Straight On Till Morning (Disney Twisted Tales) - Liz Braswell Page 0,53
she growled. “The. Worst.”
The purple mermaid took a salacious bite out of the cherry and grinned at her wickedly.
The rest of the mermaids calmed down, the last of the fruit having been torn into several pieces and devoured by the lucky—or most vicious—ones.
“We were just having a little fun,” the pink-haired mermaid said with a pout.
“Fun. That’s all,” the green-haired one said, floating on her back.
“We were only trying to drown you,” the red-haired one added innocently.
“As I said,” Wendy said flatly. “The worst.”
Tinker Bell flew over to her, careful to avoid the reaching hands of the mermaids. She blanched when she saw the raw skin and sheets of blood on the human girl’s legs. Wendy grimaced and ripped off a wide strip of hem from her already bedraggled skirt and carefully dabbed at the wounds. The salt water was, if not sterile, then at least safer than anything coming out of the jungle. Once her legs were clean, she tore the makeshift bandage in two, wrapped one around each leg, and tied them neatly.
“We came here to get your help in finding your friend, you know,” she said when she was done. “And saving your land. We know where Peter Pan’s shadow is and came here looking for him so we could get it back. And also—”
But it didn’t matter that their entire world was being threatened by psychotic pirates; the mermaids only heard or cared about one thing.
“Peter Pan?”
They paused whatever they were doing at his name, bobbing in the water like floats on a fishing line.
“Why didn’t you say you were here for Peter Pan?” one of them asked.
“I DID!” Wendy barked angrily, so unlike herself that Tinker Bell blew a couple feet away in surprise. “You were too busy trying to lure me into the water to listen. You horrible, murdering fishwives!”
“We didn’t know it was about Peter Pan.…”
They began to dreamily glide and drift through the water.
“We know he lost his shadow.…”
“He hasn’t been the same without it.…”
“So sad, our Peter!”
“We’ll help him get it back.…”
“And then he’ll be happy again!”
Wendy gritted her teeth, trying to control her temper.
“All right. You can start by telling us where Peter is. We were told he came here.”
“He did!” the red-haired mermaid said, as serious as any toddler telling an actual truth. “He always comes here when he’s sad.”
“We cheer him up.”
“We…make him happy again.”
Tinker Bell grew red in the face, literally red, literally glowing, and her wispy brows became thunderheads.
“All right, yes, good, whatever,” Wendy said quickly. She didn’t want to hear any more, either, honestly. What a little harem he had here in Never Land! “When was that?”
“He came when the first moon was a tiny sickle,” the green-haired one said thoughtfully, putting a fetching finger to her lip, deep in thought.
“An ickle-sickle,” the red-haired one giggled.
“And he left just two mornings later!”
“No time at all with us, this time,” one pouted.
“So boring…”
“So sad…”
“All right. Please stop. Tinker Bell, how long ago was that? I’m afraid I’m quite unfamiliar with the phases of the moon here. Moons, I suppose.” For all she knew, time ran backward, or made no sense at all.
Tinker Bell cocked her head, thinking, then jingled four times.
“Four days ago? That’s bad news,” Wendy said grimly. “He could be anywhere by now. Did he mention at all where he was going?”
“Yes,” the purple-haired one said grandly, trying to regain her original poise. “He said he was going to petition…the First.”
At this, everything became silent. The mermaids stopped chattering and bobbing. The jungle noises faded into the background. Tinker Bell shuddered. Even the waterfall seemed subdued.
“All right, then, that’s something,” Wendy said, trying to sound bright despite the apparent dire connotations of the mermaid’s words. “And where do we find ‘the First’?”
“Hopefully,” one mermaid said as she turned a lazy barrel roll, “you don’t. And they never find you.”
“Helpful. As always.” Wendy stood up to wring out the rest of her skirts. “Thank you for the information. And who knows? If it turns out to be useful, I may not direct the pirates to your lagoon after we’ve dealt with them.”
“Oh! You’re so mean!” the pink-haired mermaid cried in dismay.
“Really? Are you kidding me?” Wendy demanded.
She felt a tiny tap on her hand.
Tinker Bell squeezed her finger and shook her head. It’s not worth it.
Wendy realized the little fairy was right. If Tinker Bell, who had just as much—if not more—reason to hate these mermaids than Wendy, could walk away, well, so could she.