Page 48 of The Never Queen

I don’t reach over to take them just yet. “Any information on Merry’s whereabouts? Or the Witch Killers’ plans?”

“Nothing I could dig up, unfortunately.”

The pirate shifts his weight from one foot to the other, his hand sliding closer to the dagger strapped to his hip.

I have less than three seconds to calculate the fuckery I’ve gotten us into. Less than two seconds to decide what to do about it.

When I possessed the Neverland Life Shadow all those years ago, before the Darlings, I thought that my power belonged to it, and that only with the Shadow would power belong to me.

Without it, I thought I had nothing and was nothing.

So for years and decades, my own power, the divine magic that burned in my veins and had been threaded through every fiber of my being, lay dormant, calcifying beneath the weight of my own fears.

I have no such fear now.

Even in the mortal realm, I only have to think of it, and it is there, burning bright like a star.

The pirate is immediately engulfed in flame.

He spins, screeching like a wounded animal.

The Pleasureland fae charges forward, but the twins are already reacting, already spinning a lie.

The man looks down, screams and then stumbles back.

Whatever illusion the twins have spun, it has the man so terrified, he’s pissed himself.

“Good luck, Peter Pan.” Kody slips in behind the wheel of his gigantic car and spins the tires as he hits the gas in reverse.

Smoke clouds the night, stinking of burnt rubber and grease.

Shadows emerge from the thin line of trees that stand between the parking lot and the creek.

And the glowing purple light of the bones hanging from the leather around their necks tells me all I need to know.

Kody has sold us out to the Witch Killers.

My power is gone in an instant.

“Get her in the car!” I yell to the twins, but they’re already surrounded, and Bash has a knife sunk in his thigh.

It takes three men on Vane to get him on the pavement, blood pouring from his mouth.

Kas is fighting off a woman whose movements are so quick, she’s practically a blur.

Another man comes charging at me, a dagger brandished in his hand. But he doesn’t make it. Because an arrow gets lodged in his skull.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see the familiar cut of a man in leather trousers and linen shirt.

Hansel.

I turn to Darling — if I can get her far enough away, we can fly out of here. Except there’s a woman behind her, her arm around Darling’s waist, the other at her throat, a knife pointed down at her chest.

“Do we have your attention now, Peter Pan?”

I hold up my hands.

The fighting comes to a sudden, silent stop.