The voice is unfamiliar to me, but I glimpse recognition on Victor’s face.
“Thomas,” he breathes.
His brother, who died shortly before I ever stepped foot on Neverland.
“It’s not him,” I say.
But he doesn’t seem to hear me.
“Victor, it’s not him.”
I place my hand on my friend’s shoulder, but he wrenches it off.
“Thomas,” he says, his voice no longer sounding like the young man he’s turned into, but like a child. “Thomas, I?—”
He halts, mid-step, just as he places his foot down. There’s a smack—and a red handprint left on his cheek.
I gasp, having just witnessed Charlie slap Victor across the face.
He blinks, looking at her in surprise and stroking his cheek. Then he shakes his head, clearing himself of the vision.
“Let’s go,” he says.
And we journey into the belly of the forest.
CHAPTER 21
We follow the sound of Maddox’s screams until we reach a clearing.
There’s a tree with the base hollowed out—a nest that really looks more like a den. It reminds me of what a bear might hibernate in over the winter. Chills rush over me, but I suppress them.
Maddox’s screams faded from earshot only a few moments ago.
Charlie, Victor, and I exchange worried glances, then all nod and advance toward the gaping hole of the den.
We haven’t even made it to the den before a bird darts out from its opening, this time wailing a sea shanty in Michael’s voice.
Fury envelops me, and I slash at it with my dagger. Black feathers float down from the sky, stinging as their razor edges slice against my face. I cry out as another bird advances upon me.
This one I block with my dagger just in time for its beak to come clashing with the blade. I swing again, slashing the bird’s throat. The next one I dodge, glancing out of the corner of my eyes to see Victor ducking to avoid the talons of another bird.
Charlie, Victor, and I form a circle, back to back, striking at the birds as they attack. This proves more effective than our previous stance, where we had to defend all sides at once.
Charlie cleaves one’s neck, and its body crumples at my feet. I kick it away, twisting to catch another bird on the end of my dagger.
The three of us shift toward the den in a huddle. Victor deflects another bird’s attack with a thrust of his blade.
We hack at the ambush of birds, all the while being swarmed with the voices of our loved ones.
After a moment, it occurs to me to wonder whether Maddox’s screams from inside the den are real, or if our friend has already succumbed to the birds’ hunger.
I fight the grief that threatens to overcome me at that thought. I cannot accept that fate.
Eventually, hacked bodies of the birds we’ve slain surround our feet, our labored breaths competing with the rage of the howling wind whipping through the forest.
As soon as the fray is over, Charlie rushes toward the den of the cave, calling Maddox’s name, but a dark figure appears before she ducks in.
Maddox’s shoulders are heaving, his hand over his chest where a claw mark streaks across his torn tunic. He spits, and a mixture of blood and saliva hits the ground in front of him. Hanging from his left hand is the head of the bird that had carried him away just moments ago.
