Chapter 38
Hook
Darkness stared back at him, his only companion in the bowels of the Kraken. He rubbed his mother’s ring, Blackbeard’s ring, between his fingers.
Endless as the seas.
How long had it been since Blackbeard shattered him completely?
A day? A week? Eternity? He ached worse than when the bastard had taken his hand.
Lying there, bleeding out in the cell, would have been preferable.
At least then he could give in this time.
But no. Not yet. He still had one thing to do, a spark of vengeance he kept burning in the ruins of his heart.
He wouldn’t sail for that bastard. The least he could do was rid the world of him, or die trying. Finish off that cursed bloodline for good.
Except your brother, his thoughts taunted him.
But the boy never had to know. If he dragged Blackbeard with him down to the depths, the secret would die there too. He’d wasted his chance to hook the foul man in his cabin, if he’d had one at all.
The door creaked open.
Perhaps his chance was closer than he thought.
Hook lay on the floor, waiting for a glimmer of lantern light, jeering laughter, the thump of boots, anything.
He imagined it. Just like he imagined Tink’s face.
Already her spirit came back from Davy Jones’s locker to haunt him, just as it had in life.
He saw her face in every shadow, heard the whisper of her voice in every sway of the ship.
And each one sliced him open anew. She was dead because of him.
To never see her again, never kiss her lips—
Someone struck a match.
Hook jolted upright as an oil lamp blazed to life. He shielded his eyes and blinked against the glare.
A young, beardless, redheaded Blackbeard stared at him through the iron bars—Peter. The boy’s nose wrinkled as he took in Hook where he sat on the floor.
“You look terrible.”
Hook groaned. Why’d the boy have to remind him of himself too? “Why are you here?”
“Tootles and Curly worried about you.”
Tootles and Curly. He barely stifled an eye roll. Two of the other kids, no doubt. No pirate would go by such a name. “Aye, and why’s that?”
Peter shrugged and shoved a flask through the bars. “Here.”
With a dubious glare, Hook slid forward and took the offered item. His mouth was dry. They’d barely given him any water or food, and he couldn’t die yet, not without his revenge.
“You know what happened to my crew?” If Peter did, he was just as heartless as Blackbeard, standing there all stern and stone-faced. He’d delivered his gift. Why linger?
“Left at an island,” he said, too quick to be anything but what he thought was the truth. “It’s what Tinker Bell said.”
Breath left him in a whoosh. Peter might as well have punched him in the chest. Something skittered and scraped in the shadows, causing Peter to jump and his lantern to swing. He barely noticed, didn’t care. It was probably a rat.
“Who?” he gasped.
“The pixie. Tinker Bell.”
He’d seen her fall. Heard the splash. Unless… “Describe her.”
“Wings. Blonde hair.” He looked away, a touch of color on his cheeks. “Pretty.”
“How’d she wear it? Her hair,” he asked urgently.
Peter glanced back at him, recovering his wits. “Like a ball behind her head.”
Hook’s shoulders dropped. His chest loosened. Relief and sorrow warred together within him. Lily. She was using Tink’s name. But why he couldn’t say. Did that bitch even know what happened to her cousin? After all she’d done, she probably didn’t care.
The rat, maybe more than one by the sound, knocked into something. Leave it to a cocksure fool like Blackbeard to let his ship get infested.
“Why’d they keep you?”
Hook unscrewed the top on the flask. The sweet, familiar caramel of good rum tickled his nose.
“Rum?” He raised a brow at the kid.
He shrugged again, looking back toward the sound. “It’s what the men were drinking before they passed out.”
Figures. He grunted. Still celebrating the end of the Jolly Roger and her crew.
A wave of sickness washed over him that he hurriedly tried to block out.
He should down the rum and pray it was strong enough for him to pass out.
He squinted at the flask. It’d take more than this though.
“Think you could get me a second?” he asked.
Peter ignored him. “Why’d they keep you?” he asked again.
He leaned forward, letting his hook clink against each bar in turn as he trailed it back and forth. “Torture,” he said.
Peter stepped back.
“Know how I got this hook?”
The boy shook his head.
Hook mustered the most menacing grin he could. “It’s how they initiate boys to the ship. Maybe they’ll give you one.” The lantern shook. “Or take your leg. Maybe an eye…”
“Y-you’re joking.” He set the lantern down with a clatter. “Trying to scare me.”
His hook arm slipped through the bars, snagging the boy by the front of his faded green shirt.
To his credit, he didn’t scream. “Oh, I’m trying to scare you all right.
Get off this ship, Peter.” He nearly shook him as the boy stared wide-eyed back at him.
“First chance you get, take your boys and run.”
Peter shoved away from him. “This the best place we’ve had. Plenty a’ food. Soft beds. Coin to spend.”
Hook retreated. “Ain’t worth it. Mark my words, kid, you and your boys are better off as far from this crew as you can get.” He expected the boy to run, to turn and flee. Instead, he stared back at him like a bizarre puzzle he was trying to solve.
Now it was Hook’s turn to shrug. He frowned at the small splash of rum that escaped the flask to drip down his hand. What a waste. He tipped the rest to his mouth, ready to fade away.
“Stop!” The urgent whisper stabbed straight through his heart.
She’d come back to haunt him already. Her ghost wouldn’t even let him drown himself in rum and escape. He didn’t deserve to. What captain led everyone he loved to their death?
Peter stumbled back, nearly dropping his lantern as a hand clamped over his mouth. “Don’t you dare scream.”
Lantern light highlighted her blonde hair, the smooth planes of her face, her skinny arms, and the shiny dagger she pointed at Peter’s face. So perfect. So…
“James.” The hint of a sob caught in her voice.
Something burst within him like the wind of a squall.
“Tink.” The flask tumbled to the ground as he lunged for the bars, throwing his bruised body against them as if he could leap straight through to her.
She was alive. His Tink. Surely the gods wouldn’t fuck with me this badly.
“You’re…” Real. Here. I love you. “How?” He’d never been at such a loss for words.
“Long story. We’ve got to go.”
Peter’s gaze darted between them, at least as much as he was able to manage without moving. The boy barely breathed in Tink’s grip. Damn. She looked good holding a dagger.
“Promise not to move or scream?” Tink asked the boy, inching the dagger tip closer for good measure.
The slightest, shaking nod was his only response.
“Good.” She dropped her arms. A moment later her empty hand was back, but this time clutching something he couldn’t see that she shoved into Peter’s face. His eyes widened before fluttering shut. His limp body collapsed to the ground, knocking over the lantern. Tink righted it.
Unexpected panic for his half-brother surged through him. “What did—”
“Pixie dust.” Tink grinned at him. “He’ll be fine.”
His heart swelled. “Clever girl.” Of course she wouldn’t hurt a kid.
She leaped over the boy’s body and slammed against the bars, clutching at him for dear life the best she could with the metal between them. Breeze from the flutter of her wings ruffled past his face just before her lips crashed against his through a slit in the bars.
The touch of her skin gave him life, lit up the darkness that had nearly swallowed him whole.
If he had any doubts left, her kiss erased them.
Impossibly, she was there, with him. If the bars weren’t between them, he’d have her half-undressed and pressed against him already, even with his brother’s sleeping form nearby. All too soon, she pulled back.
“I love you too.”
He blinked, barely able to process the confession. “You would confess to me when I can do nothing about it,” he smirked. Gods, what he wouldn’t give to take her in his arms that very moment.
Her gaze hooded, as if she could read his thoughts. Then she cocked one perfect brow. “Filthy pirate. Now...” She shook herself. “Time to go. We’ve got to get back to the ship.” She fumbled with a ring of heavy keys.
“Ship?”
“The Jolly Roger.” She tried one key, huffed in frustration, and tried the next. “It’s back. The crew is safe.”
He nearly laughed. Maybe he had died in his cell. It couldn’t be real. It was too good, too much. “How—”
Tink fumbled with the keys, trying yet another on the lock. “Like I said, long story. Mermaids saved us. I used the pearl to fix the ship. The merfolk might have told us which direction the Kraken went. Oh, and the Siren is here too.”
Of all the stunning news she rattled off, one stood out among the rest. “You used the pearl.”
She stilled and stared up at him. “Yes.”
“It was your way home.”
A sad smile touched her lips. “Home isn’t just a place, it’s a people, and I could never be truly home without you.”
The key clicked into the lock. As soon as the door swung open, he pulled Tink into his arms, savoring the feel of her against him, the soft touch of her lips, the flutter of her wings—wonderful, magical sensations he never expected again in this life.
“We have to be quick and quiet,” Tink said when she pulled away ever so slightly.
Reluctantly, he let her go, his hand trailing down her arm. “How did you get here?”
She glanced away. “I flew.”
His heart skipped a beat. “Over water?” She couldn’t swim. A strong gust of wind, a cramp in a wing, an arrow shot by Blackbeard’s men…so many things could have hindered her flight.
“Yeah. Smee volunteered, but someone had to captain the Jolly Roger. Besides,” she said, placing her hands on her hips. “Could you see him trying to sneak onto this ship?”
He held back a laugh. No, he couldn’t. Smee would have the attention of everyone on the ship the moment he set foot on deck, if not before. Speaking of… “How did you get past the crew?”
Her wings fluttered, a slight glow illuminating the room. “Oh, just a bit of pixie dust…in the rum.”
“That’s why you told me to stop.”
“It worked. A few sips, and they could barely stand. It was easy to grab the keys and slip down here. Besides, I couldn’t have you falling down drunk like those idiots when we set this thing ablaze.”
He gaped. “We?”
“That’s the signal. They’ve been anchored here a while, or our merfriend said.
Should be dry enough. And there are plenty of oil lanterns around.
” She twisted the end of her hair. “I get you, we steal a boat, I set the sail on fire as we leave, and a few minutes later the Jolly Roger and the Siren move out of the fog and unleash hell.”
“And if you got caught?”
“Then they unleash hell in a little bit anyway, so we need to move.” She grabbed his arm, tugging him toward the door.
“Wait.” Hook glanced at Peter where he lay on the floor. “We have to save the kids.”