Chapter 4 #2
I stare up at him as he returns to me, my head still woozy.
“What are you even doing in here? The captain just lets his merry band of miscreants take a snooze in his bed whenever they feel like it?” I hiss as he pours some of the water along my leg.
When I look down to inspect the damage, my gorge rises.
The teeth marks along my calf are oozing pus.
“Oh my god.” I cover my mouth with my hand.
The pirate runs to the window and tosses the water out, then hands me the pitcher. “In there, lass.”
Though I try to stop it, I can’t. My stomach churns, and every bit of water and food I’ve eaten since I’ve been on the ship pours out of me. It constricts my throat and holds my breath captive until my stomach is completely empty.
When I look up again, Skylights is there handing me a wet washcloth and taking the pitcher. “Here. Wipe your mouth and lie back. I need to get a look at this, and I don’t want you throwing up again.”
“I don’t trust you.”
“Your objection is noted.” My pirate glowers at me. “Now lie back.”
“No.” I try to smack him away, but my body isn’t cooperating.
My pirate takes my forearm and gently lowers me onto the bed. “What’s this?” He holds up my only weapon, the fountain pen.
“It’s mine.”
“Mmhmm.” He pockets it then sits heavily beside me. “How bad is it, Sky?”
Pinpricks of pain lace through me, and I gasp.
My pirate takes my hand, squeezing it hard. “Just breathe.”
“Shit. It’s not looking good. How long until we’re at Blackbeard’s Cay?”
“Another hour. Maybe two, depending on the crosswinds.”
Skylights stands, his face shadowy as the lantern swings behind him. “The sooner the better. Huran will have the right medicines for this. My stores are depleted.”
“Cap’n?” I can barely see Cookson, but I recognize his voice.
My pirate turns to him. “She needs to eat. Bring some bread and butter from the larder.”
“No.” The thought of food turns my stomach. “I can’t. I’ll throw up again. No offense, Cookson.” Why do I care if he’s offended? He’s a pirate.
“None taken, miss.”
My mind tries to grasp onto something, but it slips away. What’s bothering me? I mean, other than the gangrene-filled mermaid bite.
My pirate thrusts the pitcher at Cookson. “More water then, in a fresh tureen. Take this pitcher and dump it over the side.”
“Yes, Cap’n.” Cookson leaves.
There’s that word again. My mind wraps around it, inspecting it from every angle. It doesn’t fit. Like a puzzle piece you find stuck to the bottom of your foot when the puzzle’s already been completed. “Wait.” I blink against the darkness creeping at the edges of my vision. “Wait a minute.”
“I’m going to need to wrap it with fresh seaweed. Hold her steady, Captain.” Skylight’s voice sounds like it’s coming through a tunnel.
“I’ve got her.” My pirate leans over me, his grip on my shoulders.
“Why do they keep calling you captain?” I look up at him and try to blink away the black spots. “Why are they doing that?”
“I suppose if one of them dared call me James, I’d have to make an example out of them.”
Skylights snorts.
I can’t tell if he’s fucking with me. From the slight curve of his lips, I can guess he is.
“When I’m done with this, I should look at the wound in your shoulder again.”
“Fuck off, Sky. Take care of the girl.”
“Working on it. All right, I have the poultice ready. Moira, I’m sorry, but this will hurt. I wish you’d taken the pill I left for you.”
At that moment, so do I. Maybe it could stop the spinning in my head, the confusion that seems to eat me up from the inside out. My pirate is Hook. He’s been Hook this whole time disguised as a crew member.
“But your hand.” I glance down at where he holds me. “It’s still there.”
His dark brows draw together. “I don’t follow.”
“In Wendy’s story, she said Peter cut off your—” I scream loud and long as my leg seems to catch fire and burn down to the bone.
“Sky, go easy!” Hook barks as his grip on me tightens.
I try to thrash, to kick, but I’m locked down and awash in pain. “Stop, please!”
“Almost got it.”
I scream again, unable to stop myself as Hook looms over me, his grip keeping me still as Skylights tortures me. “Please.” I sob. “Please don’t.”
“Done!” Skylights yells, and the raging inferno lessens, but it still burns, flames licking up my leg.
Hook pulls me to him, wrapping me in his arms and holding me tightly against his chest as I go limp. “Give her that pill! Now!”
A shadow moves behind my pirate—my Hook—and then he’s pressing a pill between my lips and plying me with water.
I cough and spit, but Hook grabs the pill again and forces it into my mouth.
His rough hand comes down on my lips, and he uses his other to rub my throat until I’m forced to swallow. “That’s it, lass. Let it settle in your gut.”
“It hurts.” I loathe the weakness in my voice, the pain that seems to grow bigger, jaws open wide and ready to consume every last bit of me.
“Shh, lass.” Hook captures me in his arms again and lays me down, then drags his thumbs across my cheeks. “No more tears. The medicine will work fast on an empty stomach.”
I rest my head in the crook of his neck, inhaling his sea and pine scent and letting delirium take me. What would Peter say if he saw me now? In the embrace of a pirate captain while his crew of monsters answer to my beck and call. He’d hate me. But not as much as I hate me.
He and Skylights are speaking, but I can’t make out any words.
It’s like the TV is on in the background, the low hum of a sitcom, or perhaps some British show from PBS.
Something about a modern major general and pirates and men wearing eyeliner who seduce every damsel they meet.
I laugh. It doesn’t hurt to laugh. Not right now.
My mother would laugh, too, sometimes. She’d come out of her daydream with a giggle, not a scream.
I’m trapped with her now. Both of us staring at a wall and seeing nothing. Nothing.
“Nothing.” I try to explain it to Hook, to the man with the beautiful blue eyes and the heart of a murderer. “Nothing,” I whisper.
He strokes my hair, his gaze never leaving mine. Like he’s invested. Like he actually cares if I live or die. Delirious, indeed.
When I close my eyes, I see Coy. The look on his face. The surprise in his eyes, the confusion, the fear. He was afraid. I watched him die and did nothing. Nothing.
I’m the monster who’s come to the island to feast on its heart. It’s not Hook. It’s me. I’m the rot. I’m the one soaked in Coy’s blood, his life draining away and leaching into my skin.
“I’m sorry.” I reach for him, for Coy who falls toward me, hand outstretched. “I’m so sorry. Forgive me. Please forgive me. Please, please, Coy. I’m sorry.”
But he never does. Because he’s dead on the ground, and I’m in the arms of his killer.