Wendy’s cheeks flush, stung, as though Mary has struck her. Mary continues, light glinting in her eyes again and one corner of her mouth going up.

“But,” she says, “I will come work for you, if you’ll hire me at a fair wage.”

Wendy stares, stunned all over again. Of all the things she might have expected Mary to say, this was not one of them. The way Mary’s eyes glint, it almost seems as though she’s laughing at Wendy, but there’s no malice in it.

“If your cooking is as bad as your sewing when we first met, I imagine you’ll need someone helping you with every single meal, someone living with you and not just coming in to cook every now and then.” Mary’s smirk turns into a full grin, and Wendy can’t help it, she finds herself smiling in return.

“If room and board is part of the wage, I can save up, and one day I’ll have money to open the shop all on my own.”

Wendy seizes Mary’s hands again, squeezing them hard.

“I’m certain Ned will agree to those terms. I can’t wait for you to meet him.”

“I look forward to it.” Mary pauses a moment, considering Wendy. “Am I right?”

“About what?”

“Your cooking?”

Relief bubbles through Wendy and comes out as laughter. Tears finally stream from her eyes, and she wipes them away.

“Absolutely. I’m a dreadful cook.”

“Lucky for you I’m brilliant, and an excellent teacher, too.”

12: Peter’s Secret

PETER’S SECRET

Tiger Lily stands and beckons Wendy back to the cave wall with its black and red paintings. She runs her fingers over them—Pirate, Mermaid, Ship, Boy—crouching as the ceiling slopes down, crab-walking. Wendy follows, unease growing into a physical pressure against her skin as the pictures grow more abstract. Tiger Lily stops, her fingers resting against the wall.

“Here,” Tiger Lily says, but she’s angled in such a way that Wendy can’t see the image her fingers rest against.

Tiger Lily glances over her shoulder, then shifts, letting Wendy see. Wendy has to get on her knees, shuffling closer. Tiger Lily draws her hand away, and it’s as though the cave floor drops out beneath Wendy, sending her stomach into free-fall.

I’ll show you a secret, Wendy. A really good one.

She can’t make sense of what she’s seeing. Horns. Claws. A jagged shape that makes the skin at the base of Wendy’s spine crawl. Even without firelight, the drawing seems to ripple, warm to the touch.

“What is this?” Wendy hears her own voice, breathless and strangled.

Tiger Lily shakes her head. Their shoulders touch in the cramped space.

“An old story. A very old one.”

“Tell me.” Wendy grasps Tiger Lily’s wrist, her grip tight enough that her friend flinches. “Please.”