Wendy Darling: Volume 2: Seas

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Wendy Darling: Volume 2: Seas Page 14

by Colleen Oakes


  “Hallo, gents, did ya miss me?” He tipped an invisible hat. Jaali did not look up from his scabbard as he lobbed sharp words in the captain’s direction.

  “You’re late, Maison. Hook should have been the last one here as Commander of the Scorned. Have you forgotten your manners?” Jaali barked.

  Maison pulled his finger along the sword, drawing a small droplet of blood. Then he curled his tongue around his bloody finger.

  “I do not appreciate lateness Maison.”

  Maison sneered. “As if I have ever given a thought to your opinion of me, Jaali.”

  Maison’s men took their positions in the corner of the room. The crew of the Sudden Night snarled across the room at them until Maison, with great dramatic flourish, took his seat. Hook stood, and placed his pistol facing outwards on the table. The rest of the captains followed, and Wendy felt a collective breath of relief pass through the various crews. Hook signaled to Smith, and his first mate approached the table to pour the wine. From her place in the corner, Wendy could see Smith’s jaw clenched tightly as he made his way forward, the veins in his bull neck rigid and hard.

  Hook stood and cleared his throat.

  “Our first order of business …”

  Maison uttered a loud grunt, interrupting Hook. The crews around them gasped.

  “Let’s not, James. Let’s not talk about bounties, taxes, municipalities, or gold. I am sick of these tedious gatherings, these mediocre speeches about Port Duette and her many problems—who owes who, who we’ve killed, who we will kill, what rum is in shortage, where to put the widows…. No. No more of this talk.”

  Captain Reed Bonney cried his approval with a “Here, here!” as Hook lowered his glass to stare coldly at Maison.

  “What would you have us talk about, brave Captain Maison? Would you have us speak of war? Perhaps, of mutiny?”

  Hook straightened his spine and took a long sip of his glass.

  “No more games. I like to look a man in the eye before I run him through, and you should do the same, though everyone at this table knows you are utterly without honor.”

  Maison’s tongue slithered out around his lips, which were mashing angrily.

  “We are all here to talk about one thing, the poison that corrupts the Scorned, the chain—” he gestured madly to his neck, riddled with burns and scars, “the chain that leads us toddling around Neverland, like a bitch following her master.”

  Smith looked up at Maison.

  “Did you just call my captain a dog in heat?” Maison held Smith’s stare for a moment before looking away.

  “No. But if we let Peter Pan control our fates for a minute longer, we will be his bitch, or more.”

  Jaali brought his scabbard down hard into the table. “I have heard enough of your grumbling on the matter.”

  “Aye, and I have had enough chasing this boy around the island, playing games with his Lost Boys! We could be building cities on the outer islands, raiding until our hands were bloody, and our chests bursting with gold, and instead what are we doing? We are playing with Peter and his ilk.” He pointed his gloved hand towards Hook.

  “We have been slaves to your obsession with the boy, and it has held us back from becoming true rulers of Neverland!”

  At his pronouncement, Maison’s crew roared with approval, only to be drowned out by the boos of the Sudden Night’s larger crew. The three other crews stayed silent. Wendy’s hair stood on edge, attune to the dangerous place she found herself in. She ducked her chin, hoping that her hat was low enough to hide her face.

  “I’ve heard rumors, Captain Hook.”

  Hook wearily raised his voice, though Wendy could hear a traceable anger churning up through his clipped syllables.

  “As have I. Still, why don’t you enlighten us all with these rumors.”

  Maison pulled a dagger from his belt and began tossing it back and forth between his gloved hands.

  “I’m sure they are just rumors. You know how pirates are. Like a bunch of gossiping whores.”

  Not a single chuckle resonated through the room.

  “Still, they should be addressed. I’ve heard rumors that you have a girl on board your ship, a girl that Peter wants very much. A girl that could, in fact, be used for a trade deal. Maybe Peter Pan wants her desperately enough to give us something worthy in return.”

  Wendy’s heart sank into the floor, and her knees gave a quiver.

  “And what might that be?” inquired Hook, though Wendy knew the answer before Maison even opened his mouth.

  “Flight,” he whispered, a terrifying delight spreading over his face. “I want to fly, and only Peter Pan can give that to me. For this girl, he might just trade.”

  Wendy felt a cold shiver pass up her spine, and she bit down on her lip to keep her breathing under control.

  “In addition, I also heard a tasty little rumor that you have the last remaining Pilvinuvo Indian on your ship.”

  There was a collective gasp in the room, and Wendy felt the bodies of the crew of the Sudden Night straighten up around her. They were preparing to fight, here in this tiny, closed room where everyone was armed and full of vitriol and hatred. Apparently, you did not threaten the crew’s cook.

  “Now, I know a number of people in Neverland who would be very interested in talking to this man. Not only to satisfy our curiosity, but if we could locate the Pilvi tribe, than we would have a whole new race of people to rule. I must ask—what else are we doing this for? I am tired of ships, of storms and trinkets. I want to rule like kings. And unlike the impoverished idiots that reside in Port Duette, I do not believe that the tribe just disappeared. They are here, and your man knows where.”

  Maison was now standing behind Hook, who was staring straight ahead, his face betraying nothing.

  “These rumors make me think that the good leader of the Scorned has something to hide. He’s hiding things from us, his men, his Scorned brothers. He keeps the harvest for himself and lets his brothers starve like crows. The worst part is that he keeps pushing this silly war with Peter Pan, and why? For what? Why is Captain Hook so deeply obsessed with defeating this boy? Is it his father? His greed? The fact that Peter took his hand?”

  Maison chuckled and leaned on Hook with both hands.

  “Being half a man could make anyone lose their mind a bit, couldn’t it?”

  Hook took a slow sip of wine, and Maison’s face twisted angrily at the lack of attention Hook was giving him.

  “Who is afraid of the big bad Peter Pan? Hook is. And we deserve to know why. This quorum deserves answers—or it deserves a new commander.”

  There was a sharp intake of breath from among the crews, along with whispered words that drifted through the crowd like vaporous poison: mutiny, betrayal, war. Hook took another sip of his wine, and stood. Wendy’s heart beat furiously in her chest as she waited for him to speak, hoping that his answers would satisfy her own questions.

  “Many of you have questions about my relationship with Peter Pan. I can only say this, that he is far more dangerous than any of you could understand. You have elected me as the commander of this fleet, and captain of the Sudden Night, her queen.”

  At that, Hook’s eyes narrowed, and the man that he had seen the first day on the Night straightened his spine and turned to Maison. His gaze cut through Maison’s dripping condescension like British steel.

  “I’ve heard you talk of rumors today. It’s funny you should mention rumors, because I have heard some of my own.”

  “Oh yes?” snapped Maison, twirling his knife in one hand, staring straight at Hook.

  “Do tell.”

  “I heard a rumor of a mutinous captain, who had his ship blown to pieces and who was pulled behind the boat until he drowned, until the fish nibbled at the whites of his eyes.”

  Maison paled.

  “I heard of a traitor aboard the Sudden Night, who will soon be joining this captain in a water-soaked grave.”

  Hook’s eyes lay on his crew, accusi
ng and predatory.

  “I heard of a man who overstepped his bounds, who knew nothing of Neverland’s history and its people. A man who sought power above pirating. A small man who built his ship on the backs of others.”

  Maison spun at Hook.

  “I don’t know what you are talking about!”

  “I believe you do. And one day, very soon, you will be relieved of your duty.”

  Unhinged, Maison pushed his dagger up against Hook’s cheek. Hook didn’t even flinch, his strong jaw steady as he stared down this cowardly captain. A trickle of blood ran down Hook’s face. At that trickle, the crews erupted into shouting matches. Wendy, spurned by her anger at the way Maison had treated Hook, found herself shouting terrible insults across the divided crews, gesturing and screaming with the rest of the Sudden Night crew, surprised at just how passionate she felt in her captain’s defense. She saw now, why Maison had chosen to denounce Hook here, at the quorum. If violence erupted in this tiny room full of pirates, there would be not a one left standing. He had wagered Hook’s care for his crew against his own ambition, a brilliant move.

  Hook’s lips parted, and Wendy watched as he mouthed silently to Maison, “I will kill you.” Maison raised his eyebrows and dropped his dagger.

  “How about we take a vote then?” Jaali leapt up to his feet, his gold scabbard drawn. “Or better yet, how about we take your tongue for disrespecting the Scorned Fleet with your accusations?” Hook waved his hand towards Jaali.

  “No, let the snake get what he wants. We’ll take it to a vote. All in favor of pursuing a tribe that no longer exists, ignoring the growing threat of Peter Pan, and becoming grand monarchies of Neverland? Raise your hands, you cowardly bastards.”

  Maison raised his hand proudly. After a few seconds of tension-filled silence, Reed Bonney, the captain of the Coral Plunder, raised his hand as well.

  Hook sneered, “Of course.”

  The room exploded with shouts of “traitor” as the crews now understood that this was something long planned. Wendy felt Black Caesar’s hand on her back.

  “If things go south …,” he hissed, his rotten breath engulfing her face, “lie on the ground, wipe blood all over your face, pretend you’re dead, and pray for the best.”

  Wendy didn’t bother to ask whose blood she would be wiping on her face. Instead she closed her eyes for a moment, remembering the faces of her parents, of John and Michael, and of Booth. She would not die here, in this dark pit of men with swelling egos and loaded pistols. She could not. She would not. She shook loose of Black Caesar’s grip and stepped forward.

  “I’m the girl on Hook’s ship!”

  The room went silent at the uniquely female cadence of her voice. The fury on Hook’s face was enough to turn water to ice as she stepped out of the crowd and pulled the hat from her head.

  “My name is Wendy.”

  Her heart was pounding in her ears, and she struggled to find her voice. Her mouth opened and closed once, but when it opened again, she had found it, and it was loud and strong.

  “This traitor Maison wants you to believe that Peter Pan can give you flight. I’m here to tell you that he can’t. Peter can give temporary flight, but it ends, either after a few hours, or when he decides to take it.”

  Her eyes traveled around the room.

  “Think about that! You would get flight simply to fall out of the sky at Peter’s whim.”

  She turned to Maison, whose black eyes simmered with rage at her.

  “It’s positively the silliest idea I’ve ever heard. Well, besides the idea that Captain Hook is not the best commander to lead you. I’m standing before you today because I want you to know how dangerous Peter Pan is. Peter manipulates the Lost Boys into fighting this war with you. He tried to force me into loving him, and threatened to kill my brothers if I didn’t.” She could feel the eyes of a hundred pirates taking in every inch of her, some hungry for her blood, others for other, dark, wanton things. “He dropped me from the sky because I wouldn’t love him.”

  Someone from the Coral Plunder yelled out, “That doesn’t sound so bad, missy! We’re pirates!”

  Wendy smiled, though her heart churned uncomfortably inside. She cleared her throat. “It’s true that perhaps the bar for morality is much, much lower here.”

  The pirates chuckled. She turned to face Hook, his face still furious at her for revealing herself, much, much angrier at her than he had been at Maison.

  “I believe Captain Hook is the only thing standing between you and an all-out war with Peter Pan.” Wendy thought of the fear that lingered in Hook’s eyes as he told the story of the overturned Sunned Shores. Her voice dropped. “And for reasons you and I don’t understand yet—but perhaps Hook does—I believe this is a war you would lose.” She paused. “All of you.”

  With that, she tucked her hair back under her hat and walked back into the safe confines of the Sudden Night’s crew. Hook cleared his throat to speak, his face red with anger.

  “In lieu of that unwelcome speech, let’s continue on with the vote.”

  Maison stepped out from behind Hook, and made his way back towards his seat, looking like a chastened child. Then he raised his head to Hook, a dead smile on his face.

  “No need to vote. It’ll be a tie.”

  His hand was a blur as he pulled a serrated dagger out from his sleeve and without warning or sound, threw it directly into the middle of Xian Li’s forehead. The large man looked up at the dagger handle with one confused eye before falling face forward onto the table, driving the dagger in further. Blood splattered the white bone chandelier as Hook leapt out of his seat, his pistol pointed at Maison’s head. The room erupted in startled roars as the crews of the Sudden Night and the Vicious Seas pulled their weapons from their holsters and aimed them at the crews of the Coral Plunder and the Undertow. Wendy looked around frantically, noting that the crew of Viper’s Strike seemed quite fine after the brutal murder of their captain. Darting like a cobra, Jaali drew his scabbard and grabbed Captain Bonney, putting the scabbard up to his throat. Hook didn’t move, his pistol now pressed firmly against Maison’s forehead, Hook’s righteous fury blazing in sheer contrast to Maison’s amused grin.

  “Sorry about that. Things must be done.”

  “I will shoot you right here,” muttered Hook.

  Maison clicked his tongue. “See, I don’t think so. If you kill me, not only do you leave your crew outnumbered and outgunned, but you also leave Neverland to the whims of my men.”

  Hook’s teeth were gritted.

  “You cowardly, spineless, wicked …”

  “Sonofabitch. I know. And yet, a pirate’s gotta do what a pirate’s gotta do. So here’s what’s going to happen. I don’t fancy my entire crew dying down here, and neither do you. In fact, now I got three of them to worry about! So, you and your men, and Jaali and his men are going to leave this room. Make your way back to your ships, and go on fighting your war with Peter Pan. In the meantime, as commander of the Scorned, my first order of business is that we get the girl.”

  The captain brought his hook up to Maison’s face.

  “And if I defy your order? Because you will pry her out of my dead, cold hook.”

  “Then you will have denied an order of the commander of the Scorned, and that means war.”

  Hook smiled, his wide grin curving from one side of his face to another, truly happy in the moment.

  “Then I’ll see you on the open seas, Commander Maison.”

  Maison’s face fell for a moment, before, with a movement so fast Wendy later wondered if had even seen it, the captain pulled his hook swiftly across Maison’s cheek, taking a huge chunk of skin with it. Maison screamed, his hand on his face, dark blood gushing over his cheek, which now hung from his face, a flap of useless skin.

  Reed Bonney quickly detached himself from Jaali. “Hook, Oba—take your men and go! This powder keg is lit, and I don’t fancy dying in this hole.”

  Smith raised his voice. “You li
t it, Bonney, and you will burn with all the rest.”

  “Nice to see you, Smith, always a pleasure.” Captain Bonney pressed his nauseating comb-over back over his head and smiled at Wendy.

  “I hope to be well acquainted with you, lass. Soon.”

  The crew of the Sudden Night made an abrupt surge forward, and Wendy was pushed through a doorway, her feet barely touching the ground, Barnaby shoving her forward into the light.

  “Run, run, quickly, my dear.”

  All the crews were pouring out of the Privateer now, each one taking a different alleyway, all of them sprinting towards their ships. Wendy understood instantly. The ships in Treasure Bay were docked, waiting like sitting ducks. The first crew to get to their boat … She let out a cry as her feet pounded the ground. Michael. They had to make it. The crew of the Sudden Night rounded corner after corner of dark alleyways, following Hook’s lead as he zigged and zagged through the streets he owned. Something putrid flowed at Wendy’s feet, a creek the color of dried blood, the smell paralyzing, repugnant. Wendy gagged.

  “Keep it together, lass!” hissed Voodoo, his breath labored as they ran. “Breathe through your mouth!”

  She tried, but the smell seemed to make its way into her mouth, its rotten waste burning her lungs. She gagged again while the men ran, their bodies pressing against her, their shouted curses like a cloud of hatred around her. She flashed back to her children’s Bible, still sitting in her nursery in London, filled with draconian images of hell: smoking pits, demons, and darkness. She was here now, depraved men all around her. Their greedy and murderous urges crowded in on her as their bodies pressed tighter around her, and she struggled to breathe.

  I am in hell, I am in hell, I am in hell…. The streets flew past them as they ran, townspeople of Port Duette scattering out of their way. They crammed into a narrow alleyway, the buildings on either side leaning uncomfortably forward, straining their buttresses and crooked windows as they loomed over the panicked crew. There was a loud bang, and the pirate next to her fell to the ground in a splatter of dark blood. The crew of the Sudden Night began firing up the alleyway as they ran, aiming at the glimpses of the Undertow crew that she could see running parallel to them. Shots were ringing all around.

 

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