Page 67 of The Never Queen

I might as well lean into the unpredictable.

Tire iron cocked back, I charge her, screaming like a wild fairy spirit.

It works. She hesitates just long enough for me to slam her in the thigh, then the arm, knocking the dagger from her grip.

I kick it out of reach.

“You think I can’t kill you with my bare hands?”

“You can try,” I say.

Her nostrils flare, as if she’s summoning all of her rage and violence.

I brace myself, ready to fight back until I have nothing left to give.

But a noise in the recesses of the warehouse brings us to a stop.

The sound of a door slamming open. Of fighting. Pain and carnage. The sound of metal hitting stone, then bones being snapped.

It takes Peter Pan and the Lost Boys less than a minute to make their way through the Witch Killers in the receiving area and then into the depths of the warehouse to us.

Pan says, “Catch,” and tosses me a small, smooth object with a small etching in the side.

I’m shaky, bloody, and bruised, but I manage to catch the fire stone.

And as soon as it’s in my hand, the Shadow rushes in like a tidal wave filling in a hundred mini tide pools.

Power surges into my veins.

I’ve come to take the Shadow for granted. Until now.

Now I will be grateful for it every second of every day.

I turn to Gretel and her lips part in a little gasp.

My eyes have turned black. I can feel the Shadow writhing, pressing against my insides, hungry to get out.

Let’s spill some blood, I say to it.

Gladly.

34

PETERPAN

The moment Darling has the anti-rock in her hand, Gretel is done. I see the resignation register on her face.

No longer blocked from her, the Neverland Dark Shadow spins around Darling like a cloud of locusts.

This is the version of Darling that scares me the most, but scares me in all the ways I love. I cannot contain her. No one can contain her. I may be a god, but she can have me on my knees with no effort at all.

I love watching her mete out revenge.

The Shadow spins forward, swarming Gretel, blinding her. Darling stretches out her hand and a forgotten dagger cast aside on the floor lifts midair, spins hilt over blade, then flies to Darling, fitting itself firmly into her waiting grip.

She darts forward, more avenging angel than charging ram, and sinks the blade into Gretel’s throat.

The Witch Killer makes a choked, gargled sound.