The PAN
Praise for The P.A.N
“Hickman has masterfully (and magically) brought the legend of Neverland into the 21st century with this fun and fast-moving reimagining of the Peter Pan saga.” -Natalie Murray, Author, Emmie and the Tudor King and Emmie and the Tudor Queen (5-star rating)
“The PAN is addictive and engaging,” -Lyndsey Gallagher, Author, The Midwife Crisis (5-star rating)
“Right off the bat, I was sucked into this world.” -Candace Robinson, Author, Lyrics & Curses (5-star rating)
Copyright © 2020 by Jenny Hickman
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.
Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblances to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
Published by Midnight Tide Publishing.
www.midnighttidepublishing.com
Interior Formatting by Elissa Carr/Book Savvy Services
Book Title/ Jenny Hickman. – 2nd ed.
ISBN : 978-1-7356141-0-6
eBook ISBN: 978-1-7356141-1-3
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Want a sneak peek?
The H.O.O.K.
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by Jenny
More Books You’ll Love
Girl in the Clockwork Tower by Lou Wilham
Lyrics & Curses
Ragnarök Unwound
For my fellow dreamers who wish they could fly
“I get to go home when you’re finished with tomorrow’s tests, right?” Vivienne assumed, feeling hopeful for the first time since she had been admitted to the hospital.
“I’m afraid not,” the doctor said, adjusting the glasses on his nose. “Your diagnosis is still inconclusive.”
She slumped against the pillow and picked at the surgical tape surrounding the IV on the back of her hand. The four other doctors in white coats and stethoscopes muttered their agreement.
On her way to school on Monday, she had felt a bit light-headed. Nothing new considering she had skipped breakfast. She’d felt anxious as well, but that was because she had only spent twenty minutes cramming for her history test. Halfway through first period, waves of dizziness and nausea had crashed over her. Before she could get to the school nurse, her world had gone black.
Now she was sitting in a stuffy hospital room being stared at like she was an exhibit at the zoo. The rotten smell from the wilting flowers at her bedside was turning her stomach, and if the doctors didn’t stop scribbling on their clipboards and tell her something, she was going to scream.
As if he heard her mental freak-out, the doctor in the glasses told her that he was sure she had nothing to worry about. Then he escaped with the rest of his colleagues.
“I’m here! I’m here!” Lynn burst through the curtains, reeking of perfume and cigarettes. She collapsed onto the chair and dropped her purse on the floor. “Sorry it took me so long. Traffic was nuts,” she said, shrugging free from her coat and brushing her permed hair back from her face.
“Is that a new coat?” Vivienne asked. It wasn’t the faded brown one her foster mother usually wore.
“Got it at Goodwill.” Lynn picked some lint out of the faux fur-lined hood. Her neon-pink nails did nothing to distract from the nicotine stains between her fingers. “It was too cheap to pass up.”
The coat she had bought Vivienne three years earlier had a broken zipper and was too short in the arms. “New purse too?”
“They were both on sale. Nice, huh?” Lynn returned Vivienne’s nod with a gap-toothed smile. “Are you feeling any better?”
“I haven’t puked since yesterday. So that’s a win.”
“It sure is. I talked to the doctor on my way in here. They said you’re going to be staying for a little bit longer.”
The last thing Vivienne wanted was to discuss her health with Lynn. “How’s Lyle?” Her foster brother had texted a few times, but hadn’t made any effort to see her.
“He’s fine. Maren’s good too.”
Vivienne’s foster sister was probably too busy with cheerleading practice or organizing homecoming to realize she was even in the hospital.
They chatted about nothing for another ten minutes before Lynn claimed she needed to get home to cook dinner. Which was crap. It was bingo night. She would probably leave straight from the hospital for the church hall.
Vivienne didn’t mind. She preferred being alone to making idle conversation. Once Lynn was gone, she tried taking a nap. But sleeping was impossible with people coming in and out of the room like it was an airport.
When she opened her eyes, there was a dark-haired teen lounging on the other side of the dividing curtain. His black hoodie and dark jeans stood out like an ominous shadow against the sanitary white walls.
The door opened, and a nurse came in wearing the same sympathetic smile as every other nurse.
“Someone was awfully thirsty,” she said cheerfully, refilling the jug of water on the rolling tray table. Her dark ponytail swung from side to side as she moved around the bed.
“Yeah. They told me to drink a lot of water.” Vivienne glanced back at the guy. He was looking out the window now. The nurse didn’t acknowledge him. Which was odd. Right? Sure, he was on the other side of the curtain, but he wasn’t invisible.
The nurse babbled about her weekend plans while she took Vivienne’s temperature and blood pressure. “Do you need anything before I go?” she asked, throwing her rubber gloves into the biohazard bin. “My shift is almost over, so I won’t be back in to see you tonight.”
“I think I’m good. Have fun in Vegas.”
“You can guarantee it!”
The nurse bounced out the door. When Vivienne turned back to the dividing curtain, the guy was staring at her. His eyes narrowed, and his head tilted to the side, but he kept silent.
She was about to say something when yet another nurse slipped between the curtains. Her purple scrubs were a welcome break from all the blue ones.
“I have some good news for you, Vivienne,” she said after glancing at the clipboard. “They’re moving you to another facility to see a specialist.”
That was supposed to be good news? “I thought I was staying here.” The doctor had said that, right?
“No. You’re leaving tonight.” In an efficient yet detached manner, the nurse unhooked Vivienne from the various machines. “Get up and get dressed. Someone will be along shortly to bring you to the lobby for transfer.”
This didn’t feel right. The hospital wouldn’t release her without her guardian’s consent. “Where’s Lynn?”
The nurse launched into an explanation about forms being signed and hospital procedures and stuff she probably should have been listening to, but she found her attention drifting back to the guy behind the—
He was gone.
The clipboard cracked against the bed rail. “Are you even listening to me?”
“Sorry. I thought I saw someone over there.” Vivienne nodded her chin toward the empty chair. Had he been there at all?
The nurse walked to the hanging material and gave it a swift tug.
Vacant bed. Empty chair. Open window. Where had he gone?
“There’s no one else in the room but us.” After scribbling a note in Vivienne’s chart, and with and a curt reminder to get dressed, the nurse left.
Hopefully the specialist would be able to tell Vivienne why she was hallucinating now too.
She traded the unflattering hospital gown for her ripped jeans and gray T-shirt. When she yanked her hoodie out of her backpack, a small square of glossy paper drifted to the bed. She picked up the photo of her brother and sister and smiled.
Adventures with William and Anne made up the bulk of Vivienne’s scant childhood memories. Bedtime stories, pancake Saturdays, trips to the lake—
She sighed and tucked the photo between the pages of her history book.
“Are you dressed yet?” a male voice asked from behind the curtain. “It’s getting late, and we really must be on our way.”
His British accent made her smile. She’d always had a thing for accents. “Yeah, I’m all done.” She reached for the privacy curtain to see what her escort looked—
The guy from the corner was leaning with his shoulder against the door frame. And wow. Just wow. High cheekbones, sharp jaw, straight nose, and his mouth . . .
She knew it was rude to stare, but she couldn’t help it.
He wasn’t just handsome. He was beautiful.
“It’s about time they unhooked you,” he said. “I thought I was going to have to do it myself.” His head tilted and his brows pulled together as he studied her outfit. His eyes were the most unusual shade of green, deep and rich, like a field in the height of spring. “Do you have anything darker to wear?”
“Darker?” She looked down at her yellow hoodie. Did the color really matter? “Um…no?”
“It’ll have to do then. Are you ready to leave?”
“With you?” She gripped the bed rails at her back to keep herself steady.
The corner of his lips lifted into a half-smile. “I can hardly let you go on your own.”
Either she was missing something or this guy was in the wrong room. “Who are you?”
He moved past her to where her things were strewn on the bed and started collecting her books. “If you hurry up, I’ll tell you.”
A mysterious guy no one else could see wanted her to come with him? That sounded like a great idea.
She grabbed the plastic cup from the table and drank until the cool water was gone. “As intriguing as your offer is,” she said, feeling steadier, “I’m going to stay here and wait for the doctor.”
Instead of leaving, he continued tucking things into her backpack. When he had finished, he gripped her wrist firmly with his cold, slender fingers.
“What the heck?” When she tried to pull away, his hold tightened.
Tossing her bag over his shoulder, he yanked her toward the door as if she was a second piece of luggage. He poked his head into the hall—presumably checking for witnesses—then towed her into the stairwell.
“Let. Me. Go!” She tugged free and stumbled backwards. Her shout echoed in the hollow space.
“You can go if you’d like.” He waved his hand toward the door before checking the silver watch at his wrist. “The so-called specialist they’re sending you to is going to kill you. But you can absolutely go.”
Did he say someone was going to kill her? That couldn’t be true. She was a boring, seventeen-year-old kid from Ohio. Why would anyone want her dead?
“Or”—he pulled up his hood and winked at her—“you can come with me.”
She didn’t believe him, but going back to the room didn’t sound very appealing either. “How do I know you’re not going to kill me?”
“Because I’m trying to save you.”
“So, what? You’re like…my guardian angel?”
The grin he gave her was full of dark promises. “Something like that.”
She only followed him up the next three flights of stairs because she was curious.
The higher she climbed, the more her head spun, and the more her head spun, the more she felt like she was going to pass—
Her shoe caught on a stair, and she crumpled onto the landing. The cold floor felt good against her overheated cheek. If she kept her eyes closed, maybe the water and chicken tenders in her stomach wouldn’t make a second appearance.
The guy cursed. “Are you all right?”
“No.” If she moved, she was going to get sick. And she refused to puke in front of him.
“Are you nauseated?”
She nodded.
“Here.” There was a crinkling sound, and he pulled a peppermint candy from his pocket. “Eat this. It should help.”
“Taking candy from a stranger? No thanks.”
“My name is Deacon.” He forced the candy into her palm. “There. We’re no longer strangers.”
Despite her reservations, she unraveled the candy and popped it into her mouth.
“Better?” he asked a moment later.
“A bit. Thanks.” She ignored the hand he offered and rose unsteadily to her feet. Her stomach revolted, but her dinner stayed down.
“Do you think you’ll manage,” he asked, nodding his chin toward the next flight of stairs, “or do you need me to carry you?”
“Yeah…you’re not carrying me.”
“Not yet anyway.”
“Not ever”
A smile. “Not yet.”
Vivienne rolled her eyes and told him that she could make it on her own. She clutched the handrail through another wave of dizziness, then resumed climbing. They had to be getting close to the roof. “I don’t have a lot of experience escaping murderers or anything,” she said, stopping to catch her breath, “but if we’re trying to get away, shouldn’t we be going down instead of up?”
“One would think so.”
“Where will we go when we get to the top?”
“You’ll see.” A chuckle. “Actually, you won’t see. But I’ll tell you about it later.”
Before she could ask what the heck that meant, they reached the emergency exit. Deacon ignored the red and white warnings posted everywhere and shoved the door open.
Yellow lights attached to the brick walls eased the severity of the falling darkness, and cool September air filled her lungs. She followed Deacon past the helicopter resting on the helipad.
“How do you feel about heights?” he asked casually.
She wasn’t particularly fond of them, but she didn’t have a phobia. “Why does it matter?”
He glanced back at her, and his lips curled into a smile. “Because we’re going to jump off the roof.”
“Ha-ha. Very funny.”
He dropped to his knees and peered over the ledge.
Wait. Was he being serious? No . . . that was crazy. That was . . . Why was he looking down? Her arms started to itch, and her head felt loopy as she crouched beside him. “What are you looking at?”
“The people who are trying to kill you.”
She steadied herself against the wall and gripped the bricks until the grittiness cut into her fingertips. Two black vans waited at the main entrance, along with several men in black suits. Two more men ran out the door, followed by a woman in purple scrubs. After a brief conversation, one man went back into the hospital while a second set off around the building. The rest of them looked like they were guarding the automatic doors.
It was strange, but that didn’t mean they were trying to—hold on. Was that guy looking at her?
She ducked back down.
Deacon touched her arm. “What’s wrong?”
“I think one of them saw me.”
He swore under his breath and started digging through his pockets. “Then we’ve run out of time.”
She pressed her fingertips to her temples and tried to make sense of the last fifteen minutes. “What the heck is— Why are you taking off your shirt?” she choked.