“Slow down, slow down. You don’t want to get yourself sick.” She nicked her teeth. “Those greedy bitches, they almost drained you completely. You’ve been sleeping for two days.” She placed her hand on Wendy’s cheeks.
“Though I dare say you’re getting your color back now. I see some healthy pink color creeping into those baby cheeks.”
Wendy could almost weep at her kindness, at the way she touched her face, just like a mother would, the way she held a spoon to Wendy’s lips, prodding and gentle all at once. Wendy sipped the delicious brown broth, crunching the small pieces of green beneath her teeth. Her head stopped swimming, and she took comfort in the familiar rocking of the Sudden Night. A temporary home, but a good one nonetheless.
“Why are you here?”
Fermina smiled. “The captain was in need of my medical expertise.”
She raised her eyebrows in Smith’s direction, who was pacing madly in the corner.
“You may be surprised that a woman trained in pleasure could also be skilled as a healer.”
Wendy felt her prejudices fall away.
“No, actually. I’m not surprised at all.” She grabbed Fermina’s hand. “I am glad to see your face.”
“BAH!” Smith exploded from the other side of the room, barreling towards Wendy’s bed like an unhinged bear.
“Enough of this drawing room talk! The girl has information for us, and she needs to share it, before she passes out and takes a nice long nap for a few more days!”
Hook held out his hand. “Give her a moment, Smith.” He turned to Wendy. “We can wait, if you need more time to rest.”
Wendy shook her head.
“No. We’ve all rested enough.” She cleared her throat.
“When Peter first arrived on this island, he befriended Queen Eryne… .”
Hours later, when the information had been dissected and documented, after the raised voices of the four had echoed up the corridors of the Sudden Night, Wendy and Hook stood together on the bridge, looking out at the sinking sun, its crimson orb sinking into a placid sea. Clouds of white dotted the horizon. Wendy sipped a steaming cup of mulled cider, a luxury beyond belief that Fermina had somehow whipped up in the ship’s kitchen. Hook held a wine bottle in one hand, his silver hook looped lazily around the wheel as he tenderly sipped, humming a familiar pirate tune over the waves.
“Do you want to know,” he asked, “how I really lost my hand?” Wendy turned to him, the heavy blanket on her shoulders falling loose as she jerked her head up in shock.
“I thought …”
“I’m sure you heard Peter’s tale. And strangely enough, most of it is true. He did find our hiding place for the Jolly Rodger and the Sudden Night while it was still being built. He did burn my father’s ship, and good men alive with it. As they screamed, he laughed. Or so I’ve heard.”
Wendy tilted her head. “You weren’t there?”
Hook took a sip of wine and adjusted the wheel northwest. “I was there, in the caverns, but I wasn’t with my men. I was with … her.”
Wendy knew exactly whom he meant.
“There is a small lagoon, deep in the heart of the Teeth. We’ve hid treasure there from time to time. There are only a handful of people who’ve ever been inside of it. We call it the Sanctuary. It’s peaceful, quiet, hidden. Swimming in it is something to be experienced, and it is a place to take those whom you …”
He cleared his throat, the scars of the memory marring his face.
“You understand.”
Wendy swallowed, her voice softening at the pain this memory must have caused him. “Yes.”
“I was there with her, a tiny moment of heaven in a lifetime of misery, and Peter found us. He appeared in the cavern and, behind him, I could hear the screams of my men. He floated down, and when he came into the light, I will never forget the hatred on his face. We were already enemies, but I had taken something he wanted desperately—Lomasi. It was the first time he had learned about our love, and the first time, I believe, that his heart was ever broken. With a betrayed scream, he threw himself at her in rage, his golden sword outstretched. I reached out to protect her …”
“And Peter cut off your hand.”
“Cleanly. It was as if his blade burned hot.” He shook his head. “Blood was everywhere. Lomasi was screaming; Peter was laughing. I was in shock, but I picked up my sword with my other hand and readied myself to fight, though I could barely stand. I knew in that moment, that he would kill me, and then her.” Hook shook his head. “How does a man, wounded, grounded, fight a boy with fairy powers who can fly?”
He gave a hollow, sad laugh. “It was no contest. He knocked me to the ground. My princess threw herself over me and begged Peter for mercy. I watched his face, watched the delight he felt at his power, at her bowing before him.”
Hook narrowed his eyes. “But then his eyebrows raised, and he turned away from us without another word. He flew out of the Teeth, and left me bleeding on the ground, one of my ships burned into ash and twenty-five pirates dead. For so long I wondered why he had turned away. Could it be mercy? Was it love for Lomasi? Regret for killing my father?”
Hook’s voice darkened, and malice crept into his tone. “It was none of these things, for these are the feelings that makes one human. When he saw me on the ground, he saw an end to his game, and Peter Pan could not live without that possibility, without this endless circle of chess that we play.” He set his bottle down and straightened his jacket, his eyes resting on Wendy.
“When you are ready, we will set our trap, and it will be the beginning of the end, the last move in my game of chess with Peter Pan.”
He fluffed out his coat behind him, and before Wendy realized what he was doing, he was down on his knees in front of her. “All these long years, I thought that I could win this game with ships, swords, and pistols. It turns out that I was just waiting to move a girl into the game. You are the missing piece, a girl from another world who I believe has the power to vanquish a devil from our land.”
Wendy was unsure of what to do, so she reached out and took his cool hook in her hand.
“I may be the missing piece, but I am no one’s pawn. I will do my best, for that is all I can promise. For your family, and for mine.”
Hook stood, steely resolve glinting in his dark eyes, his eyebrows narrowed and drawn. “That is all I could ask for. And I promise, that as soon as Peter Pan has been defeated, we will move heaven and earth to find you and both of your brothers a way home.”
Wendy closed her eyes. “Please.” They were silent for a moment, each swimming in their own memory.
“We should be off the shores of Pan Island in two days’ time with this shallow wind. Will you be ready by then?”
Wendy turned to him. “I will.” She looked out at the sea, folding itself into the starry night one inch at a time, before turning back to the captain, a man whose name had once made her tremble in fear. She gestured to the wheel.
“May I?”
Hook looked surprised. “This ship wheel was the only thing salvaged from the wreckage of the Jolly Rodger. This was the wheel of my father’s ship. It has never been touched by a woman.”
Wendy smiled and raised her cup, her eyes never leaving his. “And, pray tell, what does that mean?”
“It means—” Captain Hook paused, his upper lip twitching. He looked at Wendy and then back at his ship, the sails fluttering like a black raven.
“It means, oh bloody hell, take the wheel, but don’t crash my ship, and for heaven’s sake, don’t tell Smith. We’ll never hear the end of it, and he’ll probably shove a sword through your pretty gullet.”
Wendy grinned, “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”
Owl’s voice carried down from above. “You aren’t letting her touch the wheel, are you, Cap’? T’will curse the ship it will!”
“No Owl, she’s not, though it’s not your position to question me, is it?”
“No, sir!”
“Good, then get back to work.”
Hook winked at Wendy and mouthed, “He’s blind.”
Owl grumbled that he had heard that, and Hook smiled. It was momentary, a whisper of a thing, but it made Wendy’s heart swell with hope.
She reached out and wrapped her hands around the wheel, surprised at how cool and wet the wood was, and how her palms fell so naturally around the handles. Her dress brushed the spindle, and Wendy looked at the sky. She heard the cries of seagulls overhead, and her nostrils filled with the smell of the salty sea. The blood in the water was now the same blood that ran through her veins, and it pulled to her. This once foreign danger was now something she returned to, and her hands instinctively turned the wheel as she watched the bowsprit crash through the waves.
The wind caught the sails of the Sudden Night, and she leaned forward, headlong into the pitch. Wendy’s muscles responded to the needs of wheel without thinking, her body one with the Sudden Night. She could see. Hook leaned back against the ship’s rail, his face betraying how impressed he truly was. Another wave crashed over the side of the ship, soaking Wendy, but it was unsuccessful at diminishing the smile on her face.
“Keep your hand on the helm. Steady, girl. Steady as you go.”
She planned on it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Two days later, the Sudden Night sat off the shore of Pan Island, a giant tree lumbering a few miles off in the distance. Wendy watched it give a slight shake in the wind from outside the rocking port window. Her fingertips lightly trailed the iron casing around the window, tracing the small metal knots that bound the window to the ship, so strong. So solid. She turned, her ridiculous dress brushing the sides of the narrow hallway.
Fermina had sat with her that morning, preparing Wendy to look as appealing as possible. Her hair had been washed and braided the night before, and this morning, Fermina had set it into lovely waves—light-toffee curls falling over her face, and accented it with a diamond hair comb in the shape of a crescent moon—a gift from Hook. She had a bit of rouge on her cheeks and lips, and though she had politely refused the whale-boned corset that Fermina had offered her, she was tucked neatly and tightly into an opulent blue dress. Silk panels of pale periwinkle draped over her shoulders in a low V-neck, and the tightness of the fabric pushed her bust up and outwards. Frosted silver and gold flowers draped over her left shoulders and crossed over the back of the dress before swirling around the front near her knees and dusting the edge of the dress. It was a heavy creation and utterly useless aboard a pirate ship where it dragged behind her through the endless maze of hallways, often picking up nasty remnants of pirate life in the process—small bones, a clump of hair, a bullet casing.
Now she made her way slowly towards the Jolly Staircase, her heart beating heavily underneath her lungs, dread dragging her feet, making them heavy and slow. She repeated the plan out loud to herself, making sure that she was burying it deep inside her, so that when he—Peter—looked at her that she would not lose herself in his eyes, in his touch that scorched her skin like flame.
“Get the pipes. Get the fairy. Get out.”
One of these things could be fairly easy, especially if she was able to get Peter’s guard down by convincing him that she was remorseful, and more importantly, totally enamored with him. If she could distract him enough, she could grab the pipes while he was sleeping perhaps, or perhaps during …
She shook her head to think of it. The Song had to be called in the same way, and to do that, they would need the pipes.
The other task wouldn’t be so easy. She had to convince Tink to tell her the song—the song of her people, the song that called the Shadow—and then to come back to the ship. To do this, she would have to get Tink to trust her, to open herself to the ugly truth that Peter had massacred her people. Wendy was going to have to work through layers of love and self-hatred and an unflinching loyalty to Peter. Get the pipes. Get the fairy. Get out. It seemed like a simple plan, and yet, it was endlessly complex.
Impossible, almost.
As she began climbing the staircase of skulls and bones, Wendy wondered how this nightmare would end. No happy ending was assured in this story, not like in one of the princess fairytales that she had so loved Liza to read her as a girl.
Would they be able to quietly call and dismiss the Shadow? Would it be able to be defeated? Would it come to a battle? Captain Maison was still out there, waiting in the shadows for Peter’s command. Peter and the Lost Boys—including her brother—had guns, and were preparing for a war. And what did they have?
One incredible ship, one murderous, damaged, love-sick captain, and one blue dress.
Wendy looked down and was mortified to see the apples of her bosom heaving as she walked. One girl in a very low-cut dress, a dress that would have made her mother faint. Wendy continued to climb the staircase. What else was this all for though? If she could never return home, what was the point? To stay here, perpetually in fear for her life from Peter, from the mermaids, from rapist pirate lords? She paused. No. That was not an option, and so the only way out of this place was to fight. To fight for her family, for her brothers, for her future with the bookseller’s son.
Some men had armor. She had a blue dress.
The trapdoor opened before her, and the bright, turquoise Neverland light assaulted her eyes as she climbed out onto the deck of the Sudden Night. Wendy smiled at them. It was time for a bit of theater.
The crew was lined up on board, their eyes downcast as she walked by, the shuffling sound of her dress cutting through the reverent silence. As she passed Voodoo, he began singing, his rich tenor spilling over the deck.
Our anchor we’ll weigh,
And our sails we will set. Good-bye, fare-ye-well, Good-bye, fare-ye-well.
The friends we are leaving,
We leave with regret,
Hurrah, my boys, we’re homeward bound.
The rest of the crew joined in, their male voices rising until they filled the boat and swept out to sea, blowing towards Pan Island. Wendy came to a stop by Smith, who stood at the ready, a scabbard in each hand, his arms crossed over his chest. He looked Wendy up and down.
“’Tis a bit much, don’t you think.”
She smiled shyly and patted his arm kindly. She saw him blink back watery tears and then he leaned forward.
“You don’t have to do this ya’know. We can find another way to kill that boy.”
Wendy shook her head sadly.
“No. We can’t. Take care of the captain.”
She kept moving forward, for she knew that if she lingered for even a second, that her next step would take her back inside the confines of the ship, back to safety, and the endless waiting. Waiting for a miracle. Waiting for Peter to snap. Instead she walked forward, towards the captain, dressed in a crisp white shirt, his navy military jacket resting across his broad shoulders. Upon his head sat the captain’s hat that she knew he loathed, its bright-red gem winking in the soft light. He reached out his hook, and Wendy took it softly, thinking how the thing that had once terrified her so was comforting, a part of this man and this monster that she had come to trust like a father. She turned to him. He lowered his voice.
“Remember the plan. Don’t linger. Don’t let Peter into your heart. He can’t know why you are there, or we will lose everything.”
“I know what I’m doing,” Wendy gently reminded him. The plan had been discussed for days—she had no question of what she needed to do, nor what it would cost her. Hook ignored her.
“Get the pipes, get the fairy, and get out. Don’t let it go too far. Convince him that you love him and then do what needs to be done when he is at his most vulnerable. And don’t …”
He paused.
“Don’t give up something that you can’t get back.”
She felt a blush rising up her cheeks. “Please stop talking.”
He nodded.
“Best for everyone. Now turn around.”
Wendy pull
ed her hair to the side and turned. She felt Hook slide her dagger beneath the fabric of her dress. He turned her back around.
“If Lomasi and I ever allowed ourselves to have children, in my wildest dreams, I would hope that I would have a daughter as brave as you are.” Wendy felt her eyes fill with tears. She missed her father.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “And you …” she paused, finding the words on her tongue, “you are a good man who has done some very bad things. Perhaps try to do better this time around.”
Hook grinned, the smile splitting his face awkwardly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Wendy’s eyes narrowed. “Remember what you promised me. No killing Lost Boys.”
“I will try my best, but you cannot ask me to not protect my own family if it comes down to it.”
Wendy nodded. “That seems fair.” They looked at each other for a long moment.
“He’s coming,” Owl hissed down, from far above the mist. “Get ready.”
Hook nodded once at Wendy and turned away from her, his gray eyes full of worry. He cleared his throat. “Let’s go, lass.”
Wendy held her wrists out before her, and Hook bound them together with a rope, though the knot was quite loose.
She stepped onto the plank.
Hook began to loudly proclaim Wendy’s sentence. “Because of her loyalty to the traitor and murderer, Peter Pan, Wendy Darling of London has been sentenced to die by walking the plank. She has shown time and time again that her true heart lies with him, and for this, she is sacrificed to the sea!”
Hook looked up at Owl, who was straining on the crow’s nest, his grizzled face turned upwards as he hung precariously, one foot on the nest, one hand grasping a rope. He looked up and then back down at Hook, before gesturing with his hand, up into the clouds above.
Hook turned to Wendy and mouthed silently, “He’s here.”
Then he screamed, “UP GIRL! ON THE PLANK BEFORE I SPLIT YOU OPEN FROM BELLY TO BREAST!”
Wendy’s hands were shaking as she walked forward. The plank was a thick wooden board, leveled against a cannon barrel, and as she walked across it, the bounce of her steps made the board shake and jump. One foot in front of the other, she made her way across it. Hook was right behind her, his sword poking into her back. What should have been threatening was actually a reassurance that he was behind her, only an arm’s length away.