Page 13 of Caging Darling

I should leave. This faerie wants me dead and has proven as much. But there’s that nagging question in the back of my mind again. Why did he do it? Why did John take his own life? Why did he leave Michael behind?

I step out into the clearing.

Tink’s head snaps in my direction, her blue eyes piercing even from several paces away. She bares her teeth, and at first Ithink she’ll cross the clearing and come for my throat. But then recognition flares in her eyes.

She wipes them, still wet, then pushes herself off the ground with one hand.

“You knew him,” I say, venturing toward her.

Tink takes a step back, though I’m nowhere close.

“Please, I just want to know why. Why he…” My voice trembles, and I can’t quite make myself finish the sentence.

Tink stares at me, scanning me like a doe ready to dash at the hunter’s next move.

“Please, just talk to me,” I whisper.

Tink tenses, then steps into the tree line and disappears.

CHAPTER 5

The next day, Victor won’t let me take Michael to visit John’s grave. At least, not by myself.

It stings, that an adolescent doesn’t believe me capable of watching after my own brother. It stings even worse that he’s right.

Michael brought his toys, and now he’s playing with them over John’s grave. Gentle sunlight streaks over the tops of the trees into the clearing, casting a golden glow over the meadow.

“You think he knows who this is?” Victor asks, watching as Michael makes train noises with the set he carried with him and now rolls over the top of the gravestone.

I’d like to think he does. That he’s imagining playing with John right now. But Michael’s mind is still a mystery to me in so many ways. One I’d so love to crack, but have never been quite capable of grasping.

I don’t answer the question.

My head is pounding. Still. While I’m able to keep my wits about me slightly better than when Charlie and Astor cut me off from the faerie dust completely, irritability simmers within me, the headache never ceasing. It’s only dulled in the scantmoments following my morning dose, which is dwindling by the day.

I keep hoping Peter will give up. The Mating Mark and my bargain are powerful, but neither competes with my aching for faerie dust. It’s all-consuming, and Peter notices. A few times, I thought he’d break. Miss the Wendy who’s obsessed with his presence enough to give me what I want.

But Peter isn’t satisfied as long as any bit of me belongs to anyone else. He wants it all. Every last drop of me.

“Did John ever mention Tink?” I ask Victor.

For a moment, the Lost Boy beside me freezes. Then turns toward me, slowly. Like if he can delay looking at me, he’ll have more time to come up with a response. That’s a yes, then.

“Why?” Victor asks.

“I saw her here. Last night. Visiting his grave.”

Confusion knits at Victor’s brow, the type that can’t be faked. He opens his mouth, then shuts it again.

“You know something.”

Victor sighs and runs his hands through his dark hair, which has grown to the point that it’s protruding over his pointed ears. “Not as much as I thought I did.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“John was looking for her. He thought she might know something about your disappearance.”

I blink, confused. But it could just be the headache. “Tink had nothing to do with Nol—me being taken from Neverland.”

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