Trapped by Neverland

Chapter Three

In Which Questionable Comestibles are Encountered

Agasp ripped out of Wendy as she spun to face the threat.

Lounging against a barrel tethered to the deck, Hook smirked at her in the light of the lantern swaying above his head.

How dare he look so at ease on his own ship! The sheer nerve of that man.

Silently seething and two seconds from giving him a sizable piece of her mind, Wendy took an angry step forward, only to be stopped by a sharp tug. She looked down to discover her skirt stuck on a large splinter. A small rip had formed. “Oh dear,” she said with genuine concern.

The handsome villain straightened to examine the tear. “That was my late mother’s.”

Her mouth fell open, and only one word squeaked out. “Really?”

“No.”

An indignant “Uhh!” came out at full volume, and Wendy threw the lantern at Hook, forgetting for a crucial second what she held in her hand. The wicked pirate caught the handle deftly with his hook, impressing her against her will. That irritation fueled her retort, “That’s not funny!”

His eyebrows lifted and dropped in a sort of facial shrug as he tilted his head. “I enjoyed it.”

Another aggravated huff left her lips. “You would.”

He stalked two steps forward to loom over her, losing whatever modicum of humor had come out to play. “Care to explain why you’re stealing my yawl?”

Wendy told herself that her increased heart rate had everything to do with the threat the villain presented and nothing to do with the pleasant whiff of soap and salt that lingered about his person.

“Why does anybody steal anything?” she snarked, folding her arms, then immediately uncrossing them to disguise her edginess.

As she watched, the hostility shifted into something she couldn’t as easily identify.

“In my experience, people steal things for a few different reasons.” He still hadn’t stepped back, and the simple words were almost tangible in the tiny space between them. “Personal gain seems to be the usual motive.” His broad shoulders drew her eye as he rolled them back. Then he lifted his hand and held it by her face. “Other folks are in it for the thrill.”

Wendy stopped breathing as he ran a finger down her cheek with the word “thrill.” The zing that followed his finger lingered as he leaned even closer to say, “And then there’s the desperate ones.”

He squinted a little as he searched her eyes. “Which are you?”

Wendy’s lips parted, but no words came.

Something shuttered behind Hook’s eyes. He straightened, raising his hook so the lantern hung between them. “Do you need an escort back to your accommodations?” Before she could huff yet again, he added blandly, “We wouldn’t want you to get lost.”

“I’ll be fine,” Wendy said through gritted teeth.

She snatched at the lantern, but the curve of the captain’s hook caught and she tugged his arm forward. Wendy was mortified, but Hook simply twisted his arm a bit to release the handle.

An apology hovered on her lips, destined to never be spoken as a shout from the crow’s nest drew their eyes upward.

“Fire off the starboard beam!”

Looking up, she saw a pale arm sticking out over the crow’s nest wall and pointing to something behind her. She looked at Hook, who had already turned his attention to the ocean off the right side of the ship. Swiveling, she peered into the darkness. At first, nothing could be distinguished from her angle; then the clouds over the moon moved away, revealing a ship in distress.

Wendy gasped and rushed to stand at the railing closest to the disaster in progress. She heard Hook sound the alarm. The pounding of running feet filtered to her brain as she watched the smoke billow up from the smaller craft. Now and then, flames became visible, but the bulk of the fire seemed to be belowdecks. For now.

As she watched, the Jolly Roger moved closer, bringing the full scene into view. The wind shifted, bringing the smell of smoke. They could hear the fire roaring and, more alarming, two distinct wails. From behind, she heard Hook shout, fully in command of the rescue efforts. Wendy couldn’t tear her eyes away from the family that became fully visible as the flames erupted through the deck.

Against the terrible illumination, she could see a woman clutching a crying baby and a man holding a young child. The man alternated between waving his free arm at the Jolly Roger and trying to herd his wife toward safety. The swiftly sloping deck complicated things.

Wendy stared with unblinking eyes, wishing she could help but knowing she would only get in the way. Faster than she thought possible, the yawl from the Jolly Roger had been deployed. With cold fingers clamped to the railing, she watched as Hook, the fiddler, and a large, blond crew member rowed the small boat into position. The sea obliged their efforts with gentle waves, and first the toddler, then the mother and baby were soon passed into the hands of the crew.

But when the father moved to join them, the sinking ship lurched, and he lost his grip. Icy panic shot through Wendy as his head hit the railing. Hook must have been prepared for this possibility, because he was in the water seconds after the injured man slipped beneath the surface. After an endless, breathless moment, both heads broke the water. Hands reached to pull the pair on board, and the sounds of crying, yelling, and general chaos met Wendy’s ears again.

The band around her chest loosened as the unconscious man was placed in the bottom of the boat. Hook had secured himself by hooking his prosthetic into the wood and bobbed patiently until his men could assist him. It was too dark to truly make out his face, but she thought he looked unfazed.

The return trip to the Jolly Roger was less frantic. At the ship, the crew insisted that Hook climb up first. Wendy saw his brief scowl in the lantern light, but he didn’t waste time arguing. At the top, he immediately turned to reach for the toddler, disregarding protests that he needed to dry off.

The young mother eyed the robust, blond man like a basilisk as he handed her child up to Hook. The babe in her arms fussed louder, so she soothed the infant as well as she could as she continued to stare at the strange man holding her oldest. Hook barely held the small boy before passing him to Wendy and moved to help his crew lift the injured man onto the deck. This seemed to relieve the mother, who relaxed and allowed herself to be helped aboard.

The young one in Wendy’s arms clung to her at first, then began fretting in earnest when he perceived that she wasn’t his mother. Wendy started the arm bounce that still came naturally after so many years with her much younger brothers. She shifted slightly away from the dramatic scene in an attempt to prevent the child from seeing the blood that dripped from his father’s head.

“Hush now, little one. It’s not so bad,” she said, using her calmest voice. “Your mama and daddy are here, and I bet we can find a snack. Would you like that?”

Tears still welled in the boy’s large brown eyes, but he sniffled and half-hiccupped/half-nodded. Over his head, Wendy saw one of the younger crew members, a mousy looking boy wearing riding boots, lurking nearby. He stuffed his hand in one of his vest pockets and pulled out a cookie. After glancing at it and brushing off a bit of lint, he offered the treat to the child.

Not worried about food of dubious origins, the toddler slowly stretched out his hand to accept it before pulling it back to his chest with decent speed.

“How kind,” Wendy said, keeping her voice low. “My name is Wendy. What’s yours?”

Tousled curls brushed across her jaw as their owner buried his face in her neck.

“I’m Phillip!” volunteered the half-grown pirate.

“And he’s Phillip. See, everybody has a name. I’d like to know yours, please,” she prodded.

The boy murmured something into her neck.

“Oggy?” Wendy asked, fairly certain that wasn’t what he had said.

He repeated his name but didn’t move away.

She switched to silliness. “Wagga wagga bing bong?”

“No!” The child giggled into her hair, then enunciated his name in two parts. “AD-LI.”

“Ohhh, Adli. What a lovely name.”

By this time, the crew had rigged up a stretcher for Adli’s father and were gingerly moving him elsewhere. His mother hovered in the background at first, clearly torn between following her injured husband and snatching her eldest from the arms of a stranger.

Wendy tried to alleviate some of the worry. “Do you like stories, Adli? My little brothers love stories, so I know quite a few.”

“Story?” The timid voice of interest was accompanied by a glimpse of his face.

Wendy, who had been scanning the deck for a suitable spot to settle in for story time, nodded. Guessing that her audience hailed from Sharamil, she said, “How about the Pied Piper? Do you know that one?”

An odd gurgle came from his mother, but when Wendy glanced over, the woman seemed to be hiding a smile.

“Let’s sit here on this crate,” Wendy said. She plopped the boy on a box that was hemmed in on two sides by taller containers and positioned herself to prevent falling or escaping. A convenient lantern provided a warm glow. Phillip dropped to the deck nearby, crossing his legs and settling in to listen.

Adli’s mother stayed for “Once upon a time,” then hurried in the direction the crew had disappeared with her husband.

Three stories, seven nursery rhymes, and a passingly melodic attempt at a lullaby later, Wendy looked away from her increasingly sleepy charge—who wore more cookie than he had consumed—to gauge the approaching dawn. At some point, her audience had grown to include Davi, Tam, and the blond man with a baby face who had helped row the rescue boat, in addition to Phillip, who she now recognized as the lookout.

Her surprise at so many young people on the crew hardened into cynicism as the night transitioned to early morning. Naturally, a scum bucket like Hook would want a young crew; they would be easier to indoctrinate in the ways of piracy. His recent heroic actions didn’t fit nicely with the strictly evil pirate profile she had built in her mind, but she ignored that as she tried to ignore the emptiness of her belly. Regular meals were something she hadn’t appreciated fully until she left home.

And if she hadn't left home, the boys wouldn't be in danger. Adli let out a soft snore, and Wendy let whatever nonsensical thing she had been murmuring fade to nothing. A cup appeared in front of her bleary eyes.

“Oh! Thank you,” she said to the blond crew member, who had soaked in her stories.

He waited until she took a sip of the water, then nodded and walked away. As the cool liquid soothed her dry throat, Wendy realized the rest of her audience had stopped listening at some point. Davi and Phillip were sleeping, the younger leaning against a barrel and the teen curled up at her feet. Tam was nowhere to be seen.

She set the cup on the crate and rested her head against the container at her back, closing her eyes.

“If you can carry Adli for me, I will take him off your hands.”

Wendy opened her eyes to see the young mother. Strain twisted the woman’s smile, but Wendy thought exhaustion played a bigger role than worry. “How is your husband?”

“He woke soon after they transferred him to the sick bay.” The babe in her arms made a sleepy gurgle.

“Is he there now?” Wendy asked as she wiggle-worked her way off the crate with Adli in her arms.

“No, the captain placed us in his quarters.”

Wendy raised both eyebrows at this, but the woman had already turned to lead the way. The growing dawn helped her cross the deck with the sturdy toddler in hand. Much as she wanted to snoop around Hook’s quarters, which were tidier and more spacious than she would have expected, Wendy merely helped situate the children with their parents, then hastened to her own accommodations.

Back in her cell, Wendy paced. Concern for her brothers occupied most of her thoughts, but increasingly irritated complaints about Hook played a part, as well.

“If John accidentally gives himself away, will Peter kill Michael, too, just in case?” Wendy scrubbed at her face with both hands.

“John is the best secret-keeper; it’ll be fine.” She twirled to pace the other direction.

“If that dumb pirate wasn’t so busy saving people from fires, I could be talking with the naval police by now.” Restless fingers plucked at her borrowed gown.

“John wouldn’t say anything to Michael, right?” She chewed on the inside of her cheek. “He knows better than that.

“Uhh!” Wendy threw her hands in the air, then flopped onto the bed. “It smells like fish in here. Stupid pirate.”

Eventually, she fell into a fitful doze. The early afternoon sun hitting her face woke her up. Or maybe it was the heft of the deceptively small cat loafed on her chest. As soon as they made eye contact, the cat jumped down. The loss of the weight was both a relief and a disappointment. Wendy wished she could have feigned sleep a little longer to enjoy the comforting pressure.

Feeling only slightly better after her nap—and of a mind to share her vexation with others—she stomped abovedeck to find a target for her ire. The sun hurt her eyes, and the breeze tangled her hair. Everyone went about their work as if they didn’t care that she was in a mood.

Tam approached her after she tripped on a rope, then kicked the offending coil as hard as she could. “Have you eaten today?”

Wendy’s hands flew to her hips. “Of course I haven’t! I don’t know where the galley is or even what time meals are served around here.” Her foot ached, but she attempted to tone down the surliness because Tam had been the nicest to her so far. If his expression was anything to go by, she failed.

He backed away, then nodded and hurried off. Wendy returned to sit in the niche she and Adli had inhabited for most of the night. Setting her back to the bulk of the crew, she pulled her knees up to her chest and glared at the agitated waves.

“Here.”

She looked over to see Tam placing a very full plate and a cup of water nearby. He pushed it closer, then vanished behind some crates. “Thank you,” she called in his wake.

The food was devoured in short order, and Wendy relaxed against her makeshift backrest. The sun warmed her face, and the delightful breeze kept her from overheating. The sounds of industry provided a pleasing background as she watched the sun sparkle off the playful waves.

A mischievous giggle dragged her eyes toward the disheveled curls poking out from behind a large coil of rope. In the distance, she heard a woman calling for Adli. Dark eyes peeked above the rim of his hiding place, then dropped beneath with another laugh.

Moving slowly so as not to alert her prey, Wendy sauntered over to the toddler’s sanctuary. When she was close, she reached down and hoisted the child into her arms.

His giggles turned to a shriek in an instant. Then he turned to look at her and cried, “Wenny!”

“You, too?” Wendy returned his smile. “Let’s go find your mama, sneaky boy.”

“Mama!” Adli agreed.

It wasn’t hard to find the boy’s mother. She was searching around a pile of tarped cargo while her husband held the baby and spoke with Hook, who looked disgustingly affable.

“We can take you as far as Buala, if that is acceptable,” the annoyingly elegant pirate was saying. The smile on his face was charming and did funny things to her insides.

The other man switched the baby to his right arm and said, “That is more than we can ask for. Thank you.”

Wendy didn’t hear any more as Adli yelled for his mother. The woman placed a hand on her heart and sighed.

“Thank you for returning my naughty child.” She caught the boy as he launched himself from Wendy’s arms. “I never introduced myself last night. My name is Rahma.” She smiled with expectation.

“Oh, right, I’m Wendy. Nice to meet you.”

They walked the few steps over to Rahma’s husband and the captain.

“Are you the lady of the ship, Wendy?”

Hook arched a black eyebrow and curled his lip in a sneer. Wendy huffed in offense at his reaction, then shook her head at Rahma. “Not at all.”

A knowing smile crossed the older woman’s lips. “So it’s like that, is it?”

“It’s not like anything!” Wendy hotly denied.

Rahma hummed a tactful response and invited Wendy to take a walk around the deck with her. Wanting to get as far away from Hook as possible, Wendy agreed.

Adli grabbed Wendy’s hand, and Rahma took the baby from her husband. Half-expecting to be grilled about her non-relationship with the captain, the first half of the stroll was mildly awkward for Wendy. But Rahma seemed to be content with letting the conversation be a gentle chat about nothing much. Adli interjected from time to time with somewhat comprehensible baby babble about everything he could see.

Around their second lap, Wendy worked up the courage to ask how their ship caught on fire.

A grim smile slid across Rahma’s face. “My husband was not a good man when I met him. Some of his past choices paid us a visit.”

“Oh.” Wendy didn’t really know where to go with that.

Fortunately, Rahma’s husband appeared then and announced that it was naptime for Adli and the baby. Wendy passed off the toddler and said goodbye to the little family.

Too restless to take another nap herself, Wendy wandered aimlessly for a bit. When she came upon young Davi learning how to mend sails, she had an idea. Davi’s teacher was a man in his thirties who sported the intricate neck tattoos common to certain Jocestrian islands. When asked, he lent her the smallest needle and the finest thread he had in his supplies. They weren’t suited for embroidery, but Wendy made it work.

As she repaired the tear in the purple dress, she listened to the lesson. She learned that the man—who looked like a decades-younger version of Smee—was named Maaka. He instructed the youth with patience and a quiet sense of humor. Neither Maaka nor Davi included her in the conversation, but they didn’t seem bothered by her presence, either. Davi might have spoken with her if he wasn’t so intent on his lesson.

The rip in her dress took longer with the bulky thread because she had to be more deliberate with her stitches, but when it was done, the sun was still high in the sky. Taking a chance, she offered to help with the sails. Davi instantly passed over the sail he was practicing on. Maaka looked surprised, then repeated the necessary parts of the lesson again.

As they worked and her companions became more familiar with her presence, she asked questions. She started with very general questions about how the sails were made and what the weather was normally like on the ocean this time of year. From there, she segued to asking how long it would take to reach Buala. Davi didn’t know. Maaka told her they could expect to arrive by noon tomorrow, Fortuna willing.

Having discovered what she needed to know, Wendy was happy to let Davi direct the conversation after that. He wanted to know how she knew so many stories. This eventually led to questions about her brothers. She avoided any mention of their current situation but regaled the pair with tales of the boys’ mischief over the years.

When evening rolled around, Davi invited her to eat dinner with him and the other first-shifters. She followed him to the galley she hadn’t bothered to search for and was pleased to find Rahma and her family there. Hook was nowhere to be found, which mostly pleased Wendy. An odd twinge of disappointment remained.

Adli entertained the diners with his antics. Wendy remembered her brothers doing similar things at that age. She laughed along with the others, even as her heart squeezed with worry. She made her excuses fairly early, intending to plot tomorrow’s escape.

The cat lay stretched across her cot when she returned to her cell.

“Well, hello to you, too,” she quipped as she set her lantern on its hook.

Only a minor tail-flick indicated awareness from the gray-and-orange lump of fur.

“Since you’re here, you get to play the part of listening ear.”

Wendy waited for a response but didn’t get one. As expected.

She rubbed her hands together and started pacing again. “My brothers are stuck in Neverland with a madman.”

The cat rolled over.

“We are stopping in Buala tomorrow.” Running out of room, she spun to pace the other way. “Buala isn’t a huge port, but it should have at least one representative of the naval police there.”

The only reply to this was a new position that would have impressed a contortionist as the feline decided to bathe its hind leg in a manner that mocked gravity.

Wendy blinked at the cat. “Right.” She shook out her hands. “A representative should be able to help me get to a larger station, yeah? Oooh.” Her body lurched as her feet stopped moving abruptly. “But what if George reported us as runaways?”

Faint licking sounds filled her pause.

“Would that make them more inclined to believe me, or less?”

Now that the cat wasn’t spread out as far, Wendy dropped to a seat on the end of the cot. She dropped her head in her hands.

“What am I going to do if no one believes me? And let’s be frank”—she lifted her face to address the cat—“most people love the idea of Peter Pan, but I doubt most adults still consider him a real person.”

Switching from its legs to licking a front paw and swiping it over and across one ear, the cat continued to ignore Wendy.

“And Peter himself admitted to me that no one ever lands on the island because a kitsune messes with time when that happens. He must have another faery that adjusts memories, too,” she mused.

The second ear received its share of the attention.

“I’m not sure how all that works. Or how we got to Neverland, actually.” Wendy sat up straight and frowned. “Why can’t I remember how we got there?”

She stood to pace some more. The cat protested the abrupt movement with a soft chirp.

“Why haven’t I ever wondered how we got there?!” She tugged on her hair. “Something or someone has messed with my mind! This is horrible.”

After some frenetic pacing that did nothing to slow her mind, Wendy finally stopped in the middle of the cell and took a long, deliberate breath. “I can’t change what happened, and I can’t worry about all the details I can’t fix right now.” She looked to the cat for confirmation. “Right?”

Ostensibly satisfied with its level of cleanliness, the beast stood and stretched in a full back arch.

“Right,” Wendy said to herself. “I need to focus on the first step.”

The cat hopped off the bed, wound through the bars, and trotted out the door that Wendy had left cracked when she saw it in the cell.

“Wait a minute, that door was closed this morning. How did you . . .” She trailed off. “Never mind.”

Dropping to the cot, Wendy laid on her back and folded her hands across her stomach. “What is the first step?”

Night had fallen fully by this point. Her mildly rocking lantern created hypnotic shadows.

“I suppose the first step is getting off this ship,” she murmured.

Each blink lasted longer than the last.

“I should be able to walk across the gangplank when we make port tomorrow.” But since Hook seemed to exist purely to make her life more difficult, Wendy knew she had more planning to do. She barely remembered to tend to the lantern before falling asleep plotting alternate methods of egress.

*****

The next morning, Wendy slept in. Breakfast had surely come and gone. That wasn’t part of her plan, and it set the tone in a bad way.

Leq still hadn’t returned, and Disa was off doing who-knew-what instead of helping her. It wasn’t like any other sheeries were on board, so she knew he wasn’t hanging with his buddies or trying to court a female.

The two buckets of dirty water had disappeared that first night. Wendy was dying for more water to remove the salty stickiness that clung to her person. No way was she going to ask that pirate for anything, though. She settled for combing out her hair with great thoroughness. Then she painstakingly braided her hair without a mirror, twisting the sleep-flattened waves into a partial crown that should keep most of it contained.

When she was finally ready, she emerged from the dark hallway, only to be welcomed on deck by a sun-induced headache. Squinting against the glare, she stalked toward what she was beginning to think of as her spot. From there, she could keep an eye on the gangplank whenever they made port.

An unfortunately situated seagull flew off with an indignant squawk when she flapped her arm at it. Checking the space for droppings, Wendy flomped into her seat and crossed her arms. Looking forward, she could see a dark line on the horizon. The sails were full, and it seemed that Maaka’s prediction of a noon arrival might be accurate.

“But how would I know? I’m not a sailor,” she groused.

As the late-morning sun crept toward its zenith, the smudge of land became clearer and clearer. A smaller port than Malu, Buala still boasted a good handful of ships along the piers. Wendy’s hopes grew at the sight. Someone there must be able (and willing!) to help her.

The closer the Jolly Roger drew toward shore, the more activity she observed from the crew. Instructions were good-naturedly shouted back and forth as they prepared to unload the few passengers. She caught sight of Rahma and her family doing their best to stay out of the way. Adli squirmed in his father’s arms, alternating between pointing at everything and trying to get down.

Seeing an opportunity, Wendy slapped on a pleasant expression and casually wandered over to the family. Adli unknowingly played into her hand by launching himself at her when she drew near.

“Hello, Adli. Would you like another story?”

The boy’s enthusiastic “Yes!” garnered a smile from both his parents. Rahma mouthed a thank-you as Wendy began a tale involving toads and diamonds.

With his hands free, Adli’s father stepped in to help the crew finish the last-minute tasks. Before Wendy’s story had fully reached the moral, the ship had dropped anchor and the gangplank was moved into position. Over Maaka’s shoulder, she saw Hook narrowing his eyes at her. Pretending not to notice, Wendy meandered a little farther away as she concluded the story.

“Kitty!” Adli strained over Wendy’s shoulder.

A soft tail bumped against her heels. “Yes, that’s a kitty,” Wendy said. She twisted to address the cat. “I don’t suppose you would be willing to create a distraction, would you?”

A large, fang-filled yawn answered her.

“I thought not.”

By now, it was time to disembark. Hook went first to talk to the port official who was walking toward them on the pier. Wendy stuck close to Rahma, keeping the woman between herself and Hook. She planned to walk with the family as far as they would let her. If no one from the Jolly Roger protested, she would keep walking to the naval police station. If the alarm was raised, she was confident she could lose the crew in the tiny alleys that always riddled this sort of place.

A small delay caused by some confusion over which parcels were staying and which had been gifted to the family had her dancing in place. She tried to play it off as a game to entertain Adli. When the way was finally clear, she took her first step toward freedom. The toddler was promptly removed from her arms and handed to his father.

She gasped, then looked up to find Hook at her side. Somehow, she had lost track of him. As soon as he turned his head to answer a question from one of his crew, she tried to slip down the gangplank anyway. Her attempt at sidling ended when the cat appeared under her feet and Wendy landed on her rear.

“Why, thank you, Mirai,” Hook said to the fiend twining around his ankles. “As intelligent as you are beautiful.”

“Traitor,” Wendy hissed.

Hook then reached down in a move that probably looked kind from afar and hoisted her up. Once her feet were under her again, Wendy darted toward the pier. Her forward momentum was stopped with a jolt. At her back, she could feel the cold metal of his hook holding onto the ribbon that adjusted the waistline of the dress. Before she could think her way out, he turned his arm—which twisted the fabric tighter and ensured she couldn’t leave—then pulled her close to his side.

On the pier, Rahma turned back to wave goodbye. Seeing what no doubt looked like an embrace from her perspective, she winked at Wendy. Moments later, Rahma’s family was on their way and the crew of the Jolly Roger had reversed all their landing preparations. Only when the shore was out of reach did Hook release her.

Wendy planted her hand on his chest and shoved. He didn’t budge, so she stepped back, pretending that had been her purpose all along. “What is your problem?! You don’t want me here, so why won’t you let me leave?”

Hook adjusted the cuff around his prosthetic. “I don’t trust you.”

Wendy spoke through clenched teeth, “Which sounds like even more reason to let me go!”

“After you’ve had unrestricted access to my ship for three days? I don’t think so.” He glanced at her face, then looked out at the ocean.

“Unrestricted?! And whose fault is that?” She rested her fists on her hips and lifted her chin. “Besides, what exactly do you think I’ve been doing with my ‘unrestricted access’? ’Cause I haven’t exactly been poking my nose in your business.” Wendy pursed her lips and blinked at him.

Hook looked back and paused, seemingly considering her words. “Clearly you are waiting for me to let my guard down.” For the first time in their acquaintance, he sounded almost uncertain.

“I may as well wait for rain to fall up,” she snarked.

“I’ve actually seen that,” a voice from the crowd muttered.

Suddenly reminded they had an audience, Hook stood taller, regaining his normal cockiness. “This discussion would be better carried out in private.” Wendy made a face. “Join me in my quarters after you’ve eaten. I would prefer to speak with you when you can be civil.”

He left her staring after him with her mouth hanging open. She shut it when she saw Davi watching her with wide eyes. Crossing her arms tightly, she very forcefully imagined numerous misfortunes befalling the Jolly Roger’s captain. The rest of the crew drifted off to their duties.

A tug on her sleeve drew her gaze down.

“You should be nicer to the cap’n,” Davi stated. “He’s good.”

Large, serious eyes met hers. “I’ll try,” she choked out.

Her stomach complained audibly, which made the young boy grin. “And you should eat. Cap’n’s always right.”

He led her by the hand to the galley. Wendy went willingly, unable to deny her hunger but still cranky about it.

Everything bothered her as she followed Davi belowdecks. The hallway was too cramped. The cook needed to shave. She almost dropped the food because the plate was passed to her poorly.

By the time she returned her empty dish to the cook, she had begun to feel better about life in general. This sense of contentment brought with it the unwelcome realization that Hook might be onto something when he connected her crankiness with a lack of food.

“How unfortunate,” Wendy muttered as she left the galley.

She stopped by her cell before heading to the captain’s quarters, with the vague idea that the fork from her first meal might work as a weapon. The fork and plate were missing.

“Ah, I forgot.” The dishes had vanished with the buckets of dirty water that first night. It seemed Tam’s promise that nobody would enter her space without permission was being upheld. Nothing else had been touched in the cell, as far as she could tell.

Steeling herself to face the devilish captain, she ran a hand over her intact braid. At least that was in her favor. “Darn you, Disa.”

“Why?” The low-pitched voice sounded in her ear.

“Where have you been?” Wendy tried to mask the anxiety, but her voice squeaked a bit.

“Playing with Adli.”

“This whole time?” Wendy tilted her head and gave him the look that worked on wayward brothers.

“And nappin’?” Disa bobbed in the air.

“Is that a question or an answer?”

Disa whizzed around her head once. “An answer. I was nappin’.”

“Only napping?” she asked with suspicion.

Rapid blinking preceded a “Yes” so patently untrue that Wendy resigned herself to looking for a stash of buttons or whatever other small, shiny items the sheerie could pilfer socked somewhere around her quarters. Sometimes she wondered if Disa was part magpie.

She shook her head and waved a hand as she turned for the door. That would have to be dealt with later. “I’m meeting with Hook in his quarters. I need you to come with me. Invisibly.”

“Okay!”

Wendy paused at the door so Disa could land on her shoulder. She could see his blue glow from the corner of her eye. “Start now, please.”

He blinked out of sight. “Good?”

“Good. Now, if I tell you to, or if you think I’m in danger, go get Tam or Davi. Do you know who they are?”

“Tam from Neverland. Davi with the big eyes.”

“Right.” Wendy sighed, then squared her shoulders.

One hallway from her destination, she realized she hadn’t asked Disa to check on Leq’s whereabouts. A handy quirk of sheerie-dom was the ability to know where any of their kind were at any given time. As long as Disa knew which sheerie Wendy wanted to locate, he could tell her where they were. Sort of. Unless Disa had been there before and could name the place, he could only describe what he saw of his fellow sheerie’s surroundings. Wendy wasn’t entirely certain how it worked, but any detail about Leq would be welcome.

She rounded the corner and slowed her steps. Up ahead, the door to Hook’s quarters was ajar. Wendy swallowed twice, unable to dislodge the sudden sensation of her heart in her throat. The flutter felt more like excitement than she wanted to admit. The ship must have hit a larger wave or something, because the door swung open more as she approached.

Smee and Hook were tinkering with the obscenely large prosthetic attached to Hook’s wrist. Really, does it need to be that big? And does it need to be a hook? Wouldn’t another shape be more useful? Wendy didn’t have time to contemplate more advantageous limb shapes, as Hook caught sight of her and swiftly tugged the ruffled lace cuff of his shift into place again.