Modern Wicked Fairy Tales: Complete Collection (57 page)

She looked at herself in the mirror, feeling
as if she'd been lost in a dream. One brief encounter in the
library had brought Peter into her life and changed it completely
in less than a week. It didn't seem possible—but it was real. She
knew it for sure when Peter knocked on the bathroom door and gasped
out loud when she opened it, the sight of her making his eyes light
up and his mouth twist into a bemused smile.

“You clean up fine, Wendy-girl.” He took her
hand and led her down the stairs where guests were gathering, most
of them she'd never even met, yet they all brought gifts for her
because Peter had asked them to.

She saw Curly and Nibs standing together,
each of them holding a beer, and was relieved to see a few friendly
faces. Slightly was over in the corner, she noticed, his red head
bent and whispering to the girl in his lap, but there were
noticeably far fewer girls than boys present.

And of course, there was Tink, flitting
around the room, refilling drinks and passing out
hors d'oeuvres
and smiling over at Peter, who
winked and waved back. Wendy was the only one who saw her stick her
tongue out when Peter wasn't looking.
There is just never going
to be any love between the two of us,
Wendy decided.

“I want to introduce you,” Peter said,
pulling her more firmly into the room.

“To...?”

He smiled, hooking his arm through hers.
“Everyone.”

And he wasn't kidding. She knew most of the
boys who stayed in the house, but there were many, many more, too
many names to remember, too many faces to count. They all seemed
glad to meet her, mostly because it was Peter who was doing the
introductions. He drew people in like a magnet, without even
trying. There was plenty of food, thanks to Tink, and music piped
in through speakers in the ceiling with enough of a beat that a few
people had formed a quasi dance floor near the piano.

Peter asked her to dance when a slow song
came on and she followed him, just as drawn to him as everyone else
was, glad to have a moment alone in his arms. He dropped his head
and held her close, breathing her in, and they rocked slowly, as if
it were only the two of them in the midst of a world of crazy.

“It's a lovely party, Peter, thank you.” She
tilted her face up to look at him. “No one's ever given me a party
like this before.”

“It's not over yet.” His mouth curled into a
slow smile. “I haven't even given you my present.”

“You do realize how insane this is, don't
you?” She couldn't help laughing at the way he raised his eyebrows
and rolled his eyes. “I haven't even known you a week! And you've
let me move in, you're giving me this elaborate party, and Michael
and John...”

She paused, as if just remembering them, her
brow knitted with worry.

“I heard from the twins,” Peter said,
guessing her concern. “They're all fine. The swashbucklers are
having the time of their lives, in fact! The Pirates of the
Caribbean will never be the same again, I'm sure.”

“It's all so much.” She brushed a
sandy-colored curl from his forehead. She felt dizzy and flushed
with him so very close. “Too much.”

“It will never be enough,” Peter protested,
his face as serious as she'd ever seen it. “Not for you. A girl
like you deserves this and far more, you know. I could give you
everything in the whole world, everything I had to give, and it
would still never be enough for my Wendy-girl.”

“Your...” She blinked. “
Your
Wendy?”

“You are, aren't you?” he asked in
earnest.

It was so hard to resist him, but she tried,
not based on her feelings but purely driven by logic. “We've only
known each other—”

His laughter cut her off and he swung her
around in his arms, nuzzling her neck, disarming her completely.
“You keep saying that, but it doesn't mean anything you know.” He
whispered it like a secret in her ear. “The heart doesn't know any
time.”

“Peter...” She tried to protest, but his
lips were doing funny things to her insides, pressed to her throat
like that.

“Say you're mine, Wendy-girl.” His lips
found the hollow of her throat and her head went back,
acquiescing.

“I am,” she confessed. It didn’t matter how
long they’d known each other, how crazy her life had been before
him or how crazy it was now. He was right—she couldn’t deny her
feelings. “I'm yours.”

Peter kissed her squarely on the lips, his
aim sweet perfection, and although Wendy had been kissed plenty of
times before, had even been kissed once, albeit briefly, by Peter,
it felt as if this kiss was the one she'd been waiting for her
whole life. It was silly, ridiculous, far too romantic for her
usually sensible sensibilities, but it was simply the unmistakable
truth.

And she knew it completely when they parted,
Wendy's head resting on Peter's shoulder, and she saw Tink glaring
at them both.

“Peter.” Someone tapped on his shoulder,
whispering into his ear, but Wendy paid no attention, lost in his
embrace.

“Time for your birthday gift.” Peter’s voice
brought her back to earth, back to the room around her. He led her
out the patio doors, the crowd following, as if knowing just what
was going to happen, although Wendy had no clue. She hadn’t been
into the yard that day, but it was decorated for the festivities as
well. Just how many people had Peter enlisted? She wondered,
staring at the lights strung up high, the tent set up for a band to
play.

“Sit here.” Peter situated her near the
front of the tent, separate from the rest of the chairs that people
were taking behind her. “Be right back.”

He kissed her forehead, squeezing her hand,
before disappearing into the crowd. She looked around for a
familiar face but saw none. The night was bright with moonlight and
stars, the sounds of crickets and the occasional bellow of
alligators from the swamp serving as background music for the
laughter and conversation. She was all alone, and yet she’d never
felt so happy, the anticipation of Peter’s return still warm
against her forehead.

When Peter appeared on stage, picking up a
guitar, along with Slightly and Curly and Nibs and another boy she
didn’t know quite as well with the unfortunate nickname of Tootles,
Wendy stared up at them in surprise. Tootles was tall and lanky,
long blond hair falling in his face, but he disappeared behind the
drum set as Curly picked up a guitar and Nibs a bass. Slightly
positioned himself behind the keyboard as Peter stepped up to the
mic.

“Hello.” Peter’s voice was soft as silk and
the crowd broke into applause and cheers. They all knew him, loved
him, and who could blame them? Certainly not Wendy. “We’re
The
Lost Boys.”

More cheers. Wendy blinked up at Peter in
wonder, seeing him drop her a wink.

“I’d like to dedicate this next song to
Wendy. I wrote it for her.”

She couldn’t believe her eyes—or her ears.
The Peter she knew, the one she’d glimpsed, unfolded into a god on
stage, his pouty lips and sultry eyes drawing her in. And it was
all for her. The girls—and even some of the boys—instantly went
crazy for him, crowding the stage, but his eyes were on her alone,
singing his song for her.

“You sew my heart back together in the dark
of the night.

Bring my shadow back home so I can see the
light.

You turn my lost boy into a found man

And you shine me back from my Neverland.

I would brave any pirate ship

Slay any dangers just to kiss your lips.

That kind of magic, girl, you make me
fly.

Wendy, our love ain’t never gonna die.

Wendy, no, we ain’t never gonna die.

Long as our love lasts, girl, we’re gonna
fly,

Past all tomorrows to the starry skies.

Wendy, our love ain’t never gonna die.”

They sang more songs at the demand of the
crowd, their music rising over the crickets and the swamp sounds,
carried for miles on the wind, and Wendy sat entranced, so
delighted with this Peter that she could barely breathe. When he
came off the stage—under great protest from the audience—he went
straight to her, reaching out for her hand and pulling her into his
arms.

“Did you like your gift?” he asked in a
whisper just for her and she nodded, unable to speak, not sure he
could hear her over the people crowding around them, slapping him
on the back, girls asking for his autograph—his autograph!—giving
them their phone numbers along with kisses. The former he signed,
the latter he rebuffed as much as he could, making his way through,
leading Wendy with him by the hand.

“It was beautiful. I didn’t even know you
could sing!” She glimpsed Tink wending her way through the crowd
toward them. “I bet there’s a lot I don’t know about you, Peter
Pann.”

“Probably.” He smiled, squeezing her hand
back. “Does it matter?”

“No,” she confessed as Tink found them both,
breathlessly grabbing Peter by the shoulders.

“Hey Tink.” He greeted her as always, with a
congenial smile.

“I have to talk to you.” The tall blond
dismissed Wendy with a glance, focusing all her attention on Peter.
“It’s important.”

“Damned straight it is!” Curly clapped Peter
on the shoulder, grinning from ear to ear. Nibs wasn’t far behind,
the two of them practically attached at the hip. “Guess who’s here?
Go ahead, guess!”

“I have no idea.” Peter blinked in
surprised, shaking his head. “The Pope? The President? Batman?”

“Far better.” Nibs smiled, the silver hop
piercing in his lip glinting in the light.

“Michael Corbett!” This announcement came
from Slightly, appearing out of the crowd and into their
conversation. “Fucking Michael Corbett! He wants to represent us,
man! And I’m pretty sure we want to sign. Don’t we, Peter?”

“Who’s Michael Corbett?” Wendy whispered her
question to Nibs, who happened to be closest.

“Only the biggest music agent in South
Florida.” Peter answered her question with a widening grin. “Guess
we should talk to him, huh?”

“Come on!” Slightly grabbed Peter’s arm, but
Tink held onto the other, Wendy getting lost in the shuffle.

“Peter!” Tink cried. “I still have to
talk—”

“Later, Tink!” He waved Tink away as
The
Lost Boys
dragged him toward his future in the music industry,
leaving both girls standing there, looking forlorn and
forgotten.

“What did you have to talk to Peter about?”
Wendy turned to Tink, but the blond was shaking her head, arms
crossed.

“Never you mind.” Tink huffed off into the
house, leaving Wendy completely alone.

* * * *

She didn’t follow Tink and she didn’t follow
Peter. Instead, she went for a walk, needing to clear her head, to
breathe the night air away from the crowd. She wandered outside of
the tent and down the pathway toward the swamp. Her heels got stuck
in the grass so she took them off, walking barefoot, following to
the sound of bullfrogs.

What had she gotten herself into? The
thought kept recurring as she made her way across the edge of the
water, her feet sinking slightly in the marshy soil. Yes, she’d
been desperate to find a way out for herself and her little
brothers. Yes, Peter had appeared as a guardian angel and had taken
her, had taken all of them, under his wing. But things were so
strange here, so otherworldly, surreal. And there was so much she
didn’t know about Peter, in spite of her growing feelings for
him.

Did she trust him? She tried to be
objective, to be smart, but the truth was, she did trust him. In
spite of all the strangeness and everything she didn’t know, there
was something about Peter that made him guileless and loveable. But
was she just kidding herself? Was her own aching, desperate heart
leading her into trouble?

“Hello there.”

The voice came out of the darkness and Wendy
gasped, clutching her heart, suddenly jumping to life in her
chest.

“You scared me!” Her eyes adjusted to the
darkness, seeing a man standing in a motorboat on the water about
five feet away. The moon was bright enough that she could make out
a pale face, long dark hair, the flash of a bright white smile.

“I apologize,” he said, giving her a strange
little bow. He appraised her in the dim light, raising his
eyebrows. “So you must be Peter’s latest dish?”

Wendy frowned, taking a step back.
“Latest…?”

The man chuckled. “He changes girls like
most people change socks.”

“Who are you?”

“No one important.” He leaned toward her,
resting on a pole stuck in the water at the side of the boat. “He
seems quite taken with you.”

She glanced back at the distant glow of the
house, the white of the tent in the moonlight. “He gave me this
party.”

“Oh, aren’t you sweet?” The man laughed,
teeth flashing again. “But this isn’t for you, dearie. This is all
to showcase his band.” The man snorted with disgust. “Don’t let him
fool you. This has been planned for months.”

She looked from the man to the house and
back again. The tent, all the food, all the people… was it
possible?

She proceeded cautiously, still keeping her
distance. “How do you know Peter?”

“Oh we go way back.”

“Friends?” she inquired politely.

“You could say that.” The man pulled
something out of his pocket—a cell phone, its light bright in the
darkness as he looked at it. “He’s quite a catch, though. Hang onto
him while you can. I gotta run.”

He started to push off with his pole but
Wendy rushed forward, her feet getting wet. “Wait! What else do you
know about Peter?”

“Do you really want to know?” The man
stopped in mid-reach, not starting the motor.

She swallowed. Did she? Did she really?

“Yes.”

“Meet me back here at…” The man pulled a
cord, the motor starting, a low hum. “Let’s say… three a.m.”