jack.”
“Maybe,” Holly agrees. “But I’m still going. Not you.”
They argue in whispers, heads together, so intent on saving each other they never notice the door opening. Not until Jane’s gasp.
“Eden. My goodness. Is it really you?”
She takes Eden’s face in her hands, stoops to kiss her forehead. “Oh, my dear girl,” she says. “My lovely, lovely girl. You’ve turned into such a beautiful woman.”
“She’s thirteen,” Holly reminds her mother. “A baby.” Rapidly she explains her plan to Jane. She’s counting on her mother’s support to keep Eden here and safe.
“Can’t we call Christopher? Tell him where Jack is?”
Eden shakes her head. “The only way to get in, to do it without being seen, is through the window. Someone has to fly.”
“Well then,” Jane says. She turns to Eden. “What do you suggest, my child?”
Chapter Forty-One
You can’t be serious,” Holly says. “There’s no way I’m letting her go.”
“I don’t think you have a choice. You can’t make her take you, after all,” Jane points out. “And from what she’s said, calling in Christopher before you have Jack in hand may make the situation worse. At least hear her out.”
Eden’s plan is simple. She’ll fly with Bell to where Jack is. They’ll watch until it’s safe to bring him back to the Darling house and deposit him with Holly, calling Christopher to handle Peter once they’re clear.
“I can save him,” Eden insists. “I’m the only one who can do it.”
There are so many things that can go wrong with this plan, so many ways Eden can get hurt. Holly starts to argue, to push back. But then she sees the look on her daughter’s face and it crushes her. It’s not the look of a thirteen-year-old arguing with her mother. It’s an adult face, wise beyond its years, weary beyond all words but still fighting for what is right.
Holly takes a deep breath. But Eden isn’t done.
“Bell has a way to save me too. She can guide me to Neverland if we can get away from Peter. She thinks that once I’m there, the aging will stop.”
“Neverland isn’t what you think,” Holly says, alarmed. She recalls Peter’s words, about the others waiting there, and shudders. A young, feral army of his own making.
“I know. Bell’s told me. But what choice do I have? If I stay here, there’s no chance at all. Bell agreed to take me with her, but she can’t make it that far on her own. Not yet. She’s still sick from him, from what he made her carry. So, I need something from you.”
“Anything.” Holly will give her daughter the moon and the sky, she’ll wrap it in a ribbon cut from her own heart if that’s what it takes to save her, but what Eden wants isn’t nearly so easy.
“What do you need?” Jane asks.
“A picture,” Eden says. “One of only me. A talisman that will remind me of a happy memory strong enough to guide me home. Not home to London or to Cornwall, but to where Bell says I really belong. Neverland.”
“And what’s in this for her?” Holly says, wounded.
“She wants to go home too,” Eden says. “She’s been here too long, and she doesn’t like it anymore. And she doesn’t like Peter. She doesn’t trust him. She trusts me. If there’s two of us, working together, she thinks we can tame Neverland again, the way Hook did.” She looks at Holly with those bright blue eyes. “He was always the one, the guardian all along. But you know that now, don’t you?”
Holly nods. “What happened to him?” she whispers.
“Bell says he sank beneath the waves and disappeared. But no one in Neverland ever really dies, not really. They just turn up in a different place, she says.”
Holly thinks of Peter’s words. Shadows and shades. The Christopher she’s kissed fits neither of those descriptions. He’s as real and solid as can be. But then, so is Peter.
“Mama?” Eden says. “Did you hear me?”
Her daughter is standing in front of her, patiently waiting, a miracle all its own, right here and now. Holly reaches out and clasps her hand.
“I said if we do that, if we can keep control, there’s a chance I could come back. To visit. But I need a picture.”
A chance to keep her safe. And see her again. Holly leaps at it.
“The one by Jack’s bed?” she suggests.
Eden shakes her head. “Jack is in that. Even his happiest memories have pain in them.”
“Pain?”
“Not just physical pain,” Eden says. “Deeper. There’s a piece of him missing. Just because you ignore something doesn’t make it disappear.”
Isaac, Holly realizes. To have a second self and then lose him must be a little like losing your shadow. And maybe that half-memory, that yearning, is why Jack pushes boundaries, takes risks. When part of you is dead, the other part might do anything to feel alive.
“Perhaps one with the two of you?” Jane suggests, drawing Holly back. Holly racks her brain, but she knows how unlikely it is. To find a memory of Eden—let alone a photo—that involves sheer joy is a herculean task. Even Holly’s best memories are tinged with shadows: guilt over sleeping with Peter, worry over Jack. Any moments she spent alone with Eden likely came because Jack was in hospital, recovering from yet another surgery. No matter where Holly was or what she did, it was never the right place or the right thing. She was always wishing she were somewhere else.
“Well,” Holly begins. And then she remembers there is one picture. A talisman of her own. “Maybe.”
There’s a low buzzing outside the window.
“Bell says we need to go soon,” Eden says urgently. “There’s not much time.”
Jane steps forward. “You get the photo. You’ll need the vial and the cream, yes, in case Jack is injured? Give me the passcode to the safe—I can get those for you.”