Chapter 33
Chapter Thirty-Three
ALICE
Oh my god. The water is freezing. And I don’t just mean cold—I mean the kind of cold that bites right through your skin, claws into your bones, and refuses to let go.
Despite the clear night, with not a single flake of frost in sight, it feels like we’ve plunged into the iciest, most miserable pool on the planet.
Mist hovers over the surface, swirling in wisps as tiny insects dance across it.
There’s no time to complain.
“Swim,” Hook barks, shoving me forward, his voice low and urgent.
“I am swimming,” I snap back, arms and legs churning against the icy pull of the water.
I give it everything I’ve got, slicing through the lake like I’m fighting for my life—because, well, I am.
Each stroke feels like pushing through an ice bath.
My muscles scream in protest, but I grit my teeth and keep going.
“Faster, Alice,” he shouts from somewhere behind me, barely audible over the rush of water.
Oh, I’m sorry, am I not dying fast enough for you? I glance back to find him trailing me, his movements efficient but not as fast as I expected. You’d think a pirate would be a stronger swimmer.
Finally, everything goes quiet. Just the sound of our breathing and the water lapping around us. We’re far enough away from the waterfall now, so I dare to glance back, my heart pounding, my body aching.
There’s nothing.
No guards. No arrows slicing through the mist. No mer-monsters lurking at the water’s edge. Just us.
I exhale, my pulse beginning to steady as I tread water. “I think we lost them,” I say, as Hook swims up beside me.
The water has made his eyes brighter, the dark lashes framing them somehow even blacker. Jesus.
He huffs, glancing around, finally seeing what I do—nothing but darkness and mist. “They’re stuck up there,” he says. “Too yellow-bellied to make the jump themselves.”
I squint up at the waterfall. The mer-things are clustered at the top, staring down at us, their tails flicking in the mist as they lean over the edge, almost hypnotised. Then, one of them drops off the ledge.
I narrow my eyes. “Are they…”
“Yep.” His shoulder presses against mine, urgency radiating off him. “Get to shore. They can’t come out of the water.” He jerks his head towards a shadowy bank ahead. “There.”
Easier said than done.
The current is wild—pulling one way, then spinning me around the next. I grit my teeth, fighting against it with everything I’ve got. By the time we reach the shore, I’m half-dead, stumbling onto the dry land with all the grace of a drowned rat.
Hook drags himself out just behind me, shivering, lips tinged blue, but somehow still managing to stand there like he’s waltzed out of a goddamn fairy tale. A soggy, glorious mess of a man.
Not looking. Definitely not looking. This is not the time for my brain to start wandering into dangerous territory.
“So, genius,” I ask, teeth chattering. “What now?”
He runs a hand through his hair, brushing it back—and god help me, even cold and soaked, he somehow manages to look infuriatingly perfect. His hair sticks up wildly, the wet strands catching what little light there is. It’s the first time I’ve really seen him—really looked at him—without the mask.
There’s faint stubble along his jaw, just enough to darken his face in a way that suits him. A thin scar cuts through his left eyebrow, subtle but there, adding to the rugged, dangerous aura he wears like a second skin.
But even the great Hook can’t hide the fact that he’s cold. He’s shivering, though he stands tall, refusing to show any weakness.
“There,” he says, nodding towards a dark shape further along the shore, just barely visible through the mist.
I squint. “That wasn’t there before.”
Hook frowns at me, the kind of look that says he’s already decided I’ve lost my mind. Honestly, I’m beginning to think I have.
“Of course it was,” he says, dismissive as ever. Without another word, he’s heading straight for it. “You coming, or just standing there looking pretty?”
I squint again, catching the faint words carved into the weathered wooden sign swinging in the moonlight: The Jump Inn. Beneath it, a narrow plank stretches precariously over the dark water. Ha. No, thank you. I’ve had my fill of the lake tonight.
“Are you even sure it’s open?” I call, glancing warily at the eerie, abandoned building.
I don’t remember this place from my last visit. Even with Wonderland’s vibrancy drained and replaced by rot and decay, this part feels… forgotten. Lost.
The building is cloaked in darkness, its roof sagging like it’s barely hanging on. Overgrown vines crawl up the walls, clutching the structure like they’re trying to pull it under. The windows are intact, the door sturdy enough, but the place hasn’t seen life in decades.
“It doesn’t matter,” Hook throws over his shoulder with a dismissive wave. “It’s somewhere to rest. Unless, of course, you’d rather stay out here and wait for those things to catch up with us. Or maybe those.”
He nods toward the sky, and my stomach flips. The bat-like creatures Absolem and I saw earlier are circling again, swooping low through the mist, scanning the landscape.
“Are they… looking for us?” I ask, shivering despite myself.
“I’d say that’s a safe assumption. So, unless you fancy dinner with the Queen tonight, I suggest you move.”
I scowl, but he’s already turned away, standing there with his insufferable smug expression. His hands rest at his sides like he’s daring me to question him. Then, without waiting for a response, he disappears through the door.
“Unbelievable,” I mutter, hurrying after him.
The moment I step inside, I hesitate. The air is thick with dust, and the stillness is almost suffocating.
This place hasn’t seen life in a long time.
Tables and chairs sit perfectly arranged, as if waiting for guests who never came.
Plates and glasses are set out, untouched, coated in grime.
Coats hang neatly on a rack by the door, frozen in time.
In the centre of the room is a large fireplace, dark and blanketed in dust. My body aches for its warmth, but it’s as lifeless as the rest of the place.
“There’s no one here,” I say, shutting the door behind me—not that it’ll do much good against the cold creeping through the cracks.
“No?” Hook raises an eyebrow, a challenge glinting in his eyes. “Maybe you’re just not looking hard enough.” Before I can question him, he strides over to the bar and slams his hands down. The sound echoes like a crack of thunder. “Barkeep.”
The transformation is immediate—and chilling.
Candles sputter to life, their flames casting eerie shadows that stretch and shift along the walls. The darkness retreats just enough to reveal figures filling the tables and leaning against the bar—ghostly patrons that weren’t there a moment ago.
Cobwebbed chandeliers flicker as if caught in a phantom breeze, and the air thickens with murmurs and faint, haunting laughter. It’s as though someone flipped a switch, pulling this forgotten inn back from the dead.
Behind the bar, a figure materialises—a tall, thin man with golden, ember-like skin that seems to shimmer in the faint light. His eyes are yellow, slitted like a cat’s, and atop his head are ears that twitch and flick like they’re listening to something I can’t hear.
His hands, translucent as smoke, grip a glass he polishes endlessly, caught in some bizarre loop. His head doesn’t move, but his eyes follow us, unblinking.
Hook doesn’t bat an eyelid. He leans against the bar, casually sliding a gold coin across the counter. “Do you have a room we could use for the night, good sir?”
The bartender’s grin stretches unnaturally wide, his yellow eyes flicking to me before inclining his head. His voice rasps out, barely above a whisper. “Captain.” He nods again. “We have only one room, but it is yours—on the house.” He slides the coin back toward Hook.
“One is all we need,” Hook replies smoothly.
“We’re not staying here,” I hiss, sidling up to him, trying to ignore the way the ghostly patrons seem to fix their hollow stares on me. They flicker in and out, solid one second, wispy and insubstantial the next.
Hook glances at me, his expression calm, but I catch the faintest glimmer of amusement in his eyes.
“Oh? Do you fancy braving the night out there instead?” He jerks his head toward the door.
“Maybe introduce yourself to the creatures circling the mist? Or are you holding out for one of the Queen’s search parties to show up? ”
I glare at him. “We could find somewhere else.”
His lips curl into a faint smirk, the kind that makes me want to punch him and .
.. not going there. “In the middle of the night?” He raises a brow, gesturing to the shadowy windows.
“If you want to go back out there, trudging through the dark with the Queen and God knows what else hunting us down, be my guest. I’ll be here—resting, eating, and coming up with a plan for the morning. ”
He knows I can’t. And it drives me mad.
“So you have a plan?”
“Not yet,” he replies, tapping his temple as though he’s brimming with genius. “But I’ll think of one. Relax, love. I’m here. What could possibly go wrong?”
I could list about ten things off the top of my head, but before I can open my mouth, the bartender’s rasp cuts through. “We have honey bread and a fresh cut of ghast meat, if you so require.”
“Ghast meat?” I wrinkle my nose. “What is… I’ve never heard of ghast meat.”
Hook doesn’t even blink. “We’ll take it.”
The bartender’s eerie yellow eyes drift from Hook to me, lingering just long enough to make my skin crawl. He’s sizing me up, like I’m some kind of oddity on display. Hook, naturally, couldn’t care less.
The bartender finally nods, gesturing toward the staircase. “It’ll be sent up.”
“Fantastic,” Hook says. “And might I trouble you for some hot water and fresh towels?”