Hook: Dead to Rights (Captain Hook and the Pirates of Neverland Book 1)

by Melissa Snark

  In the distance, activity caught my attention. I took the risk and stole a look over the top of Pan's head. The quarter deck was level with the fo'c'sle—a straight shot across the main deck. Wright and several members of the crew were in the middle of using the windlass to haul a dark oak cask out of the hold. Even at that distance, I recognized the vintage as elven wine, and worth a small fortune. Dozens of barrels in the hold and they had to choose that specific one? The thought of what they meant to do with it inspired genuine dread in my buccaneer’s heart.

  A wounded bellow rent my throat. "What in the blazes is going on?"

  Ol' Esmerelda unleashed an unholy roar and dealt Revenge the most terrible blow yet. The serpent struck the midsection, a direct hit from below, and the entire ship bucked. I seized hold of the foremast to keep from falling.

  Revenge groaned and quaked under the immense stress placed on her structure. From deep within the vessel came a series of sharp, successive snaps. Pressure built on my ribcage and I pressed my elbows to alleviate the crushing ache. I suffered right along with my beloved ship.

  Peter gloated over my agony. "Your ship and the lives of everyone on board depend on me. I have a piece of Ol' Esmerelda's treasure hoard and she wants it back. She pursued me all the way from Devil's Rock. She'll sink your ship before she gives up."

  I scoffed. "You expect me to believe she's making all this fuss over a bit of treasure? Your pockets are empty and so are your words."

  "It's true!" Pan scowled fiercely. Predictably, the insult got under his skin—he'd always hated being called a liar. He dug into his belt pouch. "The serpent wants this!"

  Sunlight shone adoringly as it does on pure gold. The glow captured my attention. The sight of it sparked the ember of a memory of a tale I'd heard long ago, but there was no time for that now. At last, the cause of the wyrm's attack was revealed. Now I needed to remove the coin from his clutches and return it to Ol' Esmerelda. The urgency of acting before the serpent attacked again brought me to the edge of panic. It was impossible to think straight. Revenge had sustained internal damage. She couldn't survive another assault like the last.

  "That's a Spanish doubloon. It's from the Otherworld," I said to buy myself time to think. I returned the cutlass to its sheath. "What would it be doing in the serpent's hoard?"

  Perhaps sensing my intent, Peter increased the distance between us. He hovered over the middle of the main deck, well out of reach, and mockingly danced the coin across his knuckles. "I don't know, but there's a ton of 'em there. A Spanish king's ransom."

  A Spanish king's ransom. Could the legend be true? The possibility tantalized my imagination, but alas, there was no time for that now.

  "Give it here," I demanded.

  A slow, superior smile split his face. "I'll trade for it."

  My gut clenched. I already knew the answer, but I asked anyway. "What do you want?"

  "You know what I want. Wendy."

  An impossible choice... My denial was automatic and adamant. "You can't have her."

  "No? It's the girl or your ship, Hook. What's it going to be?"

  At times, I suspected fate hated me. Wendy chose that exact moment to dash onto the main deck. In a flash of periwinkle, she scurried along the starboard railing, and not a single member of my preoccupied crew noticed her. Peter had his back to the stern and hadn't spotted the girl yet, either. Getting to Wendy first became an urgent priority, but the dilemma remained.

  How was I to obtain that coin? I considered drawing a flintlock pistol and shooting Pan through the heart, but what if I missed or only wounded him? He might veer out over the ocean. The treasure could be lost to the depths...

  Oh. Right. How stupid of me not to realize. To return the doubloon, I'd have to toss it overboard anyway.

  I grabbed for a pistol, drew and cocked it with the same action, and fired without aiming. Fire and smoke roared from the muzzle. The bullet struck Pan high on his right shoulder. He released a keening shriek and dropped straight to the deck. A surge of bloodthirsty satisfaction rushed through me.

  Everyone who'd heard the shot turned to look. Wendy stumbled to a halt and covered her heart with her hand. She cried out, "Peter!"

  Hurriedly, I freed a line and swung down to the main deck. The landing placed me between Pan and the girl. The second my boots struck the deck, I released the line and hit the ground running. My sense of priority was torn, but Wendy was right in front of me. She made for the obvious choice.

  Mr. Brown flanked Wendy, trailing a couple paces behind her. I had no idea where he'd come from or how long he'd been there. Surprise broke my stride, and I slid to a stop a few feet from the two of them.

  Wendy raised a cocked flintlock pistol. From its distinctive mother of pearl inlay and polished brass finish, I recognized it as Mr. Smee's stolen sidearm. She aimed the muzzle at my heart. "Halt right there, Captain Hook! Get out of my way or I'll shoot you dead!"

  "Your hands are shaking, girl. You don't have the mettle to pull the trigger." I stole an over-shoulder glance to where Pan rested in a heap of green on a pool of red. He twitched and groaned.

  Still alive... darn.

  "I'll do it. I will!" Wendy trembled like a newborn fawn.

  "Miss Darling, please lower the weapon. You don't want to do this," Mr. Brown coached in a pleading voice. He edged nearer. His proximity raised gooseflesh on my nape. I disliked it immensely.

  "Mr. Brown, back away. This is none of your concern." I waved him off, but the stubborn bard refused to obey. To present the greater threat, I strode toward Wendy. "Do you know what it means to live with blood on your hands—to become a murderer?"

  "No, but you do," the girl said in a quavering voice.

  "That's correct, I do, and believe me, it's not something you want." The distance closed to arm's length, so I reached for the pistol, intending to pluck it from her fingers.

  "Stay away!" Wendy shrieked and flinched. She jerked her arms upward, aiming the muzzle at my face.

  I slipped aside. What I failed to foresee, however, was Mr. Brown's burgeoning heroism. In a bid to save me, he threw himself in front of the gun. It all played out with surreal slowness, yet I found myself unable to act to stop it. A paralyzed witness, I watched in horror while the tragedy unfolded.

  The pistol went off, and the shot struck Mr. Brown in the chest. Red splashed across his white tunic. He staggered, clutching his wound, and toppled. Wendy shrieked and cast away the smoking gun, but too damn late for it to do anyone a lick of good.

  "Wendy, run! Come here quick!" Pan shouted from behind me.

  "Peter!" Wendy raised her chin. Hope lit her sweet face. Foolish girl. She gathered herself and bolted toward Pan. If she were smart, she'd have fled from him.

  Wrath ruled me, an all-consuming flame that consumed me from within. I lashed out, caught hold of Wendy's arm, and wrenched her off her feet. She cried out, but I was uncaring of her pain. I only had concern for my own terrible grief and anger.

  Grasping the girl, I swung around. Peter hovered five feet off the deck in spite of his injury. He had his fist clenched shut, which meant he still had the coin... or was pretending. My instincts said he did. I settled my hook against Wendy's tender throat and snarled, "Give me the coin or I'll end her."

  Peter's jaw dropped, but then his gaze sparked. He held up the doubloon. "Even trade, the girl for the coin?"

  "Even trade. No tricks. Your word of honor."

  "No trickery. You have my word on it." Pan raised his hand in pledge.

  "On my honor, I swear to exchange the girl for the coin," I freely spoke the words that would damn me forever—and I cared not, because Mr. Brown's blood stained the deck of my ship. Concern for Wendy's welfare no longer troubled me. I cared only for my ship and my crew.

  The girl must go, or I'd kill her myself. She must go or I'd break my promise to Buzz and desecrate everything I'd fought for my entire life.

  Pan tossed the coin. "Catch."

  I snatched it from the air
and shoved Wendy so she stumbled toward him. Low and vicious, I hissed, "You deserve what's coming to you, girl."

  Wendy gasped and recoiled. Through the haze of hatred, I couldn't see her face. Later, when I recreated the moment in my imagination, however, the girl gaped at me in pure horror.

  Pan seized Wendy's hand and fled with his prize. I turned my back and didn't watch them leave. I rushed to Mr. Brown and sank to my knees. His blood soaked the fabric of my trousers. I gripped his shoulder, turned him over, and gathered him into my embrace.

  Mr. Brown gasped for breath with red spittle bubbling on his lips. His gaze locked on my face and he wheezed my name, "Captain Hook..."

  My throat ached, and tightness constricted my chest. My eyes bled. Moisture trickled down my cheeks and I wondered when it had started raining. "Why did you do this damnable stupid thing, Virgil?"

  "You were kind to me." Virgil raised trembling hands and I caught them between my own. He resisted my efforts to still his shaking. When I glanced down, I saw he was trying to remove his ruby ring.

  "What are you doing, old man?"

  "Captain Hook, I want you to have this." He finally managed to slip the ring off and made a clumsy effort to place it on my middle finger. I assisted him, even though my first instinct was to object.

  I didn't deserve it.

  Virgil wheezed. "It fits."

  "Thank you," I whispered, blinded by tears.

  "Thank you, Jayden." Virgil smiled and breathed his last.

  On the main deck, a beast roared in the throes of torment. The sound chilled my soul. I pitied that monstrous fiend, and I vowed to put it out of its misery.

  Virgil became music when he died. His fingers transformed into the strokes of a five-line staff, which flowed as twin ribbons into the air. The change claimed his arms next and his pure spirit painted the notes on the scrolling staves. The most beautiful music I'd heard in my entire life filled the heavens—a celestial orchestra. His body lost substance. I hugged him tighter, trying to keep him with me, but eventually emptiness filled my arms.

  Mr. Brown has haunted me ever since. His passing is my greatest regret.

  Epilogue

  Pride and Piracy

  A deafening explosion rousted me from my grief-stricken torpor. It emanated from off the starboard side. A shower of seawater rained onto the deck seconds later, drenching me to the skin. I heaved to my feet and strode to where Wright and a crowd of crewmembers gathered against the railing.

  They parted before me, clearing a path to the balustrade. Only Wright, with Buzz perched on her shoulder, held her ground. I settled fist and hook on the taffrail and gazed into the sea.

  Ol' Esmerelda's limp, serpentine form floated in the water. Only three coiled sections of the immense sea serpent thrust above the surface. Aqua scales glittered with opalescent beauty. I had no idea how my engineers had managed it, but they'd saved the ship. I was amazed, thankful, and proud.

  "Is it dead or stunned?" I asked in a croak.

  Buzz's wings hummed, and he skipped to my shoulder. "Your guess is as good as mine, but I suggest we get the fig roll out of here before it wakes up."

  "An excellent suggestion. Make it so."

  No one moved.

  I filled my lungs and roared, "I gave an order! To your posts or I'll send you to the sharks!"

  They scattered and scurried away. Weak-kneed, I clung to the railing for support. Buzz stayed with me. He hugged my neck, explaining the intricacies of constructing the "depth charge" that'd saved the ship. Best of all, he said nothing about Wendy—no condemnation or accusation. When I vomited over the side, he held my hair aside. To him, I was eternally grateful.

  Eventually, Ol' Esmerelda sank below the waves.

  Time passed, and my stomach calmed. Revenge turned into the blustery headwind we'd fought for so long and so hard to reach this cursed place. Formerly the enemy, now our ally, the easterly breeze filled our sails.

  We traveled less than a quarter mile before the call came from the crow's nest. "There's a ship off our aft!"

  I strode to the ship's rear and ascended through the sterncastle to where a bruised and battered Mr. Smee met me on the poop deck. I aimed my spyglass at the horizon.

  The graceful profile of a schooner skipped across the breakers at what must've been a staggering eighteen knots. It was, unmistakably, Ariel. The warmth of relief melted some of the ice that encased my heart. Then delight bubbled through me because Starkey was alive.

  Ariel maintained her northern bearing, moving away from us. Mr. Smee sputtered in his outrage, "Starkey has stolen the schooner!"

  "Well," I said dryly. "I never saw that coming."

  "Shall we pursue?" Smee asked.

  I scoffed. "Don't be absurd, Mr. Smee. We have not a chance of catching her. That ship is a clipper. See how she uses her sails."

  "This is mutiny, Captain."

  A scowl contorted my countenance. "Use the precise and correct terminology, Mr. Smee. That ship has never been under my command. Obviously, this is an act of piracy committed by pirates under the command of a pirate captain."

  I was damn proud of Starkey.

  Smee frowned and worked his mouth. Clearly, he didn't comprehend the distinction. It didn't matter, because I understood. The bo'sun stroked his chin. "We're not to pursue?"

  "Set our course for Rackham's Cay, Mr. Smee. We'll put in for repairs there." Eventually, I'd catch up with Starkey, but not today or tomorrow. I wished him well and smooth sailing, and hoped he enjoyed his joy ride to the fullest. In the meanwhile, more urgent matters demanded my immediate attention.

  "Advise our engineers to ready the bilge pumps. We're taking on water."

  Mr. Smee scowled, obviously wondering how and what I thought I knew. The bo'sun shared not even the slightest thread of rapport with Revenge. Thankfully, he didn't argue, only saluted, and passed the orders along.

  "Aye, aye." Smee descended to the helm.

  We'd be lucky to put into port before we sank.

  I held a long vigil for Mr. Brown on the deck, and mourned the music yet unperformed. The sun set. Eventually, the fact that I still clutched that pilfered doubloon impinged on my awareness. I held it up for inspection. A red-brown crust coated the coin.

  Blood money now.

  Cursed gold bought more trouble than it was worth, so I cast that doubloon into the sea. If I never laid eyes on it again, it'd be too soon.

  I hope you enjoyed Hook: Dead to Rights. Reviews are always appreciated! Don't forget to join my newsletter for free reads, exclusive sneak peeks, and giveaways.

  Keep reading for a look ahead at the next Captain Hook novel!

  Hook: Dead Wrong

  by Melissa Snark

  People who complicate my life earn the business end of my hook. Funny how that never seems to stop them.

  Think I’m exaggerating? I stand accused of colluding with Fomorian raiders who are abducting young mermaids… And one of the Lost Boys I rescued from Neverland is being terrorized by a Faerie nightmare… A dark menace connects the two things. With the help of my pixie companion, I must solve the mystery while evading the interference of my meddlesome ex-lover.

  He’s sinfully distracting, but the fun must wait.

  All those delectable sirens need rescuing.

  Prologue

  A Pirate Truth

  "Oh, the cleverness of me!"― J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan

  "Heave!" Mr. Smee shouted from the prow of the vessel.

  "Ho!" chorused the rowers, hauling back on their oars. Three tugs sailed in formation, the dinghy at point and two longboats flanking the sailboat, towlines attached to the frigate. My beautiful Revenge sat low in the sea, her hull weighted with the water she had taken on, and even with a blustery tailwind filling our sails, our speed never topped four knots.

  The bo'sun bellowed, "Heave!"

  "Ho!" shouted the teams on the bilge pumps. The seamen toiled on the windlass, heads down, bent to their task with mindless determination. The
metal gears produced a harsh grating, reverberating through the timbers, piercing marrow-deep.

  "Heave!"

  "Ho!"

  And so it went through the long stretch of the sweltering afternoon, as it'd gone on for days and nights before. The crew worked in shifts, but the grueling schedule took its toll. I labored alongside the crew. I spent a shift rigging and took my turn on the windlass. Sweat stung my cracked lips, and I couldn't remember the last time I'd eaten or slept.

  We couldn't stop or the ship would sink....

  Late on the afternoon of the fifth day, I stood on the poop deck, wrestling with a navigational chart. The map flagged in the wind, making the blasted thing near impossible to read. In frustration, I smashed the top of the scroll against the balustrade and swung my hook. Sunlight glanced off steel, and the point embedded deep in the wood with a solid thunk. Having nailed it, I pressed it flat against the bulkhead and sank to a crouch.

  "Well, are we lost?" Buzz, the Chief of Faerie Engineering, asked. The six-inch pixie swung on one of my braids, seated atop a pearl hair bead. Life aboard ship presented him with challenges to making himself heard. When Buzz spoke, he shouted.

  "Of course we're not lost!" I barked, though that was precisely what I feared. "I've been navigating the Neverland Sea since long before you were a glimmer of pixie dust in your papa's eyes."

  "Pixies are born from a babe's first laughter and—"

  "I bloody well know where pixies are got."

  "Phooey, you're sourer than a barrel of crab apples." The sprite gave an irate sniff and folded his arms across his chest. He had a round face, arms, and legs, and wore a utility belt and cockleshell cogs. A wicked stinger tipped his brown-and-black-striped abdomen.

  I reined in my temper. "I apologize. This entire voyage has been cursed. Peter Pan bested me twice, that ridiculous sea serpent all but destroyed my ship over a bit of treasure, and we lost crew members—"