Hook & Jill (The Hook & Jill Saga) (35 page)

She inhaled moist air from the woods, dispelling the lingering languor of her summoning, then she streaked over the trees toward Neverbay as if her own life depended on it. Maybe it did!

Once upon a time, Tinker Bell would have taken poison for Peter. Today, Jewel would take it
from
him, if she had to.

* * *

The celebration aboard the
Jolly Roger
was cut short. Hook tore at the air with his claw, and his boatswain hollered, “Avast, lads! Let the captain speak!”

Jill tucked her weapons away and swept her skirts aside, making her way down to the deck to take her place at the captain’s side. Still on guard for her, Smee followed at her heels. Nibs, Tom, Lightly and Rowan approached too, more cautiously, to stare down at the dreaded crocodile and look in awe upon its slayer. He presented his bloody rapier to Tom, who pulled out his oiled polishing cloth and wiped it clean.

Hook raised his head, commanding more loudly than necessary so that all hands— below and above— would hear his order. “Mr. Smee. Change the watch.”

“Aye, Sir.” Smee turned to Mason. “Up you go!”

Jill startled as a clang of metal hit the deck. It rolled, sending shards of glass spinning toward her feet. The spyglass.

Hook didn’t blink. He’d seen it coming. He was still staring at the crow’s nest.

Mr. Cecco was looking down, clutching the ratlines, the bracelets on his arms glaring in the sun. He swung out and descended, moving quickly but reluctantly. Mason passed him on the way up, shaking his head. “Bad luck, mate.” By the time he set his feet on the boards, Cecco’s swarthy face was sallow. His jewelry jingled as he made a sweeping bow. He dared to speak first.

“Captain, I apologize. I deeply regret my failure to watch for the crocodile. I should have given warn—”

“Mr. Smee.” Hook turned his back on the sailor. “Kindly have the carcass removed.”

Not one of the company could deny that Cecco was a strong man, but at the captain’s words his striking features blanched. Jill’s color deepened, and her face set as she addressed the captain. “Sir.” She spoke through her teeth, staring at Cecco. “I want the hide.”

“Very well. It shall be yours. Mr. Cecco. You may do my lady the favor of flaying this beast. She has need, I believe, of a pair of boots for her lovely feet.”

Cecco’s face relaxed in relief. “Aye, Sir!”

But among his crew, Hook’s treacherous courtesy was legend. He smiled. “And by all means, take your time, Mr. Cecco. Because all the while you are performing this admirable service for your mistress, it is my especial wish that you should anticipate the flaying
you
will receive. At the hands of our very capable, very thorough Mr. Smee.” The captain’s chilly regard transferred itself to his boatswain. His jaw clenched. “The
instant
the job is finished.”

Mr. Smee’s nod was curt, his lips a frozen line. “Aye, Sir. It’ll be done.” He was just the man for the job. Cutting and stitching.

“Mr. Tootles,” Hook commanded. “Fetch the cat.”

It lasted only an instant, but Cecco saw it. So did Hook. Out of habit, Tom looked to his mother for sanction of the captain’s command. It had become second nature for the boys to seek her approval of Pan’s more dubious orders. But now Jill regarded Tom impassively, even coolly, yielding to him no indication of her opinion. In the next second, Tom checked himself and hurtled away to the armory, making up for his mistake by speed.

Bowing again, the handsome Italian seized his opportunity, applying every ounce of charm at his disposal. “My lady.
Bellezza
. As the captain says, you are my mistress. Such a fair one must have a heart to match her countenance. You will surely demonstrate your compassion, and speak for me?”

Hook’s eyes narrowed. He watched Jill closely. Tom’s boots pounded the deck in his haste to return, and a moment later he offered the handle of the cat-o’-nine-tails to Mr. Smee.

Jill shifted her gaze from Cecco to Tom. Slowly, she opened her crimson hand and held it out. “Mr. Tootles. Thank you.” Her hand closed on the cat and she smiled on Cecco. “Mr. Cecco. Your words are beautifully chosen. And you are correct; I have every intention of acting fairly. I
will
speak for you.” No one dared utterance, but the sailors rolled their eyes to observe the captain’s darkening displeasure. Only Mr. Cecco’s dread was allayed.

“
Grazie
, my lady.”

“I speak for you when I say I feel certain you do not mean to question the captain’s authority.” The lady’s smile turned cold.

Relief vanished from Cecco’s face. He demurred, gesturing. “No… no, Lady. I meant only—”

“Because if I believed you did, before seeing you excused I would request that our captain allow me to administer your punishment—
myself
.” She paused for effect, then lowered the whip so the knotted ends dangled on her feet. The leather tingled on her flesh, sending a thrill surging upward. She turned pointedly to Hook. “Sir, you are most kind to promise me those boots.”

A murmuring arose to die down just as quickly, and although Cecco’s broad shoulders slumped, his dusky eyes followed her like all the others’, and fired with admiration.

Grim but satisfied, Hook removed the cat from her hand. “Not at all. And there will be no need for you to exert yourself.” He tossed it to Smee. “Our boatswain will handle it.”

“Yes, I trust Mr. Smee. His loyalty is beyond reproach. I also trust that he and all my shipmates know, if they didn’t before, that the thing I hold most dear is my captain’s life.” She sent a questioning look to Smee, who nodded firmly.

“Aye, Madam, my apologies. Force of habit.” Smee’s gaze traveled purposefully among the men and he raised his voice. “We’ll none of us doubt it again!”

“Nor will I, my love.” Hook wound his arm around her waist and swept her toward the companionway, indicating to the four young men that they should follow. They obeyed, shaking their heads and breathing freely again as the tension aboard the
Roger
found release. Jill heard Smee bellowing as she ascended the steps.

“Back to your stations! We’ve yet another battle to fight!” And amid the jumble of aye-ayes and the hurrying footsteps, the odd-assorted family adjourned to the captain’s quarters.

* * *

“And so I ask you again. Would you have me kill him?”

Jill sat in the captain’s chair leaning her elbow on the warm, silky surface of the desk, her eyes glistening with unshed tears and her red hand on her forehead. She had remained calm throughout the telling of Lightly’s tale. She listened in silence to every word, accepting her own role in its unfolding horror. But she refused shame. She garnered its lesson instead.

Hook had sent her sons away, his sober young crewmen to their duties and the Indians with their black-painted faces to their people. They had all fulfilled their obligations, and more. They were good men.

“Kill him? I will know when I see him.” She slapped the desk and sat up, suddenly fierce. “I may do it myself!”

“I’ll not begrudge you that pleasure. Indeed, I go so far as to recommend it.”

“And you knew what he was doing?”

“I suspected he was eliminating the older boys, thinning out his own crew. It suited my needs,” he gathered her up from his chair, “until I needed you.”

“And then you placed us all under your protection.”

He held her chin and forced it up. “And have been well rewarded for my pains.”

“If I had known the truth, you wouldn’t have had to fight for me.”

“The fight was rewarding as well.” His thumb caressed the corner of her mouth, where her kiss used to hide. “But I did warn you about him. You didn’t believe in me.”

“No, I was living a fairy tale. Yet I suspected a mystery.… Nothing close to the truth! How very near Lightly came to death.”

Hook felt his eyes burn as he viewed the scar at her throat. “Every bit as close as you, my love.”

“Yes. But to harm his own band of boys, the boys he named and raised.” She shook her head. “Pan must never be allowed to grow up. He would make a vicious man.”

Hook’s words were steeped in irony, “He comes by it naturally, however.”

“Imagine what he heard, that morning he ran away from home. What must they have said to one another?”

“My murderous father, and our cheat of a mother? Until the fatal day, they were discreet in front of the servants. But I assure you, there was nothing I didn’t hear.”

“He claims he went back home once, and found a baby boy in his place.”

“No doubt a new family in the house. He wouldn’t have known the difference.”

“How very sad.” But it was the thought of her own motherly affection for her boys that made her breath shudder. Her lover’s arms took possession of her, and he comforted her. And she wept into his fine linen handkerchief for the poor Lost Boys. Someone had to mother them, at the last.

At length Hook lifted his cheek from her hair. “You will soon have your opportunity to change his story.” With a satisfied smile, he reached for the carved crystal vial on the desk. The fairy’s dust glowed brilliantly, transmuted once again to a royal peacock blue. Hook and Jill drew apart. Their eyes met, and matched its brilliance. “The fairy’s warning has come. Pan approaches!”

“He thinks to tame us!”

“To slay us.”

Mr. Smee had already furnished the item Jill ordered. She slid it off the desk. “Captain, I require your indulgence.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What is your wish?”

“I’ve just one, insignificant request.” She angled her head. “Promise me…”

“Anything, my love.”

“About Pan.”

Hook regarded her, questioning, then his features relaxed and he smiled. He had never admired her more than at this moment. Truly, the woman was his mistress. For with eyes half closed and a smile that could melt gold, she sidled up to him. With one finger of one red hand, she stroked his velvety shoulder, and Red-Handed Jill did what no woman, save herself, would ever do again.

She commanded him.

“Don’t touch Pan, Hook. He’s mine!”

* * *

Jewel had no trouble catching up to Peter. Her wings seemed to exert more force as she beat them. They were stronger! Each stroke sent her sailing farther through the air. She streamed along, lagging just enough behind so that he wouldn’t notice her. He never looked back anyhow; it wasn’t Peter’s way.

The exquisite sword whipped through the air at his side, glinting with sunlight, the same bright sunlight that blinded Hook before, to Peter’s advantage. Or disadvantage, now, Jewel thought. That battle, the one that maimed her master, still raged. Below the boy and the fairy the sea shimmered, and the pirate ship buoyed into sight. Peter grinned. Jewel’s spirits sank.

The colorful clothing of pirates caught the morning light, bedecking the
Jolly Roger
with a cheerful show of force. Men lined the rail, evenly spaced and surrounding the deck, each exhibiting a blade in his hand and a smiling mouthful of teeth. Three men hunched over Long Tom, one holding a flaming torch from which an acrid smoke snaked upward. The red Irishman manned the bow, and the muscular sailor sporting jewelry and dark red stripes on his back stood stiff at his post beside him. Even the crow’s nest was fortified. Two men perched there, with pistols in their belts and two daggers drawn. The sound of Mason’s voice flew over the water as he pointed with his knife.

“Ahoy! It’s the lad, to starboard, Cap’n!”

As he ranged lower, Peter assessed the situation. The Jolly Roger flapped in the breeze, and below it a new flag, two mismatched bloody hands. Peter smirked. That flag was vile, like Hook himself. Then his expression waxed fierce. In whose blood had Hook dipped to paint it?

He searched the deck for his Wendy and his boys. In the center of the ship played a scene that puzzled Jewel, but fortified Peter’s resolve.

Not surprisingly, Hook was prepared for his coming. The captain stood before the mainmast, two hearty pirates flanking him with swords drawn as he casually chucked the point of his rapier under the lady’s chin. She stood in proud resistance, her back up against the mast and her hands behind her. She wore a new dress, not green this time like Peter’s eyes, but dark blue like her own. She was still armed; Peter saw her pistol, and his own dagger pricked her sash. She was even smiling at her pirate captor— she was no ordinary girl! And bloodstains smudged the deck before her. What a story she would tell the boys tonight! Smiling broadly, Peter circled the mizzenmast, crowing.

Alighting on the edge of the crow’s nest, Jewel wondered how best to warn her master of the potion that coated Peter’s weapons. He had ordered her to stay hidden from the boy, even aboard the ship. Mason greeted her genially, “Miss Jewel! Come to see the sport?” Emitting a nervous jingle, she hunched over the railing, her elbows up and her wings down, to watch for her opportunity. But Mason interrupted her efforts with a disturbing observation. He nudged Noodler, in his vehemence nearly dislodging the man’s tri-cornered hat. “Look, mate. The fairy’s grown!”

Jewel’s eyes opened in shock. She rotated to gape at Noodler’s bizarre hand reaching toward her. Making no move to grasp her, he merely held up his fingers to measure. “She
is
bigger! Look, Miss Jewel, an inch at least.”

Jewel did look, and it was true. The thumb to which she had clung that day to recover her wings had shrunk. She flattened her hand and patted her chest. Her heart didn’t pain her so badly anymore. It, too, must have grown! She loved
two
people.

And she feared for two people. The sound of Peter’s crowing terrified her, as did the answering laughter that surged from Hook. He flung it up to Pan, a challenge, and then he smiled.

“Well, Pan, so you’ve come at last! To rescue your ladylove. You’re a bit late, boy. She
is
a lady, now. A lady pirate. Do you still want her?”

Peter settled on the yardarm halfway up the mizzenmast, legs apart, folding his arms and completely at ease in the air. “You know I do!”

“Yet you claimed you’d rather see her dead than turned pirate.”