Chapter Five

Which Includes a Cold-Blooded Reptile

“Sophus is the only Lost Boy I know who reached adulthood without escaping from Pan first. Somehow, he convinced Pan that he has always been loyal to the core. He and his crew supply Neverland with the goods that aren’t produced on the island.”

Wendy nodded. That explained some of the glassware, weapons, and other incongruous treasures she hadn’t thought much about at the time.

“Here we go,” Kalaakaar said to himself.

The captain called orders to the men, who began messing with the sails and ropes and things. Below, Tam pointed something out to Davi. Wendy couldn’t tell what they were looking at, aside from the northeastern edge of Jocestria, that is. As the ship slowed to navigate around a number of sea stacks that were on the smallish end of the pointy-rocks-sticking-out-of-the-ocean spectrum (but would still ruin a ship’s day), she scanned the shore. Nothing stood out and nobody waited.

The sun dipped below the tree line as they dropped anchor in an inconspicuous inlet. Rocks of varying sizes littered a beach that abruptly fell into deep water, allowing the Jolly Roger to rest close enough for Wendy to worry about the hull scraping against the boulders. Her fears were eased when wicker contraptions attached to ropes were hung over the sides to act as buffers.

“There’s the signal, Cap’n James!” Davi called.

“Thank you.” James nodded to the boy, then told Cooper and Smee to stay on board with Davi. The youngest crew member made a disgruntled face but kept his comments to himself.

“Mücahit, Raghu, Maaka. You three are on Wendy duty. Don’t let any of Sophus’ men too close.”

She reached out to snag his arm. “I thought you trusted this man.”

“I do. To a point.” He covered the hand she had on his sleeve. “But you are a beautiful woman, and I can’t vouch for all of his men.”

His words were matter-of-fact, but Wendy’s face still warmed at the sincerity in his eyes. “Oh. Thank you.”

He nodded. She followed him with her eyes as he clambered down the rope ladder they were using in place of the gangplank. It had wooden rungs and looked easy when he did it, but she was grateful when Maaka went down next, because both men held the ladder from the bottom for her turn. The assurance that either of them could catch her if she slipped buoyed her confidence. She made it safely to the rocks and waited with Maaka as the other men joined them one by one.

The captain led his group across the narrow, stone-strewn beach to the woods that grew close to the water’s edge. Appearing from the gloom settling amongst the trees, a smiling man with a deep tan and a graying beard stepped forward. Several more men hung back at the forest’s edge. Wendy tried not to stare at his substantial nose and ended up gawking at the jagged line on the side of his face.

“Oh, ya like it?” He gestured to the gruesome scar at his temple. “Courtesy of Peter Pan. Just one more thing he needs to answer for.” The man’s grin was gregarious.

Something about him set alarm bells ringing in Wendy’s head. Her intuition screamed at her not to trust this man, though she couldn’t have articulated why if pressed.

“Hook! Are you going to introduce me to this specimen of female perfection?”

James folded his arms, leaving his hook visible atop his bicep. He nodded from Wendy to the contact. “Wendy, this is Sophus. Sophus, Wendy.”

“Captivating,” the man pronounced. Reminiscent of a snake strike, his hand darted out to claim hers. He placed a kiss on the back of her hand before she had time to refuse, then released her promptly, turning to wave his men forward. Any complaints she made now would come off as needlessly whiny. She scrubbed the back of her hand against her dress. Tam hid his smile behind his hand. She winked at him, and he tried to wink back.

“We have a lot to talk about this time.” Sophus beamed at their group. “My men have prepared a table. Let’s eat!”

The crew of the Jolly Roger trailed their captain as he strode confidently after the middle-aged man with thick eyebrows and over-the-top affability. The “table” was a collection of boards supported by a mix of crates and barrels in a clearing surrounded by tall trees. Several lanterns spaced along the setup provided illumination, and a number of long benches lined each side.

“Let me introduce the men I brought with me, your loveliness.” Sophus wagged the thick caterpillars posing as eyebrows on his forehead.

Wendy’s smile was tight.

He clapped a hand on the shoulder of a tall man with squinty eyes. “This is Mergen. Over there, you’ve got Berach.” A pink-faced man nodded. “Min-Jun is the north sentinel. Wave, Min-Jun!”

The rest of the names were lost on her as he pointed out the other two guards and began droning on about who he left on the ship, who had stayed in the town where the food was purchased, and who he wished was still a part of the crew. Her ears were buzzing, but she thought someone named Karan had left to get married or something safer than pretending to be a Peter loyalist.

During the recitation of every crew member Sophus had ever sailed with, the two groups found seats at the table and began dishing out the food. James and Raghu bracketed Wendy while Maaka and Mücahit sat across from them. Their host sat beside Maaka. In between stories, he praised Wendy’s appearance, decorum, and general existence. When he leaned behind Maaka to address one of his crew further down the table, she shivered, rubbing her hands up and down her arms.

“What’s wrong?” James asked, not turning his head and barely moving his lips.

She followed his lead, keeping her eyes on her plate. “I don’t like him.”

“What’s to dislike about a man who compliments you extravagantly?” he teased.

She gave him a look from under her lashes and pinched his leg. James couldn’t react because Sophus faced them again.

The man set down his utensils and rubbed his hands together. “It’s time.”

James seemed to grasp his meaning. “You think so?”

“I know so,” Sophus stated. “Now is the time to take down Peter Pan.”

“But he just killed another Lost Boy,” Wendy objected. “Isn’t he stronger now?”

Understanding dawned on his face. He snapped his fingers and pointed at her. “You’re Wendy the Storyteller! Peter mentioned you.” Something about his “revelation” felt off. “He described you as a girl, not a full-grown woman.”

Prickly heat flared to life everywhere his invasive eyes touched her person.

“Normally, you’d be right.” His smile was patronizing, but maybe that wasn’t what the others saw. “However, the day after Sadiq’s death”—he paused to rest his fist on his heart—“there was a ‘training accident.’ I got him pretty good with my sword.”

All around her, the crew nodded or made sounds of comprehension. A couple chuckled with appreciation.

“What does that mean?” she hissed to Raghu when Sophus began outlining his plan.

Raghu lifted his cup and spoke out of the side of his mouth. “Pan can heal rapidly, but it uses up lots of juice.”

“Ah.” Wendy kept her head down for the rest of the meal and simply listened to Sophus expounding on which route to take through the rocks surrounding Neverland and plotting specifics for the two ships to coordinate their attack. One detail caught her ear: The supposed spy was directing the Jolly Roger’s crew to take a path Wendy knew had recently been updated with anti-pirate traps.

She tugged on James’ sleeve, but he ignored her. When Sophus looked away, James slid his hand under the table and squeezed her knee once.

“Wait,” he breathed, then picked up his fork again.

Caution stilled her tongue. No longer hungry, she pushed her food around for a bit, then settled on folding her hands in her lap. Her leg jiggled with impatience. James pressed his knee against hers. No doubt she was bouncing the whole bench. Wendy took a deep breath and tried to focus on the comfort of that physical contact.

On the outskirts of the clearing, a tiny blue flash drew her eye. Seconds later, the light returned, confirming her suspicion that the sheeries were bored. If she remembered correctly, Min-Jun had been sent to guard that edge. Watching him shift his weight and repeatedly set a hand on his weapons, as first one sheerie, then the other, tried to entice him into the trees entertained her for the last few minutes of the meal.

Finally, Sophus stood to signal the end of dinner. He motioned for everyone to head to the beach. Wendy followed James but turned around when she heard a loud clatter.

Sophus was on the ground, laughing as Maaka and Mücahit helped him up. Raghu had turned back, as well, and when he was closer to the table than to his captain, their host yelled, “Now!”

Men poured out of the woods—far more men than Sophus had named earlier. Each was armed. Several held spearguns or harpoons; the rest had swords. None of the Jolly Roger’s crew carried weapons that could match that display.

Sophus made a show of brushing himself off and swaggered over to James. He accepted a device that Wendy couldn’t identify from one of the men. “How do you like my army?” He surveyed the crowd. “Pretty great, huh?”

James said nothing.

“Most of them were hired especially for this occasion.” The newly exposed villain put a hand by his mouth and whispered theatrically, “Can’t go sharing all our secrets.”

He aimed his contraption at James, who instantly stepped in front of Wendy.

“Interesting,” Sophus remarked. “Works for me.” Then he pulled the trigger and a weighted net wrapped around the pair.

James may have been able to remain standing if Wendy hadn’t been hit in the back of the knee by one of the weights. She went down hard and took him with her.

A cry went up from the crew of the Jolly Roger. The harpoon wielders took a step closer and the protests fizzled out.

Sophus sauntered over to the pair on the ground with a laugh. He rested the net gun on his shoulder and bent to look down on them. “Here’s how this is going to work,” he said through a toothy grin. “You two are going to join us on an expedition.”

Someone—Wendy thought it might be Phillip—squawked a protest that turned into a grunt.

“While your crew here”—the jovial villain wiggled his fingers at the powerless men—“are going to get back on your ship and take a vote to choose their new captain.”

James growled something indistinct.

“What was that, dear boy?” Sophus cupped his hand around his ear. “You think we should get on with it? I agree. Gentlemen!”

Smashed together as they were in the tight net, they had no choice but to watch as Sophus directed his men to herd the crew back toward the beach. Wendy hoped Smee and Cooper could somehow upset the crook’s plans, but in her heart of hearts, she knew he would have prepared for several scenarios.

When Maaka, Raghu, and the others were beyond the scope of the lanterns in the clearing, Sophus ordered the remaining men to hoist James and Wendy to their feet. Completely surrounded by mercenaries, neither one had a chance to flee or resist being bound with rope. Wendy’s legs and arms were left free; only her hands were tied. And in front of her, too. Fools, she thought. I’m female, not helpless. She whispered instructions to Disa when they set her aside to deal with Captain James. He earned rope around his hands, more rope securing his arms to his sides, and a gag for good measure. If they hadn’t needed him to walk, his ankles surely would have been lashed together, as well.

The trussed duo was led in the opposite direction of the beach. Sophus held a lantern out for Wendy, but the men just hauled James to his feet whenever he tripped. The trees stood close together in this part of the woods. Eventually, the ground began to slope downward, and Wendy thought she heard water.

When the source of the sound came into sight, some of the men she recognized from Sophus’ introductions hurried ahead to stabilize the craft tied to the bank. The hired muscle loaded the abductees into the boat. Again, Wendy was treated with care; James was handled like a sack of potatoes.

Wendy leaned toward the bottom of the boat as her companion struggled to sit up. “Are you hurt?” she whispered.

The lantern reflected off his dark eyes. A delicious shiver ran down her spine. She wouldn’t want to be the kidnappers when James got free.

“Ah, ah, ah, darling,” Sophus chided softly. “We need to be quiet here. Wouldn’t want to attract the wrong attention, now.”

“Wrong for you or wrong for me?” she snarked back.

“We’re in scary faery territory here,” he replied as the rest of his men boarded the craft. “Garkain. Drop bears. Boongurunguru. The Whowie. Who knows.”

Wendy was pretty sure at least one of those was just a story created to frighten children away from dangerous areas. The way the mercs left on the bank were eyeing their surroundings did nothing to assuage her fears about the others, however. Her sheeries swore up and down that one of them had encountered a drop bear before. She could never pin down who it was, but they were all persuaded that it had really happened.

The rowers mostly ensured that the boat stayed in the middle of the small river as the current did the hard work. With a single lantern at the front to guide them, she had little idea where they were headed until the waterway connected with the sea.

Hours—or twenty minutes—later, they found themselves aboard the Drunken Kraken. Sophus had nearly burst when he shared the name with Wendy, so proud to have come up with it himself. She trailed behind the four men who bundled James up the gangplank. He was deposited in the middle of the deck.

Sophus barked some orders to his crew. “I’m for bed,” he told Wendy. “You two can sleep here.” He left with a salute and a smirk.

She dropped to sit on the practically empty deck by James. “They don’t move much in the way of goods, do they?” she observed.

Her companion snorted.

An unfamiliar sailor hauled a chair toward them. He set it under a lantern and took a seat. Perhaps unaware of standard guard behavior, he crossed his arms and stared at them without blinking. The pair exchanged a glance. Wendy bit her lip to quell a giggle.

With nothing to do but sleep, she curled up on her side and tried to do just that. Dreamland eluded her for ages. As the night deepened, the temperature dropped. After a particularly cold gust of wind, Wendy scooted close to James. When he didn’t object, she snuggled in as much as she could. The rough ropes scratched her skin, but he was warm and safe.

Wendy woke sometime later to an elbow in her side. Befuddled by the unfamiliar environment as she was, it took her a moment to recognize that James was trying to get her attention. She checked for the guard who had been left on duty. The heavyset man sat in his chair, feet stretched out, arms folded, and head back as he snored. The guttering lantern reflected off the string of drool connecting the corner of his mouth to his shoulder.

She eased upright, then leaned her ear close to the captain’s gagged mouth.

“Ni n ooh,” he got out.

Appropriately quiet, but unintelligible. Wendy narrowed her eyes in concentration as he repeated himself. It didn’t make any more sense the second time around. Until he wiggled his boot. She nodded her head to show that she understood, then slowly worked her way toward his ankle. Her still-bound hands were cold and growing numb, but Sophus hadn’t tied the rope as tightly as he could, or probably should, have. She managed to find and free the slim knife from its leather home.

James helpfully rolled onto his stomach so she could access the ties around his hands more easily. It took longer than she would have liked, and based on the few times her partner grunted, she probably sliced his skin along with the rope. When his wrists were finally free, she moved to the ropes around his middle. That was simpler, as they were farther apart and he could hold his arms out from his body a little.

As the last strand broke loose, James took a deep breath. He carefully sat up, then pulled the gag from his mouth. Wendy confirmed that their chaperone was still snoozing away while James made weird faces as he tried to alleviate the dryness in his mouth.

“Knife, please,” he creaked as softly as he could, after shaking out his hand.

She passed it over and was happy to see that she had only nicked his hand in a couple of places. No significant blood loss today.

James made quick work of the rope around his ankles, then left them in place.

Wendy tilted her head in question when he looked her way. He pointed toward the sky with his knife. “Dawn,” he rasped.

She saw the lightening of the sky that meant Sophus and crew would be stirring sooner rather than later.

“Can’t loose you.” James poured a wealth of apology into his expression. “Help me?” he asked after replacing the knife in his boot.

He grimaced, then returned the gag to his mouth and laid down with his hands behind his back. Wendy understood and quickly arranged the cut rope to appear as though James was still incapacitated. She had to lean over him awkwardly to tuck the end in on the far side. Her hair brushed across his face, and he scrunched his nose.

“Sorry,” Wendy mouthed, shoving her hair over her shoulder as best she could. It was bad enough that the poor man had to relive the gag so soon after experiencing a taste of freedom. Making him sneeze might choke him.

Everything was arranged to her satisfaction, and she had curled up again not long before they could hear the earliest risers starting to move around. As the day brightened around them, a trio of seagulls decided the mast was the best place to have an argument. Their guard audibly disagreed with this assessment, sending curses their way for waking him up. Wendy thought he should be thanking the birds for saving him from the wrath of Sophus.

Think of evil and it will come. Her second-least favorite person strolled onto the deck moments later with a comically long sword strapped to his side.

“Wendy! You’re awake. Marvelous.” His eyes sparkled with unholy glee. He leaned down to pull Wendy to her feet, and she didn’t resist, even when he hooked his arm through hers.

She glanced at James. He glared at Sophus, who snorted.

“You can stay there. Come, Wendy Darling. I want to show you something.”

Ice slid down her neck and into her extremities. Did Sophus know about her brothers, or was he using that pet name ignorantly?

They reached the railing. “There. Do you see that?” He pointed to what looked like empty ocean in the morning mist.

Wendy shook her head. “I see nothing.”

Sophus patted the arm he held. “Just wait.”

The fading fog swirled in mesmerizing patterns over the water as it slowly dissipated. Several minutes later, jarring movements became visible. There, on a bump of land, lounged a prime example of Wendy’s least favorite species, flicking her tail back and forth in undisguised annoyance. As the ship continued forward, the creature propped herself up and started waving.

“A mermaid?” Wendy couldn’t help asking with disgust.

He chuckled. “I see you’re as big a fan as I am. No, that part is a surprise to me, too.” He drew in a slow, steady breath.

The ship came within shouting distance, and the mermaid took advantage. “Yoohoo, Sophie!”

The man at Wendy’s side grit his teeth, then smiled with all the charm he usually oozed. “Hello there, enchanting one. What brings you to this inauspicious island?”

Wendy doubted you could call the tiny sandbar an island. It housed a single, scraggly palm tree that seemed to be surviving out of sheer spite. She also seriously doubted the faery could wrap her fish mind around the word “inauspicious.”

The mermaid giggled and preened.

When waiting got no other response, Sophus asked again, “Why are you here?”

“Oh! Peter wants you back on Neverland as soon as possible.” She threw a flirtatious smile at him.

“Thank you, gorgeous. I’ll finish the nasty part of today’s business and head there straightaway.” He turned his back to the faery and sneered all the scorn he apparently couldn’t let her see. Then he stalked over to the trussed captive lying on the deck.

“As I’m sure you’ve figured out by now, Hook, Peter is tired of your antics and has decided your death is of more use than your life,” Sophus addressed James with friendly indifference. “I asked if I could be the one to dispose of you, and my lord granted my request.” His smile held an inner joy. “It’s been fun, but . . .” He shrugged and walked over to Wendy.

She straightened her back and met him eye-to-eye, realizing for the first time that he wasn’t much taller than she was.

“Wendy, Wendy, Wendy.” He stalked a circle around her. “I had no plans to drag you into this. I don’t have any instructions from Peter about you because . . . he doesn’t know you're here,” he said with a light laugh. “If you want to ditch this partial man and become the lady of my ship, we could end this unpleasantness here and now. Whaddaya say?”

“No, thank you,” she answered with utmost politeness. Her chances were grim with James but abysmal without him.

The congeniality dropped from Sophus’ face and voice. “Have it your way. Toss ’em,” he directed his men.

Two of his crew—Berach and Mergen, Wendy thought—grabbed James and bodily dragged him to the side of the ship. Neither expected him to fight back, so he was able to lunge for Sophus and grabbed the hilt of the oversized sword before they succeeded in shoving him over. Wendy peered into the water and saw James resurface. He began swimming the short distance to the microbeach.

Sophus was yelling, but she missed the sense of it because someone seized her around the knees and launched her into the air. The cold water smacked her in the face before she fully realized she was falling. The suddenness meant Wendy hadn’t been able to grab a lungful of air. Panic tried to control her limbs, but she forced a modicum of calm.

With desperate determination, she stopped thrashing and focused on letting herself float. The dress tangled around her legs, and her bound wrists made it harder to relax. A second later, strong arms hauled her toward what she assumed was the surface.

When they broke the surface, Wendy dragged in air, only to cough and splutter when she took in a splash of water, too. James held her while she recovered, and she slowly came to the realization that he was standing. She straightened her legs and just brushed sand when she pointed her toes.

Seeing that she was no longer in danger of drowning, James began wading toward the palm tree and the mermaid. Wendy’s feet touched the bottom soon after, but he still helped her slog the rest of the way. He paused to pick up the sword he had most likely thrown as far as he could when he saw her go overboard. She was impressed that he had gotten it as close to the “island” as the waist-deep water.

The mermaid occupying their miniscule refuge alternated between batting her eyes at Captain James and glaring at her perceived rival. Her companion paid the faery no heed as he plucked the knife from his boot and went to work on the ropes still binding Wendy’s hands. The dunking had caused the fibers to swell, which slowed the process considerably. As he worked, she eyed the female taking up precious dry land. Wendy didn’t recognize her as an individual and therefore had no idea if this was one of the mermaids that had tried to drown her a couple of months ago. Seconds later, the rope snapped. James secured his knife and began massaging her wrists. It hurt, but she accepted that it was necessary.

“Tricky, Hook, very tricky,” Sophus reprimanded from his lofty position aboard the Drunken Kraken. Several sailors lined the railing. “You left before my final words of blessing.”

James made a rude gesture with his hand, surprising a laugh out of Wendy.

Sophus emphatically ignored that. “Did you know that my lord benefits from any death—or any action, really—” He glanced at his men for confirmation, and a couple of them nodded. “Yeah, anything done in the name of Peter Pan works in his favor. Then, subsequently, mine.” His smile invited them to be pleased with his good fortune.

The mermaid refused to move, so Wendy and James stood in water that sloshed around their ankles or knees depending on the swell.

Sophus motioned to someone they couldn’t see. “I had wanted to stay and watch this part,” he called, “but it seems I’m needed by my lord.” He nodded to the mermaid. “So instead, I’ll leave you with this: For Peter Pan!”

At his words, a section of the hull swung open to reveal a dark square. Something moved within that darkness. Mild curiosity turned to dread as the shadows refused to give up their secret and shouts from inside the ship became audible. The look of triumphant satisfaction on Sophus’ face gradually morphed into irritation. He turned and waved his arms. Wendy could make out the animated tone of his voice, though the words were lost.

She exchanged a confused glance with James, then returned her gaze to the ship in time to see a large, scaled beast hit the water. Its entrance was graceless, likely caused by the boards that were hastily withdrawn. Wendy absently noticed that the trapdoor had swung closed again, but her attention was glued to the agile green log headed their way.

“Who carts a giant saltwater crocodile around with them?!” she protested.

“Get in the tree,” James urged.

She acquiesced to his nudging on her shoulder blade. The water made her attempt to run more of a floundering scramble. James dropped the sword to grab her waist and boost her into the tree. The defiant palm groaned under her weight and swayed alarmingly. Wendy was less than thrilled to see that her perch was barely taller than her captain.

The mermaid sang a short something at the beast that caused it to swerve in the opposite direction with a growl. Seizing her opportunity, the water faery launched herself off the sand, pumping her powerful tail to skedaddle.

James used the delay to retrieve the longsword and take up a defensive stance.

“What about the croc?” someone on deck was asking as the anchor lifted out of the shallow water.

“He’ll be fine. We can pick him up tomorrow or next week,” Sophus dismissed. “Hook! I have faith in my pet. But should you manage the impossible, starving in the name of Peter Pan is just as good.” He tilted his head. “Maybe even better. Huh!”

Wendy didn’t watch the ship leave. All her attention was on the incoming threat. The absurd hope that Sophus was a kind pet owner who fed his creature on a regular basis was dashed when the croc lunged for James. She watched with her heart in her throat as he dodged to the side. A pathetic palm frond blocked her view for a critical second, and she missed what happened.

The reptile thrashed his gargantuan head back and forth for a few minutes. When he settled down, she saw something sticking out of his eye. James must have done that. Was it his knife?

The giant maw opened to hiss—a sound that plucked at Wendy’s nerves. The noise had no effect on James, who took the opportunity to stab the sword into the soft pink gullet. He whipped his hand out before the teeth could close on his arm, leaving the weapon behind. Then he pulled out the long, thin knife and went to work on the crocodile’s other eye.

Wendy stopped watching when it became clear that James would win. With the fear wearing off, she had no desire to witness the creature’s death. She shimmied down the palm tree. Or fell out of it, rather.

Once the beast stopped twitching, James latched onto a front leg and tried to drag it farther out of the water. Nothing happened.

“Why don’t you leave it where it is?” Wendy questioned.

He grunted with his second attempt. “We can’t waste food,” he said between labored breaths.

“Are you going to use our only shade to start a cook fire?”

James rested his hand and hook on his hips as he examined his kill. “We’ll have to.”

“Can you start a fire with your mind?” she teased.

“Of course not.” He finally turned to face her.

“Then how else will you manage it?”

“I—” He closed his mouth again. “I’ll figure it out when I’m hungry enough.”

Wendy nodded, then plopped onto the sand with the morning sun at her back. After spreading out her skirt to help it dry, she leaned on her hands and looked up at him. “Care to join me?” She patted the sand.

James accepted her invitation with a heavy sigh as he settled on the ground. He pulled off his boots and set them to the side.

She followed his lead, then tilted her head to look at him. “I still want to know, why a ridiculously huge crocodile?” Now that the immediate danger was past, Wendy could feel her hunger-induced crankiness kicking in. She made a conscious effort to keep it at bay. James didn’t deserve her ire, temporary or otherwise, after saving her life.

“That’s for me.” He rested his arms on his knees, then held up his hook. “Peter fed my hand to a crocodile twenty years ago.”

“Why did he take your hand? Everyone else seems to have been maimed in ways designed to hurt them the most.” Wendy brushed at a salt-stiff strand of hair that kept blowing in her eye.

“That wasn’t his original plan.” James scooped up a handful of the dry sand and watched it trickle through his fingers. “He nearly got me to slit my own throat, but my brain kicked in at the last second and I redirected the knife.”

“You’ve been fighting this monster for twenty years? How old were you? Eight?”

“Ten.” He sniffed and looked down as he balled his fist in the sand.

Wendy drew meaningless doodles in the sand between them. “How did you come to captain the Jolly Roger? And, wait—” She set her hand flat on the sand and looked at him. “The Verified History was published, like, twenty years ago. How does that math work?”

“Eighteen, to be precise.” James sucked on his teeth and stared at the endless waves.

She let him process his thoughts and returned to her drawing.

A sigh twenty years in the making leaked out of the captain. “Smee found me right after the failed murder attempt. He and Mirai were in a rowboat, of all things.” He shook his head with a brief laugh.

What? How old is Mirai? She held in the questions, not wanting to mess with his flow.

“Anyway, Peter saw Smee and learned about my hook sometime after I healed enough to add it, because that wretched book came out and suddenly Captain ‘Hook’ and his first mate, Smee, were the villains.” He scoffed and chucked a handful of sand into the water that lapped at their feet.

“Oof.” Wendy dropped her head back to gaze at the sky. “I feel supremely stupid.”

He looked at her with a slight frown. “Oh yeah, why’s that?”

She dipped her head toward her chest to hide the color on her cheeks and confessed in a higher pitch, “I definitely thought that was your real name until right now.”

James threw his head back and laughed from the belly. She joined him after a moment.

“Ooh,” he breathed out. “That would have really bothered me not long ago. But now, it’s just funny.”

“Happy to serve.” Wendy did the arm portion of a curtsy. “How did Peter get his version published in a Verified History, do you know?”

A furrow appeared in his brow. “He has connections. Haven’t been able to track them yet.” He laid back and tucked his left arm beneath his head.

“Are you still bitter about Peter stealing your hand and your identity?”

Another rumbly sigh worked its way out. “I’m trying not to be.” He met her eye. “I’d like to pretend that my motives for getting him locked up are pure”—his lips turned down—“but some of it is undeniably a chance for revenge.”

“Understandable.” She patted his shoulder. “So. What is your real name?”

“James.”

She blew a raspberry, and he grinned. This resulted in a devastatingly playful and handsome man, and she had his full attention. Wendy worked to keep the tremor out of her voice, but it was a heady feeling. “Thank you, James. Even the book says that much. Do you have a family name?”

“Doesn’t everyone?” he flirted.

Wendy was half-surprised her clothes weren’t already dry given how warm she was feeling. “Usually,” she responded, unable to think up a clever response with his eyes on her.

He took pity and gave her a real answer. “Qadir.”

“Thank you.”

He closed his eyes, and she scanned the horizon.

“James Qadir. Good, strong name,” she mused. “And not very villainous. I can see why he changed it.”

The captain snorted but relaxed further into the sand. She wondered if he had slept at all during the night.

Feeling braver, she changed the subject. “You got in the way of a net gun for me.”

He sat up and rubbed his neck. “I did.”

“You must like me a bit, then.”

His brown skin reddened as much as it could, and he gruffly admitted to not being impartial to her.

“Not impartial, eh?” A giddy feeling of power surged through her. “So you no longer think I’m a spy for Peter Pan?”

James arched one eyebrow.

She chuckled and held up her hand. “Can we just pause to appreciate the irony of you thinking I was a spy for Peter, only to get thrown overboard by Peter’s actual spy?”

“How can you be so laid back about all of this?” James looked at her askance. The drowsy calm vanished as he seemed to recall their circumstances. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we’re stranded on an ‘island’ that barely has two grains of sand to rub together. It’s definitely not on the maps, and there is no land in sight. The likelihood of being found before dying of heat stroke or starvation or dehydration is nonexistent!”

She’d never seen him riled up. Even when she pushed his buttons, he maintained that irritating sense of control. This was kind of fun.

She scrunched her nose. “I . . . have one last secret to share with you.”

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