Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Pirates were gross, Sidney decided. Gross, and smelly, and weird. Especially up close and in person. The Lost Boys didn’t exactly smell great either, but the pirates were way worse.
And the ship was—were those skulls?
Oh god, she was going to be sick.
Those were skulls on the front of the ship. Stacked up on metal skewers like elephant tusks. Some had flesh still, with seagulls cawing and diving at them, trying to rip chunks off as she watched.
The sun was just coming up as they were all loaded aboard dinghies and rowed back to a ship that Sasha said was called The Jolly Roger. Like Sidney cared. She just wanted to go home.
She just wanted Hook to die and get fed to that horrible crocodile thing so they could go back and try another book. Maybe she could talk them into a nice, charming, peaceful, Regency romance. Something with tea and scones. Where the only drama was if a duke had danced with a lady out of turn.
Not killer mermaids and skull skewers and electro-dile and pirates and she wanted to be sick and above all, she just. Wanted. To go. Home.
Sasha was just holding her, letting her cry into her shoulder, and she didn’t bother to offer any fake words of comfort or any other nonsense like that.
Because no matter how badly they both wanted to go home, it wasn’t happening. Not anytime soon, it seemed. They climbed aboard the ship up a rickety ladder—with her going second to last and Sasha going last because she was absolutely not letting a pirate look up her dress, thank-you-very-much.
Sidney could only watch as the Lost Boys were lashed to the masts or to barrels or whatever was tied down to the deck. She was left standing next to Sasha, as “Mr. Smee” was guarding the special prisoner.
One of the gross men standing next to her leered at her.
She decided she was never going to like anything with pirates in it ever again. “Can I pick the next book?”
“I don’t know if that’s how this works, but, sure, if they let us pick.” Sasha reached out and took Sidney’s hand and squeezed it gently. Nobody seemed to want to say anything about Mr. Smee and Wendy getting a little cuddly. In fact, nobody seemed to notice.
It was like if they did anything extremely out of character, it just didn’t exist to them. Just skipped off the surface.
“But if you recommend some sappy romance novel, I’m going to bet money Vile refuses,” Sasha continued.
“That—but—” Sidney lifted her head. She wiped her eyes with her sleeve. Her tears were finally starting to dry up. “But that’s not fair. It’s a perfectly valid genre.”
“I’m not saying it isn’t, trust me. I’m just saying I think he’d rather gouge out his eyes.”
“Are we putting words in my mouth?” A heavy metal hook rested on Sidney’s shoulder. It was Captain Hook. He’d come up right behind them. “I love it when people put words in my mouth.”
Sidney went rigid in terror.
“Technically,” Sasha glanced over her shoulder at him, much less tense than Sidney was.
His flesh-and-blood hand was resting on Sasha’s shoulder.
She seemed far less unnerved by the murderous pirate’s presence than Sidney was.
But, to be fair, Sidney wasn’t the one stuck with the guy.
“Isn’t everyone always putting words in your mouth? ”
Hook paused, looked as if he wanted to argue, then let out a hum. “Touché, my dear.” He smiled down at them. “Regardless. What were we saying about me?”
“Sidney wanted to know if she could pick the next book. I said I wasn’t sure if that’s how it worked.” Sasha brushed off Hook’s hand before reaching over and pushing the hook of Sidney’s shoulder. “And I was warning her you probably don’t want to get put through a romance novel.”
“Well, I wouldn’t jump to conclusions.” The insidious smile that bloomed across Hook’s face sent a wave of revulsion crawling up through Sidney, threatening to make her want to yack.
“But only if I get to pick the kind of romance novel. There are some wonderfully entertaining sub-genres these days.”
When Hook lifted his fingers and wiggled them at Sasha, a sick grin still plastered on his face, it took even Sidney—who’d be the first to admit that her mind was usually lodged firmly in the dumpster—a hot second to realize what he was insinuating.
“Oh my god, gross!” She grabbed Sasha and pulled her a step farther away from the villain. “No, absolutely not. I change my mind.”
“Bah. And here I thought you were the fun one.” Hook began to stroll away across the deck, folding his hand at his back.
Sidney glanced at Sasha. There was a weird look on her sister’s face. It wasn’t disgust, whatever it was. Lowering her voice, she elbowed her twin. “Sash?”
“What?”
“You’re kidding me.”
“What?” Sasha blinked as if snapping out of a thought. Then grimaced. “Ew, no.”
“Good. Just checking.”
Hook cut back into their conversation. “Let’s do this, then. A bit of an amendment to my game, since I make the rules. Whichever side wins this story picks the next one. Then, we’ll alternate.”
“Well, seeing as Peter Pan always wins, I better start thinking,” Sidney gloated. “He’ll be along any second now to rescue us all and feed you to that horrible crocodile.”
Hook spun to face them, smiling in a way that promised only mayhem. “We shall see.”
Sasha couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.
Very, very wrong. Hook—Vile—was scheming. She wracked her brain for everything she remembered about the ending to the original book. Wendy and the Lost Boys were all abducted and brought on board—check. That was where they were now.
Hook would then try to convince the Lost Boys into joining the pirates—or at least some of them—or threaten them with walking the plank.
It was then, when it seemed all hope was lost, that Peter would sneak aboard with what was the clock from the crocodile, terrifying Captain Hook and scattering the pirates.
In the confusion, Peter would pick off the pirates until Hook would send the Lost Boys down to confront what he believed to be a monster who had taken over the hold of the ship, only to play into Peter’s hands.
There would be a showdown, one that Hook would lose, and it would result in him being fed to the real crocodile, no longer ticking, who lurked in the water waiting for his prey, just below the plank of the ship.
But if she knew how it all went, certainly he did, too.
“Mr. Smee.” Hook turned to her, lifting his chin, a faint smile that promised nothing good on his face. “Pick.”
This was definitely nothing good. “Pick what?”
He gestured at the line of tied-up teenagers. “Who dies first, of course!”
“Um.” She stared at him blankly. “I’m sorry. What?”
“You really must get your hearing checked. Come here, Mr. Smee.” He chuckled as if it were all just a harmless misunderstanding. “So I needn’t shout.” He waved her over with his hook. “Miss Wendy will not leap overboard in your absence, I am sure.”
Letting out a quiet groan, she let go of Sidney’s hand and walked up to Hook, feeling like she was walking up to the school principal after showing up late to detention.
“My dear Mr. Smee.” He placed the agonizingly sharp point of his hook against the underside of her chin, lifting it so that she was forced to make eye contact with him.
“My boon companion.” He lowered his voice to a deep, dusky growl as he pressed his hook just a little harder against her skin, causing her to wince in pain. “You really must get with the program.”
When he finally relented, lowering the hook from her chin, she was shaking.
“Y—yeah. S—sorry.” It wasn’t a vague threat. It was a very clear one. Start playing along. Or else. “They’re not real.” Squeezing her eyes shut, she muttered the words to herself. “They’re just—just extras in a movie. They’re not real. NPCs in a video game.”
“Whatever you say, dear.” He patted her on the shoulder and walked away. “Pick, Mr. Smee.”
Eyes still shut, she pointed at random toward where she knew the crowd of Lost Boys was tied up. She didn’t want to know.
“Hah! What an evil choice. Let them watch the youngest die first.” Hook laughed. “You always had a cruel streak in you, Mr. Smee.”
“What?” She whirled. Sure enough, she had pointed at a child. The kid had to be no more than seven. He was cowering, wide-eyed, staring at her with a doe-eyed how could you look that made her want to crumble.
But she’d put money down that no matter where she’d pointed, that’d be who she would have wound up pointing at. Because she might have picked the cup, but he was the one controlling where the ball was.
She shut her eyes again. It didn’t matter. The kid wasn’t real. Just a character on a page. Just a personality written down in a novel by a dead man a century prior. If that. She wasn’t even sure. Maybe she’d just made him up on the spot—she had no clue.
The pirates were shouting and laughing, jeering at the child. When someone grabbed her by the upper arm and yanked her forward, forcing her to open her eyes, she wasn’t shocked to see it was Hook.
He pulled her forward and spun her to watch as the pirates marched the small child toward the plank.
The boy was crying. Weeping. “I want my mommy—”
“I want my mommy!” One of the pirates cried back at him in a high pitched voice, cackling in laughter.
“Stop this.” She glared up at Hook. “Let him go. Stop this. Please.”
“Get used to this, dear. It’s nothing compared to what’s waiting for you.” He settled his hand on her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Believe it or not, I’m doing this to be kind to you.”
That earned him a laugh. “Fuck you.”