Chapter 3 #2
“Cool, huh?” Cissy scratched her nose as she set her bowl down with a clink. “I've been begging her to do me, too. But she says she can't. Peter gots all the extra magic she had. Sometimes he does take us flying, though,” she added, looking slightly mollified.
Tristan sat with his empty bowl and head down, sparing a glance up in the sky, likely searching for Fetch, I would guess. Other than that, he remained still and quiet.
I turned and noted that little Caleb had nodded off, having only eaten half of his vegetable stew, and was nestled in his pile of blankets, snoring lightly.
“And why do you call them The Lost Boys?” I asked, lowering my voice as I held my hands in front of the fire, enjoying the warmth and the novelty of not being afraid for my life for a while.
“Well, that's how I felt before Tink,” Pan said with a shrug. “Like I was lost. And when we started rescuing needy kids from orphanages over in Blackbriar, we thought it would be a fitting name for them.”
“It was meant to be boys only, of course.” Tink eyed Cissy with a mock glare. “This one here was a mistake.”
“A happy surprise, remember?” Cissy corrected.
“Most definitely. I was only teasing you.” Tink turned her attention back to me and Moll.
“There were rumors about us over the years, you know. The children at some of the orphanages would climb out onto the rooftops in hopes of being next on the list of the mystical fairy. So Cissy here cut her hair, tucked it under a cap, made sure she dressed like a little boy, and waited.”
“Every night for like two whole years,” Cissy said with an indignant sniff.
“And when we eventually came around, about a year ago now, she was ready. It wasn't until we got her to the island, and she had her first bath that we realized we'd gotten ourselves a girl. Best thing that ever happened to me,” Tink admitted with a soft smile.
Tristan’s expression darkened, but Cissy giggled with glee.
I was trying to think of how to segue from talking about the kids to asking about even more pressing matters when Moll piped up. “And what about those pirates chasing you guys? What's that about?”
She was definitely a hammer rather than a chisel, but I couldn't say I was mad at her. My eyes were starting to droop with exhaustion, and we had so little information about where we were. And, if The Speaker’s note was accurate, time was of the essence.
“Do you want to tell the story about Hook, or shall I?” Tink asked, arching a brow at Pan.
“Ooh, can Peter? He does it so good!” Cissy said, reaching down to snag one of the free blankets and wrapping it around her shoulders as she hunkered down to listen.
Pan leapt to his feet, so suddenly, so nimbly, that I nearly peed my pants in surprise.
"If you guys insist, I can go ahead and tell you. But hold onto your hats, because it’s a doozy. A tale of trickery, treason, and treachery!"
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Cissy mouthing the words along as Pan spoke. He must’ve told this one a lot.
“He wasn’t always an evil pirate, you see.
In fact, for years, we were friends. We’d sail together, go on adventures.
Tink even sprinkled fairy dust on him so he could fly solo sometimes.
Maybe that’s where the seed was planted, and the quest for power was born.
” He folded his hands behind his back and began pacing around the fire.
“I treated him like a brother, and he chose to?—”
"Betray you!" Cissy interrupted, her animated face full of outrage.
Pan's mouth snapped shut and he gave Cissy a quick scowl. "As I was saying…he betrayed me!"
Pan looked at Molly expectantly and she hesitated, confused for a moment, before letting out a dutiful gasp.
"No!"
"Yes! It happened on a breezy, star-filled night. Tink and I had just finished supper, and realized that we weren’t feeling well.
Come to find out that Hook had snuck poison from the Widowmaker’s leaves into our drinks, nearly killing us dead.
Tink's magic was too strong for that, though. She was able to save herself and revive me. It was only then that we heard the commotion on the beach. We ran out to find Hook, setting sail on the first boat I'd ever built with my own two hands. He’d kidnapped two of our Lost Boys, Miguel and Tommy. The plan was to force them into a life of crime, which was awful enough.” Peter crouched and lowered his voice.
“But then I realized his betrayal went even deeper than I could’ve imagined. "
Cissy let out a squeak and covered her mouth with both hands.
"Hook had also taken a one-of-a-kind, family heirloom. The only thing I had left of my mother in this world."
"What was it?" This time, the question came from a grudging Tristan, who seemed interested in spite of himself, in spite of probably hearing this story a hundred times already.
"A magical clock," Pan said with a flourish of his hands.
My hands went clammy, and I resisted the urge to turn and gape at Moll. Surely, it was no coincidence that my success in this new realm relied on me being on time. That I needed to find the clock that was ticking...but not.
"D-did you get it back?" I mumbled through numb lips.
"I tried. A fierce battle ensued as Hook and I both drew our swords and parried, feinted and slashed at one another," Pan said, en garde as he perched one hand on his hip and lifted the other to brandish an imaginary rapier.
"I didn't want to kill him, not at first, but I couldn't let him take my clock and walk away.
It was a fair and valiant fight. In the end, though, we both lost. Because Noru, gigantic croc of The Weeping Fen, took the decision out of our hands," Pan's lips twitched into a grin, "Especially Hook's, as he leapt from the water and snatched the clock, along with Hook's left arm from the wrist down, and dragged it back to his lair. "
What the fuck...I’d been right not to want to hear this story when I was a child.
"So you’re telling me this pirate, Captain Hook, had his hand bitten off by a giant crocodile?” I asked the question as Fetch swooped back down on silent wings, landing lightly on my shoulder. He was clean, but the tiny bulge in his belly told me he’d found his own dinner.
“Yup,” Cissy said, eyes wide as she nodded and lowered her voice to an ominous whisper. “Noru, The Ticking Croc.”
Molly let out a puff of laughter, but Pan continued, once again as serious as an old man trying to convince a younger generation that he was right, gazing out toward the ocean with a sweep of his hand.
“In order to buy himself time to escape, Hook ran his sword through young Miguel and left him to die before taking off with Tommy. Tink and I had a choice. Try to save Miguel or give chase. Of course, we chose Miguel, who later died from his wounds…rest his soul.” Pan’s eyes were filled with fire now as he lifted his chin and raised one fist. “To this day, Hook remains my archnemesis as we continue to scour the seas for Noru and the clock. Rumor has it that Hook has killed dozens of men and women in his efforts to get the clock, his heart only growing blacker over the years as he slashes his way from sea to sea, going through anyone who tries to stop him.”
“Even with only one hand?” Molly asked.
Cissy leapt up, curling the fingers of her left hand. “He’s got a hook now, instead of a hand! Sharp as a dagger, harder than steel!”
Of course he did.
He must’ve been a formidable foe if even Tink, with all her magic, hadn’t been able to put an end to his reign of terror. Didn’t exactly bode well for me and Moll trying to join the fray in this hunt for the magical clock.
Because I was a thousand percent sure that was what I needed. And the fact that I found out about it so quickly made me nervous.
Easy to identify?
Check.
Hard as hell to actually get my hands on?
Yeah, that’s what I thought too.
I touched Fetch’s side to reassure myself that he was still there. He could help scout to locate this thing faster. Speed was of the essence, if The Speaker was right with what he’d said in his letter, and I had no reason to doubt him.
I was trying to figure out how to ask exactly what made the clock so magical, but Tink stood and began collecting our bowls, cutting my thoughts short.
“Alright, that’s enough about all that. Leaves a bad taste in my mouth, and besides, I’m sure Harmony and Molly don’t want to hear the gory details.”
To the contrary, I wanted as many details as possible that I could get, but Pan was nodding in agreement with Tink.
“Tink is right,” he said with a sigh. “We’ve kept our guests up late enough. I’m sure they’re exhausted after all those hours floating in the sea and trying not to drown.”
“But we didn’t even get to play hide and seek with Molly yet,” Cissy murmured, her bottom lip trembling.
“They aren’t going anywhere, sweetie,” Tink said, stroking the little girl’s hair gently. “I’m sure Molly and Harmony will play with you tomorrow.”
Cissy stared down at her feet, digging her bare toes into the sand. “Can we each get a try at throwing the knives before we go to bed like you said? Pretty please?”
“Sure,” Pan replied. “Everyone, line up behind Harmony and Molly! Guests first, of course.” He bent low, into a deep bow, and presented the small, gleaming dagger on his palm like an offering.
“Thank you, kind sir.” I stood, accepting it with a half-smile.
I could’ve told him I had my own tucked in the bag I’d tied around my waist, but something held me back.
It was like my brain was still stuck on the story he’d told and the details that for some reason didn’t quite fit, though I couldn’t put my finger on it.
Fetch must’ve sensed my unrest because he nuzzled close to my neck.
Thanks, little buddy.
“I’ll give it a try, but I’m nearly cross-eyed with exhaustion, so don’t hold your breath that I’m going to hit that tree, or any other.”
“Do you want me to watch your falcon for you while you throw?”
I turned, surprised to see the words had come from the oldest boy, Tristan, who now stood behind Cissy.
“I appreciate it, but he’s a little shy around new people. He’ll more likely take to the skies for a bit.”
As I stepped to the line that had been drawn in the sand as a marker, Fetch did exactly that. I sucked in a breath and prepared to throw, more out of politeness than anything. I couldn’t wait to get in bed and have a good long think about all that had happened since we’d left Alabaster.
But now that I’d drawn close enough to get a look at the target, my ears started ringing so loudly, I couldn’t even think, never mind aim.
Because there, nailed to the ashy bark of the tree, was a large poster labeled ‘Wanted, Dead or Alive: Captain Hook’.
And the familiar, coal-black eyes staring back from the picture below sent a wave of heat through my stomach and a chill down my spine.
Captain Hook—the dreaded, murderous pirate?
Was the very same man I’d been dreaming about for years.
Because of course he was…