To be honest, Magda could not believe she had told him all of that. But she was too far gone to stop, and she found she did not actually want to.
“I’m not sorry for kissing you,” she said, “but I am sorry for what it’s done to us.”
“How touching.” A voice interrupted them, a familiar one. Magda immediately tensed, and her hand went to her left hip, ready to remove her cutlass and fight. But she was hit with just her hipbone. She had no weapon. The Spaniard and his men had removed it when they locked her in here with Nick. He was weaponless as well. “Although, I must say, Magdalena, I am surprised to hear that you’ve fallen for a rogue. I always thought you and Hook would end up together, but I suppose I was wrong. Although, maybe you did end up together, and he simply broke your heart after using you for your body, hmm?”
Magda bit the inside of her bottom lip so hard she drew blood. She wanted to react, wanted to scream, but knew it would not do them any good. She had to calm down. She had to keep herself in check if she was to ever get out of here.
“Pan,” Nick said as the voice emerged from the shadows. “I should have known it was – What are you wearing?”
Peter did not dignify Nick’s comment with a response. “We’re fast approaching the Jolly Roger,” he informed them. “Where a Viking came up with something as English as Jolly Roger, I still don’t know. A battle is about to ensue. Many will lose their lives forever. I hope you both will be among the casualties. The reason I have not killed you just yet is I can use you to get to Hook” - he gestured at Magda – “and The Magistrate wants you personally.”
“If The Magistrate wants Nick, she most certainly wants James,” Magda pointed out. “You cannot kill him.”
“I cannot,” Peter agreed, “but if he loses his life in the battle due to being stuck here, in the brig, that is not my concern. Hook will not go without a fight, and I’ve been waiting for this moment for a long while. I just wanted to come down here and see you all myself before you died or I took you to The Magistrate.”
“What about you?” Magda called to his retreating back. Her voice caused him to pause, and he craned his neck to look back at her.
“What do you mean?” he asked, genuinely interested in what she said.
“You’re so intent that I will die, or Nick will die, or even James,” she said. “But you forget, death knows no bounds. What if you are the one who ends up dead?”
Peter looked taken aback by her suggestion, but he brushed it off. “No,” he said, his voice firm. “That will most certainly not happen to me. Peter Pan will not die.”
“But he can,” Magda called after him. But he slammed the door and left them alone to do whatever it was they were going to do.
No matter. Magda wanted to remind him that Peter Pan was not as invincible or as special as he thought.
Twenty-Three
Remy could hear the commotion from the comfort of her room. Immediately, her body tensed and her eyes flashed over to the cutlass, cradled in the corner of her room by a protective sheath. James had given it to her a while ago on the off-chance she would need to use it, and she felt comforted that she had something she could use in order to protect herself should she need to. Her heart started to pound like the beat of a drum, but instead of using that adrenaline, grabbing her weapon, and seeing what was going on, she slowly headed to the door and pressed her ear against the wood, hoping she could overhear what was going on.
Her palms were pressed flat next to her face, and she quieted her breathing as best she could, choosing only to breathe in through her nose and out through her nose, pressing her lips firmly together to keep any noise from coming out. She could feel the wood press against her breasts, could feel the vibrations of her heart run up and down her body through the door. As insane as it sounded, she worried someone might be able to hear her heart, feel her vibrations, and find her.
However, no one came for her. She could hear yelling but could not make it out.
It was then that her eyes caught sight of her window. Under normal circumstances, she kept it shut due to how cold it got at night in her room. Now, however, if she could open it without anyone on deck noticing, she would probably be able to hear what was going on since the helm of the ship was all but adjacent to her room. She pushed off the door and rolled up to the balls of her feet. She did not want the heel of her boots to make any noise on the floor on the chance that someone was nearby.
When she reached her window, she slid to her knees. It was a circular shaped window that only required a push to open it and a pull to close it. There was no lock for it, and it was relatively small, though, if she really wanted to, she could probably slide her body through it. Taking a moment to breathe, Remy then straightened her back and reached up. When her fingers made contact with the cool glass, she snapped back down on her bottom in case anyone saw a window pop open and go check it out. She held her breath, pushed her back against the wall, and waited.
She was not sure how much time passed. However, no one came looking for her and she could distinctly hear a voice talking. No one talked over him. People listened. The voice was familiar. Not only from James’s crew, however. To be honest, it sounded young, inexperienced. In fact, unless she was mistaken, she heard it crack once or twice.
Remy closed her eyes and silenced her breathing once more. That way, she could listen.
"...to reign you in, Captain Hook." The voice was familiar. Remy chewed her bottom lip, trying to remember when she heard it. "Now, if you surrender your ship and your cargo without a fight, I can take you in without killing you. You'll waste away in a prison cell for the rest of forever, with no chance of getting out. Which, for you, sounds like the perfect punishment. What say you?"
"I say, go fuck yourself," James said in his cold, soft spoken voice.
It chilled Remy to the bone, hearing him speak in such a way. It was not even the foul language he used that caused a shiver to grip the edges of her spine, but his tone. He had never spoken to her like that in the entire time she knew him, and for that, she was grateful. Now she understood why he struck fear in even the bravest men and women throughout The Neverland. Now she understood why Captain James Hook filled the nightmares of little boys and girls, why no one chose to go to The Other World, why souls condemned there wanted to serve their penance as quickly as possible. Before, she thought him gentle. Intimidating, yes, but gentle. Hospitable, even. But that was probably because he wanted something from her. There was no guarantee he would be as accommodating as he had been.
You are assuming, ma cher, her mother's voice taunted to her. And you do not give yourself enough credit. If you do not need to worry about it, don't. Worry causes wrinkles and you are much too young to wrinkle.
Remy could not help but smirk at her mother's voice. God, she missed her. She wanted to go home so badly but a small, selfish part of her wanted to explore what happened with James. Wanted to see, if anything, what he felt for her and if it actually mattered. If he refused to act on his feelings - if he had feelings at all - then there would be no point in waiting on him. No, home on earth was her destination, but she reserved the right to change her mind.
"You know why I am here, do you not?" the familiar voice asked, and though Remy could not see him, she could detect a smile in the speaker's tone. "Of course, you do. I'm here for the girl."
"And what do you need her for?" James asked. Remy had to close her eyes to hear him because of how soft his voice was. That, and it sounded like it had started to rain.
"Why, the same reason you need her," the voice said. His voice was louder and easier to distinguish. "To collect souls. Tell me, have you told her the risk it poses to her? Or have you charmed her into not caring? I know how you employ your looks and your charm to get women to do whatever you want, even at the cost of something most precious. Have you told her that by helping you, the chances of returning to her life before this one diminishes? Or is that something you've withheld? I'm going to assume it's the latter beca
use I'm positive she wants to be home much more than she wants to help you, regardless of how charming and good looking you are."
Remy felt like her heart was punched. Using her would cause her to forfeit any plans she had to go home? Certainly James did not know about the risks. Certainly he would not do that to her, not when he knew all she wanted to do was return home. Maybe she would change her mind. Maybe she might actually come to call this place home, but that would be her decision, something she had to come up with on her own time. Something she needed to come up with on her own. Not something he forced upon her.
Maybe it was not true. Maybe this person was trying to get under James’s skin by using her to do so. That might be a possibility as well.
Right?
“What I’ve told Ms. Cutler is none of your concern,” James said. “What is my concern is how you were able to escape from The Other World.”
Pan.
The pirate was Peter Pan. No wonder his voice sounded so sinister. So familiar.
Remy felt the insides of her body turn cold. She did not like to admit that she was afraid, but she was. Peter Pan frightened her, and she hoped they would get out of this attack with their lives.
“How do you think?” Pan asked, and though Remy could not see him, she knew he was grinning. Like the child he was. “I had help. Powerful help.”
“The Magistrate.”
“She knows what you’re up to, you know,” Pan said, and Remy tried to keep up with the back and forth going on between the two. “She knows you wish to see her dethroned so you can take over her position. It will not work.”
“Because she has you?” James sounded doubtful, and she could picture the look on his face as if she could see him – the furrowed brow, the humoring smirk. She always hated that look, and she was certain Pan would not be fond of it either. “That’s a laugh. I did not know you had a sense of humor.”
“You better watch yourself,” Pan said. “The Magistrate gave me leave to kill that girl, and I have no qualms about doing it in front of you.”
Remy swallowed and she could feel her skin pale.
“I do not believe you for a second,” James said, and Remy could not tell whether or not he believed him. “If The Magistrate gave you leave to kill Remy, you would have done so the first time. The Magistrate needs Remy in the same way I need her.”
“Remy?” Pan sounded amused. “I did not realize how close the two of you were. Tell me, have you developed feelings for the girl? I know she is a nice thing to look at, but she’s a Breather and you’re… Well, you’re dead.”
“I don’t suppose a child would understand the complications of the heart,” James countered.
Remy’s breath caught in her throat. Was he saying he agreed with Pan, that he actually had feelings for her, or was he trying to goad him by calling Pan a child?
Stop thinking about that, Remy chided herself. Focus. Think about what they are saying. What are they saying? More importantly, what aren't they saying?
Pam had said a boy that knew how to fly had taken her from her home with the promise of a life of no responsibilities. Her mind started to run wild as her head started to hurt. What James said did not make sense now that Remy knew what she knew. Peter did not need Remy if he could pluck people from their life on earth and bring them to The Neverland. If Breathers attracted souls, then Peter did not need her at all and would undoubtedly kill her should he get the chance. And not for any personal vendetta against her, but because he wanted to hurt James.
"I should have known The Magistrate was behind this," James said, and she could hear the smile clearly in his words. "Did she place you as dock master as well?"
"I'm surprised you noticed my role," Peter returned. "Seeing as how you don't particularly care about anything that does not have to do with increasing your power in some way or another. To answer your question, no, surprisingly enough she had nothing to do with my placement after you banished me to your realm. I was placed as your dock master by someone else. Someone close to you."
Remy could hear her heart pound in her ears. She pressed her lips together to hear them over it.
"I already know of the individual you are referring to," James said, and his was so nonchalant about it, Remy could actually picture him flicking his wrist as though dismissing it out of turn. "If you are trying to cause a reaction, you failed."
"Yes, well then it's a good thing that was not actually my intention," Pan said, and he seemed indifferent about the issue as well. Almost as though he were rolling his eyes. "It is important that you know I have more power than you give me credit for. I infiltrated your home, the very place you are supposed to feel safe. Not only that, I helped a man get through the castle walls after receiving detailed blueprints and descriptions of your castle and your hostage from the same individual who posted me at your docks. Of course, he did not succeed, but what matter is it to me? I also escaped from you, from The Other World, and now here I am, with my own ship and my own crew of men of my choosing. You and I are equal now, you see."
"Ah, but Peter," James said, his voice twinkling with merriment, "if you truly had power, you would not need me to give you credit." He cleared his throat. "No more jests, now. Why are you here, really? What do you want from me?"
"I'm here to take your hostage," Peter told him. "I'm here to kill you and your men and take your hostage."
Remy’s heart slammed into her chest and then stopped beating altogether. She wished it were not true, that she was afraid for her own life on top of James’s, but she could not help but feel that way. Why would Peter need to take her? It did not make any sense. When he had her the first time, he used her for information, torturing her until she broke. Luckily for her, she had been rescued before she gave anything significant away. However, she had nearly reached her breaking point, if she were being honest.
It did give her perspective, though. She was stronger than she believed herself to be, and she had a reasonably high tolerance for pain. She was more than a pretty face, more than the corsets and debuts and arranged marriages. She could take care of herself, if she really and truly needed to. It was okay to rely on others for help just as long as she trusted those that were helping.
Peter wanted her. But why? She strained her ears to listen while her eyes caught sight of her cutlass. James had given it to her as a way to practice self-defense. She had no formal training with it, but at the very least, it was something.
“Over my dead body,” James said, and Remy could hear the snarl in his soft voice. It was a completely different sound from him, one she did not mind hearing.
“That’s the point,” Peter retorted.
There was silence, and then –
Clanging metal. Cannons going off. Shouts and screams. Splashes of water. Remy could not see anything, but she knew she could not stay here. She was a sitting duck, a target. Her father had been a member of the royal navy before he was a merchant and knew strategy and tactics like no one before him. Remy had never really paid him much attention, but certain things had trickled into her head.
Such as the fact that sitting around and waiting to be found was akin to suicide. As such, she knew she needed to leave, but not without a weapon. Still lying low, she crawled over to the cutlass and took it in her hand. Luckily, she was already in a tunic and trousers. The only issue was, she had no belt to harness it, which meant she would be down one hand because it would be holding onto her weapon.
It did not matter. She needed the weapon more than a free hand.
She headed to the door and slowly – as to not draw any attention to herself – attempted to open the door.
It was locked.
She tried again.
Still locked.
Someone locked her in. It did not matter whom. What mattered was getting out now.
Her eyes scanned her room, looking for something, anything, to help her with her escape, but she could see no tools that would assist her.
Up until her eyes rested o
n the window.
Twenty-Four
The minute the cannon burst through the brig straight across the room and out the other side, Magdalena knew a battle had begun. She stared at the hole with her mouth open, not fully believing what she had just seen. The holes were nowhere near her and Nick, but she could not help but feel her whole body shaking at the thought of what could have happened had the ball been more life threatening. The splintering of the wood still rang in her ears; the whoosh of the ball as it hurtled toward the ship. Her mouth hung open and she did not even realize it until she felt go dry.
“Something’s happened,” Nick pointed out, and Magda wanted to slap him.
Obviously, something had happened. Something big and potentially life-threatening. Her heart started hammering away, and she wondered why her body was reacting this way when it had never done so before. She and James had gotten into their fair share of battles, but never before had Magda worried that this might be her undoing, that this battle was the one that could end her life. She had no weapon, no way out of this cell. She was – they both were – completely useless and utterly out of control.
She hated the feeling.
Perhaps that was why she was having an uncharacteristic reaction.
Her midnight blue eyes collided with Nick’s brown ones, and she stopped. No, that was not the whole reason. Or even the best reason.
She understood everything now, as she looked into his brown eyes, her entire body reacting to the sight of him. It wasn’t this battle. It wasn’t the screams she could hear, the pounding footsteps, the cries, the splash of water as bodies entered the ocean, both alive and dead. It wasn’t the fact that she might die. It wasn’t the fact that she did not truly know where a fairy’s soul went once they died here, and the great Unknown scared her more than anything to the point where she refused to admit it, especially to herself.
The Neverland Trilogy Box Set Page 42