Forever Neverland Read online

  At that, Peter, took a tentative step back. He looked around, seemingly lost as to where he was and what he would do next. “What will you do with Wendy?”

  “Now, now, Pan,” Hook replied. “A pirate never tells.”

  Peter swallowed audibly, and once more, his fists clenched at his side. “My pixie. Let her go.” He bartered.

  “That, I can do.” Hook nodded at the man who was holding the glass jar with Tinkerbell inside. “If I have your word that you will then leave.”

  The man held the jar aloft, his hand ready on the lid.

  Peter nodded his assent.

  The jar opened and Tinkerbell flew out at a furious speed. The first thing she did was head straight for Hook, her tiny form as red as the glow in Peter’s eyes.

  “Tink, no!” Peter yelled. Tinkerbell skidded to a stop and blinked at him questioningly.

  “I gave him my word,” Peter said.

  Tinkerbell looked from him to Hook and back again.

  But before Peter’s words truly had a chance to settle in, Hook’s good hand shot out like lightning, snatching the pixie from the air in front of him. Just as quickly, he spun around and hurled the tiny fairy off of the ship and out into the darkness. While Peter stared, wide-eyed, after the waning trail of shimmering dust, Hook whirled back around and nodded at Smee, who now stood waiting by the ship’s wheel.

  With that, Smee spun the wheel sharply to the left, causing the ship to bank hard and list violently to one side. The sudden change knocked Peter off of his feet. As he fell back and slid on his side part way across the deck, Hook, who had been expecting the ship’s tilt, strode on confident legs to where Peter lay.

  With a smirk only befitting of the captain of the Jolly Roger, Hook set one black boot on Peter’s chest and gave a hard shove. Peter went sliding the rest of the way across the deck and then, just like that, he dropped off of the other side and fell into the clouds and the darkness below.

  Chapter Ten

  The wind whipped at Hook’s hair and coat as he stood tall on the deck of his ship and watched Peter Pan disappear far below. When the boy was gone, Hook straightened and sheathed his sword. Then he moved across the deck to the stairs that led to his cabin. His men stepped aside to let him pass.

  One pirate, a man nearly as tall as Hook and dressed in clothing much cleaner and more well cared for than that of the other members of Hook’s crew, came forward and addressed his captain. “The girl’s been locked in your quarters, Captain, as you ordered.”

  His accent was somewhat refined, and where as the other pirates seemed to enjoy decorating their bodies with a multitude of tattoos and piercings, this man had but one silver hoop in his ear, and kept his hair short. He also appeared to be relatively clean-shaven.

  Hook turned to nod at the pirate. “Thank you, Mr. Starkey.” Then he leaned in and whispered in the man’s ear. “Remain nearby; I’m sure the lady will require articles of the sort which I do not trust the others to obtain for her. I’ll send out Mr. Smee with orders.”

  “Aye, Captain,” Starkey nodded.

  Hook continued across the deck and then climbed the stairs two at a time. Smee nodded at him in greeting as the captain passed by his first mate. When Hook reached the door to his cabin, he pulled on the chain around his neck, drawing forth a small gold key from beneath his white shirt. There were two such keys in existence; he had one and Smee had the other, which is how the first mate had managed to lock Wendy in Hook’s cabin.

  Hook inserted the key into the handle of his cabin door. There, however, he paused, suddenly uncertain.

  “Ah, if you don’t mind me sayin’ so, Cap’n, I do believe the lady will be wantin’ a drink,” Smee suggested quietly, as he was only a few feet away. Hook glanced at him and the first mate continued, “Crossin’ swords with a pirate must make for thirsty work, wouldn’t you agree, Cap’n?” Smee winked behind his spectacles and Hook considered his words.

  “Yes, indeed, Mr. Smee.” Hook’s lips curved up in a slight smile. He turned the knob and entered his cabin, closing the door behind him.

  Wendy stood by the far windows, her arms crossed over her chest. She was pacing nervously and when Hook entered, she spun around to face him. Her storm gray eyes fairly shot sparks of electric anger in his direction.

  Hook had to give her instant credit for not attempting to attack him, as she most likely wanted to do. It would not have been wise, and he was pleased to see that she must have known as much. It was an unexpectedly agreeable reminder of how intelligent Wendy Darling was.

  He regarded her for a moment before he moved to the tall rack in the nearest corner and shrugged off his scarlet coat to hang it elegantly on one of the wooden hooks.

  “May I take your coat?” he asked her softly.

  She glared at him. “What will you do with my brothers?” she asked, her voice tight with rage and frustration.

  “They will not be harmed; I give you my word.” Hook assured her, his voice still soft, his tone gentle. Wendy frowned and blinked, clearly taken aback by his mild manner.

  “And what is it worth – the word of a pirate?” she asked then.

  “A good deal, actually,” Hook replied, leaving the coat rack and crossing to his desk, a few paces away. There, he calmly unstopped a crystalline bottle of what must be wine or ale and poured some of the red liquid into a nearby goblet. Wendy watched him warily. He replaced the cork in the bottle and then lifted the glass, delicately scenting its contents before placing the goblet to his lips and taking a drink.

  Wendy licked her lips.

  Hook glanced up to gaze at her over the top of his glass. His blue eyes glittered with amusement.

  Wendy looked away, her fingers self-consciously twisting in the fabric of her coat.

  “I apologize. You must be thirsty as well,” Hook said as he lowered his glass and set it back down on his desk. “Would you like me to pour you a drink?”

  Wendy didn’t answer. She wouldn’t even meet his gaze.

  “I see,” Hook nodded. He re-claimed his wine goblet and strode calmly to the giant velvet-covered armchair a few feet away. There, he gestured to the gold silk chaise lounge across from him. “Please at least be seated. I can see that you are trembling, even from this distance.”

  Wendy looked from him to the fainting couch. It was true that she was shaking. She could feel the weakness in her knees, but she had a horrible feeling that it had more to do with her proximity to the notorious pirate captain than with any need of rest or refreshment.

  She remained standing, her eyes flitting anxiously to the cruel sharp hook on the end of his right arm.

  If he noticed, he didn’t show it.

  “Allow me to guess.” Hook said, as he gracefully sat down, holding his wine glass aloft in his good hand. “You refuse to care for your own needs until the needs of your brothers are met.”

  Wendy cocked her head to one side, glaring at him steadily.

  “Or, perhaps you would rather I throw myself off of the port side of my own ship,” he teased, his white teeth flashing in a wicked grin.

  “For starters,” Wendy said, through clenched teeth.

  At that, Hook threw back his head and laughed. The rich baritone sound of it caught Wendy off guard. With genuine surprise, she grasped, in that instant, that Hook wasn’t holding back. At that moment, Hook had dropped his proverbial defenses.

  His laughter quieted and he sighed, still smiling broadly. “I will make you a deal, Wendy Darling,” he said, placing his goblet on the small table beside the large chair. He then leaned forward, leveling her with an intense and steady blue gaze.

  She swallowed audibly, growing at once uncomfortable beneath his concentrated scrutiny.

  “Give me your word that you shall not attempt to leave this ship or harm anyone on it,” he began, speaking each word slowly and carefully. “And I shall make your brothers into honorary pirates.” He stood then, his towering form making the cabin once more seem much smaller than it was. He t
ook a slow, calculated step toward her. His silver hook flashed in a momentary beam of moonlight.

  Wendy stepped back and found herself against the wall.

  “At least, John shall be a pirate,” Hook seemed to reconsider, his expression introspective as he looked down at the floor and at nothing, in particular. “He’s grown and could prove quite useful on deck. Michael, however, reminds me too much of. . . . ” His eyes took on a distant expression.

  “Of Peter Pan?” Wendy ventured, her voice shaking only a little.

  Hook blinked and looked back at her. His eyes hardened. “Yes. Of Pan. And, therefore, he shall remain below decks as a cabin boy and under the close supervision of one or more of my men.”

  “And why would I agree to such a thing?” Wendy asked, raising her chin defiantly.

  “Because it would get them out of the brig,” Hook replied simply.

  Wendy blinked. She had to admit that what he was offering was a better situation for her brothers than the one they were in now. But it would require that she promise not to try to escape. And she wasn’t at all certain she could agree to such a thing, for at that moment, escape was high on her list of things to do.

  “Have we a deal?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. Wendy gazed up into his deep blue eyes and began to feel very strange. Her knees were weak before, but now they felt positively like jelly.

  As she began to drown in that bottomless sea, a fleeting thought occurred to her. She couldn’t believe that it hadn’t before. “Where’s Peter?” she asked tremulously.

  Hook waited a good long time before replying. His eyes bored into hers, as if searching their depths for answers to riddles only he would know. Then, finally, without moving a muscle, and without looking away, he answered, “He is no longer on this ship.”

  “Is he…”

  “Alive?” He raised a brow. “If you can call him that.”

  Wendy certainly wondered what Hook meant by such a statement, but she felt it would be better not to ask. Something in his eyes had hardened at the mention of Peter Pan, and she didn’t want to push things.

  He took another step forward, closing the distance between them. A strange pink flush began to rise through Wendy’s neck and spread across her cheeks. Her belly felt warm and her breathing shallow.

  This was not lost on Hook, who studied her in silence.

  Best to end this now, Wendy thought. Before. . . Before I don’t know what will happen.

  “You have a deal, Hook,” she said, summoning up the courage to stand a little taller. “I give my word that I will not attempt to escape from the ship, nor harm anyone on it, if you promise to release my brothers from the brig and care for them as you would the members of your own crew.”

  Hook flashed a winning grin. “A wise choice, Miss Darling.”

  He spun around and strode to the door of his cabin, flinging it open and calling for his first mate. “Smee!”

  Smee appeared in the doorway. “Yes, Cap’n?”

  “Tell Jukes to bring the older boy out of the brig and put him to work on deck. The younger boy can clean out the gun deck, but have Billy keep an eye on him.” Hook glanced back at Wendy and then added, “and make certain they have food and drink.”

  “Aye, Cap’n,” Smee nodded, however he did not turn to leave. “Um, if you don’t mind me askin’ Cap’n -” He looked across the cabin at Wendy, who was still standing and still wearing her coat. “Is there anything you’d like me to get for the lady?”

  Hook was still watching Wendy. Finally, he turned back to Smee and leaned in to speak covertly to his first mate. “Have Mr. Starkey retrieve anything she might need to bed down for the night; tell him that Miss Darling’s comfort is his top priority.”

  Smee smiled a genuinely happy smile and bobbed up on his toes. “Aye, aye, Cap’n. Will do.” He nodded once at Wendy and then left.

  Hook closed the door after him.

  When he turned to face Wendy again, he held out his good hand palm up. “I must insist you shed that horrifically heavy coat, my dear. You’ll find that you will not need such a thing aboard my ship.”

  Wendy wanted to ask why, but even as he mentioned it, she noticed that she was uncomfortably warm inside of the coat, which made no sense. On an October night and as high up as the Jolly Roger was, it should have been near freezing. Yet, she was anything but.

  With a shrug of serenity, she slid the coat off of her shoulders and then held it out for Hook. He strode forward, gently took the coat, and hung it next to his own on the coat rack. When he turned back around, his gaze locked on the front of Wendy’s clothes. He gazed, unblinking, and self-consciously, Wendy looked down. She realized that he was staring at the shirt that was peeking out from beneath her gray zip-up hoodie.

  It was an old X-Men t-shirt that she’d had since the first movie had come out years ago. A giant red X on a yellow background dominated most of the design and the rest of it was fading rapidly.

  She glanced back up at Hook to find the strangest expression on his handsome face.

  She blinked. Handsome? Oh no, she thought. He really is handsome. How did I not notice that before?

  And then, just like that, the captain was again expertly composed and Wendy once more had no idea what was going on behind his fathomless blue eyes.

  “Your accent is different,” Hook moved past her and sat down on the edge of his bed, gesturing for her to take the large chair he had previously occupied. “You must have spent some time in another land. Tell me,” he looked thoughtful. “What was that place?” With his hook, he gestured to the world that must have been below them.

  Still standing, Wendy blinked. “You mean. . . ..”

  “I mean, what was that world? It wasn’t London, was it. No. From the map alone, I could tell as much. But I’d never have expected those lights,” He seemed genuinely impressed and Wendy was struck by the curiosity in his eyes. She’d be damned if it didn’t almost seem – innocent. And she had certainly never noticed it there before.

  He looked back up at her. “Tell me about it.”

  “About the United States?” she asked, moving to sit in the oversized chair.

  Hook’s eyebrows arched. “United States, indeed! Well, that would be something.” He paused, his gaze one of a man lost in thought. “I can’t imagine any of the pirate states joining with each other.” He shook his head, and then, as if speaking to himself, he added, “No, that would take a bloody miracle.”

  “Pirate states?” Wendy asked.

  Hook’s brow arched. “Of course. The thirteen pirate factions of the thirteen seas.”

  It was Wendy’s turn to look surprised. “You don’t say,” she uttered. “There were thirteen original states in the U.S. as well.”

  There was a knock on Hook’s door. The pirate captain rolled his eyes. “Enter!”

  It was Smee. “I apologize for the intrusion, Cap’n,” he said with a slight bow. “It’s only that the men want to know where we be headin’ next.”

  Hook’s jaw clenched. “Well, Smee, where does the Jolly Roger want to go?”

  Smee looked sheepish. “Er. . . .Well, she only seems to want to go back the way we came,, Cap’n.”

  “Then we’ll head back the way we came, Mr. Smee.”

  Smee nodded quickly. “Aye, aye, Cap’n.” He backed out and closed the door behind him.

  Hook glanced at Wendy. Her eyes were wide.

  “Are we going to. . . .”

  “Neverland? I’m afraid so.”

  Chapter Eleven

  . . . .The taste of metal in your mouth. Crossing blades with a pirate . . . .

  Peter . . . .

  Know what it means to die . . . .

  Peter, wake up.

  Metal. Metal in your mouth . . . .Means to die . . .

  “Peter!”

  Peter opened his eyes. It took a good deal more effort than he was used to; even worse than those mornings after drinking too much pixie dust wine.

  “Peter! Oh,
thank goodness. I didn’t know if I was going to be able to help you this time. . . .” Peter felt small hands under his arms, trying to pull him into a sitting position. He realized that he was lying on the ground and that it was snowing. The cold of the concrete was seeping in through his clothes. He shivered.

  “Sit up, Peter. Drink this, okay?”

  Tinkerbell was desperately trying to get him into an upright position. She managed to slide him up against a brick wall and then moved around him. He focused on her and saw that she was in her human form and that she was now kneeling in front of him. She held a bottle out toward him. He didn’t recognize the brand or the beverage, but the pixie dust that sparkled all along the rim of the mouth of the bottle was familiar enough.

  “What happened?” he asked. His voice seemed hoarse and quiet. He cleared his throat and reached for the bottle. His arm wouldn’t move.

  He looked down at it. It lay limp at his side. He tried to reach for the bottle again. Again, it wouldn’t move.

  “I can’t move my arm, Tink.”

  “It’s broken. Here, drink.” Tinkerbell held the bottle to his lips, but he just stared at her. Shock and disbelief warred with each other for possession of his features.

  “It’s broken?” He had never been broken before. He’d never been hurt. Not really.

  “Yes, Peter. You tried to catch yourself, but you weren’t able to fly right,” Tink explained as she gestured for him to drink. He took a sip as she continued. “I was able to slow you down, but not enough. You slammed into the top of a chimney and then into a roof and rolled off into this alley.” Her expression was stricken. “I think there are a lot of broken bones, Peter. More than just your arm.”

  Peter stopped drinking and pulled back. He looked down at his legs. He tried to move them. They wouldn’t move. He realized, then, that that was why he hadn’t been able to help Tinkerbell get him into a sitting position. He’d unconsciously wanted to – but his body wouldn’t obey.