Page 24 of The First Lost Boy (The Shadows of Neverland Duet #2)

Ava

When we smell Hudson’s blood, our need to find him overwhelms every sense and thought. The world feels our worry. Wet leaves quake throughout Neverland despite the frail and dying wind. The clouds stretch so thin that only wisps remain to cover the stars that gleam, witnessing everything. The truth, and Ezryn, who would have hidden for an eternity, will be bared to all our kind.

The moon firmly rests over the sun, snuffing all but the barest of its light. All our kind will watch as we end him. They will know what he did and cast dishonor upon his name and memory. They will regard him as the lowest form of coward.

In a small clearing, rusty, broken iron bars stab from the half-flooded hole where Hudson had been trapped like a rotten maw. His scent is in the muddy water and on the crushed blades of grass where he crawled from it. And as we trace the path he took toward an area of light within the trees, another rusty thing catches our eyes.

Something cast aside.

Something else that bears his scent even though it is the last thing that should.

Our muscles tighten uncomfortably, viscerally, as we slowly walk toward it and grip its worn, wooden handle.

Such a simple thing, the rusted hand saw, and yet it represents a million regrets and a single cruel reminder. Inside us, Ava keens and urges us forward. She is afraid for Hudson now that she has touched the tool Ezryn put in the cage with Hudson.

I search her shadow for a saw… And then, in a rush of memory that’s not mine, I learn what Ezryn made her do with that saw when she and Hudson were only children, before I was conscious enough to help her yet.

Leaving our realm exhausts us.

When we do, we have no choice but to rest for a very long time before we can surface. And even then, we can only manage to do so for short portions of time. Until our life force recovers, and we grow stronger and learn how to best fit into the body and life into which we settled.

It may have taken longer for me because Ava was a child when I entered her form. She was weak and I could not strengthen until she grew.

If only I had been as strong as Ava needed me to be back then.

Such things can’t be changed, and dwelling in the past does not encourage us to move forward into a future where possibilities await.

I vow not to disappoint her again.

Ava begins to separate from us, rushing toward Hudson and pushing everything else away – me included. But she needs me. Especially now. We are running headlong into Ezryn’s trap, and while I’m confident that I will end his existence, I don’t want Ava to be hurt in the process.

I need to be present with you to help Hudson , I tell her. And thankfully, she stops pulling away and allows me to share space in her body and mind.

Our heart punches and pummels as we rush through wispy underbrush and onto trodden earth just outside a familiar clearing.

Ezryn patiently waits for us in the middle of his precious circle, smiling in the very face of death. As if this soil is the heart of Neverland and he the blood she pumps.

Doesn’t he know that a star cannot root in the soil it shines upon?

He thinks he is superior, or at the worst, that we are equals, but he doesn’t know what we’ve become. There is nothing he can do to stop or slow us down now. Soon he will not exist, and neither will the memory of him.

“Imani,” he greets.

Our teeth grate. We hate the mischievous glint in his eyes. We slowly step over the net of mushrooms he uses to keep the beasts on this island away, savoring it as we watch the smug corner of his lips sag a fraction.

We fling our arms out and draw in every shadow he has commanded on Neverland and never should have used or claimed as his own, letting the dazzling starlight stand in judgment. We feel his Lost friends as they leave their homes and draw near to Ezryn’s back. They don’t know what he is or what he’s done to them over the years.

Ava knows their names: Lock, Thorn, and Paris.

Lock, the boy with bright red hair wrests Bones forward.

Bones… One whom Ava considers a friend, even if he ultimately has no choice but to be loyal to Pan.

I smell them on his person. Bones that were not hewn from his form, but from other persons.

I draw the shadows he’s stricken into these men and revel in Ezryn’s indignation as he loses control over those he’s manipulated for so long.

Ava keeps pulling my attention back to Hudson, who kneels behind Ezryn.

The murderer sees our attention shift from him and circles Hudson, trailing his fingertips over Hudson’s shoulders, moving sodden, muddy strands of hair across his skin. We want to rip his nails from their beds and stud his eyes with them.

His hands clamp down on Hudson’s strained shoulders. At his touch, the first Lost Boy thrashes and fights to free himself. The pirate’s wrists are bound behind his back and a scrap of material acts as a gag. Even so, his dark green eyes bore into ours and he shouts something to Ava.

Ezryn takes a knife from his waistband and Ava freezes, lurching forward and taking me with her.

“Hello, Ava,” Ezryn says with a growing, knowing smile, tilting his head the way the Neverbird does when it sees what’s wearing the bones it would like to add to its nest.

She stops short. Panic claws at her, spilling and seeping into us both.

Ava can’t decide what to do. How to help. And her urgent thoughts are so loud and panicked, they’re all I can focus on.

One of her memories pushes to the surface of the lake, one of Belle standing on the ledge of a rooftop. Of the sight of Belle’s knees bending as the pixie prepared to leap. Of Ava reaching her just in time to grab the back of her nightgown, and the feel of the fabric giving way just a little before she tore Belle off that ledge.

Hudson is on his own ledge. Not about to jump, but about to be pushed from it. A pirate being made to walk his own proverbial plank.

I coax Ava to calm down and stop pulling away from me.

What if you’re not strong enough to do this? she pleads.

If I’m not, then no one is, but you must step back and place your trust in me. Let me fight for both of us.

I feel her hesitation, but only for a moment. When she merges with me once more, there’s a resoluteness to the act and I know she’s fully committed. Ready to let me use her to do what I came here to do all those years ago.

We meet Ezryn’s calculating smile with one of our own.

Ezryn’s blade severs the fabric that binds Hudson’s tongue.

Hudson spits the scrap onto the ground with a curse and yells at Ava to run. He lurches forward, desperate to keep her safe.

Ezryn brings his blade to Hudson’s chin, tipping it up so fast that the tip carves into his skin. A thick, crimson rivulet slides down the column of Hudson’s throat.

Ava tries to part from me again despite her promise not to, even as I struggle to stop her. She forces our attention to her captain.

No, Ava! I shout inwardly, urging her to listen so she won’t do it again. When a viper draws near, you don’t take your eyes off its fangs.

I feel her agreement rush through me, but I don’t trust that she’ll relax enough for me to do what I came here for. Her emotions are running high, and Ezryn will feed from them. I shout into the scant space between us.

This is what he wants! It’s part of his scheme to play us against one another, Ava. We cannot let him win. If Ezryn wins, Hudson loses. We all do.

She doesn’t relax. I feel the tension radiating from her like warmth from a sun, but she tells me to Finish this.

I resume control and start toward him but give her space to experience what’s happening. She can be a passenger. I just need to control the vehicle…

When I thrust my hands out and draw his shadow into my palms, I expect his frightened stare to meet mine. Instead, I see a glint of flashing silver.

We are knocked backward a step. At first, we are not sure what hit us. Cold sweat beads on our brow and upper lip. We swallow and taste blood and bile. We look down to see a knife hilt protruding from our heart.

It won’t kill us. I won’t let it.

But… our knees buckle, and we step forward to right ourself. We will not fall .

It’s only then that I start to appreciate the intricacy of the trap Ezryn has laid. His smile glints as he focuses on Hudson.

My ankles turn to water.

We list sideways.

Someone catches us before we topple, gripping our arms tightly and gritting as they try to keep us upright.

“Ava!” a familiar, tinkling voice shrieks in our ear. “It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.” But her panicked voice betrays her lie, laced with fear.

“Belle,” our lips weakly form.

The pixie holds us to her side and eases to the ground. The very earth vibrates beneath us, her anxiety thrumming through the island that sparks her magic.

Our head lolls over her elbow as she shouts at someone for help.

From behind her, tiny sparkling lights, the distinct, golden hue of pixie dust and our sister’s beautiful eyes, emerge from the dark forest beyond the sanctuary circle. The light emanates from members of Belle’s family. Her friends. She cried out to them to help us, and they came. Her parents flank Belle as she shields us from Ezryn. Her friends move in front of us; their collective fury is palpable, nearly as vicious and bloodthirsty as mine.

Belle’s father crouches beside his daughter, who begs for his help in speeding up my healing. “You’re no longer welcome on Neverland!” he blusters, pointing a finger at Ezryn.

Ezryn’s eyes glint dangerously. “Neverland is mine . Or have you not noticed, pixie ?”

He holds up the pocket watch we wore around our neck when the hands moved backward. The two grind to an abrupt stop. “If you wish to break our bargain, Peter Pan will die. Is that what you want?” he challenges.

“Yes!” Belle shouts, startling everyone with her answer. She gathers us closer. “I would rather see Peter dead than have you take another breath from him, you miserable, fucking, parasitic leech!”

Her father’s brows rise appreciatively. If he only knew how she survived everything that life hurled at us and how beautifully she rose above it all – and with only a fraction of her magic.

Belle cries as she repositions us, leaning our body backward and moving so that we lay across her crossed legs. We gasp as her small hand curls around to grip the knife’s handle. We try to tell her not to do it – it hurts too much – but Belle doesn’t notice.

She sniffles. “Ava… I apologize in advance. This is going to suck.” We try to shake our head, to do something to stop her, but all we can do is shed another tear. Then, she sheds hers to match, chin wobbling as she vows, “I’m going to make this right. I’m ready to do what needs to be done now.”

There is no righting this.

She pulls the blade free, raking against bone and flesh and a thousand tender nerves. A brief, guttural noise puffs from our chest. When she’s finished, the pent-up pressure and precious blood is released, pouring free from our body to soak into the ground below.

“Imani,” Belle grits. “Heal my sister.”

The heel of Belle’s palm presses tightly against the wound on our chest, but we can’t feel Imani now. We don’t feel anything but bone-aching exhaustion.

“I can’t tell if she’s okay!” Belle cries… “She still hasn’t opened her eyes. Is she breathing?”

Belle’s father’s voice is calm. “Talk to her, Belle. Keep her close to you. If she loses consciousness, Imani will be thrust beneath the surface and Ava will forget, leaving Ezryn time to devise a new scheme.”

A dark rumble of laughter rises from the circle. “Oh, but I’m afraid that a new scheme won’t be necessary.”

Our injured heart twitches at the sound and the truth settles over our skin in the form of goosebumps. Our teeth chatter violently as Belle’s hands tense around our body, confirming that she heard it, too.

Belle peers between the members of her family who stand guard between us and Ezryn and her lips part at whatever she sees beyond their protection. “Hudson?” her voice trembles.

I can’t turn my head to look at him, but I know what I will find.

Ezryn, the personification of evil, is now inside Hudson.

Imani? I speak to the Celestial in the darkness. Our injury pushed her under the surface, but we need her desperately. If we can be saved, she is the only one who can do it, but she must do it now.

I feel her stirring. Feel her walk out of that shadowy lake and start gathering the parts of me back together, repairing the damage he caused and flooding me with life when it shouldn’t be possible.

“Don’t hurt him. Hudson. I…” I finally manage to say through dry lips that peel apart and stick again.

Belle’s eyes fall to mine, her brows touching. “Oh, Ava. I would give anything to keep you from a single second of more pain.”

“I love you,” I croak. My fingers weakly grip her wrist. A tear slides from my eye and spills into my hair when I finally manage to turn my head and look at Hudson. Despite his dark hair, his hook, and the smirk he wears so naturally, I only see Ezryn and the cruelty that lies beyond the handsome facade.

Peter Pan’s body – that of Belle’s betrothed, the boy she loved and tried so hard to protect – is a husk on the ground behind him. Discarded and forgotten. His chest is eviscerated, like Ezryn burst through it to get out.

He didn’t bother resurrecting his former host, and the broken ribs, ripped flesh, and blood speak of a future I don’t want for myself or for Hudson.

She follows my line of sight and hiccups. “I love you too, Ava.”

Imani growls into my mind. We can heal the pixie. His soul is near.

Ezryn, wearing Hudson’s skin, stands and calls out to his friends. “Lost ones! I’m leaving for the mainland on the ship they wanted to use to sail away without us. If you want to leave Neverland, come with me!”

Ezryn rushes into the trees without looking back to see who follows. And while Lock, Thorn, and Paris hesitate, eventually, their footsteps sprint away from the circle we were lured into. They don’t have any shadows and they are no longer under the Celestial’s thrall, but they crave freedom and he is the first to offer it to them. I can’t blame them for running.

When the leaves beyond the circle stop rattling in their wake, Belle asks her family to intervene. “Don’t let them leave this island.”

The pixies waste no time.

My sister stares at her betrothed’s ravaged body. I can almost hear the fissure in her heart deepening. “Take me to him,” I tell her.

Her hands tremble against my skin where she holds me. Shock settles over her delicate features. Pales her pallor. Erases emotion from her face.

“I can’t walk yet, Belle. I need to reach him. I can bring him back.”

A tear splashes from her eye and lands on her cheek. “You can?”

“Imani can. I just… I need you to carry or drag me over to him. I need to be able to touch him.”

“Okay,” she whispers, almost to herself. “I can do this.”

“You can,” I encourage. “But you have to let me go and stand up.”

She nods. “Right.”

Then she listens and does as I say as I guide her to the boy’s prone form and ask Imani to help me see it. Maybe it would be easiest to let the Celestial take over since I’m still so incredibly weak, but something deep inside says it’s not time yet. And I want to do this for my sister, who’s done so much for me. I want to bring her love back to life if I can.

It takes a moment to see the lingering glow of his soul, but when I do, it’s easy to grasp it. Belle can’t see it in my hands, but she watches with bated breath and a hand pressed against her stomach.

Imani speaks to me. Tell Belle to pour her dust upon his body after you place the soul back inside it.

I push the soul against Peter’s forehead and relay Imani’s instructions to Belle. She rains dust onto him and slowly, his folded-open ribs creak closed again. His muscles knit, build, and stretch in time with the tendons that anchor them. The shredded skin pulls slowly together to align where it’s able before healing, leaving only the finest scars.

Will the pixie dust eventually erase them, too?

For several long minutes, we wait in anguished silence for Peter to wake up. When nothing happens, I repeatedly ask Imani if I did something wrong, but she answers each time that I did exactly as I should have and reassures me that Peter just needs a moment to collect himself within his form again. He’d been suppressed for a very long time and likely felt uneasy in his own skin.

But finally his chest rises, then falls. Rises, then falls.

“He’s breathing!” Belle squeaks. “He’s alive and he’s breathing!” For a moment, she’s unsure what to do with her hands, but finally settles them on his chest to feel the miracle for herself.

Peter’s eyes flutter open. He looks at my sister, then at me. Now, his bright green eyes have no malice in them. He’s bewildered and confused as he wakes more fully, and without his shadow, he doesn’t remember Belle, but it doesn’t matter. He’s besotted at first glance, and his entire face brightens when she speaks his name and sweeps him into her arms.

As she sobs and clutches him tighter, he sweetly pats her back and tries to reassure her, even though he’s not sure what’s wrong. He even looks at me as if asking for help.

I’m about to ask Imani if she can try to return his shadow, but her nervous energy thrums through me like a powerful wave.

We need to go, Imani insists. Now.

What will you do? I ask.

She’s quiet for too long but ultimately answers truthfully. What I must. Ezryn cannot be unleashed on the mainland.

I won’t let her hurt my pirate. Promise you won’t hurt Hudson.

I cannot make a promise I might have to break, Ava.