Death in Neverland: Book 1 in The Neverland Trilogy (The Neverland Series)

by Heather C. Myers

  “I’m inclined to agree with Commodore Davenport,” the governor said, though his tone was not dismissing. “Captain Pan is a sailor the Magistrate. He is not allowed to attack and then kill souls, let alone interact with them unless they are breaking the law.”

  “I thought the Guard took care of criminals,” Remy said, speaking for the first time since introducing herself to the commodore.

  “You really aren’t from this world are you?” The question was curious, but the governor’s lips curled up into an awed smile, his eyes shining. “You are correct. The Guard usually takes care of criminals in The Underworld. But both the Magistrate and James have their own sets of enforcers, people they bid to keep an eye on how The Underworld is being run. They have as much jurisdiction as we do, unless, of course, both a member of the Guard and an Enforcer is at the scene, then jurisdiction automatically goes to us because we are in The Underworld. For the most part, though, they only make sure the souls ready to meet their final resting place are being transported correctly and that those who aren’t, are staying in The Underworld.”

  “Is that how you know Captain Pan?” Remy asked, tilting her head back in order to look at Nick. “He kept his eye on you.”

  “He kept his eye on you a little too closely,” Nick snapped. “Governor, what I tell you is true. I have it on good authority that it is, indeed, Captain Pan.”

  “You just want to extract the revenge you think you deserve on him,” Davenport said. “It’s not Captain Pan. You just want an excuse to attack him.”

  “Why would he want to attack Captain Pan?” Remy asked, but it appeared as though her question went on deaf ears.

  “That is not true,” Nick insisted.

  “I believe it is,” Governor Comrie stated. “That is why I think you’re willing to offer us your services.” He paused, his fingertips caressing the lower half of his face. “Where did you get you information?”

  “Excuse me?” Nick appeared to be deflated, having believed that his request was denied. Legally, anyways.

  “Where did you get your information?” the governor repeated. “While I do not believe Captain Pan is the logical culprit, I also know from personal experience that those granted a bit of power can let it go to their heads. Because I don’t know Captain Pan personally, I can’t remark on his character and therefore cannot say one way or the other if he isn’t the man behind these attacks. Which is why, Captain Grey, I’m asking where you got your information from.”

  Nick hesitated. Which startled Remy because Nick rarely hesitated about anything, save for telling the story of how he ended up in The Underworld in the first place.

  It was Calum who finally answered for his captain. “It was James,” he said in his gruff voice. “Akleksander Hook.”

  “That’s impossible,” the commodore said once again.

  “You already said that,” Adele retorted. It was obvious she regarded the commodore with distaste that was almost comical.

  “James Hook?” the governor asked with a twinge of doubt. “The ruler of The Underworld. How would he know? And why would he care?”

  “He had evidence,” Nick said. “And he cares because apparently, he hasn’t been receiving his soul quota or whatever it is he cares about. He says there’s a shortage of souls. At first he thought it was me – it was not, I assure you – and then he showed me the evidence that it was Captain Pan.”

  The governor was silent for a long moment. His fingers were still caressing his chin, and Remy could tell he was currently gnawing on the inside of his bottom lip.

  “All right.” The two words were soft but firm. The governor picked his eyes off of the floor and placed them on Nick. “You have my permission. I’ll write you up the necessary papers and you can attempt to find and stop Captain Pan. But hear me, Captain Grey, when I tell you that if I find out that you are using this information you’ve acquired as an excuse to extract your own revenge on Captain Pan, that he is, indeed, innocent, I’ll revoke the papers and have you meet the gallows in the same minute. Do you understand?”

  Nick forced a charming smile. “Absolutely,” he said.

  “Good.” Governor Comrie stood. “Commodore, I’d like you to accompany me while I write the document up. I’ll need your signature.”

  “Sir, are you really certain you want Captain Grey and his crew sailing around without any sort of consequences instilled on them?” Commodore Davenport asked.

  “There will be consequences, Commodore,” the governor assured Davenport. “Do not worry about that.” He looked over his shoulder at Nick. “We shall be back shortly. While you wait, please have some tea.”

  Chapter 20

  The pirate crew waited just under an hour until both the governor and the commodore reappeared with all the necessary legal documents and required signatures in order to grant them the immunity they needed in order to take down Captain Pan. Nick had Adele and Edward do a quick mental run-through of everything they had on the ship and add anything they might need lest they did not get a chance to stop at Tenedor and restock.

  This last bit of information through Remy off slightly. Nick giving up the chance to go to Tenedor? This truly must be important to him. Though she was there when James gave Nick the evidence that Pan was definitely behind the attacks, she would not put it past her pirate captain to use that to his advantage and extract the revenge on the man. What Remy wanted to know was why Nick wanted revenge in the first place. What could Pan have possibly done to Nick? She wanted nothing more than to ask the pirate, but he seemed so lost in his thoughts that she thought better of it, and instead, looked out at the horizon as they headed back to the Black Star.

  “I never said we weren’t going to Tenedor,” Nick corrected once they reached the ship and had climbed onto it. “I just don’t want to be distracted with the task to stock the ship. We might have to leave at the drop of a moment and need to be ready.”

  “What, then, are we going to do at Tenedor?” Remy asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

  “Ready to set sail, capt’n,” Edward called from the helm.

  Nick waved at him but said nothing, his focus on solely Remy. “You ask a lot of questions, you know that?” Nick said.

  “You’ve told me this numerous times, Captain,” Remy said with a shadow of a smile. “I just like to know what I am getting into, if you do not mind.”

  “Luckily for you, I don’t.” He placed his hand on the small of her back and proceeded to lead her toward the descending staircase. “Don’t you have dishes to wash? I shall answer your question just as soon as you’ve started your chore. How’s that for a deal, hmm?”

  Remy rolled her eyes but did not argue and allowed Nick to lead her down to the galley. She pointedly ignored the fact that his hand was on the small of her back and that she felt safe there in his hand. Once in the galley, Remy decided to forgo the gas lamps and allow the natural sunlight to seep through the rather dirty windows. She looked at the sink and frowned in distaste. There were not as many as usual, but still enough to require a good chunk of her time.

  No time like the present, she thought to herself.

  “You were saying?” she asked Nick, reminding that he owed her an answer. She grabbed the rather big bucket and went to go fill it with water that was stored in the nearby cupboard.

  “Right.” Nick watched her with an indiscernible look on his face. “The reason we are going to Tenedor is to pick up pieces of information about Pan and-or the phantom soul slayer.”

  “And we will be able to find this information at Tenedor? With absolute certainty?” She sounded doubtful as she heaved the rather big bucket onto the bench and then turned in order to grab a handful of dishes to wash.

  “Darling, everyone knows something they’re supposed to keep a secret,” Nick said knowingly. “Whether it’s that a friend committed adultery or that a family member stole something valuable from someone important, people know things. I’m certain someone knows something about Pan or the phan
tom. All I have to do is get a little alcohol in them, and they’ll reveal whatever it is they’re supposed to keep quiet about.”

  “I thought Pan and the phantom were one and the same person.” There was a ker-plunk as Remy dropped the dishes into the water, splashing her face.

  “He is,” Nick said with a nod of his head, taking a seat across from her. “But nobody else knows that.”

  The corner of Remy’s lips twitched up. “You, sir, are slippery.”

  “I take that as a compliment, love,” Nick said, flashing her a smile that caused his gold teeth to sparkle in the sun. “Now, is that all you wanted to talk about?”

  Remy hesitated, her eyes focused on the dish she was currently drying. “Actually…” She paused a moment, hoping she had worded everything correctly before forcing herself to continue. “There were two things I wanted to know. I want to learn how to defend myself.”

  “Really.” Another look that Remy could not read littered Nick’s face, frustrating the girl even more than she already was.

  “Yes, really,” Remy said. “After my attack, and the way everyone down here seems to react to me, I believe it is a necessity. I cannot depend on you or anyone in the crew to protect me when I should be the one protecting myself. And…” Another pause, a hitch in her voice. “And if we are attacked by whoever it is that attacks pirates, I need to defend this ship to the best of my abilities. Right now, all I am good for is throwing things that probably will bounce off an attacker rather than knocking him out cold.”

  Though the lighting was rather dim, Nick could easily make out a light pink taint to Remy’s high cheeks. “I believe,” Nick said with a grin, “that that was the most unselfish thing you’ve said since arriving here.”

  “You are teasing me.”

  “I am.” His smile deepened. “Once you’re finished here, I’ll have Adele teach you your way around a blade.”

  “Adele?” Certainly Remy was still grateful to Adele for saving her life, but she was not as certain of the red head teaching her about fighting. Probably Adele would look at Remy as an annoyance she would rather avoid.

  “Of course, Adele,” Nick said. “She’s the most skilled with a cutlass on this ship. She taught Giselle, who’s quite handy herself.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “I know there’s some tension between the two of you. You and Adele, I mean. Maybe you’ll understand why she is the way she is, if she decides to tell you. But she’s not all that bad, you know.”

  “I do.” Goodness, did it sound as if she did not like Adele. Because even though what Nick had said was true, that there was tension between the two, that did not discount the fact that Remy admired the red head and a small piece of Remy wanted nothing more than for Adele to like her, however marginally it was. “She saved my life. Maybe one day I can repay the favor.”

  Nick did not respond to her statement and instead, asked, “What was the other thing you wanted to ask me about?”

  “Oh.” Here it was, what Remy was most afraid to ask. She only had a half-bucket of dishes left and she knew she could get them down more quickly if Nick was not here, distracting her with his low voice. However, as it usually did, her curiosity got the best of her. “What did Captain Pan do to you that warrants revenge?”

  She winced, preparing herself for Nick to scold her, to tell her that it was none of her business. When nothing came, she opened one eye. His features had tightened, she could tell, but his eyes did not go cold. Instead, she watched as Nick reached over and proceeded to roll up the sleeve that covered his right forearm. Remy could not help but stare as a tattoo emerged in what looked to be in the shape of a snake.

  “What is that?” she heard herself asking. Perhaps it was rather rude but she could not help herself.

  “That,” Nick said pointedly, “is a brand I received from none other than our friend Captain Pan.”

  “Brand?” Remy asked, tilting her head up in order to lock eyes with Nick.

  “Brand. Remember what James held up in order to reveal the identity of the phantom? It looked like a fire poker, yes?” At Remy’s nod, he continued. “That was the same instrument he used on me, to mark me for life and reveal my piratical nature to strangers.”

  “Oh my.” The words were soft but heavy, and Remy swallowed the bitter taste that had accumulated in her mouth. “Did it hurt?”

  “Like hell.” Nick paused, his eyes tracing the many curves of the snake. “Because I am technically still alive, it hurt much in the same way as it would have back on earth. The man is a coward, a power-hungry bastard. He had no right to brand me. I may be a pirate in name, yes, but I am alive and I do my job at transporting souls. I will never go to The Paradise now, no matter if I was supposed to or not.”

  Remy furrowed her brow. “How?”

  “This.” He gestured at the mark. “The Underworld is rather black and white when it comes to final resting places. They tend to look at the labels other people have bestowed upon you your entire life when making that decision. If, however, your life has been rather balanced or you choose to wait until you are ready to go to your final resting place, you get another chance at living life down here. That means, however, that the final destination can change. You can redeem yourself or condemn yourself.”

  “I still do not understand why you have that mark,” Remy said, “and why Captain Pan was permitted to give it to you in the first place.”

  “Captain Pan answers to the Magistrate,” Nick began, “and the Magistrate ultimately decides who is allowed into The Paradise and who is not. Black and white, remember? Pirates are bad. As such, she did not want us tainting her idea of a perfect place to go after life so she instilled Pan with the responsibility of branding pirates with this mark, preventing them from ever entering The Paradise.”

  “That is not fair,” Remy said.

  “You are correct.” Nick clenched his jaw and looked away. “Which is why I would like nothing more than to bring him to justice.” Remy was about to say something, but Nick jumped in, preventing her from doing so. “It seems that you’re finished with your task. Why don’t you put the dishes away while I go tell Adele to teach you self-defense.”

  Apparently it was a rhetorical statement because before she could respond, Nick stood up and left. Remy watched him go, watched him push his sleeve back down, hiding the snake. She could not help but feel upset for Nick to the point where her fingers shook as they clutched the dishes in her hands. She did not remember a time she had been so furious and made a silent promise to Nick that no matter what it took, she would aid him with his quest to extract revenge on Captain Pan. That might make her a bad person, yes, but for whatever reason, she knew deep down in her soul that it was the right thing to do.

  Once she was finished putting the dishes away and calming herself down, she took a deep breath and slowly headed up the stairs and back on deck. It was only a manner of minutes before Adele appeared with two cutlasses. From the look currently occupying her face, Remy could not tell if she was happy about the prospect of teaching Remy how to handle a blade and defend herself with it, but Remy supposed looking on the bright side was in store since Adele did not particularly put out by it.

  When Adele spotted Remy, Remy noticed the red head sigh and slowly proceed to walk over to her.

  Perhaps she was not as agreeable to this as Remy had originally believed.

  “So,” Adele drawled once she reached Remy, “you want to learn how to handle a cutlass, do you?” At Remy’s nod, Adele rolled her eyes. “Let me just tell you something, missy, I don’t think you can do this. I don’t think you can handle a blade and even if I teach you and you’re suddenly thrown into a situation where its use is required, I don’t think you’ll do a great job. In fact, I think you’d die in mere moments lest you decide to hide behind one of us to save you.”

  Remy felt her frown deepen with each word Adele said so that when the red head finally stopped, Remy appeared just as cross as her mother had after Remy had accidentally spilled powder on
the new gown she had bought for her daughter especially for her first introduction to Lord Huntington.

  “Yes, well that is your opinion,” Remy snapped, taking a defiant step forward. “All I am asking for is a chance.”

  “I’m giving it to you,” Adele said, rolling her eyes. “But I want you to know I think that this is a great waste of time.” She paused as if deciding where she should start. “When we practice, make sure your hair is tied back, like it is now. We don’t want to be cutting off your pretty locks now would we?”

  “Absolutely not,” Remy said with horror, clutching her honey brown hair that was stained blonde, thanks to her time in the sun.

  Adele shook her head. Apparently the question was a rhetorical one. Even so, Remy did not like to joke about losing her hair in any capacity.

  “First thing’s first,” Adele said, handing Remy the cutlass, hilt first. “I’m going to teach you of the different parts of the cutlass. Hold the blade like this.” Adele grasped the handle so the blade was horizontal across her body, the middle of the silver blade resting gently in her palm.

  Remy did as Adele commanded her to do. The object felt foreign in her hand and she realized that she would lose the softness her palms had once occupied, a clear telling that she was a lady from a well-respected and wealthy family, and would probably never have to work for anything in her life. That was changing now. She was doing dishes and now learning how to defend herself in the case she was attacked. Remy did not think she could claim to be a lady now, at least in the traditional sense.

  “Here, where you hold the cutlass is called the hilt. Notice how it’s basket-shaped, a heavy copper in your hands. That’s one of the ways it’s different from a sword. The blade – this part – is curved and sharpened at the edge where one expects to cut… things.” Adele’s eyes flashed upwards, at Remy. “Any questions?”

  “Why use a cutlass over a rapier?”

  “It’s shorter, for one. Stockier. Gets the point across if you ask me.” At Remy’s dubious look, Adele rolled her eyes once again. “It’s sharper. Slashes better. If you want to make a point, such as stay away from my life force, you’re better off with a cutlass than a rapier. The rapier is lighter, yes, and it’s also sharp, but there’s no cutting edge, you see.” Adele took her fingertip and lightly traced the curve at the tip of the sword to emphasize her point. “A rapier does not have this little gem.”