Chapter 12
Hook
The storm passed in the night, leaving calm waters and clear skies in its wake. Finally. Bloody mermaid curse whipping up unnatural storms had tossed them around like dice in a cup.
At least they’d been smart, leaving wealth and goods with their families or tucked away in troves.
They’d been dipping into those reserves since these storms hindered their business—and thievery.
But really, that was just a different kind of business.
Anyone who crossed the Cerulean Sea knew the price.
It was no different than paying the Gamoreans, or other kingdoms, for passage through their lands.
Hook nudged his first mate with his boot, trying to rouse the man where he sprawled half-naked in a hammock on deck.
“Adella?” he mumbled around a yawn.
“Try again,” Hook replied.
“Captain!” Smee snapped up, suddenly wide awake. The hammock twisted until it spilled the larger man onto the damp deck below. “Ugh, sorry, I—” Smee rubbed at his head.
“Yeah, yeah, but you’ll turn red as a lobster sleeping out here like that.
” Hook gestured to his lack of shirt. His first mate was a hairy one, “a cuddly bear” he’d once heard a woman proclaim.
Well, he had the size to fit that description, if not the claws.
Really, he was more like a big dog: loyal, trustworthy, and not above sniffing around the skirts of every woman he passed.
He loved the man, though—his brother, even if they weren’t related. He’d had his back since they were boys. If not for Smee, he probably wouldn’t be alive. Certainly wouldn’t be the captain he’d become.
As long as Smee kept his eyes and hands off one particular woman, he could do as he liked with any of the others.
Tink sat in the shade of the sail, pulling needle and thread through fabric.
Barley must have put her to work. Fair—he should have some return for watching after her yesterday.
His lips pulled thin as he eyed his crew preparing the ship for departure.
Though considering the condition of the rest of them, he decided he might be thankful for skipping the festivities. They’d right themselves soon enough.
He, on the other hand… While his crew partied with the merfolk, he’d replayed his encounter with Tink over and over.
The agony in her words had pulled him into the water.
Bloody hell, he’d even given her his real name, one he hadn’t used in years.
For a moment there, he’d deluded himself into believing her kiss had been true this time.
That she wanted him. The way she’d wrapped her legs around him and rubbed herself against him…
He groaned. She was a seductress, that much was certain.
He didn’t need a curse for those memories to haunt him.
Too bad her kiss had been another twisted game.
He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth.
She hadn’t drugged him this time, probably because she didn’t have any pixie dust left, or so she claimed.
But she’d pulled away fast enough. Was she embarrassed about her wings glowing?
Truly, he didn’t know pixies could do that, but then he really didn’t know much about them at all, except that humans rarely saw them and their dust could demand a sizeable amount of coin.
He’d acquired some once. Nasty stuff. Knocked out half his crew for a day.
“Give in to your desire,” Queen Titania had said.
Ha. Much good that did. Thoughts of the little pixie kept him up all night, even after he’d pleasured himself to visions of her after she’d stormed off.
Gods above, he’d gouged a new groove in the wall with his hook when he returned to his cabin to find her sprawled across his bed, sound asleep.
His fault. He’d locked her in there to begin with, and now she’d claimed it as her own.
Wouldn’t need to lock her up anymore, though.
She’d be a fool to try and escape now. Pixie or not, she wouldn’t be claiming the scale of Leviathan without help.
How she’d thought to get it before was beyond him.
A pixie, alone in the Shrouded Isles, looking for a scale?
He shook his head. A death wish, that was. A fool’s errand.
He rubbed at his chest, trying to ease the slight ache there. She wanted to go home. Couldn’t blame her for that, but the queen’s price was too steep for her to pay alone. Impossible—maybe. Which raised the question again: what had she done to get herself banned from home like that?
“Uh, Captain?” Smee nudged his arm.
“What is it, Smee?”
“I’ve been talking to you for over a minute, but you’re just staring off at the island, this grimace on your face.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I know I drank a lot, but…”
Bloody hell. How long had he been staring Tink down? At least Smee didn’t notice that part, but who else…? He glanced around, watching his crew. Sage winked at him, but knowing her that could mean anything.
“To your post.” He swatted Smee on his back. “Let’s get some wind in these sails.”
“Ah! Wind in the sails!”
A sharp whistle screeched above. “Captain!”
His fist tightened. What now?
One of his crew waved frantically from the crow’s nest, spyglass in hand, signaling at something offshore. Hook hustled across the deck. If another storm was rolling in—
A ship sped their way on a convenient breeze. Big one from the looks of it.
“The Kraken!” the crewman called from above.
An icy chill surged through Hook’s veins. Of all the bloody ships… “Men! To your posts!” he called. Hook grabbed Smee’s arm and ordered, “Ring the bell. Get everyone on deck.”
Of all the times for Captain Blackbeard to show his ugly face.
Doubtful he was here for a frolic with the merfolk.
He’d likely caught wind of their recent departure the moment he pulled into Tortuga and followed course.
Bloody hell. He’d been so distracted with Tink and his curse, he’d forgotten the bigger threat roaming the seas.
Across the lagoon, Cressida’s ship was a similar flurry of activity. They’d just spotted the same thing in their efforts to depart.
“Let out the sails,” Hook called. Thank fuck they’d already hauled in the anchor.
If they could shove off, perhaps they could avoid an encounter.
Captain Blackbeard wouldn’t have forgotten about a certain necklace Hook stole off him—or any of the many other things they’d done over the years.
It was perhaps his worst theft ever for all the mess it started.
The man thought himself the king of the seas.
Well, Hook would show him the truth of the matter.
Hook turned for the wheel but crashed into the woman standing behind him, a frozen pillar in the chaos. Tink had gone white as a seagull, staring off toward the horizon.
“Did they say the Kraken?”
He could barely make out her words over the bell starting to peal, the rush of boots across the deck, and various shouts and curses.
There was no mistaking a look like that. She knew the ship. Knew it and feared it. Not the kind of fear inspired by reputation either. What had that bastard done to this pixie trapped far from home?
“Get below deck. It’ll be safer there.”
She blinked, unmoving.
He clamped a hand on her shoulder. “Tink.”
A shiver echoed through her body as movement returned. “Right,” she said, voice barely audible. Without a glance at him, she took off for the stairs, braided blonde hair trailing behind her. Hook pulled at his collar, savoring an odd brief moment of relief as she disappeared below.
One less thing to worry about. That was all.
The Kraken would come upon the Siren first. It might give them time to run…
but he couldn’t do that to Cressida and her crew, especially not when Blackbeard was involved.
No one needed to be left at the mercy of that crocodile.
Two against one, they might stand a chance, even with the Kraken’s notorious firepower.
“Roll out the cannons!”
Fuck. They weren’t ready for a battle—nothing prepped, little room to maneuver.
“Sails secured!” Smee called up to him.
’Bout bloody time. Hook grabbed the wheel. Wind caught in the sails. The Jolly Roger lurched away from the dock. Poor girl. He didn’t like to treat her so, but they had no choice.
He spied the Siren—judged the angle of their sails, the direction of the wind. With any luck, they could get the Kraken between them.
“Cannons to starboard!” he shouted.
The crew rushed to obey. Pride swelled in his chest. They knew their posts, their roles. Each member worked together like gears in the fancy pocket watch he’d acquired a few months back.
The breeze tugged at his hat as they raced toward the advancing enemy.
A deep boom sounded. A cannonball whizzed in their direction, falling short and splashing into the sea.
“That came off the front!” Sage yelled from below.
Hook grimaced. Aye. Leave it to the old croc to have a trick up his sleeve.
More shots followed. One grazed the port side.
“Damage?”
“She’ll fix,” Smee called back.
The Siren neared the enemy, drawing their fire. Perfect.
Adrenaline surged through Hook’s veins as he turned the wheel, bringing them in closer for a shot.
“Should we fire, Captain?” Smee asked halfway up the stairs to his deck.
“Hold.” His body hummed as they drew closer.
One good shot would be worth ten poor ones.
This close, he could almost picture that bastard at the helm of the Kraken.
Bloody croc deserved a slow, painful death for all he’d done to him.
His phantom hand tingled where his hook curved over a handle on the wheel.
Each victory against him fueled the coals of revenge lodged in his chest. Every time someone praised the Jolly Roger or spoke of the great Captain Hook was one less voice boosting Captain Blackbeard. Someday…someday he’d bring that bastard low.
“Captain!” Smee called again.
He shook himself. Focus, man.
“Aye! Disable them. Now!” he called back, sure Smee would pass on his orders.
They had only one chance, a few minutes before the guns were focused back on them.
One well-positioned blast of the Kraken’s cannons could wreck them—or worse, give Blackbeard the chance to draw close and board them.
He wouldn’t surrender his ship and crew to that bastard. Never.
The best chance they had was to land a solid blow and flee, for now.
Sea breeze filled the sails. The ship lurched, ripping across the water. In moments they’d slide straight past the Kraken. Too close for comfort, but necessary. He only prayed the Siren kept their focus for one more bloody minute.
Cannons boomed. The Jolly Roger rocked from the force of the blasts sailing toward the Kraken. One cannonball hit the deck, sending boards splintering and men running. Another clipped the mainsail, ripping it. A grin spread across his features. Perfect.
More blasts echoed across the water. The Kraken returned fire. He gritted his teeth as one blast crashed against the hull. Better not have hurt my bloody ship.
His crew rushed to action. They’d handle it. He had to put some distance between the ships.
Hook’s hand froze on the wheel. His chest tightened.
There, standing at the helm of the Kraken, stood Blackbeard.
His black attire and full, dark beard were unmistakable.
Acid burned Hook’s throat. The things that man had done…
He’d half a mind to steer closer, climb the rigging, swing aboard, and end things one way or another.
A strong gust blasted him in the face. Hook shook himself. No. His crew. He couldn’t risk them like that, not now. Not yet. He tore his gaze away from Blackbeard and focused on the task at hand.
The Siren sailed in the opposite direction and showed no sign of turning.
Was she fleeing? He couldn’t blame them.
Even from a distance, he could see the damage to one side.
It was not enough to sink them, but they’d need repairs.
Hopefully his ship had done just as much to their side of the Kraken.
As for their sails…
“They’re lagging!” Smee whooped, throwing his hand in the air.
Aye. A grin spread across Hook’s face as he righted the wheel. The split sections of the Kraken’s mainsail fluttered in the breeze, completely ineffective. The foresail bore a rip too, likely compliments of Cressida. Such a big ship needed all its sails to be effective.
“We got ’em!” Hook yelled.
The crew let up a cheer.
“Should we try to circle back?”
The bastard deserved to see his ship at the bottom of the seas, but that would have to wait.
Cressida’s ship showed no sign of slowing or turning.
She’d helped them, at great risk to herself, and would do no more.
Even weakened, the Kraken was a formidable foe, especially when it caught them unawares and still reeling from one storm after another.
No. The tip of his hook dug into the wood of the wheel. Captain Blackbeard would get what was coming to him another day. Hook found the ring around his neck and rubbed it between his fingers. He’d get his revenge. One day.
“Stay the course.”
As the Kraken faded from view and the crew recovered from the battle, Smee edged closer to his captain. “Um…Captain, sir, when should we turn back?”
Ah, right. With the appearance of Captain Blackbeard, he’d forgotten to fill him in on the plan he’d concocted in the late hours of the night. The few he could spare between his unfulfilled lust.
“We don’t. We head for Rochland.”
“Rochland? But the Shrouded Isles are east,” Sage said, pushing her way into the conversation.
Hook raised his brows. “So we can poke about and get ourselves killed finding the scale of Leviathan? Much good it’ll do us.”
“But we have to get it!” Tink stood on the stairs, hair in disarray. Balled fists were planted on either hip, though she looked for all the world like she might hurl her guts out over the deck at any moment.
“Bloody hell, what are you doing up here?” he demanded.
She wrinkled her nose but refused to back down.
“We’re going in with a plan and guidance,” Hook replied, staring them each down in turn. “And if anyone doesn’t want to venture the journey, they can stay on land.”
Smee was the first to break the silence, pushing closer to his captain. “You can’t mean to see…her.”
“Aye, I do.” If anyone could help them navigate the Shrouded Isles and find the scale, it was the Green Witch.