Heather Killough-Walden - Beyond Neverland (sequel to Forever Neverland)

Beyond Neverland

Book 2 in the Neverland series

by Heather Killough-Walden

Copyright 2013 Heather Killough-Walden

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Heather Killough-WaldenReading List

The Lost Angelsseries:

Always Angel (eBook-onlyintroductory novella)

Avenger's Angel

Messenger'sAngel

Death's Angel

Warrior's Angel (releasedate TBA, 2014)

Samael (release dateTBA)

The OctoberTrilogy:

Sam I Am

Secretly Sam

Suddenly Sam

NeverlandSeries:

ForeverNeverland

Beyond Neverland

The Big Bad Wolfseries:

The Heat (No longeravailable separately. This book can be found in the Big Bad WolfRomance Compilation.)

El Ardor (Spanish versionof The Heat)

The Strip (No longeravailable separately. This book can be found in the Big Bad WolfRomance Compilation.)

The Spell

The Hunt

The Big Bad Wolf RomanceCompilation (All four books together, in proper chronologicalorder)

The Kings - A Big Bad Wolfspinoff series:

The Vampire King

The Phantom King

The Warlock King

The Goblin King

The Seelie King (releasedate TBA)

(future The Kings booksTBA; at least 13 total)

The Chosen SoulTrilogy:

The Chosen Soul

Drake of Tanith

Queen of Abaddon (releasedate TBA)

Redeemer (stand-alone)

HellBent (stand-alone)

Vampire,Vampire (stand-alone)

A SinisterGame (stand-alone)

The Third Kissseries:

Dorian's Dream

Aleksei's Dream (releasedate TBA)

(future The Third Kissbooks TBA; open-ended series)

*Note: The Lost Angelsseries (not including Always Angel) is available in print and eBookformat. All other HKW books are currently eBook-only.

Beyond Neverland

By Heather Killough-Walden

Book two in Neverland Series

Sequel to Forever Neverland

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Lets jump on board andcut them to pieces.

- Blackbeard

Beyond Neverland

Book two in the Neverland series

One never forgets a Hook.

Prologue

Captain James Hook slid the dead bolt homeon the door to his cabin and then turned to face the roomsemptiness. Upon the desk on the far side rested the book.

Hook hurriedly took off his hat, tossed itonto his bed, and then began yanking off his rich brocade coat. Thered and black material rustled softly in the cabins quiet as heshuffled it off and threw it atop the hat. He paid neither garmentany heed. His eyes were on the book.

Outside, his men shouted to one another theorders necessary to keep a ship the size of the Jolly Roger intip-top shape. He ignored the sounds. Along the walls of his cabinwere shelves displaying the riches he had collected during theyears of his piracy. Among those riches sat a solid gold clock. Itticked and tocked with quiet persistence in the still air.

Hook glanced at it, checking the time. Andthen his piercing blue eyes were again on the book.

The moment was drawingnear. Only a few more seconds, if the clock was right. And itwas always right.

With restless anticipation, Hook drew offhis gloves one quick finger at a time and made his way across thecabin with long strides. Distractedly, he dropped the gloves ontohis desk and then slowly, as if he felt unsure, he picked up thesmall leather-bound journal.

It was Hooks journal. Hed owned it foryears. At one time, each and every page had been filled with theink of his quill as he made record of his conquests across the seasof his world. However, once he had been trapped in Neverland, hedceased to bother writing in it. And then, a little over two yearsago, with the destruction of Neverland and Hooks eventual releasefrom Peter Pans realm, something about the journal hadchanged.

Something paramount.

Now, once more whole in body, James Hooksettled the book on the open palm of one hand, and turned its coverwith the fingers of the other. As if it knew where he had left off,the book opened to the proper page.

The clock behind him filled the air with itsendless voice.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

And then it chimed.

Right on cue, the words he had scribbledthere so long ago began to disappear. One after another, theyvanished from the page, as if theyd been written in lemon juiceand the candles flame were going out. In their place, theweathered parchment of the book became blank.

Hook waited, his breath held. His heart beatsteadily, his blue eyes wide.

New words began to formupon the page. The penmanship was different than his own, smallerand perhaps more graceful. The letters wrapped around on themselveswith practiced speed and ease, as if their creator had writtenthousands of them. Millions .

With the hunger of a man who hadnt eaten incenturies, Hook devoured the words, reading them as if he werefevered. He memorized each letter, digested each word, and foundhimself falling into his leather-backed chair as the last of itscrolled across the page to be followed by a final period.

Lightning struck on the sea, its thunderrolling heavy over the Jolly Roger. Hook stared at the last line,waiting for more though he knew there would be nothing further. Andthen he read it all again. By the time hed finished, his heart waslike lead in his chest.

They were her words the Storytellers.

They were Wendys .

With a slow heaviness, Captain James Hookclosed the book and placed it on his writing desk before he lookedup to gaze out the porthole window at the churning sea.

A storm was on its way.

*****

On the sill of the stainedglass windows of Hooks cabin hid a tiny creature, its head duckedbehind a wooden latch, its wings hidden in the shadows. Well, itwas tiny in stature . On the inside, however, it was quite large. Part of thatinside largeness had once housed a heart but no more. And thatotherwise empty space now inside of it was filled with a bitternessso sour, it could foul the oceans.

The creature watched with eyes of indigoblue that sparked like flint against steel. And then it lifted awayon a warning wind, leaving a trail of shimmering dust behindit.

Chapter One

Kensington Gardens.

Peter stared up at thestatue and frowned. Everything about it was wrong. The bronze boylooked like a girl . And it was practically a baby girl at that. And a pan flute?What was that all about? That wasnt where hed gotten his name. Isthat what people thought? That would be as bad as assuming thatHooks name was due to his hook.

Peter blinked. He looked way from thestatue, memories assaulting him like mermaids after aseaweed-snared victim. They were relentless. Images flashed oneafter another, combined with sounds and feeling and even smells.They had grown worse over the last few months, stealing into hismind to dance before his inner eyes without warning while he waseating, reading, working, and even trying to sleep.

Theyd cost him his job on the fishing boat.Hed lost track of what he was doing, and a crewmate had beeninjured. It was one of the worst things you could do on a ship.

Hook probably could have told him that.

Peters gaze narrowed as he stared atnothing.