8. Colt

Oh-uh. Peter is pissed off.

Then again, his moods have always been mercurial, and have gotten worse over the past few years.

It's as if he can feel his time running out, flowing through his fingers, vanishing into the void.

And then… wait, what?

"Hook? Coming here? What the fuck are you saying?" I yank myself off Wendy and adjust my hard-on inside my pants. "That's bullshit."

"He heard you, goddammit, going at it like fucking rabbits." Peter gets in my face, eyes narrow and teeth bared. "You know he can sense it when we fuck her."

"Hey." I back away, lifting my hands. Peter's anger can be formidable, and so is his power. He is the king, after all. "All we did was kiss."

"And some of us didn't even get to that," Tink grumbles, "and still got punished. Remember throwing me against the wall? Remember—?"

"She doesn't belong to you, Peter," I mutter.

"What was that?" Peter's attention returns to me.

"You did get her off outside when she first arrived. I thought you didn't care if Hook knew. All I'm saying is…" I lift my shoulders in a shrug. "She's not the one, man. We talked about it."

"Fuck." He runs a hand through his hair. "We did? Well, it doesn't matter. Hook now he thinks she's the one and he'll come to take her."

"Take me?" Wendy has sat up and is tugging down her short skirt. Her face is red. "Take me where? Who is this Hook?"

"Hook used to be one of us," Wes says. "But he has fallen from grace."

"Shut up, Wes," Peter growls.

"Why? It's no big secret, even if he's still listening in."

Wendy gets up, and fuck, she's so short and slight and delicate in the center of the four of us I can't look away. "How can Hook listen in?"

"Like Tink, he's got magic," Peter says. "Unlike Tink, he's allied himself with the merfolk centuries ago, becoming somewhat merfolk himself, and therefore every liquid is an echoing chamber for him."

"Merfolk." She blinks those huge eyes. "And what did you say about Tink?"

"Tink's is half-Fae. Folk of the earth, I believe?"

"Earthen-were." Tink winks. "I'm actually Night Court."

"And the liquid that allowed Hook to listen in?" Wendy asks. "Where was the liquid?"

"There's a leak inside the bedroom," Wes says with a scowl. "Yeah, it's a literal leak. Of water."

"But also of information apparently," Peter says.

"I didn't think of that."

"Yeah," Peter says, "you didn't."

"How is that possible? A leak of water… merfolk and earth-Fae…" Wendy huffs. "Peter, you have to tell me what I'm doing here."

"Apart from fucking them?" he snarls.

"For your information," she steps right into his space, hands balled at her sides, a small volcano of rage to match his own, "you are the only one who actually put his hands inside my panties and put on a show for them, but now you have the gall to complain because they kissed me? For real?"

He blinks. Glances sideways at me as if asking for help and I almost laugh because this is a first.

Thing is, I don't know if he forgot about that little stunt of his earlier on, or if he's just out of his depth with a woman who talks back.

"I'm the King," he ends up saying.

"And I'm the Queen of Sheba."

He blinks. "Are you?"

"What are you, stupid? Oh, right," she waves a hand about, "this is an island out of time where you fight pirates and… and mermaids." Her face pales. "Shit, that mermaid was real, too, wasn't it?"

"Would I be limping if not?" he mutters, frowning.

He's annoyed.

Well, he's not the only one.

And wait, what the fuck?

"Peter!" I bark, "did the mermaid touch you?"

He looks down and blood is seeping through his pants. "Not much."

"Not much? That's venom!" I snap.

"I know what it is, Colt," Peter says. "My mind isn't all gone."

Yet. Not all gone yet. He doesn't say the word but it hangs in the air between us.

"So what's the cure for this venom?" Wendy asks, staring down at Peter's leg.

"I'm fine," he says and predictably grabs her wrist. Man's got a thing for control and… maybe touch? He rarely touches us anymore, too lost inside his head, his shadow moving him like a puppet, but he can't seem to stop touching Wendy. "Come on."

She shoots me a questioning look and I just shrug. If she's wondering about Peter, well, tough. Only he can tell her more, if he remembers.

And if she's worried about Hook arriving, she'll just have to join the club.

* * *

"Where are we going?"she asks as we file out of the house and move among the trees, glancing back at us as Peter drags her along to his much wider strides.

"Leading Hook away from home," Tink says.

"Quiet," Peter snaps.

"What does it matter?" Tink makes a face. "It's the four of us, and Wendy. He has the numbers on his side."

"Numbers?" Wendy whispers. "Meaning?"

"Hook took the Dark Fae side. He fights for the coalition of the Unseelie Fae and the merfolk. Goddamn pirate."

She stumbles, curses, glances back again. "So what, he's got an army?"

"Of sorts."

"And what are we gonna do?"

She says "we" like it's decided, like she's the one we need, like she doesn't hate us, like we're a team.

Peter doesn't seem to notice. "Wes, you take her and hide her. Meet you back at the house when the moon sets."

"Why Wes?" I demand, caught off guard. Usually, Peter trusts my common sense more.

"I need you with me," he says, cryptic as ever, and I don't know if he really has a plan or if his mind is playing some sort of trick again. "And Tink."

"Really." Tink arches a brow. "Are you sure you're not confused, King Peter?"

"I'm sure. Take her." He hands Wendy off to Wes and she flattens her mouth and looks like she's about to resist, demand to know more, or worse, demand to go with us—but she sighs and lets Wes lead her away. "And don't fuck her!" Peter calls after them.

Wendy lifts her hand and gives him the finger.

I stifle a snicker and clear my throat.

My God, I'm starting to like this girl.

* * *

"So what's your idea?"I ask as we trudge among the sparse trees, heading toward the town. "Head Hook off and then?"

"Yeah, Peter Pan, what's your idea?" Tink asks but he glances at me, shadows in his normally bright eyes. He's worried. About Peter? About Hook? About this new Wendy? Who the hell knows?

"We're going to convince him I didn't find Wendy," Peter says, an edge to his voice.

"You mean, the right Wendy?" I mutter.

"Yeah."

"But doesn't that imply…" It's my turn to glance at Tink, looking for some reassurance that I'm not imagining things. "That this is the right Wendy?"

"Yeah," Peter says, more impatiently.

"But didn't we agree… that she's not…"

"No."

Color me confused. Baffled, honestly. Tink looks the way I feel, brows up to his hairline. "Do you mean she is or she isn't the o—"

"See now why you have to keep your hands off her?" Peter snarls as he stalks off, heading toward the town. "You'll fuck up her magic."

"What the hell are you on about?" Tink strolls after Peter while I stand there, bummed and at the same time buzzing—because dammit, I'm dying to get my dick inside of her but the chance that she may be the one, at long fucking last…

"Try and keep up, Tinkers," Peter says.

"No, man, this won't fly, not like that." Tink's voice is sharp like a blade. "I don't feel any magic in her. Do you? Do you feel, I don't know, magic, or anything that could break the spell, set us free—?"

"She's human," he says.

Tink lets out an incredulous laugh. "Isn't that a no?"

Goddammit.

Tink glances back at me, rolls his eyes. "Crazy," he mouths at me.

Is he, though? What the hell, is she or isn't she magical? Is she or isn't she the one? It can't be both, and Peter's mind can't be trusted.

Scowling, I follow after them, drawing out my gun, checking the magazine. I have a few bullets left. Not gonna make much of a difference if we have to fight.

We've managed to avoid engaging with Hook's gang for a long time now and last time…

Last time wasn't pretty.

It left us with little ammunition, for starters, and as only Peter can cross over to the real world, we're running low. He hasn't thought to bring any with him this time.

And traveling between worlds makes him sicker. He has a scar that keeps festering, and as it's only half on his physical body, it's impossible to cure.

The Fisher King, Hook calls him—some medieval myth about a king with a wound that can't heal, apparently.

Hook was always one about history and knowledge. He was the one insisting we should return to the real world back when we didn't give a shit, all too fucking happy to be rid of the real world, to be as far away from it as possible.

Such fucking fools we were.

Still are.

"You still haven't told us your idea, Peter," Tink says, glancing around him, his hand on the pommel of his sword, his magic flaring around him like an aura. "How do you propose to beat Hook?"

"I don't," Peter says. "I can't beat him. I'll just convince him that we have the wrong Wendy once more."

There he goes again, implying she is the right one.

But that's fucking impossible… isn't it?