Fierce as a Tiger Lily (Daughters of Neverland Book 2) Read online

  Clenching my jaw, I stare the Sea Captain down. “You’ve been keeping secrets, sister.”

  Wendy has the decency to wince, before she reaches in her pocket and pulls out a few small trinkets. We all lean forward to look, and the closer I study them, the more I realize they’re tear-shaped crystals. They glitter in the firelight, sending small rays to bounce off everything around us.

  “Since I’ve come to Neverland, even before I was chosen, when I cry, the tears turn into crystals. I didn’t know it was anything meaningful until Wolfbane showed me the one he kept when he tried to save me from Peter. He said that’s how he knows I’m the key.”

  The mention of Wolfbane nearly makes me flinch, but I keep my face neutral. “But Peter’s power deals in crystals,” I point out, staring closer at Wendy. She’s known this fact since she came to Neverland, and the harder I think about it, the more I realize I’ve never seen Wendy cry. Even with her humanity, she holds her tears back. This must be why, because she didn’t want anyone to know what happens when she does.

  “I know,” Wendy murmurs, looking down, “And I’m not happy we share any qualities, believe me.”

  For a moment, no one says anything. I know, in my mind, this new revelation spins inside my mind. I’m piecing things together rapidly. If Wolfbane knows the tears mean Wendy’s a key, he wouldn’t lie about that. He honestly believes Wendy will unlock something important.

  “It’s a good thing I’m an expert in keys,” White murmurs. “Do you have any doors here?”

  “Besides the one Peter flies through, no. He’s the only one that can use it, though. He can’t take anyone out. He can only bring people in.” Hook is still staring at Wendy, and I watch as he reaches out rough fingers to pick up one of the crystals in her hand to study it closer. There’s such tenderness in his expression, I have to look away, feeling like I’m intruding on their moment.

  “That settles it then,” I say, and everyone turns to look at me. “I’m going to have to force Peter to join us. He’s the only one with a similarity in powers and we need his information. I’ll go to the Hollow and try again.”

  “Good luck,” Wendy grumbles, crossing her arms. I know her and Peter have bad blood, that whatever he had done to her so long ago stains her soul, but we’ve never spoken of exactly what happened, and she’s never mentioned how Wolfbane is connected except for brief mentions of him trying to save her. Curiosity eats at me, but the thought is interrupted when March stands with a grin.

  “I’ll join you,” he announces, and everyone goes quiet, as if it’s unexpected that he should offer to go with me.

  “I don’t need an escort.” I stare at March closely, searching for some sign of his intentions. When he shrugs and grins, it reassures me that I don’t have to worry about ill-intentions, even if his head ticks to the side like he’s hearing a voice.

  “How about company through the trees to offer you some ease?”

  “March—” Jupiter starts but the March Hare narrows his eyes on her, and I can feel the danger coming from him. Jupiter obviously feels the same, even before his form flashes, even before he cuts her off.

  “I’m not an invalid, Dreamwalker,” he says in a deadly calm voice.

  Jupiter frowns but nods her head, relenting and forgetting whatever it was she planned to say. I roll my eyes at the display. I’ve watched people underestimate someone, but Jupiter only seems to care for the Hare, rather than attempted to stall him. She’s not afraid of March, but she dismisses the conversation.

  “Hurry up then, Hare,” I grumble, but before I can walk past Wendy, I kneel before her and look her in the eyes. She blinks at me in surprise. “You said Wolfbane tried to save you.” She flinches under my attention, but I don’t relent. “How?”

  Everyone’s eyes are on us, but I don’t care. There’s too much at stake in her answer. It’s time we all know what happened to Wendy so long ago.

  “When I first came to Neverland, Peter. . .kept me,” she whispers. “For weeks. He was curious, and I couldn’t climb out of the Hollow. The door was locked.” She clears her throat. “One day, Wolfbane showed up and he helped me escape, but as we were running from the skull creatures, Peter caught us.”

  I grit my jaw. “And what did he do when he caught you two?”

  I can feel everyone around us holding their breath, waiting to see what Wendy says. None of us have heard her story, not because Wendy is weak, but because she keeps it to herself out of strength. She knows there isn’t a shortage of people that would like to punish Peter for what he’s done.

  “He dangled us over a chasm. Wolfbane had a hold of my arm but his hold was ripping it out of socket with his weight. I wasn’t very strong then. Wolfbane let go so we didn’t both die.” Wendy meets my eyes with her own. “I went back later to find his body.”

  “But you couldn’t.” I nod in understanding. Suddenly, listening to Wolfbane speak of making a deal with Neverland makes more sense. He had almost died, but in order to continue living, he’d been forced to give up his humanity. “Thank you, Wendy, for sharing your story with me.” I bow my head to her and stand, leaving them all behind when I made my way towards the entrance. March trots beside me, but I can only focus on one thing.

  Peter killed Wolfbane, all for a game.

  All those years ago, when he’d gone missing from the tribe, it hadn’t been because he’d died or escaped. It was because the boy who never wanted to grow up was playing his games.

  I see red, and though I try my hardest to hold it back for an event that happened so long ago, it’s enough to make me want to act on it.

  Just a game.

  Chapter Eleven

  For long minutes, neither March nor I speak as we walk through the thick trees, heading once again for the Hollow a day after the last time. I don’t know if Peter will listen to me or if he’ll once again send me away, but this time, I need answers.

  Peter knows everything about me, and yet he’d kept the death of Wolfbane and the creation of the Crocodile silent. All these years thinking Wolfbane came across something else, and it was only Peter.

  Always Peter Pan.

  “You’re angry,” March murmurs, holding a branch back until I pass. His bright green eyes study me closely, too closely. I’m not sure if I like how much the Hare seems to look into my soul.

  “Of course, I’m angry,” I snap and sigh. I shoot an apologetic look towards March, but he doesn’t seem to mind. “Wendy hasn’t told that story before, and for good reason. I thought Wolfbane disappeared because of something far worse than just Pan playing games. And now I find out it was all for some sick, twisted game, and he never once told me.”

  “This was before everyone grew?”

  I nod. “Yes. When Wendy first arrived. It took a long time after she arrived before we were Chosen, and then much longer still before we started aging.” I look at March. “The aging is relatively new.”

  “Hmm.”

  Pausing there in the woods, I turn towards March and put my hands on my hips. The Hare is far too attractive for his own good, his eyes seeing too much, those lips ticking up. It’s strange to think he thought himself a monster, but I can understand. We all think ourselves monsters until we find someone who makes us feel like we aren’t.

  “What’s your story?” I ask, studying March closely.

  His ear twitches with my question, his form flashing between one and the next before settling. As if the question triggered it. Sighing, March turns toward me from where he’d been pushing branches out of the way. I don’t tell him I don’t need him to worry about me because he seems to enjoy having a task, but I’ve been running through this forest for as long as I can remember. A branch isn’t going to hurt me.

  “My story isn’t a happy one, Pretty Lily. It’s not something I tell.” He steps closer, until we’re inches apart, until he’s looking down into my eyes. Even though I’m tall, March still manages to have height on me, and with his ears, it makes him even taller. When he lifts
his finger to my cheek and runs it down there, I don’t flinch away. I study his face, the stumble on his jaw, the bright eyes, the sharp jawline. March is walking sin, but I have a feeling no one has looked at him as anything but the mad March Hare in a long time.

  “Most stories aren’t happily ever afters,” I murmur, letting his finger linger on my skin against my better judgement. It’s a bad idea to get attached to this man when everything is going from bad to worse, but I can’t seem to ignore the pull.

  March’s eyes flash. “Is there such a thing as happily ever after here?”

  “I’ve never seen one.” I purse my lips. “Wendy and Hook are the closest we’ve come, and it took them a long time to admit their feelings for each other, and longer to act on it. It can’t truly be a happily ever after though until we save Neverland, right?”

  “Happily ever afters are for naïve children,” March breathes. “Even if they’re possible, no one stays happy permanently.”

  I raise my brow. “Do you have experience with that?”

  Sighing, March turns and stares off into the trees, silent for long moments before he turns back towards me, and I know he’s decided to tell me something horrible. No one’s eyes look so haunted unless they’ve suffered something tragic.

  “Wonderland isn’t so different from Neverland. It’s dangerous, even without rogue Alices slipping in and taking over. Before Clara, Jupiter, and Cal ever fell into Wonderland, before Alice did, Wonderland was relatively uneventful. The Old King and Queen ruled kindly. No one starved. People died but not as often. Usually it was someone who got in a fight with a Chimera or something else like that. We had Flam, but he was on our side, so we never had to worry about him razing our world. The world was dangerous if you weren’t careful, but we all knew the rules, and so we were able to live relatively at ease.”

  “It sounds boring.”

  March laughs, his eyes lighting up at my words. “It could indeed get boring, Pretty Lily.” But the smile dropped from his lips as he continued. “I was born into my role. My father was in charge of the tea long before I ever was, and though he fell in love with my mother, there was really no reason the two should have been together. After I was born, when I was still a child, they both fell into a fit of rage and ripped each other apart.”

  I blink. “In front of you?”

  He nods. “Right after they died, the madness crept inside my brain. Apparently, the downfall of being able to control the tea, of knowing all the history passed from Hare to Hare, is the madness that comes with it. The moment my father died, the mantle was passed to me, and my downward spiral began.”

  “Are the forms a side effect of the tea, too?”

  “No. One is alive, one is dead. Another is gone, the other fled.”

  “So are you four people? Or one person split into four?” I glance around us, checking to make sure we’re still alone. We’re standing in the middle of the forest, having a conversation, and realizing we still have somewhere we need to go, I gesture for us to keep walking slowly through the trees. March does so without complaint.

  “Clever, clever, Pretty Lily. I don’t think anyone has ever asked me that.”

  “You didn’t answer the question,” I point out.

  “That’s because I don’t truly know it.” His eyes meet mine. “I don’t feel like four different people, if that helps.”

  “And the madness?”

  “Is ever present. Sometimes it’s nothing more than a rhyme slipping passed my lips or the scent of blood on the wind. Others, it’s a voice in my head telling me to murder someone for no reason.” He shrugs nonchalantly. “It’s a strange beast under my skin.”

  I pause again and turn towards him. “And what does it tell you about me?” I’m curious. If the voices in March’s head tell him all sorts of things, they’ve had to speak to him about me. Have they told him to kill me? Has he considered it? I don’t consider March a threat, even after he revealed he’s a monster, because I can feel his soul. He might be a monster, but he doesn’t want to be. That’s the true difference I hadn’t been able to voice before of what makes a monster monstrous.

  A small smile curls his lips and he steps close again, closer, until I find myself stepping back into a large tree—thankfully a safe one—with the March Hare pressed against my front. His fingers trail up my wrist to the crease of my elbow, sending sharp zings of. . .something through my body.

  “It tells me a great many things about you, Pretty Lily,” he purrs. The heat of his body soaks into my skin as we press flush against each other, and my own fingers itch to stroke his ear.

  “Such as?”

  “It tells me to claim you right here against this tree, to make you scream out my name for all Neverland to hear, regardless of the danger.” He leans down to run his lips along my pulse, and I clench my fists at my side. “It tells me to erase the shadows in your eyes and replace them with my own,” he breathes. “But that would be cruel. No one should have to dance in my shadows with me.”

  “I’m not something to be claimed, Hare.”

  “I know,” he admits. “I don’t always listen to the voices.” He leans back to meet my eyes. “But this time, I really want to.”

  “We have a job to do.”

  “There’s nothing against having a little fun on the descent into shadows, Pretty Lily.”

  I study March closer, wrinkling my brow. My body tingles where he touches me, where his lips pressed against my throat, begging for more. There’s so much tension between us, and though we have somewhere to be, I still am tempted to take him up on his offer and let him ‘claim me’ against the tree. It’d been so long since anyone looked at me without whispering ‘Skinwalker’ under their breath, and only one other person once cared to look at me that way at all, though he’s probably lost to me. Something inside March calls to me, but I have to deny it. It won’t be good to get distracted right now.

  “Why choose me?” I ask. There were plenty others in Neverland if March is just trying to scratch an itch. If he prefers dangerous women, he can even attempt to woo Tink. I hadn’t opened myself up to his affections, so it was strange to think of him choosing me and telling me these things now.

  “It wasn’t a choosing,” he murmurs, reaching up to brush his thumb against my bottom lip. “It was a feeling. Don’t you feel it, too?”

  I try not to answer, because that sounds like a weakness. March admits it freely, uncaring of whatever vulnerability he reveals. As a Daughter, I really shouldn’t think of it at all. I have a duty to my people, to my world. I shouldn’t place so much merit on a feeling, but I find myself doing just that.

  Reaching up, I stroke a finger along the half-torn ear, the juxtaposition of the scarred and torn flesh with the soft appendage strange. March jerks against me, pressing me harder into the tree, before he shivers and braces his arms on either side of me.

  “You’re playing with fire, Pretty Lily,” he says on a raspy growl, his eyes flaring brighter.

  I don’t pull my hand away. Instead, I circle his ear completely and stroke. His hard length presses against me but this isn’t about that. “This is a weakness,” I point out even as his teeth suddenly seem sharper, even if his muscles strain in his arms where he holds himself steady.

  He gnashes his teeth together with a clack. “Why don’t you give me permission and I’ll show you how much of a weakness it is?” he snarls. “When I take you against this tree, will it be me showing weakness or you, Pretty Lily? Do you want to see which of us gains the upper hand?”

  When he lifts his hand towards my face again, it’s tipped with claws instead of the strong fingers he’d sported before and my brow raises. The March Hare is unlike any Hare I’ve ever seen.

  “If your father was a Hare, what was your mother?” I breathe, taking his hand in mine and pressing it against my cheek anyways, even with the claws. I have my own claws. I’ve never been afraid of sharp edges.

  “Clever,” he grins, tilting his head. “Another questi
on no one has ever asked me.”

  “Is it common knowledge?”

  His nose wrinkles, and though it should have been cute, it only comes across as threatening. “No. Not even the Hatter knows my origins.” But March doesn’t elaborate. He doesn’t answer the question, and when his form flashes briefly, I don’t jerk away. “Why aren’t you afraid of me, Pretty Lily? I suspect you’re learning what sort of monster I am.” He seems genuinely curious, even confused by it.

  I reach out a hand and stroke it over the corded muscle of his neck, down to where his shirt opens enough to reveal a small bit of his chest. There are lines there, some puckered skin, but March shifts before I can study them closer, keeping me from looking.

  “We’re all monsters, March. Don’t think for a second I’m any better than you.” My eyes flick to his. “My hands are just as coated in blood as yours are.”

  “Blood and gore drips from her claws as she stands a little silly, dressed in a hat fit for a monster stands the Pretty Lily.” March tilts his head, watching my reaction, but he’s sorely mistaken if he thinks I’ll reveal anything. I won’t be showing my hand anytime soon. He leans forward and runs his lips along my jaw, making my pulse jump there. His form shifts just before he presses his lips to my skin, but it doesn’t surprise me. There are four, whether people or pieces, I’m not sure. But he doesn’t scare me. “You never flinch,” he whispers, “when you look at me.”

  The greens in his eyes swirl like a toxic storm, a cacophony of poisonous stars.

  “You don’t scare me, March Hare.” I press my hands against him, backing him up, and he easily lets me move him. “But before we can explore any feelings at all, we have a job to do.”

  He grins. “We can explore later.” He offers his hand, his claws shrinking until his fingers look normal again. “For now, let’s go fetch your Peter Pan.”

  When I move my hand, I accidently knock the glasses askew on his face and grimace. “Sorry, here let me help. You probably can’t see so well with them like that.”