Chapter 8
“ T here it is!”
The small shanty town came into view just as the sun was disappearing under the horizon, and I breathed a sigh of relief at the sight.
We’d taken a rest by the beach, but I was still mentally exhausted from pushing my magic so far.
Fetch, who had been flying overhead for a good portion of the rocky boat ride, had clearly reached his breaking point, as he was perched on my shoulder, eyes closed, head tucked close to mine.
We all needed a chance to regroup.
“Let’s try to find an inn or something before we start asking around.”
“Sounds good. I’m not built for camping,” Moll agreed in a near-whisper, sounding as parched as I felt.
“We just have to hope that the gold Duncan slipped me won’t do more harm than good.” The last thing we needed was people asking a lot of questions, and our money surely didn’t look like theirs...
“The type of people we’re looking for don’t care where gold came from or whose face is on it, so long as it ends up in their pockets,” she murmured, her voice breaking as she looked away.
“You okay?” I asked, eyeing her more closely.
“I…I guess. I’m feeling really guilty about how we left. Are they going to end up remembering us as thieves?” She turned away, her voice growing softer. “If they even remember us at all.”
I stepped in beside her, pulling her close as we walked. “They’ll know better than to believe that. The connection you formed with them was real, and I’m sure Peter will understand once he reads our note.”
We’d left behind an apology, along with a small sack of coins for Pan and Tink, explaining that we were sorry to leave without warning, but that we had run into some trouble before they’d found us.
And, now that we’d gotten to know them, we didn’t want to bring that trouble to Neverland.
We had no way of knowing the worth of the boat in this new world, but we’d left enough gold to cover the materials and labor several times over, if my estimate was correct.
It was all we could do to ensure we had some left to complete our mission, while also hopefully earning us enough goodwill that the pair wouldn’t hunt us down for taking their boat.
We crested a low hill, and a seed of anxiety formed in my gut as I stared down at the empty, unlit town below.
“Wonder why no one is out. It can’t be later than six o’clock, right?”
“Early curfew here, maybe?” she suggested as we stepped onto the shanty town’s street.
I nodded, glancing around as we strode deeper into the village.
The buildings were small, but cozy-looking and sturdy.
About the size of the nicer homes in The Smudge, but the half-rotted ship’s wheels, fishing nets, and rusty anchors nailed to the walls gave the whole area a nautical feel.
“Well, they don’t seem to be abandoned. There must be some kind of event going on. ”
“Quiet!”
Moll let out a yelp, her fists flying upward in an awkward mockery of a fighting stance at the male voice shouting. “What the?—?”
I leapt sideways as the door to the house on our right flew open, lifting my arm to stop Fetch from attacking as a figure emerged.
The man’s thin lips were curled into a frown, and he spat on the ground as he caught sight of us. “Ruined my nap, you damned outsiders.”
“Ruined your nap? You scared us half to death!” Moll shot back with an indignant sniff. “Who naps at a time like this, anyway?”
The little man’s frown somehow deepened even further, and he jabbed a finger toward the beach. “Whoever you’re lookin’ for, you’ll find ‘em by the docks. Now shoo!”
I nudged Moll into silence. “How do you know who we’re looking for?”
“Doesn’t matter who.”
“Is there some kind of event going on there or something?”
He cleared his throat loudly, then spat again, this time sending the glob straight into the inside of his own door.
I forced an encouraging smile to hide my revulsion.
“I’m not one to tell tales out of school, but there’s a big pirate meeting going on.
” He paused for a long moment before adding, “The Captain of Captains brings his boys here a few times a year to whip the other crews into shape…Davis or Davy or some shit. Annoying prick who thinks he’s the best that ever was. ”
A chill rolled down my spine as an image of Hook shimmered to the forefront of my mind. Was that his given name, then? Not very intimidating…I could see why he went with Hook.
“Is it open to the public?” I asked, glancing at the empty houses all around. “Everyone seems to be over there.”
He scowled. “Look, if you’re that desperate, fine.
You can come in for a cup of tea…But I’m a busy man, I don’t have long…
And don’t bring that damned bird with you, either.
” A teapot whistled from behind him as if in reply, and he let out a final grunt before stepping inside, leaving the door open just behind him.
“So much for waking him from a nap,” Moll whispered with a roll of her eyes. “He must’ve sleepwalked his way to the kettle then.”
I bit back a laugh, keeping my voice low. “Should we go in?”
Moll shrugged. “Why not? It won’t even make the top ten worst ideas we’ve had recently.”
“He could be a good source of information,” I ventured with a shrug.
“In or out,” the crusty old man shouted from the interior of the little cottage. “You’re letting out all my hot air.”
Somehow, I had the feeling he had loads of hot air left. Plus, it was still warm and balmy outside, but who was I to argue? His house, his rules.
“Go check out the lay of the land,” I whispered, turning to Fetch. “See you soon, my friend.”
Fetch let out a chortle and then soared off.
I pulled the door shut behind us, making sure to avoid the glob of spittle he’d launched there.
Sturdy barrels lined the walls on either side, but the home was far from the shithole I’d been expecting from a guy who went around spitting everywhere. In fact, each wall was decorated meticulously, with long cords of knotted rope, folded up sails, seashells, and other decorations.
Maybe he was a fisherman, back in his day?
He reemerged, holding a kettle in one hand and pressing a cluster of mugs against his chest with the other.
“Sit,” he said gruffly, plopping two of the mugs on the table while pouring tea into his own. When he was done, he threw it back for a sip, then shoved the kettle in our direction as he sat. “Pour for yourself if you want some.”
I glanced over at him as I pulled out a chair to sit.
Tufts of wispy gray hair gave token bits of cover to his spotty scalp, and his skin was as dry as my leather pouch.
He looked at least eighty, and the calluses on his hands and the scar across his jaw showed that he’d lived a hard life, but who knew?
Poverty and hard work aged a person. A Hollow sixty was an Alabaster eighty, as the saying went.
He turned, meeting my gaze with milky, blue eyes.
Nearly blind?
I turned away anyway, reaching for the tea. “Thank you for inviting us in. We traveled a long way to get here.”
“I can tell,” he said with a scowl.
“What should we call you, by the way? I’m Harmony, and this is Molly.”
“Name’s Garth…Look, just get to the point. What is it that you’re lookin’ for?”
I shared a look with Moll, wondering how much to tell the man. “We were originally looking to get to Blackbriar, but we ran into some boat troubles and ended up here.”
“Can’t even sail a damn boat,” Garth muttered.
Okay, then. Not exactly a charmer.
I took a swig of the tea, swishing it around my parched mouth. A strong, cinnamon-y flavor washed over my tongue, and I savored it for a long moment before trying again. “Seems like you were a sailor at one point?”
He fixed me with a milky stare. “What’s it to ya?”
“It’s such a neat job,” I began.
He leaned forward, closing one eye to scowl at me. “Oh yeah? What’s so neat about it, missy?”
Moll cut in with a beaming smile. “We were trying to get to Blackbriar in hopes of hiring someone to take us to The Weeping Fen, considering your experience and knowledge?—”
“The Fen, you say?” Garth’s eyes widened for an instant before he leaned back in his seat and shrugged, Mr. Nonchalant. “Eh, go wherever youse want. I wouldn’t advise it, though. The world is full of interesting spots…”
“We need to get to The Weeping Fen, specifically.” Molly said, still smiling like an angel. “If you’d rather not help us, we’ll thank you for your hospitality and hopefully find someone who will.”
He stared at us and let out a long breath that sounded something like, “Save me from idiots.” Then, he gestured toward the door.
“I’m not one to tell tales out of school,” he reminded us, “but David, or whatever that bastard calls himself, brings in Beast Seekers from all over for these little gatherings. He’s like a twelve-year-old boy, always looking for tall tales about manticlopses and octocorns or whatever the hell.
One of them pirates might be able to help you not get your fool heads bitten off, at least. Why do you need to go there again? ”
“We just have a passion for monsters,” I said.
“How might one gain entrance to this…gathering?” Moll added, raising her brows expectantly.
“It’s for pirates and wannabes only,” he grunted.
“What about the rest of the people from town?”
“Hired out to serve food and the like.”
“So what if we say we’re there for that?”
“You don’t exactly look the part…” Garth’s eyes traveled up and down my body before turning to Moll.
He rubbed his jaw for a long moment, his lips pulling upward in a hint of a smile before disappearing.
“You can be a tavern wench, but the other one there will have to try as one ‘o those wannabes. I s’pose I can make a bit of time for this,” he continued, scooting his chair away from the table.
Was he planning to take us over and introduce us? “Time for what?”
He grunted, gesturing toward the hallway with his head. “Follow me. What you two need is a pair of decent disguises.”
Moll and I exchanged a look.
He could be leading us into his murder lair, and we’d be fools to follow him like a pair of dumb cows.
But the way he’d been almost waiting for someone to walk by to engage with, it seemed more like he was just a lonely—if cranky—old man, desperately looking for a purpose, and we’d unwittingly given him one.
My gut had served us well so far in this new land, and I was going to have to start trusting it again. Right now, it was reminding me that we didn’t have a whole lot of knowledge or resources at our disposal. We needed to let this man help us if he could.
Besides, Moll had her incapacitator, and I had my knife. If shit went sideways and we couldn’t figure out a way to overpower this man who was old enough to be our great-granddad, we were never making it to the end of this journey anyway.
"Are you coming or you just going to stand there like a pair of numpties?”
Moll shrugged, and I nodded.
Best case, his help would lead to us finding a guide willing to take us to The Fen. Worst, we’d at least have done a good deed, giving an octogenarian serial killer one last hurrah.
There were worse ways to go…