It was now or never.
CJ shuddered as she steered the boat through the jaws of the skull and the girls found themselves in a dark, echoing cavern, surrounded by nothing but damp rock.
“What now?” Freddie asked, shivering.
CJ didn’t know. The map had only specified that they needed to go to Skull Rock and that the treasure was somewhere in there; it gave no indication of how to—
CJ’s thoughts were cut short when she spotted something on the wall of the cave. It looked like a ladder carved into the rocks. She followed it with her eyes, higher and higher and higher, until it finally ended at the far edge of the large gaping hole that formed the skull’s left eye.
“I think…” CJ said, trying to keep her voice from shaking. “I think I’m supposed to climb up there.”
Freddie followed her gaze. “Are you sure?”
CJ shook her head. “No. But I don’t see any other options.”
“Should I come with you?” Freddie asked, and CJ sensed the fear in her voice. She was trying not to show it, just as CJ was. Just like all VKs were taught to do on the Isle of the Lost.
But CJ had never felt more terrified in all her life. And she wasn’t sure she was going to be able to hide it this time.
“No,” she said. “The tide is rising fast. You stay here and make sure the boat doesn’t get lost. We’ll need a way to get out of here with the treasure if I find it.” She stopped, then corrected herself. “When I find it.”
“Okay,” Freddie said, but she sounded about as certain of the plan as CJ felt. “Be careful.”
CJ nodded. “I will.” Then she stepped off the boat onto a nearby rock and headed toward the ladder.
“Wait!” Freddie called out. She pulled something from her pocket and tossed it at CJ, who caught the object in her hand and studied it.
It was a pack of matches. She flipped it over and saw the logo of Bass Notes and Beignets on the back side.
“I took it from the jazz club,” Freddie said, “so I could remember the name if I ever went back to the bayou.” She nodded toward the skull’s black-as-night left eye. “It looks pretty dark up there. You might need a little light.”
“Thanks,” CJ said, feeling a swell of gratitude rise in her chest.
She positioned her hands on the ladder carved into the rock and, with a deep breath, started to climb.
Treasure, here I come!
This isn’t so bad. As long as I don’t fall.
That might be bad.
Ascending the rock ladder was easy for CJ. She was good at climbing. She and Freddie used to climb all the time back on the Isle of the Lost when they were kids. Not rocks or trees or anything, but garbage heaps and collapsed building rubble.
When she reached the top of the ladder, she turned around to wave at Freddie, who looked incredibly small from way up there. CJ thought she must be at least thirty feet high.
I made it, she thought with relief.
Then she turned back and saw the inside of the skull’s eye for the first time.
CJ gulped.
It had no bottom. She had expected there to be a floor she could walk on, but instead there was a long, gaping hole that stretched across the entire length of the eye. And it was so dark down there she couldn’t see anything. But she could hear something. It sounded like waves, rough and violent, slamming repeatedly against a stone wall.
In other words, she shouldn’t fall down there.
She glanced across to the other side, where the skull’s nose would have been, and saw a sliver of light, like a beacon calling to her. She was pretty sure she was supposed to get across the giant chasm.
But how?
It was way too far to jump. And she couldn’t scurry around the edge of it. The stone there was too thin.
Think, she commanded herself. You’re the daughter of the greatest pirate ever to sail the seven seas. You can do this.
Then she looked up and her stomach flipped. Hanging from the ceiling of the cave was a line of insanely sharp steel hooks, ten of them, spaced about three feet apart.
She shivered at the sight. The hooks were nearly identical to the one her father had on his left hand.
She instantly knew what she had to do. She had to swing across, using the steel hooks as handles. And she had to do it without impaling her hand. If she grabbed a hook the wrong way, it would damage her hand at best, and at worst cause her to plummet to her death.
But CJ felt confident. After all, she’d been avoiding getting accidentally stabbed by her father’s fake hand her entire life. And with all the flailing about he did when he lost his temper (which was pretty much daily), it wasn’t always easy.
CJ sucked in a deep breath, crept to the edge of the ravine, and reached for the first handle. She was lucky her hands were small. They fit nicely in the curved non-sharp part of the hook. She used her feet to kick off the rock, gliding smoothly to the next handle. She caught it without a problem.
She knew she had to keep up her momentum if she was going to make it all the way across. If she paused and let herself swing to a stop, it would be much harder to get started again. So she trusted her instincts and immediately released the first hook, letting the momentum from her original jump push her to the next one.
After a few seconds, CJ was really getting the hang of it. She kept her body agile as she soared effortlessly through the air from hook to hook.
This is easy, CJ thought. Almost fun.
But just as she was grabbing the second-to-last hook, she heard something below her—a strange sound that echoed ominously against the stone walls of the chamber.
CJ froze, her arms stretched overhead, both hands still gripping a hook as she swayed to a stop over the dark ravine below.
What is that noise? she thought.
It was repetitive. Almost rhythmic. But before she could identify what it was, her left eyebrow started to twitch.
That’s weird. Why is my eyebrow twitching?
The sound got louder. Her eyebrow twitched again. She felt the urge to rub it, but her hands were occupied at the moment. And was it just her imagination or was her eyebrow moving in tempo with the noise?
Pshh. She pushed the thought away. That would be impossible. She’d never heard of a face twitching in rhythm, except for when her father—
Her thoughts were cut short as the noise got louder and finally became recognizable.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
Fear seized her body. She tried to peer down into the pit, but it was pitch-black. She could only hear that horrific sound. It seemed like it was getting closer.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
It was definitely a ticking clock. Ever since she was a child, her father had instilled a debilitating fear of ticking clocks in her. But why would there be a ticking clock at the bottom of the cave?
The answer came to her a second later, and she screamed and flailed her legs in panic.
Tick. Tock!
The Crocodile that had eaten her father’s hand! He was down there! He had to be. That vicious beast had pursued Captain Hook all over Never Land. CJ’s father always told her that the Crocodile could smell him, as if he had gotten a taste for his blood when he ate the hand and had been hungry for the rest of him ever since.
He must smell me, too! CJ thought with horror. I have the same blood!
She had to get out of there, and fast.
She couldn’t see down into the ravine, so she didn’t know how high the water was, but she knew the tide was rising fast.
How long before he can reach me? Can crocodiles climb walls?
CJ didn’t want to wait around to find out. She was only one hook away from the safety of the ledge. She launched her body forward, reaching for the last rung. But because she was starting from a stop, she didn’t have enough momentum, and her hand grappled for the hook and missed. And before she could even realize what had happened, her other hand released the second-to-last rung.
Then CJ was falling.
>
Well, it’s been fun.
I’m about to feed the fish…or, rather, the crocodile.
CJ’s scream echoed throughout all of Skull Rock.
She was pretty sure that was it. That would be the end of her. But then, suddenly, her body was jerked upward with such ferocity the scream was choked off. Now she was just dangling there, confused.
She peered up to see that the final hook had gotten caught on the sleeve of her pirate coat and was keeping her suspended above the deep chasm.
She breathed out a sigh of relief. She was saved!
But not for long. Because a millisecond later, she heard the distinct sound of ripping. She glanced up again and another wave of panic shot through her. The fabric! It was tearing. The hook was going to rip right through it.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
The sound of the ticking clock seemed to be getting closer by the second.
She reached up and tried to grab the hook with her dangling hand, but it was too far away and the twisting motion seemed to rip the sleeve faster.
Anxiously, CJ looked around and saw the ledge of the ravine only a few feet in front of her. She just needed to build up enough momentum to swing herself onto it—before the hook ripped clean through her coat and she plummeted to her death.
No pressure.
She started to slowly sway her body back and forth. But with each pump of her legs, she felt the fabric tear and she dropped an inch closer to her untimely demise.
CJ drew in a breath. It was now or never.
With one violent jolt, she swung herself toward the rocky ledge just as the fabric gave way and she started to fall again. She arched her body, bending her back and reaching out with her toes.
Her feet managed to find the rock, but her upper body was still far behind. She nearly toppled backward. With an “oomph” she flung herself forward with all her might and landed face-first on the stone floor.
Her cheek stung. Her head throbbed from the impact. But she was alive. She had made it.
She jumped to her feet and let out a triumphant whoop. That was when she noticed that her left hand felt a lot heavier than her right. She glanced down at the sleeve of her coat to see the hook still impaled in the fabric.
It hadn’t ripped through after all. The hook had simply come loose.
She carefully removed it from her sleeve and placed it in her pocket. Her father would be the first person to tell you that a hook could make a very good weapon in a pinch.
Steeling herself, CJ inched forward, crossing over the bridge of the skull’s nose. But the path in front of her was dark. She found the matches Freddie had given her and lit one. It provided enough light to see where she was walking. She was in a dark, narrow passageway with a low ceiling. CJ had to duck to avoid bumping her head.
She kept her eyes open and her senses on high alert. She had no idea what was coming next, or whether the whole thing had just been one giant trap and she was walking straight to her grave.
When the match burned down to the end, she dropped it and lit another. She didn’t even see the hole in front of her until she took another step and didn’t feel the ground.
She lost her balance and fell backward onto the cold, damp stone. She held out her match and crawled slowly forward, thinking she’d nearly tripped on a pothole.
But this was no pothole.
This was a deep, dark pit. She waved her match inside, but the measly light only managed to illuminate a few feet below. The pit seemed to be bottomless.
It’s the other eye of the skull, CJ thought, and a shiver ran through her. But it wasn’t her usual fear. It was something else. Like a hunch. A warning bell. It was almost as though the blood in her veins was singing, crooning out a dark pirate song.
There was something down there in that pit.
She could hear it calling to her.
Just before her match burned out, she noticed a rope hanging from the ceiling. It traveled right down into the center of the pit.
A rope! Hallelujah!
She reached out and gave the rope a firm tug. She couldn’t see where it was attached, but it was clearly secure. With one foot wrapped around the rope and the other still safe on the ground, she tested her weight.
It held.
She released the other foot and slowly started to lower herself into the dark pit. After she’d been descending for what felt like forever, she decided to have another look.
She held on to the rope with one hand while the other lit a match. She swung it around her, left, right, up, and…
A scream instantly rose in her throat and she had to clamp her mouth shut and bite her lip to keep it from escaping. She could see the bottom of the pit now. She was nearly there.
In the center she could make out the unmistakable shape of a wooden treasure chest. Her treasure chest—the one she’d been dreaming about her entire life. The one she’d tracked across the Auradon countryside. She’d finally found it.
There was only one problem.
It was surrounded by a dozen sleeping crocodiles.
Oh, I am so out of here….
CJ immediately started to scramble back up the rope.
There was no way she was going down into that pit with a bunch of hungry crocodiles that had a taste for Hook family blood.
It was hopeless. A lost cause. Whoever had hidden the treasure down there had obviously been trying to keep her father, and any of his descendants, away from it. Everything she’d encountered thus far—fairies, ticking clocks, crocodiles—seemed like deliberate reminders of her father’s past. Not to mention the map was completely useless on the Isle of the Lost, where her father was still trapped. It was as though whoever had enchanted it wanted to make sure Captain Hook could never unlock it, could never find the treasure.
But I found it, CJ thought. It’s right down there.
CJ stopped climbing. The rope swung back and forth slightly as she hung there, letting the thought echo in her mind.
Ever since she was a little girl, she’d wanted to prove her worth. She’d wanted to show her father that she could be just as cunning and conniving and swashbuckling as he was. She wanted to prove that she wasn’t just a pirate’s daughter. She was a pirate in her own right.
If she turned around now, she would never get her ship. She would never set off on her epic adventure. She would never prove herself worthy of the name Hook.
She was so close. She couldn’t quit now.
Besides, whoever had hidden the treasure way down there, surrounded by bloodthirsty crocodiles, had expected whoever found it to do just that: to quit. To flee. To fail. And that only meant the treasure was worth it, possibly bigger and better than she’d ever dreamed.
As CJ hung from her rope, trying to figure out what to do next, she held a single image in her mind. It was of her, standing at the wheel of a great pirate ship, the sea air in her face, the black skull-and-bones flag flapping in the breeze, and nothing but open waters ahead of her.
That was what she’d wanted since she was a little girl, and whatever was in that chest could buy it for her.
She racked her brain until she came up with a plan. Careful not to make too much noise, CJ reached down, grabbed a handful of rope, wound it three times around her left leg, and tied the end in a knot.
Then she held her breath and let go, tipping forward and landing upside down with a rough jerk that nearly made her grunt aloud. Hanging by only one leg, she gently swung herself toward the treasure chest, her hands just barely managing to snag the edge and stop her momentum.
Her next step was to open the chest. She knew there was no way she was going to be able to carry that giant box back up with her. She was a good rope climber, but she wasn’t Gaston. So first she needed to know how much loot she was dealing with. Her plan was to fashion her pirate coat into a sack that she could tie around her waist, and then pull herself—and the treasure—back up the rope.
She felt around the edge of the chest for the clasp and tried to wren
ch it open, but it seemed to be stuck. She jiggled it, holding her breath as she listened for movement beneath her. All she needed right then was for one of those crocs to wake up and see her dangling in front of him like lunch on a stick.
Or a rope, rather.
All was quiet.
She tried the latch again, coming to the discouraging conclusion that it must be locked.
“Blast!” CJ cursed quietly, punching the air. She’d come all that way just to hit a dead end there? While she was hanging upside down in a crocodile pit?
Once again, CJ considered giving up and leaving. She was tired. She was dirty. She was dizzy from all the blood rushing to her head.
But something happened as she was dangling upside down. She felt something cold and hard shift beneath her ruffled pirate shirt. Her hands immediately moved to her collarbone, and that was when she remembered what she had tied there.
The key.
She scrambled to pull the string over her head and quietly felt around in the near pitch-darkness for the lock of the treasure chest.
The key fit perfectly. She turned it and heard a faint click. She could barely contain her excitement. It took every ounce of strength she had left not to rip open the lid and let all the beautiful jewels and gold coins gush out like a fountain. She had to be diligent, and quiet. She had to be careful not to wake those sleeping crocs.
So she held her breath and ever so slowly unlatched the clasp and eased open the lid. Her hands raced to catch the overflow of treasure before it clinked to the ground.
But nothing came out.
Confused, CJ lifted the lid the rest of the way, struggling to see inside the chest, but it was too dark. She fumbled in her pocket for another match and lit it, holding it above the open treasure chest. Inside was a thick swatch of velvety bloodred fabric with a single shiny object nestled in its folds.
What the… ?
But CJ barely had time to react, because at that very instant, she heard something move beneath her. She hastily glanced to her side and saw a single green eye illuminated by the tiny glow of her match.
Then someone—or something—let out a heavy breath and the flame went out.