I’m pretty sure the dark parts of Neverland—the deep, dangerous parts where the most inhuman things reside—are getting darker.
No, I don’t really have a good metric for this other than my own visits. Sue me. But like I’ve said, my visits have—unwillingly—become more frequent, and I don’t think anyone else has gone to those places as many times as I have and lived to tell the tale. So I’m the best judge we’ve got.
And in my expert opinion, those places are getting worse.
Henri has restricted my errands more and more in the last year or so. Partially due to the fact that Millie retired, so he needs my help around the bar more. But mostly due to my jumping.
I can’t blame him, really. I mean, you may have noticed that both of the stories I’ve told you so far involve me almost dying. That’s because a lot of my stories involve me almost dying. In fact, I’d venture to say that I almost die significantly more often than most people. I certainly end up in situations that invite close calls with death more often than your average human or elf.
Not my fault, though. Just saying. I don’t ask for the near-death experiences. They just…find me.
Like the last time I jumped, two weeks ago. Henri hasn’t let me leave Griffin’s Edge since then. Which is fair, I suppose, though I’m starting to feel antsy. I’d really like to go pick up some Thai food. I can only handle baked armadillo and pumpkin seeds for so long.
But that’s beside the point. About two weeks ago, I headed out on an expedition to London. Pretty nice place. I’ve been there a few times. A surprising number of British women are into dragons, actually.
I went alone—which took a significant amount of persuasion—but no one was really available to accompany me, and besides, it should have been quick. One of the aforementioned dragons dating a British girl wanted me to drop off a gift with her. Easy, right? Through the gap in reality, to her door, drop off the little wrapped box like a supernatural UberEats driver, and come back. Ten minutes.
Unfortunately, as you can probably guess from the fact that I’m writing this story and from, well, my general history, it was not, in fact, that easy.
I jumped, of course. I made it all the way to her apartment hallway, was literally seconds away from putting the box down on her doormat…when the fire alarm suddenly went off.
Silence—then ALARM blaring, blaring, blaring. It was alarming, to say the least (get it??) And, in my case, when my heart jumps in shock, so does my body. To another dimension. I just about had a heart attack, and at the same time, I nearly leapt out of my skin.
And I also leapt to Neverland.
As my heartrate slowly began to return to normal, I nevertheless remained bent double, clutching my chest. Beneath me, I watched the ground shift from the really ugly shag carpet of the hallway to the somehow even-uglier black dirt and gray moss of Neverland’s lovely dark forest.
“Oh, come on,” I said out loud in exasperation. “Can’t a guy make one trip without ending up in the Danger Zone?”
The dark forest, unsurprisingly, did not answer, although there was a constant murmur of growls and whispers coming from the undergrowth around me. Which was even more alarming than the literal fire alarm.
Still holding the little gold-wrapped gift box in one hand (sorry, dragon’s girlfriend), I pulled out the knife hanging on my belt with the other. It was a special knife, its blade shimmering with its own soft purple light. It was made of a blend of several metals, all of which can harm various types of beings—silver for werewolves, iron for fairies, you get the gist. The handle was infused with a variety of materials that also harm many beings—salt, garlic, ash—and was carved with an intricate etching of a griffin. Beautiful, really.
Henri gave it to me on my first birthday after the jumping began and made me promise to carry it with me all the time. Which I do. I call it Sgrios. Fun fact: that means destruction in Gaelic. A banshee taught it to me when I was a kid, after I (accidentally) threw a football into a shelf of wine and shattered eleven bottles. In Gaelic, she called me a force of destruction—there was some cursing in there too—as I apologized and pulled a shard of glass out of her finger. And I thought it was a cool name for a knife.
God, Henri was pissed about that one. I got a real stern look—that’s his equivalent of yelling at me—and I wasn’t allowed to play football with Milo around the bar for weeks.
Anyway, I drew my knife immediately, because unlike the first time I jumped, I am armed these days.
Hey, you can’t say I don’t learn from my mistakes. Sometimes.
It had been a while since I’d visited the dark forests of Neverland, but even so, I was pretty sure I had never been in this particular area before. The trees grew as black and twisted as always, the bushes thick and thorny between them. But there was a gurgling of water behind me, a sound like a brook bubbling over rocks, and as I slowly turned around, taking in the dim surroundings, I saw the source: a river about ten feet across, its water as dark as ink, swirling angrily as it churned downstream.
Looking at it, a chill ran down my spine. I’m not sure why; it’s not like I saw anything in the water. It was too dark and murky for that. Maybe not being able to see anything beneath its surface was what made me uneasy.
After all, if there were any monsters in that water, they were sure to be dangerous and probably carnivorous. Everything here was, even if it didn’t look it—like that pale boy I’d encountered years earlier, who kept popping up in my head. Lure you in, then eat you. That’s what he’d wanted to do, most likely. I knew the stories. I’d met my fair share of monsters here. They all wanted to eat you.
Even if he hadn’t seemed like it. I remembered him more than I cared to admit. It was weird, really, that I’d never seen him again. In all likelihood, just a figment of my imagination—albeit a memorable one.
Suddenly, a branch snapped behind me. I spun around, putting my back to the river to face the trees. I didn’t see any movement, but then again, I couldn’t see much at all. Carrying a knife was all well and good, but I wished I’d thought ahead to bring a goddamn flashlight.
“I’ve got a knife and I’m not afraid to use it,” I hissed into the darkness. “Try me.” My voice only trembled a tiny bit.
There was a flash of motion in the bushes; I tightened my grip on Sgrios. But then there was a splash behind me, and I wheeled around again to face the water.
Bubbles. A small cluster of bubbles in the center of the river, dissolving into the currents. My chest tightened.
“Nope, nope, nope,” I said to myself, probably louder than necessary. “Not dealing with a monster team-up today. Don’t you guys know it isn’t a fair fight if you outnumber me? Not cool.”
Was I talking out of sheer nerves as I attempted to feel the air around me for a door? Absolutely. Did it work? Kind of, because I found a tear in the reality just ahead of me, by the riverbank, and I reached out for it—
But just as my fingers brushed the gap, as the world barely began to shift, I was pulled back by the pain of something sharp jabbing into my hip.
I cursed and felt the door dissolve into the fabric of reality, taking away my escape, as I looked down. Blood welled through a small hole in my shirt, dripping onto my belt. And out of the corner of my eye, I saw something snake back into the trees, vanishing just before I could get a good glimpse.
Well, that wasn’t ideal.
Suddenly, something started to emerge from the bubbling water: some kind of giant water snake, large and scaly, with spikes as long as my forearm along its length. But as its head rose out of the water, I realized with a wave of nausea that it had a human face: one with dirty skin, a dripping-wet beard, and bulging eyes, like those of a goldfish.
And those eyes, unfortunately, were staring right at me.
Its head rose until it towered over me, though its gaze never shifted. And then time seemed to pause for a moment, as we merely looked at each other, seeing who would move first.
I gave it a hopeful little wave with my knife. “I don’t suppose you’re a vegetarian?”
It apparently did not like this question, because it roared and lunged forward, its snakelike body undulating, moving surprisingly gracefully even out of the water. I cursed loudly and stumbled backwards, swinging with Sgrios as I tried to put distance between us.
Its mouth opened as its face swung down towards me, revealing pointy teeth and a forked tongue and terrible breath. It smelled like decaying flesh, and I really didn’t want to think about why. Gagging, I stabbed forward with Sgrios right into its open mouth, connecting with its tongue—and slicing it in half.
The river monster roared in pain and probably anger as black blood sprayed from its severed tongue. However, it also thrashed in surprise, and its head moved away from me in its flailing. Keeping Sgrios pointed in its direction, I kept backing up, hoping the pain would occupy it just long enough for me to find a gap—come on, come on, there had to be a door nearby! —
Well, there wasn’t one soon enough, because whatever had been lurking in the woods decided this would be the perfect time to join in on the festivities. Yaaayyy. I felt another stab of pain in the back of my neck, followed by the warmth of blood dripping down my shirt collar. I started to turn—
And something grabbed my ankle, flipping me upside down and lifting me into the air like I weighed nothing. I didn’t even have time to react before I was hanging suspended several feet above the ground, sharp pinpricks around my ankle where the monster held me. And now the blood from my neck oozed into my hair. Great.
I swung wildly with Sgrios, even though I was now pretty discombobulated and trying to get a better look at the monster that was holding me in the air.
The sharp things in my ankle dug in deeper, almost to the bone, and I gasped in pain. But then the monster crawled further out of the undergrowth, and I finally got a decent—though upside-down—view of my second attacker.
A beast with many beady eyes and multiple barbed tails, one of which was currently wrapped around my ankle. Kind of a cross between a scorpion and a spider. I recognized it from one of Henri’s books; I’d read about these. I couldn’t remember what they were called, but I knew they were very aggressive, very carnivorous, and very immune to all the things my knife contained.
Damn it.
Meanwhile, the river monster had recovered enough to roar at the spider-scorpion, and to lunge forward, snapping its pointy teeth at my captor’s kaleidoscope of eyes. The spider-scorpion made a strangled hissing noise in response, jabbing another of its tails at the river monster, who dodged and roared again.
They were fighting over who got to eat me, and here I was, literally dangling between them, waiting for one or both of them to simply bite my head off. Oh, and I was getting kind of concerned that I might fall to the ground via my foot being severed at the ankle, based on the pain from the barbs digging into my ankle bone.
The river monster lunged forward again, though this time its human face came for me. “Oh, hell no!” I shouted at it, swinging messily with Sgrios. Luckily, this kept its teeth at bay.
Spider-scorpion was still holding me as tightly as ever as it used its other barbed tails to fight its opponent, and every jab caused me to sway dangerously into their warpaths. Not only could one stray hit easily run me through and spill my guts, but I was also beginning to feel extremely nauseous from all the upside-down swinging. World’s worst roller coaster.
I groaned at the ground spinning beneath me and tried to focus between the roars and hisses. Come on, every monster has a weakness. You read about this one! I could picture the page, could imagine the words—
Fire! Like many of the things that thrive in the cold and dark, the spider-scorpion was sensitive to fire; its thick skeleton and shell could be broken by flames.
Now, I don’t carry a flamethrower with me, but I usually carry a lighter. I reached for my pocket, starting to release the little gift box to do so—yes, I was still holding it, because to be honest I’d kind of forgotten it was there—when I remembered two things: 1) I didn’t have my lighter on me today, because a few leprechauns had borrowed it earlier for a smoke, and 2) the gift box was from a dragon. And anything related to dragons ends up involving either gold or fire, and I’ve never met a dragon that would willingly give up gold, even for his girlfriend…so in this box? Solid chance it was a gift related to fire.
Another roar, and I swung dangerously between the two monsters, nearly puking in the process. The river monster screeched in my face, which did not help my nausea—decay breath is not a fun time—and the spider-scorpion snapped its angry jaws, its many eyes managing to look at both me and its opponent simultaneously.
Any moment could be my last from either direction, so what did I have to lose? Cursing, I jabbed my knife into my belt, using my other hand to rip the wrapping paper off the box and turn it rightside up so its contents didn’t immediately fall to the ground.
Unable to see the top of the box, I felt around in the tissue paper—and there! My fingers closed around a lighter. Only it was a lighter from a dragon, which meant it wasn’t any ordinary lighter.
If this doesn’t work and I die here, Henri’s gonna kill me, I thought, and then in one fluid motion I pulled out the lighter and flicked it open.
Immediately, heat exploded in my face and licked at my skin as flames burst into existence around us. They were a force all their own, and it took me a second to realize that they had shaped themselves into the form of a dragon, and that the massive flame-dragon was growing, snapping furiously at the monsters.
Hisses turned to shrieks, and suddenly the sharp barbs around my ankle vanished, and I crashed to the ground. It had been farther than I realized; all the wind was knocked out of me. I wheezed and gasped for air as all around me, the fire dragon continued to burn.
The river monster roared in pain as the dragon breathed hot fire into its face, and I watched from the leaves as its human features seemed to melt, and the monster thrashed wildly, churning river water in vicious eddies, before crashing onto the bank, dead and unrecognizable.
The spider-scorpion was retreating—the dragon was pursuing it, breathing fire as it hissed, its shell beginning to blister and crack—I wheezed and coughed once more, my whole body shaking with the force—
And then I jumped again. I guess the shock of regaining air in my lungs after hitting the ground, that cough, did it. I found myself lying in the dirt on the edge of a windswept cliff, mere inches from falling to my death (really great location, thanks self), with the fire dragon standing beside me looking very confused, its essence still stretched outwards from the lighter in my hand, connected by a thin beam of flames.
I had no idea if it was sentient or not, but I’ve learned it’s always better to be safe when dealing with inhuman beings. “Thank you,” I said, and then I clicked the lighter shut.
The flames dissolved into the air, the heat evaporating as if the dragon had never been there at all. I glanced down at the lighter for the first time; it was gold, and words were engraved on its side.
For Kara—to keep you warm and safe even when we are not together. You are my greatest treasure.
Aw. Despite their reputations, dragons can be sweet when they want to be. And they’re nothing if not protective of what’s theirs. All I can say is, Kara sure wouldn’t have to worry about home invasions. Safest girl in London once I got this to her.
I gingerly stood up—I couldn’t really put weight on the ankle I’d been suspended by, so it was more of a hop than anything—and brushed off some of the dirt, sighing. Henri wouldn’t be thrilled when he saw my ankle. I mean, to be fair, I wasn’t thrilled about it either.
I had no idea where I was, so ultimately, I found a gap and dropped off the lighter with Kara—having to explain why it wasn’t wrapped was a whole thing—before heading back to the bar. My ankle was killing me by then, but hey, I’d promised I’d deliver the gift, and with the way Kara had beamed when she’d read the inscription, it was worth a little extra pain.
Still, I felt Henri’s lilac eyes on me the entire time as I hobbled into the bar and up the stairs to my room. He followed me ten minutes later, after ensuring that Em, his dryad friend, could handle the patrons. My old wooden door closed behind him with a creak.
He studied my dirty face, torn clothes, probably the blood in my hair—hard to hide against its dirty-blonde shade—and definitely my swollen, bloodied ankle. “Jumped again?” His voice was matter-of-fact, trying to be unconcerned, but I knew him well enough to hear the worry there.
I winced as he knelt beside my bed and wrapped his hand around my ankle, letting his healing warmth flow. “Yeah. I’m okay though.”
He simply made an unconvinced noise as he leaned back, revealing the clean, unbroken skin of my ankle, the pain gone with the blood. Then he reached into his pocket and grabbed something, holding it out to me. My lighter. “You forgot this,” he said, his solemn voice somehow so much worse than yelling. “You’ve got to be more careful.”
“I’m trying,” I insisted.
“I know,” he said. He got up and came to sit on the bed beside me. A long moment of silence passed before his lilac eyes met my brown ones. “I think you should stay at Griffin’s Edge for a while.”
I knew what that meant. This wasn’t the first time he’d restricted me to the bar. Henri wanted me to give up errands for the time being, because he was worried about me. About my jumps. And as much as I wanted to protest, didn’t he have a right to be? They were getting more frequent, not to mention that they seemed to be taking me to the dark parts of Neverland more and more often. I used to only pop up there sometimes; other times, I’d be in Neverland, but, you know, in a city or something. Recently, I seem to end up in the dark forests almost every time. So it was all I could do to nod.
He sighed and patted my shoulder. “We’ll figure it out, Ian. Together.” Then he left me to my thoughts, which lately are a messier and messier place to be.
I don’t know what it means that I’m jumping more, or that my jumps are increasingly bringing me to the dark forests of Neverland. Henri knows so much, but I’m pretty sure he’s lost on this one too. I’ve seen him whispering to his oldest friends in corners when he thinks I’m busy serving drinks: druids and elves who have been around for millennia, who might have glimmers of answers.
But I’m not so sure they’ve ever seen anything like me…and I think that might scare them. Hell, sometimes it scares me.
Hey, come stop by, though. I’ve been stuck at this bar at the edge of the reality for two weeks straight now, and it’d be real nice to see some fresh faces.
And if you do come, bring some Thai food, will you?