“Come, Olivia, greet your friend properly.”
Olivia gives Pan another questioning look. When he inclines his head in the barest nod, she finally releases his hand and steps toward me, her arms out in greeting. The gesture is formal, stiff, and so unlike the girl who would think nothing of looping her arm through mine. The memory of it rises up in my mind, clear and distinct. But before I can hold it tight, the image begins to fade again.
I step toward her, but her body tenses at my approach, her arms falling to her sides. I’m not sure what I should do or say. I’m not sure how to get my Olivia back. “Did the Dark Ones hurt you?” I ask finally, looking her over for some sign of injury.
“The Dark Ones?” Confusion shimmers in her eyes.
“The monsters that took us from London,” I tell her gently, trying to remind her. Even with so many of my memories remaining just out of reach, the horror of being taken from my bed has never completely faded.
“London?” She says the word like it feels funny in her mouth, and then she glances at Pan for guidance. He has the same almost pleasant expression on his face he’s had all morning, but his eyes are sharp and perceptive.
“You remember what we’ve talked about, my dear,” Pan says gently.
Olivia closes her eyes. “I remember waking up,” she says in a stiff voice. “And I remember Pan. He takes care of me.” When her eyes open and look up at him, they are soft with wonder and an emotion that looks dangerously close to love. “He protects us all.”
“Olivia—” I start to say, but Pan interrupts me.
“I had no idea the Dark Ones had stolen two from your world. Once Olivia confirmed she had a friend, I discovered the Captain had you. I sent some of my lads to retrieve you, but as I said, they failed.” His jaw hardens and he glances away, his eyes shadowed. “I’m sorry they were not more successful, Gwendolyn,” Pan tells me, the picture of contriteness.
“None of that matters now,” Olivia tells him in a breathy whisper before she turns to me. “We are safe here, with Pan. You can forget the rest. All that”—she wrinkles her nose in distaste—“unpleasantness.” Then she gives Pan a dazzling smile before settling herself back on the bed to work on her daisy chain again. The determination on her face is so thoroughly Olivia and yet so completely wrong.
“No,” I tell her, approaching the bed slowly. “We can’t stay here, Liv.” I kneel down on the floor next to her and touch her arm to stop her from stringing another flower. “We have to find a way back,” I tell her. “I need you to remember so you can help me figure this out.”
“Back?” She goes very still under my hand, her expression tense.
“This isn’t our home,” I say, pushing down the unease I feel under Pan’s too-watchful gaze. “This isn’t our world.”
But she’s not listening to me. Her attention is on a point just beyond me—on Pan—and, ignoring me completely, she gives him a slow, private smile.
I ignore the jealousy that twists uncomfortably inside me when Pan smiles in return.
So Pan looked at me. So maybe for a second there I had thought . . .
I don’t even know what I’d thought. Of course Olivia would want Pan. With his dark clothes and the scarlet runes decorating his fair skin, he looks like an elfin prince, and of course he would want her. She would make him the perfect fairy princess.
None of that matters, though. Like the Captain said, this isn’t a fairy tale. We can’t stay.
I take her hands and do not let them go, even when I feel her try to pull away.
Olivia glances at Pan, and I get the sense she doesn’t know what to do.
“You have to remember, Olivia,” I say, squeezing her hands and failing miserably to keep the urgency out of my voice. “Think about what our parents must be going through right now,” I tell her. By now everyone would know we’re gone. Would there be search parties? Would our faces be on the nightly news? “Think about how scared they must be.”
“My parents—” She says the second word slowly, drawing it out, but recognition begins to light her eyes. Then her face falls. “My parents are probably too busy to even realize I’m gone.” She looks up at me, sadness and anger clear on her face. Then she sees—really sees me—and the glassiness in her eyes lifts like a fog.
“Gwen,” she says, and now it’s my Olivia who is speaking. “Are you okay?” she asks. She’s touching my face, squeezing my hand. Her expression is urgent, like she’s suddenly awoken and just realized where we are.
She slides from the bed and throws herself at me. Her long arms go around me, and for a moment I’m overwhelmed by her hug. For a moment I feel like everything will be okay. “Oh my god. I thought I’d never see you again,” she says, pulling away and looking me over.
“I know,” I tell her. “Me too. But I’m here. So we’ll figure this out.”