Hook slowly put his glass on the side of his chair before leaning forward, looking intensely at Wendy.
“Do you remember, the first night I spoke to you, I told you that I believed you had a purpose here? On the Night, here with me?”
“Yes,” whispered Wendy, a spindle of terror beginning to churn within her chest.
“I need you to do something for me, something only you can do.” Hook’s voice was steady, yet Wendy noticed that he was grasping his glass so hard that his fingers were turning white.
“What I’m about to tell you will be somewhat disturbing.”
Wendy straightened her spine and lifted her chin, forcing her hammering heart back into place. Sitting like a lady provided some relief.
“With all due respect, sir, since I’ve arrived in Neverland, I have been dropped, choked, dragged, and stabbed.” Her voice faltered. “I held my nearly drowned brother in my arms, praying that God would take me as well. What could be worse than that? Nothing.”
Hook gave her a wry smile.
“You may wait to hear what I have to say before you go about pronouncing yourself the bravest girl in Neverland.”
Wendy didn’t flinch.
“Men are not allowed in Miath, the mermaid city or the land around it, the Gray Shore. The very land itself is poison to us, starting on the low hills above the shore and continuing down onto shoreline of Neverland.” Hook swept his hands out, his fingers spread. “That is where they keep Sybella, their rock. Surrounding their lagoon is a vast coral garden, where bright sea flowers grow in the bones of a thousand dead men. The garden extends miles out from the shore. Ships that try to approach it will be ripped to shreds, though a rowboat would be okay to pass overhead—not that it would make it very far. If you enter Miath, the mermaids themselves will attack your ship. They are strong creatures, with skin like stone, much stronger than mortal men.”
“I’m aware.” Wendy remembered the mermaids’ rocklike grip around her waist as she was pulled lower into the depths, the sun slowly becoming nothing more than a wink of light in a fathomless blue. She shivered, as the memory returned, of the black eyes and the open scream, of Peter slicing his way through the water.
“But I can go to the lagoon?”
Hook sat back down, pulling his chair closer to Wendy.
“The coral gardens are fed by one thing, and one thing only—the blood of a virgin. A virgin female.”
Wendy took a moment to let his words wash over her before anger erupted from her chest.
“I’m sorry?”
Hook leapt up, his chair flung out behind him.
“We don’t have time for pleasantries, Miss Darling! We are running out of time. For the first time in my life, I have something that Queen Eryne needs, something she wants, something she will trade for answers. We must know how to defeat the Shadow, otherwise, what hope is there for us? What hope is there for Neverland? We are held hostage by the Shadow and will lose everything! All it will take is one day when Peter loses control.”
Wendy jumped up, her anger as potent as his, all fear of the captain diminished.
“So you want me to go, and die? Just like that?” Hook’s eyebrows raised.
“No one said anything about dying, Miss Darling. Now sit back down.”
With a scowl, Wendy sat, her arms crossed in front of her.
“I will not sit idly by while you determine my fate.”
Hook rubbed his forehead.
“I don’t enjoy this conversation any more than you do, but it is necessary.” His eyes looked straight ahead. “We must have answers. I need you to go to the Gray Shores, and barter with Queen Eryne. You do not need to give all of your blood, just a few drops.”
“And how do I know that they won’t just drown me, and take all of it? My blood.” She swallowed.
Hook’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I have reason to believe that Queen Eryne regrets what happened to the fairies, and I also believe that she fears the Shadow. It is in her best interest to tell you the truth.”
Hook shook his head, launching into a diatribe about Peter Pan, but Wendy’s mind was far away, floating up and away from the ship. She saw her brothers, playing in the nursery, leaping from bed to bed, sticks in their hands as they pretended to be pirates, or army rangers or fighter pilots. John, picking up Michael and spinning him around by his arms, as Michael shrieked in delight and mock terror. The door of her memory creaked open, and she saw the silhouette of her father, watching his boys, pride etched in the delicate wrinkles of his eyes. She turned back to the captain.
“I’ll do it.”
Hook nodded solemnly, the words tingling in his mouth.
“So quickly then. I thought you may need some time to think about it.” He paused. “Though I’m not surprised. You’re a good girl, Wendy.”
Wendy turned back to him, the light bouncing off her pale face. “If I do this, you do not have the right to call me girl. Not after all that’s happened, and certainly not after what you are asking me to do.”
Hook paused, surprised at her boldness. He picked up his glass.
“Cheers, then. To Wendy, a woman.”
Wendy turned to head back to her sleeping chambers, suddenly exhausted from the conversation and the liquor that was coursing through her system, dulling her senses to a pleasant hum.
“Good night, Captain.”
She heard the faint strains of a lyre being plucked behind her.
“Good night, Wendy Darling. I’ll set a course for the farthest northern point. From there, you will walk over the foothills and into Miath. We will be making one stop first.”
Wendy turned. “Where?”
Hook reached out with one finger and plucked a string sadly.
“Keme is going home.”
At the sound of his name, a sadness took hold of Wendy’s heart and carried her out of the captain’s chambers, down the Jolly Staircase, and into her bed, snug beside Michael. The pillow was still damp and cold from where her sweat had soaked it earlier, when she had dreamt of the Shadow. She knew sleep would be impossible, and so she lay still as her heart hammered, her body rocking with the pull of the ship as it changed course, heading swiftly into a smothering fog, hiding everything within its swollen breath. She snuggled close to Michael, breathing him in and remembering that there was still some goodness in this dark world.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The next day passed achingly slowly. Tears blurring her eyes the entire time, Wendy quickly threw together a make-shift breakfast for the men, though without Keme, cooking and the food had literally lost its flavor. The crew stared sadly down at their lumpy, half-seared pile of mush and bleeding berries, a few of them wiping tears from their eyes, others glowering at Wendy as the wind tossed her hair mercifully in front of her eyes. A furious voice barreled down from the helm.
“Eat, you bilge-licking scum of the seas, or I’ll be taking your hands as well!”
Wendy raised her eyes. Captain Hook was at the wheel, barely recognizable as the man she had seen the night before. His eyes blazed with renewed passion and his slumping shoulders were gone. Instead, he looked like a rock on the sea—unbreakably solid, majestic, and strong. As she watched him adjust the wheel, his coat flapping wildly behind him in the wind, she realized what she was seeing: hope. For the first time since she had met him, Hook’s eyes blazed with renewed optimism, with the joy of forward momentum. There was also a glint of something else she couldn’t recognize—joy? No, it couldn’t be joy. She smiled to herself. Joy on Hook would be like pajamas on a cat, unnatural, unnerving. No, this was something else. Smith’s loud bray interrupted her thoughts.
“LADS! Keme’s gone, and we best just move on and curse the gods as we go. Now eat your bloody oats before I shove them down your gullet with my fingers.”
Black Caesar sputtered over his food. “Damn you, Barnaby. I pray that his soul is resting in Hades fiery seas.”
“I always hated that man.” Redd angrily spooned Wendy’s f
ood into his mouth. “Mutinous scurvy bastard.”
“He wasn’t even that good of a navigator either. Flanks is better,” answered Voodoo.
“Aye, aye!”
As their angry conversation erupted over the table, Wendy felt her hands unclench in relief. Her best was all she could do until another cook was found. And they would never find another Keme. She blinked away tears. Keme, whose blood was still crusted underneath her fingernails, mingling with her own. A wave of nausea rushed over Wendy, but she was thankfully distracted by Michael padding up the stairs and up onto the deck, so blissfully unaware of the horrors that had happened outside his door the night before.
“Morning, pirates! Morning, Voodoo! Morning, Redd!”
The pirates grunted in reply, some scowling at their names, but Wendy was sure that she saw a few smiles curve upwards, mostly covered by thick, unruly beards. Her brother brought such sunshine to this dark ship.
Michael stopped at Smith. “Morning, Smee.”
Smith growled at him, his mouth full of food. “You better sit down, boy, before I eat all your mush.”
“Will do.” Michael dramatically saluted Smith, and Wendy saw Smith roll his eyes with something that looked, for a moment, like affection. She covered her mouth to keep from smiling, happy that even when there was blood on her fingers, that tiny cracks of light could trickle through this darkness. She would laugh again. She would smile. Maybe even today. Maybe even this morning. The ship rocked hard to starboard, and Wendy felt a hard ripple pass underneath them. Black Caesar leaned over to Voodoo, the two of them always gossiping, reminding her of the girls in her class at St. Mary’s.
“Say, where do you think he’s taking us? He won’t let no one up there but him. Don’t recognize this part of the sea, and can’t see the mainland, not even through the spyglass.”
Voodoo looked up at the captain, squinting his eyes. Wendy still couldn’t believe he was Oxley’s father.
“We’re west, I think. Far west though. He’s not even using a compass, from the looks of it.” Black Caesar furrowed his scarred brow, his lips cracked and bloody.
“Don’t like this.”
Voodoo shrugged. “Captain knows what he’s doing. Don’t ask questions, that’s me motto.”
“That’s ’cause you’re stupid, like a sheep being led to slaughter. Look what happened to Barnaby.”
“Traitorous letch.”
“Yeah, but what a way to go. Wonder we didn’t hear him screaming when Hook took his hands.”
“Who said he still had a tongue?”
They sailed on for a few hours, Wendy cleaning up after breakfast before spending some time below deck, her thoughts tumbling from London to Neverland and back again. She was considering asking Hook to borrow a novel to help quiet her mind when the Night lurched violently to one side, and she heard Hook yelling orders above. Wendy struggled to stay on her feet as she ran up the hallway and the Jolly Staircase as the ship gave a groan, and a ripple ran up the side of the hull. Wendy emerged from below deck, just when Hook was yelling.
“Bring a spring upon her cable, we’re running aground!” Without a minute’s hesitation, the crew leapt to their tasks like a swarm of worker bees.
Smith yelled out, “Eight fathoms!”
Wendy turned to Redd, who was climbing up to the mizzenmast. “How is that possible we are at eight fathoms when there is no land?”
He shook his head at Wendy. “Your guess is as good as mine, lass!”
Wendy ran to the side of the deck with Michael to see where they were stopping, but there was nothing, nothing beyond the strange, wet, gray fog that nestled lovingly up against the ship. Land was nowhere on the horizon, and the main island was probably four hundred miles away at this point. The Sudden Night was stopping in the middle of the ocean. Her heart began to pound at the unknown, the hair on her arms rising as she heard the sound of soft breaths carried on the wind.
“Wendy …,” Michael hesitated. “What is it?”
The crew went still on the deck, their voices silenced, their eyes on the captain, who was making his way down from the bridge.
“Smith, bring around a single longboat. And Keme’s body please.”
Smith snapped his fingers, and three of the crew followed him below deck.
“Wendy, you are coming with me. Michael as well, please.”
Wendy tightened her arm around Michael.
“Why? Why do you need Michael and me?”
Hook took her arm roughly, his voice dropping.
“I cannot go into it here. I just need you to get on the boat.” He lowered his voice. “It will be alright. Do you trust me?”
Wendy smelled something strange on the air, wafting from Hook’s lapel. Sharp and crisp—like soap or freshly laundered clothes? She narrowed her eyes.
“Are we at Miath already?”
“As I said before, we are here to bring our beloved cook home. I’d like you and Michael to be there. Keme liked you both very much.”
A trapdoor on the deck flipped open, and the crew members that had followed Smith emerged, struggling with Keme’s enormous corpse, his body wrapped up in a white linen shroud blotted with blood. Wendy bit her lip as they laid it carefully on the ground, removing their hats and standing vigil over the still body. Hook raised his chin.
“Say your good-byes, and load him into the boat. Swiftly now, men.”
The crew of the Sudden Night circled around his still form, their hats in their hands. Not a word was spoken, though the quiet cracking of the sails gave a melodic background to their sorrow. After a few moments, Smith pulled back on his leather hat and coughed.
“All right, men. It’s time to get our cook home. Into the boat he goes.”
As the crew picked up his wrapped body, Keme’s muscled arm flapped out of the side, his large palm dragging along the open deck. Without thinking, Wendy rushed forward, taking his hand in her own and quietly crossing it over his chest as the men held still, their arms straining under the giant’s weight.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered over his still form. “I’m sorry.”
“We all are, lass,” muttered Redd. “Now move out of the way.”
Wendy stepped back and watched the men gently lower Keme into a creaking black longboat that dangled precariously over the sea on the starboard side. Hawk reached out his hand and helped Wendy step into the boat, her long wrap tangling on the edge of an oar. She reached out her hand and aided Michael into the boat. His excitement about the rowboat quickly disappeared when he saw Keme’s body being lowered in beside him.
“Wendy, what is that? What IS THAT?” The terror in his voice tore at her heart.
“Shhh … come sit.” She patted the seat, and he leaned against her. “Michael, that’s Keme.” Michael’s face crumpled.
“Is he sleeping?” His voice raised several octaves, “Wendy, IS HE SLEEPING?”
Wendy felt the well of strength inside of her weaken, crack by crack, as fat tears filled his eyes. She struggled to pull his chin towards her, his eyes locked on Keme’s still form, the bloodstains reflected in his blue eyes.
“Listen to me. Keme died doing something very brave. SO brave, just like you. We cared about Keme, and it’s okay to be sad that we won’t see him anymore.”
She struggled to keep her voice steady. Michael’s lip quivered, and Wendy felt her resolve collapsing.
“Did Peter do this?”
“No. He didn’t. Barnaby did.” Michael crawled into Wendy’s lap and wrapped himself tightly around her.
“Don’t tell me any more,” he whispered between sobs. Slivers of sadness snaked around her heart as she recognized that her brother had seen—and known—more than enough death in Neverland. Hook climbed into the boat, his boots clacking hard on the glossy wood before looking back at his first mate, standing on the deck of the Night.
“Smith.”
“Yes, sir?”
“If this boat moves, even an inch, I will peel the skin from your bod
y until you beg for death.”
Smith couldn’t hide his delight at the captain’s gruesome threat.
“Aye, aye, Captain. We aren’t going nowhere without you.”
“Best not, since you also have no idea where we are and you would all die at sea.”
“’Tis true, Captain.” Smith turned to the crew. “LOWER THE BOAT!”
With a heavy creak, the rowboat launched away from the side of the Night, sinking lower towards the quietly lapping water. Wendy kept Michael clutched tight to her chest, his tears for Keme soaking through the top of her thick ornate shawl. Hook sat heavily down, taking an oar in one hand, steering the boat away from the Night. She watched Hook’s rhythmic strokes, the way that he wound his body down and then back again, propelling the oars forward in a circular motion. Wendy smiled. Hook noticed.
“What’s your sneer for girl? Did you forget that we have a body in the boat?”
She shook her head, her eyes flitting to Keme’s body.
“No, of course not. I was just thinking that the last time I rowed a boat, it looked very unlike what you are doing now, which is probably why I didn’t make it very far.”
Hook was silent for a moment before letting amusement cross his grizzled face.
“No, you were about a mile from the shore. You didn’t get very far at all.”
There was only silence then, cut sharply by the slap of the waves against the boat and the splash of the oars as they drifted away from the Night, which faded slowly into the mist. They rowed until only the crow’s nest was visible, Hawk’s figure like a specter, looking over the rising waves. Wendy twisted in her seat, feeling more uncomfortable the farther away they drew from the Sudden Night. Hook’s eyes were light and hopeful, though his mouth was twisted in obvious despair, a conflict of emotions playing across his face like a stage. Wendy turned away and rubbed Michael’s back, his curls sweaty against her own hair, stiff with salt, wild like the sea. The mist around them became suffocating as they passed through the thick of it. It swallowed Hook and the front of the rowboat, cutting Wendy off for a few terrifying seconds before she was sucked into it as well, the floaty gray so dense she couldn’t even see the top of Michael’s head. She let out a long breath, the fog in front of her lips swirling in an inky cloud. Then, they were through it, the rowboat passing through an invisible wall, where the fog was left behind them, undulating in their wake. A sudden thump sent Wendy roughly against the grainy sideboard, and the rowboat vaulted up on a sandbank that seemed to come out of nowhere.