"Crocodile Cove, huh?" Starkey asked, glancing up. "Are you planning to visit?"
My face was as stiff as brittle parchment. I feared a smile might split my cheeks, but I forced one anyway. "Why yes, I thought it'd make a jolly good spot for a holiday."
He swished his tail. "You're kidding."
"That's me, jokester extraordinaire."
Starkey snorted. "I'm not buying it. You despise Crocodile Cove."
"With good reason," I ground out, mentally clenching both my fists—a routine dating from when the loss was still fresh and I could still feel my phantom hand. As the years had progressed, I'd mostly ceased the practice. In times of great stress, however, I caught myself reverting to old habits.
"I'd never suggest otherwise," Starkey returned with startling mildness.
The knots in my gut unraveled somewhat. The marvelous benefit of our friendship was never having to explain myself. It made what came next all that more difficult, but it had to be done.
Scowling, I broached the volatile matter. "Peter Pan has Ariel harbored there, secreted in the largest cavern."
Starkey's ears sprang sharply forward. He leaned closer. "Are you sure?"
"Absolutely."
"What's the source of your information?"
"A pixie. And before you say it—yes, I know what that's worth. He was under a contractual obligation to tell the truth, however. I'm confident the intel is correct."
Starkey narrowed his eyes, glinting brightly. "This is the same pixie who told you about the girl?"
"The same," I said, nodding. The tension returned with a vengeance, and I braced for a fight. Hours of preparation did nothing to lessen the sickness. "His name is Buzz."
"How long?"
The terse inquiry required no elaboration. I understood his meaning, but still I hesitated. Detestable honesty... such an inconvenient bother. For Starkey's sake, our mutual trust, and the strategy, however, I had committed to full disclosure.
"Five days."
"I see..." Starkey scowled and clenched his fists. He sank into a crouch as though to spring. When it came to emotions, the first mate had always read like an open book. When his ire sparked, igniting his temper, I hastened to cut the fuse before it burned down.
"You don't understand, Starkey."
"Oh, I think I do. I thought we'd settled this, but here I find out you've kept Ariel's location from me on purpose. Why would you keep important information like that from me—"
"Captain's prerogative. I was thinking—"
He got in my face. "Or you still doubt my loyalty. You lied when you said we were good."
"I've lied, but for none of the reasons you think, you thick-witted chump." I brought my hook up, smacking his chin with the smooth curve. Hardly more than a love tap, but it knocked him back.
His jaws snapped closed. He stumbled but recovered. A low, dangerous snarl rolled from his throat and his wicked claws sprang from their sheaths.
"I don't want you to leave," I spoke fast, unscripted words, spilling my figurative guts before evisceration became a literal reality for one or both of us.
Starkey missed a beat. His face was a blank canvas. I knew he'd heard, but feared he didn't believe. To demonstrate my sincerity, I dropped my hook and placed my hand on his wrist, leaving myself open to attack.
"When John left, it was devastating. He's been gone for years, and I still feel the loss. Losing you would be far, far worse."
Starkey's jaw dropped, and he stared as if he didn't know me. His claws retracted and he swayed; a strong wind would've blown him over. It was the only time I'd ever seen David completely flabbergasted.
"You're kidding," he managed finally.
"Ah, yes. Well, we established my penchant for chicanery."
"You'd miss me—more than John?" Starkey's whiskers lifted. He gathered smugness and momentum, and an alarm sounded in the back of my mind. This self-satisfaction must be stopped cold or he would become insufferable.
"Sorely missed. I am speaking as your captain, of course."
Starkey's ears twitched. "Of course."
I continued briskly. "Good officers are rare and valuable. Why, Mr. Rackham was scarcely competent and yet we went through four second mates before Mr. Mullins joined the crew. You're an exemplary first mate, Mr. Starkey. I dare say you're irreplaceable."
My grip slipped from his wrist and fell, but Starkey caught my fingers and squeezed. He grinned, baring his teeth, and shook with silent laughter. "Why, thank you, Captain."
Greatly discomforted, I withdrew and turned away. Lantern light glanced off the domed lens of the magnifying glass. Avaricious for a change of topic, I seized on the excuse to return to my obsession: Peter Pan.
Into the disquietude, I continued, "Pan must be deprived of that ship and the girl. The best strategy—with the greatest probability of success—is to take him unaware. I propose a two-pronged attack. We should deprive him of both prizes simultaneously. Peter can't be in two places at the same time. Even if he should thwart one of our raids, the other is bound to succeed."
"You're proposing we split up?" Starkey asked. He had his guard up. I could tell from the way he canted his head. I'd given him a lot to mull over. Whether he stayed or went remained to be seen... the decision was his to make now.
"You've been bellyaching about wanting an adventure..." I tapped the map, indicating Crocodile Cove. "This is your opportunity. I want you to choose three of the crew to accompany you. Former lost boys who are familiar with Neverland's terrain would be best. Predators capable of traversing the treacherous terrain. Not—"
"Beaver," we finished in unison, and then shared a good chuckle.
Starkey lashed his tail. "So your solution to worrying I might leave is to toss me straight into the arms of temptation?"
"I loathe equivocation." Temptation, mmm... Now there was a name that brought a smile to my lips. It would do my boy some good to spend some time in that particular siren's embrace.
"Aren't you worried I won't come back?" he taunted.
I smirked. "Sooner or later, stray cats always turn up."
Chapter 16
Pearl Grotto—The Girl Who Loved Mermaids
On the night of the quartered moons, I took ashore a party consisting of myself and two others, Mr. Byron and Mr. Keats. The two men were the best of mates. We moored the dinghy in Bright Bay, which was south of Mermaid Lagoon, and proceeded on foot. Now, a system of underground chambers riddled the bluffs surrounding Mermaid Lagoon. Most of the time, the caverns were flooded, but when the tide ebbed, the system drained.
On the first stroke of the Devil's hour, we entered a narrow tunnel along the western bluffs of Bright Bay. It faced west, but eventually led north. I knew those caverns like the curve of my hook, so I led the march. Byron and Keats followed, and we trekked single file for several miles through the winding underground labyrinth. Our bullseye lanterns provided much-needed illumination, but the hike was still a perilous one.
Saltwater got trapped in nooks and crannies in extensive tidal pools, which were home to crabs, snails, and a myriad of other creatures. I would frequently take a step only to feel something crunch and squish beneath my foot. The tunnels were cold and damp, and the gag-worthy rankness of rotted fish cloyed the atmosphere. Slick scum covered the rocks, and the corridors secreted pitfalls and projections. A single misplaced step could end a life, which was why the clumsy, nearsighted Mr. Smee had remained behind on the ship.
An hour later, we reached our destination. I halted outside the concealed entrance to Pearl Grotto. Throughout Neverland, there existed peculiar luminescent seaweed which grew in thick curtains and cast an eerie blue nimbus. One of those living drapes hung before me now.
"Why're we stopping, Captain?" Mr. Byron asked loudly.
"Obviously, we're stopping because we've arrived, you ninny. Drop your voice. We're supposed to be being stealthy," Mr. Keats answered at a near-shout.
"Shut up. Both of you," I snarled in the grip of
irritation, having just spent the last hour listening to the two of them bicker like an old married couple. Also, I questioned the wisdom of having brought company at all. If the plan I'd devised with Buzz unfolded smoothly, I wouldn't need them.
In my experience, however, things never went according to plan. Right off the top of my head, I envisioned a dozen scenarios where calamity could strike. What if, for instance, Wendy brought her brothers along instead of coming alone? One of the Lost Boys might follow her... or Pan. Or Buzz could've betrayed us, and we were about to walk into a trap.
I faced Byron and Keats, and communicated via sign language. "Wait here. Keep your nets handy. Dim the lanterns and no more talking. After I enter the grotto, you're to open a slim part in the sea tangle through which to listen. Don't allow it to close or you won't be able to hear anything happening within the grotto. You're not to reveal yourself unless I call. Understood?"
"Aye, aye, Captain," they answered in unison. When they closed the hoods on the lanterns, the blue glow filled the passageway.
Prepared for a fight, I dropped my hand to the hilt of my cutlass. I parted the kelp curtain with my hook and ducked through. Pearl Grotto, an orb-shaped cave, was a natural anechoic chamber. It amplified incoming sounds, but muffled outgoing noise. In other words, it was near impossible to sneak up on anyone within the cave, and equally difficult to tell whether or not the grotto was already occupied.
The moment I passed the algae, I ducked right and searched for hidden threats. Nothing greeted my gaze, save for the smooth surface of the grotto's mineral spring. Wisps of steam floated above the water. The sharp temperature spike smacked me with my first indrawn breath. Humidity condensed into droplets on my bare skin. On the opposite side of the cavern, more sea tangle concealed another passageway, which led to Mermaid Lagoon.
I expected Wendy and Buzz to come from that direction.
We'd arrived two hours prior to dawn—the appointed time—so I settled in to wait. I chose a spot on the basalt shelf beside the pool. In anticipation of the heat and humidity, I'd left my jacket and hat on the ship. Even so, the air was sweltering, and within minutes my hair and clothing were plastered against my skin. The desire to strip and slide into the inviting pool tempted me, but I resisted. The risks simply outweighed the rewards. Instead, I stirred the water with my hook and watched the ripples spread.
Time passed.
Amplified voices from the Mermaid Lagoon tunnel rousted me from my reverie. With a huff, I hefted my chin and turned my head. Before their words became coherent, I managed to determine their identities. Buzz emitted a high, vigorous drone, and there was a distinctly female voice.
Pleasant surprise washed through me to discover the sprite had kept his side of the bargain. I sat straighter and composed myself, taking care to ensure my hook remained concealed behind my body. Thoughts still sleep-muddled, I reached for the hat that wasn't there, and my fingers passed through emptiness.
Shuffling footsteps drew closer.
"Through here. It's not much farther," Buzz said.
"Are you sure it's safe?" Wendy spoke in a soft, sweet soprano. Even though I'd prepared myself, finally hearing her voice disturbed me more than it should. Before, on the schooner, while in the grip of Peter's spell, she'd seemed more a doll than a person. This made her real, somehow.
"Of course it's safe. I wouldn't do anything to lead you into danger! You do want to meet a mermaid? This is your chance! She's waiting right on the other side of this seaweed. You trust me, don't you?" Buzz gave a twittering laugh.
I winced. A shout got caught in my throat. It took an act of willpower to keep quiet. Although, belatedly, I remembered that I could've hollered at the top of my lungs and they still wouldn't have heard me.
The girl delayed answering. Waiting was like watching the fuse on a bomb burn down. When she replied, nervousness edged her tone. "I do want to meet a mermaid, and of course I trust you... But you're behaving rather oddly. Are you afraid, my dear friend?"
Smart child. Suspicion and stubbornness were traits I admired greatly. After the incident on Ariel when she'd been quiet and malleable, I'd fallen into the trap of thinking of her as a distressed damsel to be saved. Here she demonstrated insight and cunning all wrapped up in one seemingly innocent question. It forced me to revise my estimate of Wendy upward.
"Sure, I'm scared. Mermaids aren't just pretty girls with fish tails. They're quite terrifying," Buzz returned smoothly. Mentally, I applauded his deft recovery. I hadn't thought the little sprite had it in him.
"How so?" Wendy asked, sounding thoroughly intrigued.
"You should ask her yourself. Come meet her." Buzz grunted and the seaweed curtain moved a little, but not enough to part the strands. His pixie aura shone through the kelp, brighter than the bioluminescence.
I shifted, drawing my knees against my chest, and considered rising. Being seated put me at a disadvantage in regard to catching the girl if she decided to flee. The goal was to capture Wendy, preferably without terrifying her. The position was less threatening, though, so I stayed put.
"Let me help you with that," Wendy said. The sea tangle parted, and the girl poked her head through with the restraint of a doe emerging from a woodland refuge. She had her face turned away from me and hadn't noticed me yet.
Resonant droning marked Buzz's flight. The sprite aimed for a narrow part in the seaweed. Perhaps he misjudged, or maybe he flubbed on purpose, but he collided with Wendy's head and got tangled in her hair.
"Oomph!" Buzz cried, throwing a shower of multi-colored sparkle that lit up the entire cavern. They created quite the kerfuffle.
"Ow! You stabbed me!" Wendy exclaimed, and stumbled forward into the chamber. The seaweed curtain dropped closed behind her.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I'm stuck."
"No, I'm the one who's stuck!" Wendy bent over and flipped her shoulder-length hair, setting her wealth of curls to bouncing. The maneuver sent Buzz cartwheeling like a runaway firework. He crash-landed on the smooth cavern floor.
Buzz picked himself up and brushed off his wounded dignity. "Ouch. I think I stung myself."
"That would be quite the accomplishment. Given your shenanigans, the pair of you ought to team up and join the circus," I said with a grudging smile, amused despite the severity of the circumstances.
Wendy gasped and whirled. Her hand flew to her throat. She asked, "Are you a mermaid?"
"I'm part mermaid," I said, beckoning her, and she crept nearer. I wondered if she was even aware of her approach. Her wariness reminded me of a feral cat—curiosity at war with caution. Even disheveled, the chit was a pretty child.
"But you have legs!" Wendy exclaimed, and now her hand shot to her mouth. "Oh! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to offer offense—"
"None taken. It's a fair question. You see, I have legs because I'm only part merfolk. I was born human... like you." I cocked my head, studying her.
Wendy's diction placed her as hailing from somewhere in London. An odd pang of nostalgia ached in my heart, even though it'd been decades since I'd last been home. The slight oddity in the way she enunciated her Ls left me with a shred of doubt. I wanted to ask, but admitting to a familiarity with England would've led to more awkward questions—not to mention disrupting my mermaid mystique.
"Really? That's quite fascinating! Buzz, isn't that most intriguing?" Wendy's face lit up with fascination. She was quite the open book, her thoughts written on her face. It was safe to speculate that the girl wanted more than to simply meet a mermaid. She longed to be a mermaid.
What a foolish child.
Buzz huffed. "It's interesting, I suppose. Not quite fascination, and nowhere close to intriguing. Interesting, sure, I'll grant you that."
"Perhaps you did sting yourself, Buzz. Your head is looking rather swollen."
"It is?" Buzz squeaked and scampered to the edge of the pool. He leaned over, trying to find his reflection in the water.
"What's your name, girl?" I asked, since
I wasn't supposed to know.
"Oh! I'm so sorry!" Her hand flew to cover her mouth. By now, her excessive demurring and apologies had begun to erode her original charm. I wrinkled my nose, thinking I'd have preferred Wendy to be sassier and feistier. In the meantime, Wendy bobbed and curtsied, lifting her periwinkle nightgown, which had begun to look quite grungy from weeks of constant use. "I am Wendy Darling."
"Jayden Cook." While it was my birth name, the words snarled on my tongue. It felt and sounded like a lie. Leaving off "Captain" introduced a whole new level of wrongness.
"It's a pleasure to meet you." She bobbled again.
"Sit. I'll tell the tale of how I went from being a girl much like you to the bonded blood sister of Lorelei, Queen of Storms, fiercest of the nine mermaid queens." I patted the spot beside my knee. The girl's constant standing gave me plenty of worry. I was concerned one of her erratic shifts in position would lead her to notice my hook.
Fortunately, Wendy's eagerness to learn more about the merfolk superseded her sense of prudence. She plunked down with her calves tucked beneath her, and folded her hands on her thighs. "Oh, that would be delightful! Please, do tell me more."
"I'm not swollen at all, you lying two-pence pirate!" Buzz sprang into flight. Somehow, the thrum of his wings conveyed irritation. He stuck out his tongue. I winced and hoped the girl hadn't noticed the outburst.
No such luck.
Wendy's eyes rounded to platter-sized proportions. She turned toward Buzz. "W-w-what do you mean... p-p-pirate?"
"Oops." Buzz turned fuchsia with embarrassment.
"Oops is right." Wasn't that just a slap to the face? I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised. Keep company with clowns, join the circus.
"Buzz, you sold me out?" Wendy asked with a heartbreaking tremor. Tears brightened her gaze and her lower lip trembled.
"I'm sorry!" Buzz turned blue and sobbed. He gushed out an incoherent stream of noise, which I suspected was an explanation or perhaps an endless apology.
Hook: Dead to Rights (Captain Hook and the Pirates of Neverland Book 1) Page 9