Chapter 20
Hook
Every person they passed was an enemy.
Look each one over. Don’t rely on their clothes. Don’t make eye contact. If they look at you, make them want to look away. Keep watch at your back. Look far ahead as well as close. Keep your hand on the dagger at your side.
Those were the rules he traveled by as they made their way to the witch’s shop.
Dark clouds shadowed their steps. Bloody curse.
It picked the worst times to send a storm his way.
They couldn’t afford to wait it out either.
The rain better bloody well hold off until they made it back to Coconut Cove.
Blackbeard was here—or at least his crew was. Right under the Gamoreans’ nose. Whatever information they may have on that crocodile’s hideout would have to wait.
The witch’s shop was just as stifling and uncomfortable as the day before. No, somehow it was worse. A slight burned scent mixed in with the hideous perfume emanating from the very walls.
“Ah, just as expected.” The man behind the counter, the same as before, gave a too-bright grin. His face was painted again in the same shades of gold and green. With a dramatic flourish, he gestured to the curtains at his back. “Right this way.”
Hook glanced back at his companions. Tink was rigid, her gaze flitting this way and that.
She’d been on edge since her unexpected announcement.
If Blackbeard or his men had laid a hand on her…
He couldn’t think about that now. That bloody bastard already had much to answer for.
He’d made every one of their lives a misery in one way or another.
No wonder she’d gone so pale when the Kraken arrived after their meeting with Titania.
With a shake, he turned and followed the shopkeep through the crimson curtains.
The narrow hall beyond was almost pitch black.
The place made it too easy for an ambush.
His hand slipped from the pommel of his dagger, reaching back for the woman behind him.
He nearly sighed when her hand slipped into his and gave it a squeeze.
Tink twisted to glance up a flight of stairs ascending into the gloom as they strode down the hall toward the back of the shop.
Light bled in around them as the shopkeep pushed back another set of heavy curtains, revealing a small room.
The witch sat alone behind a round table in the center, which sported bottles, bowls, and vials like those in the storefront.
A grin lifted her lips, barely visible below the garish mask of green and gold she wore to cover her face.
Dark hair streaked with silver spilled out around it, cascading over her shoulders and a dress of shimmering emerald.
“Captain Hook, is it?” She tilted her head. Hands decked in gold and jewels tapped on the tabletop. She wore a fortune—if it were real gold. The way it shimmered in the light spilling from the candles in the chandelier above said it was. He would know. “Please, have a seat.”
The witch’s gaze passed right over Smee—rarer than jewels that was—and settled on Tink.
Her grin widened. Tink straightened at his side, her grip tightening in his.
Reluctantly, he let her go as they took vacant seats across from the witch, each one different in style.
Her shopkeep dragged the unused fourth, a gaudy mess of green velvet, to the heavy curtains caging them in.
Curtains even draped from the ceiling above, cloaking wood and stone. So much garish fabric. What a waste.
“You brought payment?” the witch asked.
Hook tossed a bag of coins onto the table. It landed with a heavy thump. “That should be to your satisfaction.”
“Mmmm.” She pried open the strings holding the bag closed and let coins slip through her fingers. “Depends on what you have to ask of me.”
Greedy witch. Though he had half a mind to call her another name if she tried to deny him. He already offered her a hefty sum of gold. An average merchant would take ages to gather so much, but perhaps she charged more to pirates.
Smee reached for a nearby bottle.
“Don’t touch that!” the witch screeched, rising to her feet.
He snapped his arm away like the scolded child he was.
The witch’s lips twitched as she regained her seat and smoothed out the falls of silk across her lap.
“Apologies for my friend.” Hook gave a scathing look at the man, who dipped his gaze in apology. “He won’t do that again.”
“No,” she said. “He won’t. State your business or be gone.”
Smee… Hook slid forward in his chair, letting his hook thump onto the edge of the table. “I need to know the location of the scale of Leviathan. Its precise location and how to get there.”
Her eyes widened. “My, you don’t want much, do you?”
“You’ve located things for me before. You can do it again.” Memories from years ago tried to claw their way into his mind, to fester there as they once had—his mother, his hand. Blackbeard’s smirking face. He slammed them back in their box.
“I remember. You went by a different name then.”
“We’re not here to discuss my past.” Not here. Not now.
“As you will.” She shrugged. “Executus!”
The shopkeep rushed to her side and gave a dramatic bow.
“My scrying bowl and the green crystal jar, please.”
He bowed again before sliding through the curtains behind her.
Hook stiffened. Another false wall. Smee shifted on his seat, no doubt keeping a hand, or two, on his hidden daggers as he did.
Tink was pale, her chest rising and falling.
He should have given her one too, an oversight he wouldn’t make again.
The witch’s prying gaze looked them over as the silence stretched. No one dared to break it. Smee barely breathed. The witch knew too much about him already. He wouldn’t give her another word. And she gave nothing for free.
The shopkeep, Executus—he committed the name to memory—returned carrying a heavy pot. A young boy trailed behind with a sparkling green vial, shaped like a teardrop and nearly as long as his arm.
“Careful, boy,” she said as he set the delicate item on the table to her side. “Or you’ll regret it.”
Hook jumped as Tink grabbed his thigh. He glanced to her and the wide-eyed look she shot him.
The boy, she mouthed. Yeah, he didn’t like her threatening kids either.
Never sat well with him. But they already risked the witch’s ire after Smee’s slipup.
He had to know the location of the scale.
Everything depended on it. He patted Tink’s hand.
When she dug her fingers into his leg again, he squeezed it in return. Later they could help the boy. Not now.
With a wave of her hand, the witch shooed her assistants away. “Now we begin. Hold very still.” Bright, white teeth filled her grin. “Unless you care to be stuck here quite a while.”
Tink pulled her hand away from his. He almost wished she hadn’t.
Hook nodded to the witch.
The moment she pulled the stopper on a black vial, the light dimmed.
One after another, the witch added ingredients to the cast-iron pot in front of her from the assortment on the table: one red flower, something that resembled a chicken bone, another that he tried not to look too closely at, a few drops of liquid red as rubies.
Finally, she reached for the green crystal vial.
The substance that floated into the pot was grainy, like sand but lighter, and it glowed with a faint golden light.
His stomach tightened. Like Tink’s wings when he kissed her or she…
He shifted in his seat. Can’t think about that now.
Absolute stillness settled over the room, except for the witch, who moved her hands in a smooth, fluid motion over the pot.
The light expanded, swelling out of the pot.
Run. Run. Everything in him cursed him for staying in his chair.
Smee visibly rocked backward. Tink sat eerily still, transfixed at the sight in front of them.
The witch’s eyes drifted shut, and the light faded until near darkness swallowed the room. Hook leaned forward, hand on his dagger. Dark smoke rose from the cauldron as the witch began to speak in a slow, melodic voice that came from everywhere and nowhere at once.
“Follow the second star to the left.
Beyond the veil, the bearded man guides you in.
The wooden trident marks the path.
Fog confuses. Don’t trust it.
Light in front. To the left. Right is right.
Up and up, higher still.
Hold your breath as you sway and swing.
Follow the eagle into the ground.
In shallow pool, the scale is found.
But only those bound two as one,
Can have the dragon’s gift.”
The witch opened her eyes and sucked in a deep breath. “My, you should have written that down.”
That— Fury rushed under his skin as he slammed the point of his hook into the table.
“A riddle?” Tink gasped.
“That ain’t—” Smee shook his head.
“This isn’t what we agreed,” Hook spat.
“Is it not?” The witch canted her head. “Follow the spirit’s guidance, and it will lead you to what you seek. How else did you expect to find something in a place that no one knows?”
The chair clattered behind him as he stood. “If you lie…” He pointed his hook at her.
“You’ll know where to find me.” She merely shrugged and leaned back in the chair. “But you should know, my magic is always right.” A slow grin stretched her lips. “James.”
His name may as well have been a slap. No one called him that. Not anymore. He’d left it behind, buried it with his mother after the last time he called upon the witch.
No one. Except…
Tink grabbed his arm. “Let’s go.” She tugged him toward the door.
The stiffness in his jaw loosened as he met her determined gaze. Right. No time to lose. They’d get nothing more from this greedy bitch.
He glanced back across the table. “Witch,” he said by way of farewell.
“Captain.”
Hook gestured to Smee, who strode for the curtained entrance without a backward glance. Hook slid his hand into Tink’s and turned to leave as well.
“Oh, Tinker Bell.”
Tink froze, her hand stiffening in his.
“Have you thought about my offer, dear?”
Her offer? His brow furrowed as he stared between the women. Tink had yet to turn to the witch, her eyes wide and wild, pleading with him in silence. A deep flush raced across her cheeks.
A heaviness settled in his chest. “What offer?” he grated.
“Oh my, I am sorry,” the witch said.
Hook nearly snarled. She wasn’t sorry. But she would be.
“You didn’t tell them, dearie?” the witch continued, her surprise as fake as the mask on her face.
His stomach dropped. Tell me what? What offer? He pleaded with Tink in silence, but she looked away. The world spun around him. He dropped her hand as if it burned.
The witch knew her name. She hadn’t given it while they were there. Hook stared between them again, breaths coming short and quick.
“I do see you managed to make some dust.” Her fingertips danced across the tabletop as merry as her grin. “Took my advice, huh?”
Dust. Her glow. Of course… It was pixie dust the witch used. And Tink had used him to make more of the precious, wicked substance. Once a trickster, always a trickster. Didn’t he know? Bloody hell. She’d fooled him.
Tink glanced over her shoulder. “I reject your offer.” Her voice warbled, but her pace was stiff as she fled the room.
“Pity,” the witch said as the curtains closed behind the pixie.
“If you’ve played me…” He shook his hook at her.
“I gave you exactly what you wanted, Captain.”
Worn nails dug into his palm. It took everything he had not to wipe the serpentine smile off her face. One more moment and he would.
Hook stormed after his companions and brushed past the shopkeep who said something in an all-too-pleasant voice. Cloudy drizzle greeted him as he stepped out the door. A fierce wind whipped down the street, a match for his inner fury.
“You.” He nearly shook as he stared Tink down.
Smee stepped back, taken unawares. “Captain—”
Hook silenced him with a look. His teeth ground together as he focused on the scowling pixie. “You met with her.”
She crossed her arms and notched her chin higher.
“Without us. Didn’t even tell me.”
Smee looked between them, wide-eyed.
“Because I had so much time? I was drunk, then you…” Her cheeks flushed. “You were gone when I woke up! Besides, we’ve got bigger problems.” As if on cue, thunder boomed.
They didn’t have time for this. Loathe as he was to admit it, they did have bigger issues, and they demanded attention. Now. He couldn’t put his crew—his family—at risk. They’d wasted enough time.
“There!” Tink gaped, pointing down the street. In a heartbeat she was sprinting past him, boots slapping on the wet cobblestones.
Hook grabbed her, nearly sending her slipping to the ground as he pulled her to a halt. “Where do you think—”
“The boy! We have to get him!”
He twisted his head in the direction of her frantic waving. A boy stood frozen, looking back at them, before he darted down an alley.
“Now!” she screeched, tugging against him.
Why take an interest in this one kid? “He’s fine. We have bigger worries.”
“No!” She wrenched free and glanced either way, her eyes wide. “He’s one of Peter’s. They’re with Captain Blackbeard.”
The words smacked him like an icy squall.
Fuck.
“If he heard the witch’s instructions…” Her body shook.
Fuck.
Smee ran a hand through his damp hair. “We gotta—”
The world swayed under his feet. “No!”
Both of them stilled at his exclamation.
“We stick to the plan. The boy’s gone. We can’t delay.” The Kraken wasn’t here. But it could be. Any minute it could be. And they had to be gone, far from here. Blackbeard would want the scale. Who bloody wouldn’t? And once he had the witch’s words, he’d go after it.
Fuck.
He took off at a run toward the forest, not caring if anyone saw. “Come on! And don’t think we won’t talk about your little visit!” he shouted behind him.
Oh, he’d get to the bottom of that. Little minx. But she was right, they had bloody bigger problems. And she’d tried to warn him—her hand on his leg. Fuck all, if only he’d realized…
They had to find the scale first. With the power of Leviathan in his hand, Captain Blackbeard would rule the seas outright. Curse or not, Hook would be doomed. It couldn’t happen. Never bloody happen.
He’d have his victory over Blackbeard. In this and more.