Page 151 of Chasing Never

The man’s smile twitches. He tugs on his boy’s hand and disappears around the corner.

If the Shade had a heart, it would exult. This is his chance, he thinks, a flood of memories encompassing him. How many times has he watched Wendy Darling from the window? How many times has she come to him, drawn by the allure of the darkness?

He longs to rap on the door, to call out to her.

“Wendy Darling,” he whispers, his voice carrying through the closed window, even if his shadows cannot.

On the chaise, the woman stirs, her hand reaching over her face as her brow crinkles.

“Wendy Darling,” he whispers again.

Her eyes flutter, and the Shade could explode with desire. If only he can wake her up enough to draw her to the window.

But then another shadow appears on the other side of the window, standing between the Shade and his Darling.

The Shade is soon relieved to find it is only Wendy Darling’s brother, with his sandy hair and daydreaming eyes. Those eyes examine the Shade, and though they don’t exactly flicker with recognition, the boy cocks his head to the side.

The Shade always suspected the boy could see the shadows.

They stare at one another for a long while—the Shade and the boy.

“You know me,” says the Shade, finally. “Let me in, and we can play together, like we used to.”

To the Shade’s delight, the boy reaches his long fingers out to the window. But just as the boy’s fingers reach the clasp, his voice sounds out, deeper, more mature than the Shade remembers.

“Wendy Darling is sleeping,” says the boy.

And snaps the curtains closed.