“James does not have to tell me everything,” Magda said, her eyes flashing a warning at Nick. She understood that he was frustrated with her, but he did not need to push her further. It would not end well for them. Their tempers were too similar. “I trust him.”
“Maybe you should trust me.”
“You want to drink some contraption your ex-lover compiled because you are so completely blind to your love for Remy.”
“I thought you said I was incapable of love.”
“I” - She stopped. She had no idea what to say. She would not talk about fairy blood or magic in front of people she had not even talked to. Yes, she knew the lack of communication was her fault, but she could not remedy that now.
“Um, excuse me?” The petite blonde broke between the two, looking up at them with her pretty blue eyes. Though she was only a few inches shorter than Magdalena, seeing her next to Nick made her look particularly small and slight. Did this woman know how to fight? She seemed too sweet for this type of life. “We’re going to head belowdeck.”
“You don’t have to do this, Giselle,” Nick said, his eyes softening when they saw her. “Whatever she has to say to me, she can say to us.”
Something punched Magda in the gut, and her jaw dropped when she realized it was jealousy. She wanted Nick to look at her that way and no one else. Which made no sense in Magda’s mind. She was just… hungry. The food on Nick’s ship was edible at best and had no flavor whatsoever. Her mind was starting to play tricks on her, such as making her think she was feeling things she was most certainly not feeling.
"We trust you, Nick," Giselle said and offered Magda a friendly smile. "It's okay that she doesn't. She doesn't know us. Why don't you hear what she has to say, and then if you feel the need to tell us, we'll be here to listen. If not, that's okay too."
Magda swallowed, and watched as Giselle walked away to the rest of the crew. She had never seen anything so warm and sweet and genuine before, and she wasn't sure how she felt about it. Not only had Magda been rude to them, but they went out of their way to understand her. Well, Giselle did at least. The redhead still looked at her warily, while the two other men held their tongues and let Giselle make the judgment on behalf of them all. James ran his ship based on respect and fear; Nick's crew, on the other hand, liked him. They cared about his well-being and more than that, they trusted him. Magda certainly liked and trusted James, but she couldn't say for sure whether other crewmembers felt the same way.
"Can I ask you something?" Nick asked, squaring his shoulders and looking down at Magda with hard eyes. He did not appear angry, per se, but firm. Serious. To be honest, it wasn't a look she expected on her face, but it did nothing to detract from its perfection.
She wanted to say no. She wanted to tell him that there were more pressing issues at hand than whatever he felt he needed to tell her. But she stopped. Pressed her lips together. Kept her retort on her tongue - where it belonged.
"Yes?" She did not sound too pleased. The word slipped out between her teeth, but Magda thought it was a small step forward from where she had been a few weeks prior.
He grinned when he realized she struggled with patience. She wanted to punch him. She felt this way a lot.
"Does Hook have a crew who would do what Giselle just did?" he asked seriously, taking a step toward her. His hands were now on his hips, making his broad shoulders even wider. A couple of dark strands of hair fell in his face and Magda had this inexplicable urge to push them away. She had to curl her fingers into fists and dig crescent moons into her palm to keep from doing so. “Does his crew blindly trust his decisions?”
“N-no.” Magda shook her head. She did not know why her voice came out shaky.
But it was the truth. She hadn’t realized it, but Nick was right. James had a crew of the best sailors in The Neverland and The Other World. They were not with him because they had a lesson to learn; they chose to be with him for reasons of their own – because he was a fearless captain, a fierce warrior, an explorer. They respected him. They admired him. But they did not like him. And they did not blindly trust him. As long as there was something in it for them, then they were satisfied. James, being the intelligent man he was, knew this. He knew exactly what they needed to hear to inspire them. For the moment.
“What is it that you have to say?” he asked, his voice gruff with demand.
“You know what I am, yes?” she asked, her voice tight. She did not like to admit such things out loud, but she did not have a choice. At Nick’s nod, she continued. “That potion” – she gestured at it with a flicker of her eyes; she did not like to let her gaze linger on the purple potion longer than what was necessary, afraid that it would somehow reveal her true nature – “will not help you the way you think it will.”
“Oh?” he asked, his cheekbones highlighted based on the shape of his mouth. He was humoring her, and she found she did not appreciate it very much.
“By drinking that” – she flickered her eyes over to it once more before looking back at Nick – “you are either being incredibly brave or incredibly stupid.”
“I like to think I’m the best of both worlds,” he said with a grin. “Listen, Tink, I appreciate that you care about me. I’m sure if our positions were reversed, I would feel the same way about you. However, I’m going to drink this potion. And nothing you say will stop me.”
He reached for the potion, but Magda stood in front of him, blocking his path. She should grab the thing and toss it across his bedroom, watch as the glass smashed against the window and the liquid spilled all over the floor. Nick would no doubt be furious with her, but he would be safe. He would still be the same pirate captain.
Nick stopped and gave her a look. “I’m only going to ask you this one more time,” he said, and his tone darker, more serious. He was not playing anymore. “Move out of my way.”
“I can’t let you do this,” Magda said. Her eyes would not look away from his, even though she did not like seeing his anger as a direct result of her actions. “Is she really worth it?”
The question came out of her mouth before she could stop it. She really did not want to know the answer. She already knew the answer. But she needed to hear it. She needed to know Nick’s frame out mind in order to truly understand what he would do in order to get Remy back.
“Of course she’s worth it.” His voice wasn’t as loud as she thought it would be. It was soft and certain and in disbelief that she would question him about that. “She’s worth it.”
“Why?”
The question made him pause, and for that, Magda was grateful. Perhaps it would distract him enough to allow her to inch over to the potion and toss it over. If she tried to do it now, he would stop her. Of that, she had no doubt.
“What do you mean, why?” he asked.
“Why her?” Magda said, words sputtering out of her mouth like milk out of a cow. “Why her and not some other woman? How do you know, with Remy? What if she loves someone else? What if she does not love you at all? How can you be so certain of someone you just met?”
“Because you can,” Nick said, his voice insistent. “Just because you can’t understand it doesn’t mean my feelings are invalid. To me, Remy is worth it. What I feel for her… I’ve never felt before. And I can’t just allow that feeling to slip away. Even if she doesn’t feel the same way in return. I have to try. I owe it to myself to try.” He sounded desperate.
“Perhaps you are more fond of the idea of Remy rather than Remy herself,” Magda suggested, her voice hesitant but still sure. “Have you even considered that?”
“What does that bullshit even mean?” Nick asked. “The idea of a person is the same thing as the person.”
“It’s not. I can assure you, it’s not.” Her eyes were burning, and she thought, for a moment, that there was a good possibility that she was getting through to him.
But before she could stop him, he reached out and grabbed the potion, downing the contents in its entirety.
Nick wiped the remnants of potion on the back of his hand and glared down at her. “Might I remind you that you are here because of my generous hospitality?” he asked her, his voice low so only she could hear. Dangerous. “If you ever disrespect me like that in front of my crew again, there is going to be an issue between you and I, are we clear?” He perked his brow.
Magda opened her mouth to argue, stopped. Paused. Shook her head.
“Fine,” she said. “You’re right.” Her voice was shakier than she would have preferred, but she attempted to keep it low in the same vein as him. “But that does not make your choice any less stupid.”
With that, she left the deck to go to her room.
Eleven
At the end of Remy’s fourth week with James Hook, she was proud to say that all of the bodily injuries she had were gone. She could walk as she normally would have, and the pain was only usual when it came to lacing up her corsets. She still had yet to explore the entirety of James’s home – castle was probably the more accurate word, and a part of her believed that James had yet to do the same thing. Observing him on the rare chances he honored her with his presence – usually during mealtimes – gave little to no new information. However, it did not appear as though he preferred to remain dormant for very long. His eyes looked darker, his frown was more prominent. He might not be a pirate, but he was a Viking who thirsted for adventure. And remaining in a lonely home was not an adventure in the slightest.
There was a question she had wanted to ask since she had first met Captain Hook, but she did not think it was appropriate: how did he lose his left hand? She thought she might ask Pam, but there was hardly a chance the maid would share, if she knew at all. She wondered if it had anything to do with Peter. She paused for a moment, and instead of continuing to look at her reflection in the mirror in her – Magdalena’s – room, she thought back to when they first arrived.
Remy needed Pam’s assistance to walk her down the pathway and over to the waiting carriage. She was thankful James owned the docks so his ship could pull up to it, and it would appear his place of residence was just up the hill, a short carriage ride away. She had no luggage, she all she needed to worry about was ensuring the clothes on her back looked presentable on her person.
She and Pam were the first people to exit the ship, and once their feet hit the wooden dock, Remy nearly fell off of it and into the water. There, holding a hard board and a pen was none other than Peter Pan, the very man who had beat her within an inch of her life. He was dressed well – he always was – even for a dock master. His clothes were pressed, his auburn hair was combed to the side. Nothing was out of place. Except the fact that someone like him would actually be seen working as a dock master.
When his dark eyes caught sight of her, his lips curled into a dark grin, as though he knew exactly what she was feeling on the inside, despite trying to hide it on the outside. She knew it was too late but she turned her nose up at him, and prepared to head to the carriage without sparing him a second thought.
“Ms. Cutler,” Pan called after her. She did not want to look, but she found she could not help it. When her eyes met his, his grin turned wicked, and he said, “It’s good to see your recovery is going smoothly.”
Pam glanced over at Remy, her eyes wary. Remy could not blame her. Even though she felt safe with James, even though she knew Pan could not hurt her, she could not help but feel a shiver of dread yank her senses within its grip and shake her spine out of alignment. She clutched at Pam a little tighter and Pam let her.
"Does he know you, mum?" she asked in a whisper, despite the fact that they were safely in the carriage. There was no way he could possibly hear them though Remy had a sneaking suspicion those dark eyes were locked on the carriage like he could see through the dark oak.
Remy swallowed, not sure whether to tell Pam just how well Peter Pan knew her. "He is the reason I could not walk correctly for the past four weeks," she said, staring straight ahead at the empty seat in front of her. It helped not looking directly at Pam. It was almost as though she were talking to herself. "Apparently, he and James had some kind of arrangement that involved me. James explicitly told him not to harm me, but Peter did not listen." Pam grabbed Remy's hand and squeezed. "James said something about him renigging on their deal, and then Peter just disappeared."
"If you make a deal with a ruler and you do not hold your end of the bargain, you forfeit your soul to them," Pam explained. "It is just odd James placed him here after everything he went through."
Pam frowned. What he went through? As in – what James Hook went through? It caused her mind to race with thoughts. Had Peter been culpable for James’s hand? If so, why would James enter into a deal with a man who marred him for the rest of his life? What could Peter do that others could not? What made him so special?
Whatever it was, a voice pointed out, it probably made him just as dangerous.
Remy agreed but she did not say so. She respected Pam - she even liked the young girl - but she did not completely trust her. Not yet.
"Where will I be staying?" Remy thought it was best to change the subject. Her hands played with the wrinkles of her skirt, and her eyes were on the green pattern. She absolutely detested wearing the same outfit twice, especially in such a short span of time, but with such limited options, she did not have much of a choice. "Hopefully a room with a view of the grass? I've seen the ocean plenty these past few weeks; I'm ready for solid ground."
Pam rolled her eyes at Remy's snobbishness, which was perfectly fine with Remy.
“Pam,” Remy said, and this time, her tone was gentle. Serious, even. She looked at her maid. “I’m going to ask you a direct question, and while I respect the fact that you may not want to answer it, it would mean a lot to me if you did. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately, about the sort of woman I’m becoming and the sort of woman I want to be. I realize I miss my home desperately. I want nothing more than to go home. I know you know I’m not dead, and I wanted to know if, perhaps, you knew of anyone like me. Alive in this place. Is there a way to return home?”
Pam’s eyes flashed, and Remy could tell there was something Pam knew that she was not telling her. Not yet, anyway.
“I” - She shook her head, her eyes starting to water, and for a moment, Remy worried that she offended the young girl in some way. “I was like you. Before.”
Remy furrowed her brow. “I must apologize, Pam,” she said. “I do not know what you mean.”
“Breathers are not supposed to be down here,” Pam explained. “Yet here you are. Everyone knows that Nicholas Grey is also a Breather, but not because he cheated death. He was condemned here, forced to learn a karmic lesson he had not learned on earth. How did you end up here?”
Remy paused, not sure what she should say and what she should keep to herself. As much as she wanted to trust Pam, as much as she liked the girl, something stopped her from divulging too much information. Not necessarily because she did not trust her, but because she did not want to be naïve. How was Remy to know if Pam would not take the information directly to James? What if it was not what he wanted to hear, and it ruined his plans? What would he do then? And, more frightening, what if it was exactly what he wanted to hear, and confirmed information he needed to know?
She cleared her throat. “Nick took me,” she decided to say. It was not a lie, but it was not the truth. “I do not understand the mechanics of how he was able to walk amongst realms, but he saved me from an untimely death and brought me here. The only problem is, now I’m uncertain how to get back, and he doesn’t seem to know, either.”
Pam’s eyes widened. “You were taken, too?” she asked. “It’s my understanding that Breathers can walk through realms because they are tied back to earth. Nick must have the power to do so, but can’t seem to figure out how to get you back.”
“Wait a minute,” Remy said. “You were taken? By whom?”
Pam fa
ltered and Remy watched as her face turned a noticeable shade of pink.
“I suppose it does not matter,” she said after a minute. Her voice was bitter, her eyes even more so. “I am here. I was not supposed to be here, but then something happened, and I died.”
“How” –
“I fell,” Pam said shortly. “And that’s all I’m going to say on that.”
“Pam,” Remy said, sincerity brimming in her tone. “You have no idea how sorry I am to hear that. Is there anything I can do for you? Anything at all?”
“Why would you think you could do anything for me?” Pam all but spat. The carriage pulled up to the house, the horses coming to a stop. “I am here now, and that is all that matters. James gave me this position. I’ve been with him a long time. I’ve seen women come and go. You cannot help me. Please do not even offer my help. You are the last person I would ask help for.”
Remy pressed her lips together but said nothing. She knew Pam was merely reacting to the memories currently flooding in her mind. Despite the length of time she had been here did not mean she still was not fourteen still, at least sometimes. All Remy wanted to do was reach out and hug her, but she refrained. She did not think that would be the wisest of decisions.
“Of course,” Remy said instead. “I apologize.”
Pam’s eyes softened, and she looked at Remy almost regretfully. “I suppose I snapped,” she said. “I’m sorry.” She looked out the door when a man – probably one of James’s butlers – opened the carriage door for them. Instead of leaving, however, she looked back at Remy. “This place is a dark place, Ms. Cutler. People look out for themselves first and foremost. Offering help makes you look weak and pathetic. I tell you this because I’ve come to believe there’s more to you than just your pretty face. It would behoove you to take care. The tides turn quickly here.”
The Neverland Trilogy Box Set Page 33