Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
WENDY
A ssured that these bastards were feeding my sister, giving her water, and not taking advantage of her—apparently Hook put the fear of god into them if they so much as brushed her hand with their fingertips—I put the next phase of my plan into action.
It was a pain in the ass to fray more ropes with the razor I’d snuck aboard, and even more of a pain to not be seen as I worked. But it was necessary. I needed the Banshee anchored right where it was, not sailing off to another island.
After that, it was surprisingly easy to get into the kitchens.
“Captain sent me down here,” I muttered, a deep frown cutting lines into my face as I stalked into the small galley kitchen, a new hat on my head and the sleeves of my white shirt rolled up. It needed washing, the pits stained a wretched yellow, but I wasn’t the only one on the ship who didn’t smell of sunshine and daisies. Besides, I’d have access to better accommodations very, very soon. I had to beat my smile back into a frown at the thought.
Right then, on with the show.
Step one: take out the chef.
Wait, I already did that.
Step two: take out the replacement chef.
It was easy enough. I spent the morning helping him clean up the mess from the night before, and I couldn’t help but notice the beer he sipped. I sprinkled in a healthy dose of the poison I’d bought in the Silverfish Isle when he was busy hacking heads off a giant fish. Twenty minutes later, he keeled over at the counter. I never even learned his name.
“Perfect,” I told him, patting his clammy cheek. “You stay right there.”
I mean, he was dead; he wasn’t exactly going anywhere. The tall bastard did get in the way as I finished up dinner, though. I should have thought this through and killed him after the food was made.
Hauling up the heavy pot was back-breaking work, but I dragged myself to the deck one sagging wooden step at a time, and dropped it down in the middle on the ship. I made a show of eating, always keeping an eye on the captain as he loomed at the helm in his long coat and fancy, feathered hat, staring across the Banshee like it had insulted his mother. Probably sore because more ropes had mysteriously frayed overnight and now he knew he was being sabotaged.
I watched him from the corner of my eye, gnashing my teeth as Rolando laughed uproariously at something his buddy said, his moustache taking flight at the gust of air, and Hook didn’t eat a single fucking bite of food.
Fuck.
I lifted the spoon to my mouth, ate nothing, and returned it to the bowl. The captain didn’t shift an inch, watching, always watching. How was I going to get him to eat? If I didn’t think of something fast, everyone would start—
Dropping to the deck, unconscious.
Ugh, this was not good timing.
Someone collapsed at the helm first, then like a domino effect others fell, bowls and spoons clattering to the deck. Wynton went limp beside me before he tumbled off the crate we sat on. I felt a little bad, but I hadn’t used enough poison to kill everyone, just to make them feel like shit tomorrow. I liked this ship after all, and ships needed a crew.
Anton and Hook began yelling, the quartermaster knocking over cups of beer, snatching them from people’s hands. Chaos broke out. Fights broke out, fuelled by fear. The Banshee roared with sudden noise, and I soaked it all in, justice finally served.
Well, not quite. When everyone was unconscious, I had a captain to kill.
When Neville and Sterling tumbled off their crates, others strewn across the deck, I let out a convincing croak and flopped sideways onto the deck. Solid wood slammed into my hip, making me wish I’d done a less impressive slide off my crate, but I gritted my teeth and closed my eyes.
I listened to panic spread, and wondered if the splash of water was some idiot leaping into the ocean like it was a pandemic he could outswim and not a simple act of poisoning.
“Stay calm,” Anton yelled. “Everybody stay—”
His words slurred and then a solid thud sounded not too far away. Ha! Even the quartermaster ate my food. I really should have asked if people liked the taste before they passed out. I thought it was some of my finest work.
Silence fell, even the heavy breathing of panic dropping to unconscious quiet.
And then… footsteps cracking across the deck.
I stiffened, gritting my teeth. Everyone was supposed to be knocked out so I could take my sweet time murdering the captain, and then tie up the troublemakers of his crew. No doubt some of them would be unhappy that I’d freed Joanna. And poisoned them. And killed their captain.
Actually, maybe we weren’t even going to be besties. Maybe we were—
A scream ripped out of me when a boot pressed on my injured shoulder. My eyes flew open only to well with tears.
“How did you know?” I gasped, ripping myself away from Hook’s boot and propping myself against a fallen crate. It took effort to remember how to breathe as fire raced down my arm. I clutched the wound, pain blazing through my veins, blood warming the clothes under my palm. Great. I’d been doing such a good job at keeping the blood inside, where it belonged.
“Yesterday,” he answered, looking down at me with murder in ink-dark eyes. “When I pulled you back on deck, you were in pain. You’re here for the girl.”
“She’s a woman, you prick,” I spat, gritting my teeth against the bonfire clawing down my arm. Fuck, it hurt. My nostrils flared, hands curling into fists as I pulled myself off the floor and to my feet. My knee still ached thanks to the maudlin asshole I killed to board the ship, but it was nothing like the inferno in my shoulder. “But yeah, I’m here for my sister. Hand her over, and I’ll spare your life.”
Hook threw his head back and laughed, black hair tumbling over his forehead, his face at once rage-inducing and painfully handsome. He was devastating when he laughed, his black eyes lit from within, teeth surprisingly pearly and perfect. Most of the crew had stubs of yellowed teeth. I wasn’t judging but… they weren’t pretty to look at. This bastard was pretty, but his laughter was so condescending and dismissive that it lit the fuse of my rage.
Alright, asshole, underestimate me at your peril. You’ll learn the hard way, just like my first and worst enemy—Nevis, the cow.
The thought of that old bitch made me even angrier. I lunged forward and grabbed the rapier Hook kept at his waist while he was still laughing at the sky. I’d torn it free and driven it through his shoulder before he’d even stopped laughing.
“An eye for an eye, asshole,” I spat.
Hook stopped laughing. I wasn’t happy with how my blood ran cold, a little shiver of warning going through every one of my instincts.
“Ooh, scary,” I taunted when he bared his teeth—dull, ordinary teeth, nothing to be afraid of. “No tentacles this time?”
His eyes seemed to darken further, sucking in all light. The deck was unsettlingly quiet around us, no sound for miles except the sea kissing the hull. “You think you can kill me, Wendell?” His laugh this time was low, quiet, and laced with a subtle threat like poison in wine. “You wouldn’t be the first to die in pursuit of my death.”
I raised an eyebrow when he pulled himself off his own sword, not blinking at the blood or what must have been sharp, demanding pain. “You wouldn’t be the first I’ve killed,” I replied sweetly.
I didn’t understand the little flare in his eyes before they narrowed on me. It wasn’t anger. He almost looked interested, but that would be madness.
I let my other hand fall to my side, discreetly inching it towards the dagger I’d stashed there earlier. “And it’s Wendy. You should know the name of the woman who kills you.”
Hook pinned his full attention on me, his head tilting to the side, the crimson feather on his jaunty hat fluttering in the wind. My heartbeat kicked up. This wasn’t going to be an easy kill. I couldn’t keep the smile off my face.
Hook was bigger up close, still as lithe and wiry as a swimmer, but taller, and there was muscle corded around his arms and chest that I didn’t expect. He’d hidden much under that brown coat. I could tell he was used to fighting in the way he held himself, and it wasn’t a civilised type of fighting. It was the kind I’d learned—dirty and gritty and ruthless.
“You really think you can kill me?” he asked, lilting, something in his tone I couldn’t parse.
I loved to chat with the best of them, but I had killing to do, so instead of replying I whipped my stolen rapier around as a shiny distraction and drove forward with my dagger. The movement made pain erupt down my shoulder, driving arrows of agony into my chest, but I gritted my teeth and added weight to the blow.
Hook stepped aside far too quickly. I spun, barely keeping my balance, my teeth gnashing.
“Cute attempt,” he remarked, a glimmer in his black eyes. “But it’ll take far more than that to even wound me. And here I thought you weren’t bluffing about killing me,” he scoffed.
“I killed all your crew, didn’t I?” I snapped, and witnessed the first chink in his armour. He looked beyond me, a slight tightening around his eyes. I read it as anger, maybe even rage, but I should have taken it as a warning because he leapt across the slick wooden deck so fast I couldn’t track the motion. He moved like smoke, sifting through the air so fast he was something other than human.
Adrenaline hit my system, making everything sharper and shakier at once. I had no choice but to surrender the sword when his hand wrapped around the hilt, cool skin brushing mine and leaving an inexplicable trail of fire.
“Witch,” he spat, nostrils flaring as he tore the rapier from me and stared at me like I’d bewitched him.
“Octopus,” I shot back, too unsettled by that fire to come up with a better retort. I leapt aside when he came at me, unnervingly fast, his body a coiled whip of tension and wrath, nothing at all human in that movement. “What the hell are you?”
He was in my personal space in a millisecond, only an instinctual movement sparing me from being skewered on his blade. “Better,” he said through gritted teeth, his chest rising and falling quickly.
I snorted. “Better than me? Dream on, Hooky.”
I swore darkness spilled from his eyes. The deck went still. Even the ocean paused its tumultuous to-ing and fro-ing. “Do not. Call me. Hooky.”
“Sure thing, Hooky,” I agreed, thrusting my hand past his flared coat and raking a slice across his ribs with the tip of my dagger. The fabric of his clothes parted easily. Damn, this was a nice knife. I thought the guy who sold it to me had been lying, but maybe it really was from one of King John’s tittering courtiers. “I’ll make a mental note to never call you Hooky, Hooky.”
His stare flattened, nostrils flaring like a furious bull, and I was so amused by that comparison that I didn’t see his rapier coming down on my side before the tip drove into my thigh.
“Alright, Fucky—yes, I changed your name—I’ll allow that one, since I got you in the shoulder.”
“I already got you in the shoulder,” he pointed out, tearing the blade free. “I’m winning.”
“Oh, fuck you,” I snarled, darting out of range and pretending the ship didn’t momentarily black out. “You are not winning. I took out all your crew. I am winning.”
“This isn’t about the crew. This is about you and me.” He used the bloody rapier to gesture between us. “You’re bleeding from more spots than me. I’m winning.”
A red haze shuttered over my eyes and I straightened, blood whooshing between my ears. I was going to kill him, and I’d make it slow.
Hook never took his eyes off me, matching me step for step as I darted across the ship, pilfering a sword from Neville’s scabbard. “I knew something was wrong with you when you killed Barrington,” he told me, advancing with tight, lethal steps. “I should have thrown you overboard that night.”
“Oh, definitely,” I agreed, adjusting my stance so I was ready to meet him when—holy fucking shit, he moved too fast! I barely got the blade up in time to catch his rapier as it drove down at my chest. Sweat rolled off the tip of my nose, my arm shaking as the swords scraped and locked, the screeeeech god-awful. “That sets my teeth on edge,” I said with a wince.
“Likewise,” he ground out, pushing harder, trying to rip the sword from my hand. Wind blasted my hair into my face, blinding me for a split second, and Hook used it to snatch the dagger from my hand.
“Hey!” I complained, then grunted, falling back as heat lanced my side.
“Like I said,” he taunted, throwing my knife to the deck, as if to prove a point. “I’m better. I’m winning.”
“Oh, you’re dead,” I seethed, slapping a hand over the bleeding slice on my ribs. He’d replicated my cut on him almost perfectly. I blew hair from my eyes and set the bastard captain in my sights, pain making my nostrils flare. “I’m going to carve you up and feed you to your own fucking crew.”
“I thought they were dead,” he retorted, his eyes… dancing. Like he was enjoying this. Enjoying my pain. I bared my teeth.
When he took a step closer, fluid and fast, I retreated, scrambling for a weakness to exploit, a way to take him down—but my back slammed into a solid mast, and I swore at the jolt of pain it sent through my injuries. The smile that hooked into his cheek was pure, arrogant victory.
“Nowhere to go, Wendy,” he taunted, caging me against the mast with both arms. “Still think you can kill me?”
“Still think I can’t?” I glared up at him, hating that he was so much taller than me, hating that he could loom and intimidate and make my heart quicken. A shiver moved across my skin, sharpening all my senses as he stepped even closer, pinning me to the mast. Nowhere to go. And all I had was a sword that was useless at this close range unless I could manage to get the second dagger from my boot.
Why couldn’t anyone have passed out against the mast, leaving their weapons within my reach? It was so inconsiderate of them.
“Scared, darling?” Hook asked, smirking down at me, not seeming to care that he was bleeding and injured. The name made my heart jump but he didn’t know who I was unless he’d psychically conjured my name.
“You wish,” I laughed and surged against him, managing to dislodge one arm from around me. Pain tried to kill me as I spun out of his hold and jumped over the sprawled unconscious body of Ramone. Spinning was a bad idea. Motherfucker. Blackness flashed again, my breath coming fast because Hook was right behind me. It should have been fear making my heart race, but it was exhilaration. Excitement.
“I’m not sure I do,” Hook said, so close it sent a shiver up my spine. “But I enjoy the challenge of scaring you. You strike me as a woman who doesn’t scare easily.”
“Correct,” I agreed, whipping around so fast I hoped he didn’t predict it, driving my borrowed sword at his chest. It was a perfect strike, aimed right for his stomach. It would make a nasty mess. The least he deserved for kidnapping my sister. And shooting me.
If he’d been mortal, he wouldn’t have escaped the blow, but there was something else to this monstrous captain, and he used a blur of speed to leap aside, my sword cutting nothing but air. He might have evaded a killing blow but he hadn’t been paying attention to his surroundings. The horrid screech of a crate dragging against the deck was like music to my ears when his foot caught against it, sending him tumbling.
I leapt upon him the second he fell, snatching a wickedly serrated knife from Anton’s waist and holding it to Hook’s throat.
“You lose,” I taunted, grinning, my breathing fast and blood pumping in my ears. I felt good. Damn good. This was fun. “Shouldn’t have kidnapped my sister,” I told him, shaking my head. “Big mistake. Fatal, really.”
A knife buried itself in my thigh. I screamed as hot, blinding pain made my whole body bow over him, but the sound became a wild, frantic laugh.
“That won’t help you,” I told Hook. I had him pinned, and none of his writhing and bucking was unseating me.
“You don’t have to kill me,” he said, black eyes sharp on my face, sweat beading on his brow. “I could be good to you, Wendy.”
I let my smile grow, leaning closer, closer, until we shared breath. “I don’t doubt that, Hook. But I’m afraid I do have to kill you. You hurt my sister, and no one is allowed to fuck with the Darlings and survive.”
I drove the knife under his ribs and added my weight to the blow until it pierced his heart.
“It’s a shame you made an enemy of me,” I sighed, patting his face, watching his eyes go from sharp to dull. “I like the way you fight. We would have been explosive in bed. Life-changing maybe. Oh, well.”
I twisted the knife, blood pumping over the back of my hand, slicking my fingers, hot and alluring.
“Fine,” he rasped, his eyelids drooping, his breaths weakening. “You win.”
The smile that filled my face was uncontrollable. Glee hit my system, mixing with adrenaline. I did win, didn’t I? I killed the infamous, terrifying Captain Hook. I drugged his crew of blackhearts and thieves.
“Night, night, Hooky,” I laughed, kissing his bloody lips in a fit of madness before I got to my feet to watch him bleed out. Ooh, that was a nasty wound in his middle. Blood pooled across the deck, wider with every minute.
When he finally stopped breathing, I hauled the captain into my arms, dragged him to the railing with slow, staggering steps, and heaved him into the sea.
I waved with my good hand, wiggling my fingers as he slipped beneath the waves. “I’m the captain now,” I told the corpse of Captain Hook. “But don’t worry, I’ll take good care of the Banshee.”
I ran my hand along the mahogany railing, possession a wild animal in my chest. She was mine now. Everything aboard this ship was mine.