"Is Pan greatly enamored with Wendy?" I fished out the golden bee and held it so the sprite could see it. It worked like a—forgive the pun—charm.
Buzz's attention locked on it. He sparkled with effusive excitement. "Oh yes! Peter Pan adores her! He's quite taken with her. Wendy is delightful. When she sings, it's prettier than the mermaids. I've told her so, but she didn't believe me. Though she did say I was sweet and gave me a tulip—"
"Does Wendy like the mermaids?" Another throwaway question since it was about the same as asking if teenage girls loved horses. But I needed specifics to formulate a solid plan.
"Wendy loves mermaids! Peter accompanies her to Mermaid Lagoon almost every afternoon. Wendy always swims out to Marooners' Rock and tries to speak with them, but they won't have anything to do with her..." He trailed off, pouting.
"No, they wouldn't." Merfolk hold themselves above humans and disdain contact with outsiders. They also despised Peter Pan, but the eternal boy was too dangerous to ignore. Sirena, Queen of Sirens, loveliest of the nine mermaid queens, liked to keep close watch on her enemies. On her orders, the prettiest mermaids often lounged on Marooners' Rock, engaging Peter with flirtation and flattery.
Buzz frowned. I suspected I'd confused him.
"My apologies for the interruption. Please go on, tell me more about Wendy. Does she tell stories?" My chest constricted as though a great hand sought to crush the life from me. If Wendy happened to be a skilled storyteller, it would buy her extra time until Pan grew bored.
Long ago, I was an accomplished raconteur.
"Oh, yes! She tells the most wonderful stories! When she sits at the campfire, even the loudest lads quiet down and listen. Wendy is twelve, and has two younger brothers, John and Michael. John is eight and likes to wear a top hat. Michael is only five—"
"Five!" Nausea swirled in my gut. Neverland posed far too many dangers for a child of such a tender age. Peter usually chose older boys, those closer to independence and less needful of coddling. In his own words, Pan was intolerant of "crybabies and cowards."
"Yes, five." Buzz frowned and fell silent.
I scowled, pondering. Wendy this and Wendy that. From the way the sprite gushed on and on with effusive praise, the new girl was the belle of the ball. If Buzz had it right, and I had little reason to doubt him, Pan would be obsessed, which meant...
Tinker Bell would be furious.
"How does Tinker Bell feel about Wendy?" I asked, seeking to confirm my suspicions. Better to be sure. Assumptions could prove deadly.
He turned lime green once again. In a tiny voice, he said, "The queen doesn't care much for Wendy."
"Tink must be sick with jealousy. I'll bet she's in a terrible temper over Peter lavishing all his affection on Wendy." I pressed my lips together to prevent the smirk struggling to rise.
Buzz hung his head and dropped his wings. "Peter and Tinker Bell fight constantly. Afterward, the queen goes on mead benders and hurls things. And she cusses up a storm."
This time, I didn't bother hiding my amusement. "Tink always did have quite the mouth on her. It sounds like she's taking it out on everyone but Pan."
He nodded woefully. "It's been awful. The entire clan is terrified."
"All that awful dissension over a girl," I said with false sympathy. "Would you like it to stop and for things to return to the way they used to be?"
"Yes, but..." Buzz stared up at me in sudden suspicion. His aura darkened to pumpernickel. "Are you offering to help? Why would you? I don't trust your motives! It's well known you're mean and cruel and—and—and..." He sputtered.
"Malicious might be the word you're looking for."
"Malicious!"
"That is my reputation; however, it doesn't change the situation in the least. You have a problem disrupting your life, and I desire to take that person away from Neverland. Our interests are aligned."
"I don't understand what you're saying, but I think you're up to more trickery. I don't even remember how many questions you've asked me." The brightness of unshed tears shone in his eyes and my conscience pinched.
"I've asked seven questions. There are four left."
Buzz blinked. "Only seven? We've been talking an awfully long time..."
"I've rather enjoyed our conversation, despite the unfortunate circumstances. I've often missed the company of sprites, these past few years."
He studied me long and hard before he said, "You're not what I expected, Captain Hook."
I tipped my hat to him. "Nor are you what I expected. To demonstrate my respect for our hard-won rapport, I'll speak plainly. My goal is to capture Wendy and spirit her away from Neverland. To do so, I need your assistance."
Buzz's pixie aura turned ashen. "No, I couldn't!"
"Why not? The girl has created terrible havoc. Once Wendy's gone, things will go back to the way they used to be between Peter and Tinker Bell."
"But I don't want Wendy to go away! She's my friend. I love her!"
"If you truly love Wendy, as you claim, then all the more reason to help me save her. Do you want her to die just so you can have a few more weeks of her company?" Grim determination enveloped me. As an eternal cynic, I doubted any argument I made or any reason I gave could win the sprite's cooperation, but I had to try.
"What do you mean?" Buzz backed away, even though I'd not so much as lifted a finger against him. He was running from the truth, I suppose.
I leaned over so I could look him square in the eyes. "You know who I am, don't you?"
"Captain Hook." He trembled so swiftly his wings vibrated.
"I was an innocent girl when Peter Pan brought me to Neverland. I may be a monster now, but I am what he made me. You must have heard the stories—what he did to me. I know how sprites love to gossip."
"Peter Pan isn't a sprite." Buzz dropped his gaze.
"No, he's something older and darker, but that changes nothing. Tinker Bell has chosen Pan as her consort. Your people cringe from Pan's atrocities, but not a one of you does a thing to stop him, which makes you complicit."
"I have no power. I can't change anything."
"How would you know? You've never tried. Once, I had dozens of sprites I believed were my friends, but when Pan chained me, not a single one lifted a finger to help." In the moment, I imagined I glowed with an infernal light.
"Please stop." Buzz crossed his arms over his stomach. His halo thickened to pea soup. I despised myself for tormenting the poor pixie, but it had to be done.
"I won't. I can't. Inevitably, Peter will grow tired of Wendy, or she'll become a woman and her time will run out. Then, Pan will do to her what he did to me. If the girl is lucky, her death will be swift. If she's not..."
"No..." Buzz moaned, but rallied in defiance. "For all I know, you want to hurt Wendy. You're Captain Hook! You steal children and they're never heard from again."
"I swear, I've never harmed a child... never will. Every Lost Boy I've captured is safe, living on another island out of Peter's reach."
"How do I know you're telling the truth?"
"You don't. I could show you, but it's a two-day trip across open water with prevailing winds. Would you be willing to go?" Sprites hated water. When their wings got wet, they couldn't fly, leaving them vulnerable.
Buzz shook his head.
"On my honor, my hand raised to death, I promise not to harm a hair on Wendy's precious head—or any other child, for that matter."
Still, he hesitated.
"You said Wendy is your friend. If that's true, if you're a real friend, then help me to save her. Please." I offered Buzz his soul charm. When he didn't reach out, I pressed it against his striped chest. This time, his arms automatically closed about the treasure.
"I don't understand." He clutched his charm and shed a tear.
"You fulfilled your side of our bargain. We're done. You're free to go." I flicked my hook skyward. No more coercion. If he chose to offer his assistance, it'd be of his own free will.
"What about Wendy? We have to save her." He dissolved into a sob. The golden bee vanished from his grip to wherever it was pixies hid them.
"You sprites... so emotional." With a sigh, I offered the cleaner of the two hankies. He latched hold, buried his face against the linen, and cried until he was exhausted. The outburst hit like a tempest and then blew over just like that, too.
"So, Hook," Buzz demanded, hands on his hips. "Do you have a scheme for catching Wendy, or do I have to do all the heavy lifting?"
"Oh, I have a notion."
Chapter 14
Mermaid Lagoon—Mr. Smee
Mermaid Lagoon lies south of Devil's Rock and east of the Dragon's Spine Mountains. Land surrounds the oval bay on all sides, except for a narrow passageway between two finger-thin peninsulas. Blackberry Bluff forms the northern point, and Currant Cape the southern. The mouth to the lagoon is too shallow for a ship to traverse without scraping bottom. A patchwork quilt of submersed rock formations, sandbars, and coral reefs stretches for miles.
Summertime, Pan's favorite season, occurred about ten times a year in Neverland, where even the climate was susceptible to Peter Pan's compelling charisma. The weather changed to suit his whims.
When the days grew hot and long, Peter and the Lost Boys often sought refuge in Mermaid Lagoon. There, they dawdled away countless hours, basking on the warm ivory sands. They swam in the emerald waters, played at being mermaids and pirates, and chatted on Marooners' Rock, a smooth isle set bullseye center in the round bay.
From a high sea cliff overlooking the lagoon, I watched through my spyglass. Children cavorted in the lagoon below. I counted them... or tried to. With frustrating regularity, I would reach a solid head count of eight before I had to restart. They darted through the shallows like a school of sardines, changed course at random, dove in one spot, and surfaced in another. In my paranoia, I imagined the youngsters thwarted my efforts through conscious design.
"How many boys are there, Captain?" Smee asked in that servile tone of his. It grated on my nerves so much, I cringed.
"Too many."
"Six?" Smee suggested with hopeless optimism.
"At least a dozen, and those are the ones we can see. There could be scores more spread out across the rest of the island."
Peter Pan's disposable coterie. No matter how many children I captured, it never seemed to do any good. Pan always found replacements.
"Dozens? That's not good, Captain."
"It is the opposite of good, Mr. Smee." Anger and frustration twined like serpents within me. My jaws ached because I'd been grinding them again. Dr. Chopp, the ship's surgeon who also doubled as our dentist since we lacked a proper barber, reproached me often about the bad habit.
"I could send Beaver to fetch the nets." Smee scrunched his nose, sending his spectacles sliding to a precarious perch on its bulbous end.
"It'd do no good. The second they see us coming, they'll vanish like little mice. We'd waste an entire day chasing them through the brush and be lucky to capture two." Spying was an exercise in futility. I collapsed the scope and stowed it. I had only kept watch this long in the hopes of spotting the girl, anyway.
"True, Captain."
I dragged a handkerchief across my brow to keep stinging sweat from my eyes and then toweled off the back of my neck. It came away sodden. An unusual and oppressive heat hung over Neverland. As a concession, I'd already shed most of the finery I favored, including my hat and jacket. My long-sleeve blouse and sash had followed, leaving me clad in a corset, a blouse, trousers, and boots.
It'd been five days since my initial meeting with Buzz. Since then, we'd arranged to rendezvous twice more to conspire. That seemingly innocuous sprite had proven shockingly cunning when he put his mind to it. Of course, niggling mistrust ate at me. It required force of will to silence the voice in the back of my mind that predicted he'd betray me. I repeatedly reminded myself of two things: sprites are terrible liars, and Buzz genuinely cared for Wendy. He wanted the girl to live... maybe more than me.
"Excuse me, Captain." Smee cleared his throat.
"Yes, Mr. Smee?" I cast my irritation at the interruption over him, which may not have been entirely fair. The bo'sun had also removed his hat, and the sun had baked his bald scalp dark red.
"Permission to speak freely?"
"Speak your piece." I lifted my hook in a go-ahead.
"I have reservations regarding your plan tomorrow evening."
"And what are those specifically?" My face hardened into a stony mask. Smee had just strayed into perilous waters.
Smee faltered, but then forged on. "It's too much effort for too little prize. We're expending a lot of resources to capture one girl. You yourself, you just said there are probably a few dozen boys in Neverland. It seems to me..."
"Go on! Speak plainly."
"It strikes me that you value the life of that girl more than the boys." Smee heaved for breath, but he lifted his chin in staunch defiance. As much as I disliked the bo'sun, I did respect his courage when it came to standing his ground.
Anger flashed through me, but I reined in my temper. "I don't value the life of one child more than another. However, I have chosen to make Wendy a priority specifically because she is a girl."
"I see," he said in a thin tone that indicated the opposite.
"I don't think you do. Most boys will survive years with Pan before they transform into beasts. Of course, there's always the risk that one of the island's many perils might kill a boy tomorrow, but that's an uncertainty. Wendy's future is measured in weeks, maybe."
"I understand Pan's wickedness," Smee interrupted. The bo'sun turned redder in the face than his sunburn could account for. No doubt he feared I meant to recount the salacious details for his benefit.
"Right, you do. We don't always see eye to eye, Mr. Smee, but so far we have managed to set our differences aside. Work together toward our common goal—"
"Saving children," we said in unison.
We traded a long look.
"I understand your position on the girl, Captain. Thank you for explaining. You have my full support." Smee snapped off a smart salute, which I returned. That exchange proved oddly gratifying.
I executed a neat turn and marched off, because I was eager to be underway. Though downhill, the return trek to Bright Bay where we'd left the dinghy would take an hour. Smee lagged behind, so I tarried. Our rare covenant bought him a full minute before my patience ran thin.
"Mr. Smee!"
"Coming, Captain!"
Chapter 15
Hard Truths—Sacrifices
After our return to Revenge in the dinghy, Mr. Smee retired for the evening. He stumbled off, mumbling beneath his breath like a walker already in the grip of slumber. The specter of fatigue sapped my strength and sleep beckoned like a tempting siren. Unease plagued my soul. In my current state, I would never find rest. The prospect of hours lost to tossing and turning dissuaded me from even trying.
The navigation room was a compact chamber located in the sterncastle, beneath the poop deck. Floor to ceiling shelves held a myriad of tomes, mostly atlases, and Revenge's logs, and a walnut curio cabinet was overflowing with a wealth of maps and charts. The solid oak writing table, covered in nicks and scrapes, its finish worn thin, had as much character as any member of the crew. It stood on an aged wool rug that'd once been white, but now was the color of dust. The mat concealed a hatch that led to the great cabin in the level below.
The area had that wonderful aroma of old books: coffee and chocolate, sweet and musky, a scent that wafted into one's nose and lingered. Aside from the great cabin, it was my favorite place on the ship—where I went when I wanted to be alone.
In the grip of a dark and dreary mood, I locked myself away in the navigation room with my designs, devices, and private demons. Engrossed in those plots and plans, I lost all track of time.
A solid rap sounded on the closed door to the sterncastle.
My heart thudded in my chest, and I
was jarred from my reverie and restored to awareness of the outside world. A sharp inhalation filled my airways with the scent of wet ink—sooty and astringent, but also an underlying hint of mild nuttiness.
I managed to lift my hand without smearing the writing. When I straightened, an aching spasm radiated through my lower back. My hand cramped, too. No telling how long I'd been standing there, bent over the journal. Presumably, it'd been some time considering both pages of the open journal were full.
The knock came again, stronger and urgent.
"Captain, are you still alive in there?" Starkey demanded from outside. He started to turn the handle without waiting for an answer.
"No, I'm quite dead. I'll thank you to knock before you come bursting in on me," I snarled. I thrust the quill into the canister and corked the fountain, but left the journal open because the ink needed to dry.
"I did knock." Darkness filled the portal, swallowing Starkey's prominent profile so not even a distinct silhouette could be distinguished. The emerald glow of his gaze peered out of the gloom.
"And then you burst without so much as a 'by your leave.'"
Starkey snickered. "May I please come in... by your leave, El Capitan?"
I gave an impatient wave. "Close the door behind you."
He stalked through the entry and shoved the door shut. In the lamplight, his orange-and-black fur shone. With the addition of the first mate's considerable bulk, the already tight area seemed much smaller. He studied me intently, and broke the silence with an observation of the obvious.
"You're burning the midnight oil."
"It's well past midnight," I said, waspish with weariness. I stretched my arms overhead in an attempt to ease the ache in my shoulders.
Starkey padded over to the writing table, crossing the compact chamber in a few long strides. His curious gaze roamed over the map of Neverland spread out on the surface. A brass-framed domed compass was positioned over the northernmost tip of the island. He leaned over to study it and I tensed. The crimp in my lower back worsened.
Hook: Dead to Rights (Captain Hook and the Pirates of Neverland Book 1) Page 8