have lost.”
You have your stories.
“But, Tink, those powers only worked in the realm of the First—where the stories and the land of Never Land haven’t solidified or set yet. It doesn’t work out here. Any stories I tell would just be stories.”
Then we can be the powers for you. You tell the stories, and we will make them come true.
Tinker Bell’s eyes were so wide and she sounded so sincere that Wendy felt like she was drowning in her friend’s trust. She snuck a look at Thorn. He gave a slight nod. She wasn’t sure if it meant yes, we will, or yes, you can, but either way it was an endorsement. For some reason he didn’t think Tinker Bell was being ridiculous.
“Okay,” Wendy said slowly. “But how—”
We need to take out Captain Hook, said the warrior fairy. Without a leader, the pirates will collapse into chaos.
“Agreed,” Wendy said. “A queen for a queen, like in chess. I don’t think they’re loyal enough to mount a revenge or rescue. There seemed to be some difference of opinion about what pirates are supposed to do even when I was aboard—and getting Peter Pan wasn’t high on the list for most of them.”
Just then, a ragged black shape slithered through the underbrush toward them.
Tinker Bell leapt up, jingling in fright—but it was only Wendy’s shadow.
“Ah! Good of you to join us,” Wendy said, patting the ground next to herself. The shadow obligingly slid over and slipped into Wendy’s shape. “Any luck with Peter’s shadow?”
The shadow shook her head, then held her hand out and rocked it from side to side.
“You think you could help him escape? With more time?”
The shadow shrugged and nodded desperately. Maybe or I have to or what else can we do?
“All right. We were just talking about the pirates and their leader, and how they are not that devoted to their beloved captain. So there’s somehow killing Hook, somehow capturing him, or somehow disabling him. And should it be the second two—as I rather hope—we will need the Lost Boys free and ready to battle the pirates if they do put up a resistance. Tinker Bell, when you released me from my ropes before—could you do that for all of them?”
Not from a distance. It isn’t magic, it’s…fairy knowing. Knots and traps are in our blood.
“I think that may still count as magic, to humans at least. But in any case, be clear: you have to actually touch the ropes.”
Yes. Thorn cut in. And we shine.
“Well, of course you do. You’re the best.”
No, shine.
Thorn flew up in front of her and glowed so brilliantly she had to shade her eyes.
“Right, right,” she said, feeling a little breathless that he was so close. “Not exactly a covert mission, I get it. But what if you could zip around and—I don’t know—maybe give them something to cut their own bonds with? Drop something in their hands and fly away quickly? Maybe a knife, or a sharp shell?”
Yes, but someone may still see us. And how will that help, since as you said the Lost Boys won’t rise up if their leader is in trouble?
“I think I’m getting there,” Wendy said, trying not to let her heart quicken as it sensed her brain’s ideas. Trying not to hope or believe. “I think you actually nailed it when you said stories. Hook certainly loves to talk—to hear himself talk, to hear himself tell stories. He has told stories in his head all his life about Peter and losing his hand. And crocodiles and clocks and time. It’s what worked him up into this crazy obsession. I think stories—or plays—are the thing to ‘catch the conscience of the king.’”
She sat back, feeling very clever.
The two fairies looked at her, uncomprehending.
“Shakespeare,” Wendy said, disappointed no one got the reference. “Hamlet.”
Oh! We know A Midsummer’s Night Dream, Thorn said proudly. I’m in it, sometimes.
Tinker Bell shot him an annoyed look.
“All right, the point is that, like Peter, Hook loves hearing about himself. You know, they really are a lot alike, if you stop to think about it.…Anyway, the tale needs to be big and dramatic, just like Hook. Something that will distract him to pieces. I don’t think it would take much to push him over the edge right now. Besides stories, I have a clockwork crocodile. Which, unlike my satchel, pirate treasure, or boat, really will turn out to be useful at the end of my adventure.
“And, finally, I have…myself.”
Tinker Bell jingled curiously.
“Why, I’m