But I won’t be dismissed just yet. Not until I’ve asked the one question that matters: “Are you going to kill me?”
His eyes are shadowed, but I can feel his gaze moving slowly down my body, taking in the too-large sweater, the cuffed legs of my pants, and then up again before he finally meets my eyes. “It’s not I who will kill you, lass,” he says softly. “Neverland will do that well enough on its own.”
He steps back abruptly then and turns to face the sea. I’m surprisingly aware of the loss. His attention was like a flame, warming me, even as it threatened to burn. His dismissal makes the night feel that much colder, that much more dangerously empty.
“But in the story—”
“Were I you,” he says, turning back almost viciously, cutting off my words, “I’d not put my trust in stories. They tend to pass off lies as the truth and hide the truth in their lies.”
The two boys—William and the one with the tattooed face—are waiting a few feet from us now. They’re here for me, but I’m not ready to be taken belowdecks again.
“And Peter Pan,” I whisper, a spark of hope flaring in my chest at the thought of a possible hero. “Is he a lie too?”
The Captain’s face goes tight, and I know I’ve hit a nerve. “Aye. He’s the biggest lie of all.” He turns away from me then, dismissing me with a wave. “Enjoy your stay with us, Gwendolyn. While it lasts.”
“But—”
The Captain’s no longer listening. He gives the waiting boys a terse nod.
“Come on, then,” the boy with the tattoos says, taking me so roughly by the arm, I yelp. He’s stockier than Will, with hair that is the definition of the color brown and eyes that don’t seem to see me.
“Gently, Devin,” the Captain scolds. “There’s no need to be rough.”
The large boy’s shoulders slump at the reprimand, but he doesn’t loosen his hold on my arm. As he and Will escort me back down to the main deck and across to the stairway leading below, I don’t meet the eyes of any of the boys who have again gone silent and still to watch our procession.
By now the sky has darkened from the bruised purple. The island is getting more difficult to make out. It’s visible only as an empty space in the swath of diamond stars scattered across the velvet night. As Devin pushes me toward the stairs that lead belowdecks, I take one last look at the open sky and notice the double moons hanging overhead.
I understand then just how far I’ve come, and I wonder if I’ll ever be able to find a way back.
After the sea, there was the march. And when they arrived, finally, through a maze of mud and unsteady planks, they found a land coated in mud. The boy soon grew to hate his new home under the ground—the trenches carved into the land like veins. He wondered where his brother was, whether they shared the same mud or slept under the same sky. But still he was not afraid. That would come later, when there was nothing that could be done. . . .
Chapter 11
THEY DEPOSIT ME INTO A tiny cabin with a narrow bunk built right into the wall, but I don’t have any intention of sleeping. I lie there instead, listening to the ship, until far into the night. At some point, long after the footfalls have gone silent, a wailing cry breaks the stillness of the night. I sit up, trying to figure out where the sound is coming from and what could be causing it, but in the end, I can’t tell if it’s a man or a monster that makes those terrible screams.
Eventually exhaustion takes over, and the next thing I know, I’m surfacing from a dreamless sleep. At first I’m completely disoriented. The room is unfamiliar, and when I try the door, it’s locked. Through the slit that serves as a window, I can barely make out the sea, and from the slant of the light, I can tell it’s already afternoon.
Tentatively, I take stock of my situation. My body still aches from the ordeal I’ve been through, but my eyes aren’t so swollen, and my headache is nearly gone. The wound on my leg looks better too. It’s red and angry, but at least it’s starting to heal.
I’m still checking the wound when I hear a rustling in the corridor. Curious, I test the handle and discover that the door’s unlocked. I ease it open and find a squat toad of a boy with hair as ruddy as the freckles across his cheeks.
He hands me a plate of lumpy biscuits as he blocks the door with his body. “Sorry, mum, but you’re to stay in the cabin,” he proclaims with a bashfulness that doesn’t match the responsibility of his post. “Captain’s orders,” he says before he gently closes the door in my face.
I spend the next four days trapped in that cabin while an odd parade of boys brings me food. Most of the boys sport the same dark tattoos as Devin. I can’t tell exactly what they’re for, though—some sort of loyalty to the Captain? Some mark of rank?