Neverland Academy (21 page)

Daphne
knew about the professors. They were just as insidious as Trappe. Would they
torture the boys? Brainwash them?  She didn’t have a choice anymore. As
much as she hated what might happen to the boys, death by poison would be much
worse. They were her friends and she didn’t want to see their lives cut so
short by her own doing. She had to cooperate. Daphne stared down at the floor
and nodded.

“So,
I have your cooperation?” Trappe asked.

Daphne
nodded again. “Only if you promise to let them go home.”

“Of
course, my dear.” Daphne was so wrapped up in her own thoughts she hadn’t
noticed that Trappe was standing directly in front of her. She cringed as he
swept his hand over the back of her head and twirled a lock of her hair in his
fingers.

“It’s
about time you get some sleep,” Trappe murmured. He slid his hand under her
chin and jerked her face up to meet his. “I can leave you tied up or I can
release your bonds, although you will be bound to this room should I do that.
The choice is up to you, my dear. You are well aware of the consequences should
you choose to disobey.”

Daphne
thought for a moment. If he released her bonds she could sneak out while he
slept through the panel behind the bureau. If she could find Finn in time, she
had no doubt he could rescue the other boys before Trappe even noticed her
gone. She quickly formed some false tears and nodded.

“Release
me. Please,” she begged.

With
an ivory plated pocketknife, Trappe sliced the belt. Daphne rubbed the reddened
indentations in her wrists vigorously as she stared at the bureau just a few
steps away.

Trappe
hobbled over to the bureau and pulled a small bit of silky fabric from its
drawer.

“Wear
this,” he commanded. Daphne stretched the thin baby blue nightgown in front of
her.
He wanted her to wear this?
She
looked up at him pleadingly, but he didn’t budge.  “Well, you certainly
can’t sleep in that!” he snarled, gesturing at her filthy clothes. Slowly she
stood and turned to face the wall. She peeked back to see him staring at her as
she undressed. She put the nightgown on as quickly as she could and turned back
to face him. It only came down to her mid thigh and she felt even more
vulnerable than he’d already made her feel. Then she realized that was the
whole point.

“Lie
down,” Trappe commanded and Daphne did as she was told, staying above the
blanket to ensure a quick getaway. The light switched off and sounds of
shuffling crossed the room. She could feel his weight bear down on the other
side of the bed though she faced the other way, watching the shadow beyond the
bureau. Her stomach turned somersaults and she wished for time to speed up. She
couldn’t take it any more. She couldn’t wait for him to go to sleep. Now that
Trappe was on the other side of the bed, she knew she could make it to the
bureau and get out before he could catch up to her with his gimpy foot.

Without
a moment to spare, Daphne leapt from the bed and dashed for the bureau, tearing
it away with such a force that it toppled over and crashed on the floor,
spilling shards of broken china. A lightening shock of fear exploded within her
as she saw through the darkness that the panel she and Finn had previously used
had been boarded over. She tugged feebly at the secured wooden slats.

Trappe’s
hand clamped around her right arm and flung her back to the bed, where she
rolled over and landed on her hands and knees on the other side. She stood up
just in time to see Trappe pounding toward her with perfect footsteps and no
cane.
What happened to his limp?

“You
didn’t really think that I would have let that little access tunnel remain
accessible, did you?”

“What
happened to your leg? I thought—”

“Yes,
of course you did. Everyone thought. That was the point, my dear.”

Daphne
flipped herself across the bed before Trappe could reach her and landed with a thud
on the other side. Trappe rolled over the bed right behind her. She leapt up
and scrambled for the door. While she fumbled clumsily with the lock Trappe
grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked, jerking her neck back painfully.
She’d managed to unlock the door, but that did her little good now. She grasped
at her hair, trying to pull it back to relieve the tiny sharp pinprick pains
that spread across her scalp. Daphne twisted and flung her elbow back,
connecting with Trappe’s chin. He made a revolting noise that sounded like a
pregnant cow giving birth. But his hold on her remained strong.

Trappe
threw Daphne onto the bed and sat atop her stretching her arms over her head to
the bedpost. She writhed under his weight and jerked her knee up, landing it in
the middle of his back. He grunted and backhanded Daphne across the face. A
searing pain shot through her cheek, stunning her momentarily. Trappe almost
had her wrists secured against the bedpost when something dark crashed into him
from the side of the room. He fell over instantly and Daphne watched as an
antique upholstered footstool came to a rest on the floor next to the bed. She
traced its line of motion back to where it originated.

There,
in the sliver of light cast from the newly opened door, those raging green eyes
appeared to glow.

Chapter
Twenty-Three

This
Ends Now

Seeing daphne like
that, bound and
helpless with that perverted creep striking her, brought up some deep
disturbances that Finn had kept bottled down in the deepest crevices of his
mind. He knew how strong-willed Daphne was. She wasn’t a victim, yet Trappe was
turning her into one. Just as Trappe had intended to do to Finn all those years
ago. Finn had to intervene.

“This
ends now,” Finn growled.

Since
Trappe had been knocked over, his knots remained unfinished, and the ties that
secured Daphne’s wrists were loose enough that she was able to slip her hands
out with little effort.

“Go
Daphne. Get out of here,” Finn commanded.

Daphne
wanted to flee and leave the danger behind, but she wasn’t a coward and, though
his inflated ego denied it, Finn might still need help. Instead, she slunk into
the shadows against the wall of the still dark room. She stroked her face
lightly where Trappe had struck her and listened to the remnants of Finn’s
voice in her mind. He called her by her
real
name, not Daffy. Something seemed so different from the Finn that she
grew to know. He wasn’t just a thrill-seeking boy with little ambition for his
life, other than playing pranks and partying. Daphne could hear it in his
voice. He was growing up. And this time, despite the argument they had earlier,
she would not leave him.

“You,”
Trappe snarled as he lifted himself up.

“Yes,
me. Did you really think you could get rid of me that easily, Pervpot? You’ve
really underestimated my cunning.”

“Never
again!”

Trappe
lunged at Finn, swinging his cane like a baseball bat. Finn easily ducked out
of the way and hopped across the bed. He flung the footstool at Trappe, only
hitting him in the arm with the soft, upholstered side.

“What’s
the matter, Preston?” Trappe sneered. “Afraid to fight me face to face? Need to
hide behind a bed and throw inanimate objects at me?”

Finn
strolled out from his cover, meeting Trappe in the space just beyond the foot
of the bed. “No. I’ll face you right here. Give me your best shot.”

Trappe
charged and swung again. Finn deftly ducked to the side, pulled a double-edged
dagger from his belt, and swung it across Trappe’s chest in a slicing motion.
Trappe cowered for a moment while Finn watched with pride. “Come on, old
Pervpot! Get up and fight. This is what you want, right?”

Droplets
of blood oozed out of the narrow slice, staining Trappe’s ripped white
undershirt. Finn leaned over him, tossing his knife from hand to hand in a
taunting gesture. Trappe swiftly swung his cane across the back Finn’s legs,
striking just behind the knees. Finn cried out and fell to the floor, dropping
his knife mid-toss. He cursed at himself as his shoulder slammed into the
floor. How did Trappe get the higher ground on him? After kicking the knife
under the bed, Trappe stood over Finn and brought down his cane over the boy’s
chest. Finn lurched at the pain as the hard wood and ivory cracked across his
ribcage. Trappe only got two swings in when something halted him. Finn, doubled
over in pain, couldn’t see what had happened, but he heard a crash and felt
moisture sink into his jeans. The overhead light shot on, and it was clear.

Daphne
stood by, still clutching the broken neck of a wine bottle. The floor was
riddled with red puddles and Trappe’s shirt now had pink splatters to
complement the bloodstains. Trappe rose to his feet and punched Daphne in the
gut with the foot of his cane. Then he grabbed her by the throat and raised her
entire body off the floor. She struggled and clawed at Trappe’s thick fingers,
but they might as well have been bolted there. The color in her face brightened
to a dusty magenta and her eyes bulged with each empty gasp for air. She kicked
her legs wildly, trying to find the surface inches below.

Finn
sprung from the floor, the pain in his chest forgotten, and grabbed the closest
object near him—a silver candlestick. He swung it at Trappe’s head and
the headmaster fell, taking Daphne with him. She scrambled away, safe for the
moment.
 

Finn
searched for a better weapon. His gaze landed on the wall, where two rapiers
hung, decoratively crossed. They were simply a wall decoration, but he took a
chance, hoping they were real swords. He fetched one and sent the other one
flying, landing right next to Trappe’s face. Daphne had slid out from under
him, the nightgown now stained with his blood.

“I
believe in a fair fight, Trappe. Even if you don’t.”

Finn
stood above him, waiting for him to get up and take the sword. Instead, he
pulled at the hook on his cane and a long, sleek, steel blade slid out.

“No
need for that weak piece of tin,” Trappe sneered.  

Daphne
stood by, dodging blows, as Finn and Trappe dueled in the bedroom. Between the
shards of broken china and pebbles of wine-soaked glass, their bare feet danced
in funny motions. Finn had been able to avoid cutting himself, whether it had
been from fancy footwork or hard, weathered soles Daphne didn’t know. But
Trappe had repeatedly stepped on the glass, leaving bloody paw prints on the hardwood
planks. Soon they were out in the hall sparring toward the foyer. Before
following them, Daphne grabbed the extra sword that Trappe had shunned earlier.

Trailing
the duelers down the hall, she wondered why nobody had woken up and come out to
investigate the noise. Then she wondered just how many of Trappe’s henchmen
were roaming the grounds or guarding the boys at the church.  She looked
back toward the bedroom and found her answer. Or at least some of it. Two men
lay across the hallway, leaking blood onto the antique runner. One had a slice
across his neck. The other had a gaping chest wound. There’s no way they could
have survived that. At first Daphne wondered how Finn, the boy she grew to love
and trust, could take another’s life. Only hours earlier she’d discovered that
Finn was not all he said he was. But was he really capable of killing? How
could she fall for someone like that? But what had Trappe intended to do to
him? And the boys? And what had he and the other professors here already done
to other students she didn’t know? Daphne swore that if she ever had the itch
to run away from home again, she’d just take a hot shower instead.

Daphne
shook her head, ridding the awful thoughts from her mind, and chased the action
as Finn and Trappe entered the upper balcony of the foyer.
 
 

Finn
thrust his blade forward, stabbing the wall while Trappe dodged left. The sword
stuck and he ducked quickly to avoid the swing of Trappe’s oncoming blade. The
sword missed by a few hairs and Finn could feel the air shift above him as it
flew past. Shoving forward, Finn knocked Trappe off his feet, giving him time
to dislodge the rapier from the wall.

Without
hesitation he spun around and swung at his opponent, but Trappe was already on
his feet and blocked the cut. They circled each other, each expertly dodging
blows from the other. Finn went on the offensive, lunging forward with every
cut and thrust until he had Trappe backed up to the edge of the balcony,
toppling over a large vase of gladioli, which shattered on the main floor
below. Finn swore to himself, for if that table and vase had not been there, he
could easily have lifted Trappe over the railing.
          
 

Trappe
kicked Finn in the stomach, and Daphne watched as her friend tumbled back. She
stood away from the action, watching, waiting, wanting to help, but at a loss.
Even though she held the rapier tightly with both hands, she knew it would be
useless. She couldn’t handle a sword with even half the skill Trappe did. If he
still had that limp she might have a chance. But it was clear now his injured
foot was all a ruse to make him appear weak and make Finn overconfident.
Jumping into the fray would be suicide, no matter how she was armed.
Helplessness overcame her and she didn’t know what to do. But she knew she had
to do something.

Turning
back, Daphne dropped the sword and tried to open the nearest door, but it was
locked. She moved on. Door after door, they were all locked. Finally, Daphne
removed her hairpin and jimmied one open. It was another bedroom, sparsely
decorated apart from the deer head hanging on the wall and a stuffed bobcat on
a shelf, not nearly as elegant as the headmaster’s room. Whoever this professor
was apparently hunted on his days off. She searched drawers and closet space
until she found what she needed.

Under
the bed, Daphne found it. She dragged out a crossbow and three short arrows
with neon green vanes.
Perfect
, she
thought.

She
arrived back at the balcony just in time to see Finn balancing along the
railing like he was performing a high wire act in a circus. She couldn’t tell
if he was forced up there or just showing off, but he was thriving. Full of
energy, he tackled each of Trappe’s blows with expertise and grace. It was as
if he’d done this a million times.

Daphne
loaded the first arrow. Clumsily lifting the heavy crossbow to aim, she’d
realized she’d never shot anything in her life, apart from the occasional
carnival game. And even then, she was a horrible shot. She adjusted the bulky
contraption under her arm and took aim at the center of Trappe’s back.

The
fired arrow eased right by him and disappeared into the crystal teardrops of
the chandelier that hung over the foyer. She loaded her second arrow and aimed
again, but hesitated, her finger trembling on the trigger. Finn was too close
to Trappe. She didn’t trust herself not to hit him. Daphne waited, itching for
action, until a moment when there was enough distance between Finn and Trappe.
Unfortunately, that moment turned out to be disastrous.

Trappe
swung his blade toward Finn’s legs. Finn was quick enough to parry, but lost
his balance in the process. Just as he fell down the long drop to the floor
below, Daphne released the arrow and it planted firmly in Trappe’s right hip.

Trappe
cried out and turned angrily toward Daphne. She still held the crossbow and
picked up the final arrow to load it once more. But her hand shook violently
and before she could snap the arrow into place, Trappe was on her. She hurled
the crossbow at him, but he deftly caught it and tossed it aside. Now, armed
only with a single arrow, Daphne circled around and backed away toward the
staircase, holding the arrow in front of her as if it were a knife. She glanced
behind Trappe at the rapier she’d left in the hall, wishing now that she’d kept
it. No matter how unskilled she was with a sword, it would have been more
useful than the arrow she held.

Trappe
swung his blade and the arrow flew from her hands. He pointed the tip of his
sword at the base of her neck and she could feel the razor sharp prick of it as
she backed into the railing. A strange irony overcame Daphne. It was the exact
spot the boys cut when she’d first arrived at Neverland Academy.

“No,”
Trappe said. “This is just too easy. Perhaps you’d like to see what happened to
your boyfriend.” Trappe swung Daphne around, hoisted her up by the thighs and
held her over the railing by her ankles. Her shrieks bounced off the walls
several times and returned to her own ears, heightening the terror she felt.
She latched onto the bottoms of the balusters feeling the blood rush to her
head. Looking toward the floor, she didn’t find the body of Finn below, lying
in a lifeless heap as she imagined. Instead, she found him hanging on to the
upper floor, just below her, his fingers grasping the spaces beneath the balusters.
Their faces were only about an inch apart. They were close enough to kiss. For
a moment they shared a look. It was not only a look of trust, but also one of
love and redemption. She could see clearly into his eyes now. She could see the
love he felt for her and the fear he felt at losing her. She could see the
pleading sorrow for what he had done, for the lies he told her. She could see
how pained he was to put her in the predicament and let it get this far. She
could she
him
.

Finn
silently moved from the balcony to the staircase with the graceful dexterity of
Spiderman, placing his feet on the decorative wall moldings to aid him. It only
took a few seconds, but when he reached the staircase, he flipped himself over,
landing silently on his bare feet.

Daphne’s
vision was beginning to fade. The bloodrush to her head, combined with nausea
and the overwhelming fear of plummeting to her death, nearly made her pass out.
She could feel her world spinning and a dark fog was beginning to roll into the
edges of her eyesight. A ringing filled her ears, muting the background noise.
Slowly the pitch changed, going up and down, up and down, like sound waves
travelling over rolling hills.

 
“What . . .” Trappe gasped at the
forbidding sound of police sirens. Through the front windows, shades of blue
and red twinkled up the long driveway in the distance. Finn spotted the rapier
in the hall. He had dropped his when he fell and thought to take the one Daphne
had left, but he didn’t want to leave her hanging there. Trappe could release
her at any time. He had to distract him.

“That’s
right, Professor Pervpot,” Finn crowed from behind. “They’re really coming for
you this time. It’s all over.”

“No.
It’ll be just like before. You can’t prove anything.” Finn’s gaze moved to Trappe’s
trembling hand. The tremors were shaking Daphne’s entire body. He wouldn’t hold
her much longer.

“We
hacked into your private files.” Finn took a decisive step forward. “Found the
evidence we needed. Lily sent it to the ACPD tonight. There’s no talking your
way out of it this time. Like I said, this ends tonight.”