Now, Lean Wolf knelt to join Tiger Lily, who had been sitting at the center of her Teepee, gathering arrows into her quiver. When they were eye to eye, he addressed her softly.
“Princess, the Great Peter Pan made a promise to see to the welfare of the Lost Boys. We know this. That is why he does not come.”
“And yet the sun rises. It would not rise if Peter had not returned.” Tiger Lily told him. She stood then, grasping her bow in one hand as she did. Lean Wolf rose with her and respectfully took a step back.
“My father has given us permission to hunt,” Tiger Lily told them both. “We will also find Peter Pan,” she added. “And we will leave at once.”
*****
“Tink!” Peter sat up in bed, his eyes flying open, his arms flailing out at either side.
Tinkerbell was beside him at once. “It’s okay, Peter! I’m here! Calm down; you were dreaming.”
“Tink, he has her! He has Wendy and her brothers! We have to go after him!” Peter looked around himself, his expression wild. Then he looked down and noticed the bandage around his wrist. He shoved his covers aside. There was another around his knee… And around his ribs. All he wore was a pair of black shorts and those bandages.
“What happened, Tink?” he asked softly.
“Well, Peter…” Tinkerbell fidgeted, biting her lip. “You sort of… fell.”
Peter’s brow furrowed as it began to come back to him. Everything. From his first meeting with John and then Wendy – to Wendy falling onto Hook’s ship and then Hook kicking Peter off of it.
“I fell,” Peter whispered. “I couldn’t fly, Tink.”
“He took your happy thoughts, Peter,” Tinkerbell explained.
From behind Tinkerbell, another voice said, “But you’ll get them back, Peter.”
Peter looked over Tinkerbell’s shoulder to find a very large teenage boy standing against the wall, his hands nervously shoved into the front pockets of his jeans. He looked familiar. Peter squinted and sat up a little straighter to get a better look. And then his eyes widened.
“Tootles?” he asked, blinking to make certain he was seeing things clearly.
“Yeah, it’s me, Peter. Tink found me when you got hurt.” Tootles moved away from the wall to walk towards Peter’s bed.
“Wow…” Peter whispered, “you’ve changed.”
“Said the pot to the kettle,” Tootles laughed. It was contagious because Peter laughed then too. And Tinkerbell grinned, relief flooding her pixie features.
“It’s good to hear you laugh, Peter,” she said softly.
Peter turned to her and their green gazes locked. Then Peter did something he had never done before. He raised his hand and gently placed it to Tinkerbell’s cheek. His thumb brushed her skin as he smiled a tender smile.
“I’m sorry, Tink,” he said. “You saved me. I owe you my life.”
Tinkerbell blinked furiously, her pale flesh blushing a bright pink. She pulled away from him and turned to face the other direction. Peter’s hand dropped to the covers on the bed. He looked questioningly at Tootles.
Tootles shrugged.
In a few moments, Tinkerbell seemed to compose herself and she turned back around to face him once more. Her blush was gone, but there was a twinkle in her green eyes that had not been there before.
“Well, boys, I guess I’ll go and get us something to eat. Peter, stay in bed. You’re not completely healed yet.”
Peter’s expression turned to one of frustration. “How long ‘till I can fight again?”
Tinkerbell pulled her jacket down from the hook against the wall and shrugged it on. “A few more days, maybe. I made you some tea. Drink it and rest.” She nodded toward a tea set on a nearby table and then opened the front door. “Tootles, make sure he stays put.”
“Okay, Tink,” Tootles replied dutifully. Tink left and closed the door behind her.
“Traitor,” Peter accused as he tried to sit up a little more.
Tootles shrugged again. “She’s a pixie, man. What do you want me to do? She could turn me into a tree if I don’t do what she says.” He came forward and helped Peter lean up against the wall behind his bed. He adjusted the pillows around him and then stepped back again. “Is what you said true? Did Hook really take Wendy and her brothers?”
Peter’s eyes darkened dangerously. “Yes. And the sooner we go after them, the better.”
“Then you’d better heal fast.” Tootles retrieved the tea from the table and gave it to Peter. “It’s got pixie dust in it. Drink up.”
*****
“Cap’n?”
Hook straightened, just a little, at the sound of Smee’s voice. He felt the familiar tension ride through his arms and up to his broad shoulders. In a few moments, he would have a headache. It always worked that way.
He sighed, knowing what was coming and not at all certain what to do about it.
“Yes, Mr. Smee?” he asked, softly, without turning to look at his first mate.
Smee stood to the side, his hands behind his back, his pose nervous. “Forgive me, Cap’n, but I was just wonderin’. . . . What would you have me do with the Miss Wendy?”
Hook eyed him for a moment, taking in the uncertainty in his first mate’s gray eyes and the nervous twitch to the man’s whiskered mouth.
Hook sighed. “I assume you’re curious as to how I reached my conclusion concerning Wendy Darling.”
He waited and, when Smee’s gaze dropped to the planks of the ship and he didn’t answer, Hook took it as an affirmative.
“Tell me, Smee. Did you by any chance notice the garment that Miss Darling is wearing – the one with the red ‘X’ marked upon it?”
Smee seemed to consider something for a moment, his whole roundish body going abnormally still as he searched his recollection. And then he looked up, sharply, and nodded. “Aye Sir, that I did. Strange and peculiar mode of dress, if I may say so myself.”
“Indeed, Smee. However, it is the ‘X’, itself, which I find most interesting.”
Again, Smee went still, however because he was looking at Hook as he again considered his captain’s words, Hook could see the thoughts chase each other, like clouds, through his storm-gray eyes.
Then Smee blinked. And his eyes widened. “Oh, Cap’n. You don’t suppose Miss Wendy has something to do with the treasure marked on that map, do you?”
Hook’s lips curled into a slow, knowing smile. “No, Smee. I don’t think she has something to do with it. I believe she is it.” He leaned forward. “The treasure, that is.” His response was calm, his tone low, his voice a mere whisper. He wasn’t certain, at that moment, that he wanted the rest of the crew to hear what he had to say about Wendy Darling.
Smee, he trusted. The others – not so much.
He grabbed a surprised Smee’s upper arm and dragged him further along the prow of the ship, away from the others, who didn’t seem to notice his actions. Then he leaned in close and continued. “Consider this, Smee. Darkness lies like a shroud across Neverland and then, suddenly, the Jolly Roger takes to the skies. A map of unknown origin falls into my hands with a red X marking some equally unknown treasure. And then the fair Wendy falls into my arms as well. And we return – home – ” He said the word with the distaste for Neverland that he had always felt, but paused only momentarily before he continued. “To see the sun rise after more than a thousand years. What has changed, Mr. Smee?” he asked.
Smee blinked rapidly, his expression becoming more excited as Hook went on. But he didn’t answer. The first mate knew that the question was rhetorical.
“Wendy, Smee. It is Wendy that has changed.” He straightened then, his blue gaze searching the deck of the ship and stopping on the door to his cabin, where he knew the young Miss Darling waited beyond. “And it is Wendy who has changed everything around her.”
The first mate was quiet for several long moments. And then he pushed his glasses further up on his chubby nose and squinted behind them as he, too, glanced toward the door
to Hook’s cabin. “Well, Sir, if you are correct – and I’m certain that you are, Cap’n – then what type of treasure do you suppose Miss Wendy represents?”
Hook shook his head. Once. Again, his tone was but a whisper when he answered. “I do not know, Smee.” He looked down at the silver hook on his right arm, turning it ever so slightly so that it flashed and gleamed. “I do not know.”
*****
Wendy paced nervously in the giant cabin. Her thoughts were a jumbled mess. Nothing made any sense. She hugged herself and blew out a sigh, sinking onto the edge of Hook’s large four-poster bed.
There was a knock on the door.
Wendy’s head snapped up. She didn’t know whether she could face Hook again right now. When he’d told her that she was the reason for Neverland’s sunrise, she’d been well beyond shocked. She’d simply stayed in her seat, staring up at the man above her, unable to speak or reason or even object.
All she’d done was drown in that blue gaze. Until, at last, Captain James Hook had slowly reached down, his tall, strong body bending over hers, as he gently lifted her tiny tea cup from its saucer and held it up for her.
She’d taken it, almost automatically, unsure of what else to do. And in a continued silence, she’d sipped the sweet tea as Hook had straightened, turned away, and left the cabin, bidding her a good afternoon as he’d shut the door behind him.
It had surely been hours.
She’d spent them wandering around the cabin, shamelessly going through Hook’s belongings. She didn’t know what else to do. Her thoughts were spinning end over end and it was all she could do to distract herself.
She had the terrible urge to write – to purge herself of the chaos that was whirling within her, to bleed her confusion onto paper through her fingertips and if she didn’t occupy her fevered brain with something else, she was bound to give in to her yearnings and steal Hook’s ink well and feather and start scrolling poems and prose all over those ancient parchment maps he had laying on his captain’s table.
The knock came again and Wendy realized that she’d just been staring at the door, not answering.
“Yes?” She finally ventured, her voice a little softer than she’d have preferred.
“Miss Wendy?”
It was Smee.
“Yes, Smee.” Wendy took a deep breath. At least the first mate wasn’t his captain. And she could use the company. “Come in.”
The door opened and Mr. Smee poked his head in. “Er, sorry for the intrusion, Miss Wendy, only the Captain has declared that we’ll be going ashore soon an’ ‘e wanted me to check on you – see if there’s anything you’ll be needin’.”
“We’re going ashore? What for?” she asked as Smee came fully into the enormous cabin and closed the door softly behind him.
“Well, miss, we’ve been frozen here on the Jolly Roger for quite some time, an’ the crew is well due for a bit of shore leave, if you want the truth of it. Why, Cookson is certain ‘e can make a right nice bit of cloth from the Geramine flower, if ‘e can find any; they bloom in the Spring in Neverland, you know. And I do think that Arnold be gripin’ so much these days ‘cuz ‘e misses the rum ‘e buried somewhere along the banks of Crocodile Creek. And poor Skylights needs a good piece o’ dry wood to fashion a new set of teeth out of-” Smee cut off, as if realizing that he’d probably given Wendy more information than she strictly needed.
And then he smiled a reassuring smile and came to sit down beside her on the bed. “Well, you get the idea, anyway.”
That was one of the peculiar things about Mr. Smee, Wendy realized. He possessed that strange kind of easiness about him that was automatically trustworthy. If any other pirate had attempted to come and sit down beside her on the bed, she would have quickly scuttled to the other end of the mattress or jumped up and moved to the opposite side of the room, all together. But, as it was, she simply stayed where she was seated and waited for Smee to say what he was obviously preparing to say next.
“I’m willin’ to bet that you’re a might bit confused about all this sunrise business now, aren’t you, miss?”
Wendy chewed on her lip. That was putting it mildly. She nodded, and then asked, “What are you going to do with me?”
“Oh, don’t you worry, now.” He gently patted her on her jean-covered thigh and then folded his hands in his lap. “The Cap’n won’t allow no harm to come to you. He just needs some time to figure some things out, is all.”
In other words, thought Wendy, Hook has no idea what to do with me.
And I’m stuck with these pirates – and so are my brothers.
“Are my brothers okay?”
“Indeed, miss. They’re in the galley eatin’ a fine cooked meal right now. You can join ‘em if you like.”
“I’m… not really hungry,” she answered, honestly. She looked away to glance at the array of belongings Hook had lying about the large cabin. “What are all of these instruments for?” There was a grand black piano in one corner of the room, complete with melted wax candles sitting atop it and sheets of un-played music, waiting on the shelf. At least a dozen stringed instruments of various make and size sat resting on cushions and leaned against the book shelves. And wind instruments of different lengths and origin hung on clasps along the walls.
But Hook had only one hand.
At this question, Smee’s expression darkened. His head dropped ever so slightly and his gaze found some unseen, distant spot on the floor. “The captain was a very talented man, ‘e was.” His tone had lowered, becoming more subdued. His entire round body, in fact, seemed to have deflated. Like a balloon leaking helium.
“Captain Hook could play anything,” he continued. “Natural talent, ‘e ‘ad. 'Til the day. . . .” His voice trailed off and he looked up, locking eyes with Wendy once more. He sighed and his sad smile spoke volumes. “Well, I’m sure you know. It’s the one thing ‘e don’t talk about.”
Smee shook his head and looked away again. He shrugged. “Still has a wonderful singing voice, though.” He nodded and patted his hands on his lap, indicating finality. Then he stood and absently felt his pockets.
Wendy snatched the opportunity, her heartrate kicking up a notch as she asked the one question, in all the thousands of existing questions, that she knew Hook, himself, would never – ever – entertain.
“What happened that day, Smee?” She asked, hurriedly. At once, he turned to pin her with a surprised expression and she glanced around, nervously wondering whether anyone else could have heard.
In a quieter voice, she leaned forward on the bed. “What. . . .” She chewed on her lip, cleared her throat, and tried again. He waited. “What happened with. . . you know. With his hand?” She had always assumed that Peter Pan had cut it off during a sword fight. But it was such a traumatic event. . . . The writer in her had always wondered about the details.
That was where the devil lived. That was where she always wanted to go.
Smee stared down at her for some time before he so much as moved.
And then, as if remembering himself, he straightened, looked over his shoulder toward the door, and nodded. He took a shaky breath and sat himself back down on the bed. He’d come to a decision.
Wendy stilled her breathing. It had quickened. Her heart was hammering. She didn’t know why, but for some reason, she felt this was monumental. A secret, perhaps. Untold to anyone.
“Captain James Hook,” Smee began, his accent seemingly diminished, “has always been Captain James Hook,” he said. “Even when he had a hand.” He raised his right hand and wiggled his fingers. Then he lowered it again and went on. “Long ago, Neverland drew us into its world. This place. . . .” He looked overhead as if he could see through the wooden beams of the captain’s cabin, to the sky and the clouds and the stars beyond.
“It picks and chooses, see? A fairy here. A native there. A boy next. And a pirate.”
He paused, blinking as he lowered his gaze once more to stare at the nothingness straight ahe
ad and the memories that lay beyond. “An’ Captain Hook – ‘e was the best of them. The leader of the pirate council of the thirteen states. A man of intellect, ‘e was. And accomplishment.” He nodded, to himself, and Wendy watched as he reached beneath the lenses of his spectacles and rubbed his eyes.
Once he’d re-adjusted his glasses, he lowered his hand again and sighed another heavy, heart-felt sigh. “Boys care nothing of the hardships of man, Miss Darling. To Peter Pan, the Captain’s name was no more than a game.” He spoke slowly, and with feeling. “One day, after we had been here for weeks, Pan came to the Jolly Roger and shouted down at the captain.”
“He told him that, with a name like ‘Hook,’ he should have one. In the fight that ensued, Pan took the captain’s right hand.” His voice was now a mere hair’s breadth above a whisper. “It was a bloody battle, indeed. The wound healed unnaturally quickly, however. And it left the captain. . . .” He paused here, searching for the right words.
Wendy’s body was strung as tightly as the instruments in Hook’s cabin. She could not believe what she was hearing. Smee’s tale had her on pins and needles, held captive to the horror of what it revealed.
“Well, it left him less of the man ‘e was, that it did.” Smee finally concluded, speaking so softly now that Wendy could scarcely hear him over her own ragged breathing. “The next day – as days go in Neverland – Pan threw a hook onto the deck of the ship. Bright and shiny, it was. Silver. An’ ‘e told the captain it suited ‘im.”
Smee straightened again, then, realizing that he’d progressively slouched during the telling of his story. His accent was back and heavy, as if living in the past had taken him temporarily from his role as the ship’s first mate and turned him into something else. But he was back now. And in full costume.
He patted his lap and stood. “And, well, I guess it did suit ‘im right nice enough.”
Chapter Fifteen
The star didn’t disappear this time. And that bewildered Peter.
It was remarkable enough for him to be in the air again, heading back home after five years in his birth world. But deep down inside, he had an itch of an inkling that if it weren’t for Tinkerbell’s extra pixie dust this time around, his thoughts wouldn’t be happy enough to get him to where he was going.
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