by Andrea Jones
“Kill him? I will know when I see him.” She slapped the desk and sat up, suddenly fierce. “I may do it myself!”
“I’ll not begrudge you that pleasure. Indeed, I go so far as to recommend it.”
“And you knew what he was doing?”
“I suspected he was eliminating the older boys, thinning out his own crew. It suited my needs,” he gathered her up from his chair, “until I needed you.”
“And then you placed us all under your protection.”
He held her chin and forced it up. “And have been well rewarded for my pains.”
“If I had known the truth, you wouldn’t have had to fight for me.”
“The fight was rewarding as well.” His thumb caressed the corner of her mouth, where her kiss used to hide. “But I did warn you about him. You didn’t believe in me.”
“No, I was living a fairy tale. Yet I suspected a mystery.… Nothing close to the truth! How very near Lightly came to death.”
Hook felt his eyes burn as he viewed the scar at her throat. “Every bit as close as you, my love.”
“Yes. But to harm his own band of boys, the boys he named and raised.” She shook her head. “Pan must never be allowed to grow up. He would make a vicious man.”
Hook’s words were steeped in irony, “He comes by it naturally, however.”
“Imagine what he heard, that morning he ran away from home. What must they have said to one another?”
“My murderous father, and our cheat of a mother? Until the fatal day, they were discreet in front of the servants. But I assure you, there was nothing I didn’t hear.”
“He claims he went back home once, and found a baby boy in his place.”
“No doubt a new family in the house. He wouldn’t have known the difference.”
“How very sad.” But it was the thought of her own motherly affection for her boys that made her breath shudder. Her lover’s arms took possession of her, and he comforted her. And she wept into his fine linen handkerchief for the poor Lost Boys. Someone had to mother them, at the last.
At length Hook lifted his cheek from her hair. “You will soon have your opportunity to change his story.” With a satisfied smile, he reached for the carved crystal vial on the desk. The fairy’s dust glowed brilliantly, transmuted once again to a royal peacock blue. Hook and Jill drew apart. Their eyes met, and matched its brilliance. “The fairy’s warning has come. Pan approaches!”
“He thinks to tame us!”
“To slay us.”
Mr. Smee had already furnished the item Jill ordered. She slid it off the desk. “Captain, I require your indulgence.”
He raised an eyebrow. “What is your wish?”
“I’ve just one, insignificant request.” She angled her head. “Promise me…”
“Anything, my love.”
“About Pan.”
Hook regarded her, questioning, then his features relaxed and he smiled. He had never admired her more than at this moment. Truly, the woman was his mistress. For with eyes half closed and a smile that could melt gold, she sidled up to him. With one finger of one red hand, she stroked his velvety shoulder, and Red-Handed Jill did what no woman, save herself, would ever do again.
She commanded him.
“Don’t touch Pan, Hook. He’s mine!”
* * *
Jewel had no trouble catching up to Peter. Her wings seemed to exert more force as she beat them. They were stronger! Each stroke sent her sailing farther through the air. She streamed along, lagging just enough behind so that he wouldn’t notice her. He never looked back anyhow; it wasn’t Peter’s way.
The exquisite sword whipped through the air at his side, glinting with sunlight, the same bright sunlight that blinded Hook before, to Peter’s advantage. Or disadvantage, now, Jewel thought. That battle, the one that maimed her master, still raged. Below the boy and the fairy the sea shimmered, and the pirate ship buoyed into sight. Peter grinned. Jewel’s spirits sank.
The colorful clothing of pirates caught the morning light, bedecking the Jolly Roger with a cheerful show of force. Men lined the rail, evenly spaced and surrounding the deck, each exhibiting a blade in his hand and a smiling mouthful of teeth. Three men hunched over Long Tom, one holding a flaming torch from which an acrid smoke snaked upward. The red Irishman manned the bow, and the muscular sailor sporting jewelry and dark red stripes on his back stood stiff at his post beside him. Even the crow’s nest was fortified. Two men perched there, with pistols in their belts and two daggers drawn. The sound of Mason’s voice flew over the water as he pointed with his knife.
“Ahoy! It’s the lad, to starboard, Cap’n!”
As he ranged lower, Peter assessed the situation. The Jolly Roger flapped in the breeze, and below it a new flag, two mismatched bloody hands. Peter smirked. That flag was vile, like Hook himself. Then his expression waxed fierce. In whose blood had Hook dipped to paint it?
He searched the deck for his Wendy and his boys. In the center of the ship played a scene that puzzled Jewel, but fortified Peter’s resolve.
Not surprisingly, Hook was prepared for his coming. The captain stood before the mainmast, two hearty pirates flanking him with swords drawn as he casually chucked the point of his rapier under the lady’s chin. She stood in proud resistance, her back up against the mast and her hands behind her. She wore a new dress, not green this time like Peter’s eyes, but dark blue like her own. She was still armed; Peter saw her pistol, and his own dagger pricked her sash. She was even smiling at her pirate captor— she was no ordinary girl! And bloodstains smudged the deck before her. What a story she would tell the boys tonight! Smiling broadly, Peter circled the mizzenmast, crowing.
Alighting on the edge of the crow’s nest, Jewel wondered how best to warn her master of the potion that coated Peter’s weapons. He had ordered her to stay hidden from the boy, even aboard the ship. Mason greeted her genially, “Miss Jewel! Come to see the sport?” Emitting a nervous jingle, she hunched over the railing, her elbows up and her wings down, to watch for her opportunity. But Mason interrupted her efforts with a disturbing observation. He nudged Noodler, in his vehemence nearly dislodging the man’s tri-cornered hat. “Look, mate. The fairy’s grown!”
Jewel’s eyes opened in shock. She rotated to gape at Noodler’s bizarre hand reaching toward her. Making no move to grasp her, he merely held up his fingers to measure. “She is bigger! Look, Miss Jewel, an inch at least.”
Jewel did look, and it was true. The thumb to which she had clung that day to recover her wings had shrunk. She flattened her hand and patted her chest. Her heart didn’t pain her so badly anymore. It, too, must have grown! She loved two people.
And she feared for two people. The sound of Peter’s crowing terrified her, as did the answering laughter that surged from Hook. He flung it up to Pan, a challenge, and then he smiled.
“Well, Pan, so you’ve come at last! To rescue your ladylove. You’re a bit late, boy. She is a lady, now. A lady pirate. Do you still want her?”
Peter settled on the yardarm halfway up the mizzenmast, legs apart, folding his arms and completely at ease in the air. “You know I do!”
“Yet you claimed you’d rather see her dead than turned pirate.”
“So I would! But I’ll tame her.”
Jill lost her smile and clenched her hands behind her back. The men arranged all round the deck stirred, murmuring disapproval.
“All by yourself, boy? Where are your new friends, the Indians? Not enough fairy dust to bring them along, too?”
Peter’s comfy stance went rigid. “You forced my boys to talk, then.” He unfolded his arms and balled his fists. “I saw your bloody flag. What have you done to them?”
“Why, they are right here, Pan. I haven’t harmed them in any way. Don’t you recognize them?” With his hook, he gestured toward the two pirates at his sides. His sword point still played at the lady’s throat.
Peter squinted down at Nibs the Knife and Tom Tootles, and he laughe
d. “You don’t fool me! They’re no boys of mine. Those are your own men.” A chortle arose from the pirates.
Hook smiled in satisfaction and waited for silence. “Exactly.” He watched the grin slide from Peter’s face. “But I’ll send them up to you. With your famous charm you may win them back.” He jerked his head and the two young men pushed off the deck to fly up to Peter’s perch.
Peter drew his dagger as Nibs and Tom grabbed at ropes and settled on either side of him. Nibs adapted to the yards as easily as he used to light in the trees, but Tom’s bulk set the rigging to swaying. Peter kept his footing with no trouble and looked up at first one, then the other. His brows drew together as recognition dawned. “I still say you’re no boys of mine! You’re pirates now. I won’t waste my time trying to take you two back after all.” He looked to the lady. “I’ve got better things to do.”
With twice his customary respect, Nibs called, “What are your orders, Captain?” Peter opened his mouth to respond with a command, then his eyebrows rose. He saw that Nibs had swung out and was looking down at Hook.
The rigging rocked and Tom bellowed as he balanced, “Shall we chase him off, Sir, or shall we leave him to die in the croc’s grotto…” His cold stare reproached Peter. “Like our brothers.”
Peter’s face grew defiant. “I told you none of my boys has ever grown up. This is why!” And he hurled himself and his dagger toward Tom. Tom expected it; he hoisted his sword in time to deflect the blade. Peter fell back in the air, then twisted to launch himself at Nibs.
“We’re not children anymore, Pan.” Nibs’ cutlass threatened, and Peter pulled up short at its tip. “We know what you’ve done, and we want none of your make-believe. You’ll never get any of us back.”
Hook’s velvety voice drifted up. “You seem to be all alone, Pan. If you please, Mr. Tootles.”
Tom hovered at Peter’s back. “Captain Hook has fixed it so your last friend won’t help you, either.” Peter spun to face him, then rolled his eyes upward to see where Tom’s blade pointed.
Peter dropped all expression. High in the rigging spread a new sail, swelling in the wind. A green one, stretched uncomfortably. It strained at its moorings as the breeze battered it. Only the tail swung loose, as if the beast still lived and strove to swim away the way it came, on waves of air. The wind carried a hint of the stench still. Peter knew it. What was left of it.
“The crocodile!”
And he smiled. “At least it was loyal to the death.” He aimed a piercing look at Nibs, who returned it.
“If we’d stayed loyal to you, we’d be dead, too.”
The boy’s eyes flashed with pride. “But I gave you a glorious childhood, in Paradise!”
Tom and Nibs looked at each other, and laughed. Tom said, “You did! But now we’re sorry for you, stuck there all by yourself.”
Nibs had recaptured his good humor. “You’ll never know how glorious growing up can be. Ask our mother, she can tell you.” The crewmen slapped their thighs and guffawed.
Hook struck an elegant pose, leaning on his sword. “Excellent point, gentlemen. Take your positions. The lady in question begs to be heard.”
The young sailors abandoned the yardarm and leapt to the deck to stand guard at their captain’s back. Peter wrapped his legs around the mast and slid lower, seeking a better view of his Wendy, but she shook her head at him with that look that warned him to be careful. “Peter!” True to form, he ignored her caution, swooping down to land on the deck three paces from her, and from Hook. Peter shifted his dagger, gripping it in his left hand to rest his right on his sword.
“Don’t worry, Wendy. I’ll set you free.”
“Oh, no, Peter. I’m not the least bit worried. I knew you would come.” Her smile was warm and gracious. She could melt him with it. But her heart was cold. “Now I’ll be able to finish your story.”
“This is the part where I win the Roger for you, Wendy!” A lusty laugh blew among the Roger’s crew.
Jewel circled down from the crow’s nest to flutter uncertainly behind Peter, watching her two loves. Hook frowned at her, but she remained suspended, pleading with her eyes. Her captain barely shook his head. When she persisted, he curled his lip in irritation. Hanging his sword on his hook, he reached into his inner coat pocket to draw out a vial. “Mr. Nibs. Take charge of this and stand by for further orders.” He tossed it to his sailor. Jewel stiffened and covered her mouth with her hands. Disregarding her, Hook took up his rapier again. “I told you before, Pan. You may call the lady Jill Red-Hand now.”
Peter’s green eyes sparked as he drew his sword. “She’ll always be my Wendy. I’ve come to get her back. Use the hook I gave you to cut her loose— now.”
Jewel’s heart wasn’t big enough yet to admit the Wendy, under any name. Peter’s determination to reclaim the girl jarred her jealous nature, but jealousy wasn’t reason enough to risk her master’s displeasure. Jewel was desperate to inform him of his peril. What should she do? She must risk it. He had to know! Gathering her courage, she pressed her lips together and chimed, loudly.
Peter whirled to find his fairy. Smiling, he grabbed for her. “Tink! You’re just in time!” With her new speed she dodged his hand, then floated almost near enough to touch.
Hook leveled his blue stare at Jewel, menacing. His admonition fell soft and cool, like snow. “If the fairy is wise, she will not interfere.”
Jewel flitted to Peter’s shoulder, her light burning to match the intensity of his face as he watched Hook and Jill. Appealing to her master, Jewel plunged her hand in her pocket, the one that once held poison. Then she pointed to Peter’s blade, violently shaking her head. Hook’s eyes darkened with suspicion, and he studied his sword in Peter’s hand.
Jill eyed the fairy while a note of doubt entered her voice. “I suggest you send her away. She may do something foolish.”
Again Peter opened his mouth to answer, but Hook interjected, “Like sprinkling fairy dust on my lady! But Jill is not bound, Pan. I have already ‘cut her loose,’ as you so eloquently phrase it. Since she can no longer fly, she has chosen to sail— with me, not you, as her captain. I must thank you for making her escape impossible at precisely the critical moment. I do appreciate your assistance. You’ve been so helpful in advancing my plans all along.… You’ve been like a brother to me!”
With a quick intake of breath, Jill drew Peter’s attention, and Jewel’s as well. The sprite who had used to be Tinker Bell perceived that this was no longer the girl she despised. Like the fairy herself, she was mysteriously transformed by her master’s influence, and for the better.
Peter gave the lady an assessing look before he grinned at her. “I see you’ve gotten your share of booty! A new dress, and a nice necklace. What did he make you give him for those? Another kiss?” Jill’s eyes flared. Her shipmates exchanged lewd glances, but didn’t dare further.
Hook clenched his teeth. “Another man would slit your throat for that, Pan. But I will tell you that a woman’s regard cannot be purchased or plundered. That precious treasure is earned.”
“And hatred is, too. I challenge you, Hook! To a duel. Winner takes all!”
Jewel jumped from Peter’s shoulder to hang in the air, ringing with alarm. Hook’s eyes remained on Peter. “Calm yourself, Jewel. I won’t have to hurt him— badly.” He smiled. “I’ll leave that to the ladies.” His sword hummed as it whipped up and plunged at Peter. The boy sprang backward, parrying, and leapt up high. Catcalls from the pirates showed their scorn for this tactic. Peter scowled and lowered himself. He dove at Hook, their two blades flashing in the sun just as they had done so long ago, clanging together, beating up sparks of sunshine.
Jill’s face was serene; she set herself against care. Resolute, she smiled as she watched her champion, transfixed by his skill. The fingers of her left hand toyed with her glittering necklace. Once upon a time, someone told her she worried too much. She didn’t worry anymore.
Nibs and Tom backed away to make room f
or the duelists and stood sentry on either side of Jill. Knowing Peter’s tricks, they held their swords ready. The other pirates kept up their banter, urging their captain on against his longtime adversary.
Fighting with language, too, Hook taunted Peter, “I see you’ve brought me my rapier back. A pity you can’t return my hand as well. But I’ll make do.… Jill has given me hers.” He thrust again to engage Peter’s weapon, parried it, and wheeled, his silver sword belt blazing. The jewels on his fingers flashed as he stopped Peter’s blade and hooked it. Then he stood firm, scratching the razor edge of his claw down its length. Peter gritted his teeth as the jolts rasped against his sword and shuddered through his arm.
Bobbing above him, Jewel shook her head in panic. Did Peter realize his enemy was scraping away the apple’s nectar? The master had gleaned enough potion on his hook to close Peter’s eyes. How much did Peter’s blade retain? More than enough to drop a fairy. And the dagger was fully potent still. Peter wielded it in his left hand as he battled with Hook. He jabbed it at the man now, but the claw had already released him and Hook’s sword pushed the boy away.
Peter couldn’t find another chance to strike Hook’s flesh. He couldn’t reach him. He’d have to knock the sword from Hook’s hand— or slice away the hand holding the sword! “I’ll fetch her hand back from you, Hook!” Brimming with mischief, Peter bounded skyward. He set his feet against the mast and pushed off again, arching back to dive with all the force in his strong young body, hardened by adventure. Swinging the blinding-bright rapier in his scarred right arm, he hollered, and targeted Hook’s last remaining wrist.
Jewel clapped her hands to her eyes, guarding against the glare. But she could still hear. A blade screamed as it cut the air. Her master raised his voice in a peal of rage, and metal met flesh with a horrid, dull smack. One sword clattered to the deck. The pirates exclaimed; Jill gasped.
Then something limp and heavy slapped the boards, and Jill shouted, “No! Not another one!”