“You’ve had worse, I suppose?” I let my gaze linger along the scar on his cheek.
“Maybe a few times,” he says wryly, then steps closer to me, his movements slow, as if I’m a fawn and he doesn’t want to startle me. But that’s what I am, I suppose. I don’t belong in this violent world of dreams, of never, and of endless night. It was always a pleasant bedtime story. Wendy left so much out. It makes me wonder if Neverland changed or if Wendy did.
I look up at him, my eyes watering. “I shouldn’t be here at all. I’m not going to survive, am I? And when I die, I won’t wake up. I’ll be sitting next to my mother staring at the wall. Dead inside.”
He reaches for me, then pulls his hand back when I tense. Something passes across his face. Maybe sadness or possiblythat angry fire I’ve been seeing spark and sizzle when I mention Calico Jack. But maybe it was … hurt? Surely not.
He backs away. “I’ll get Widow. Try to relax, all right? You’ve been through a lot.” With that he leaves and starts barking questions about the fire.
I look down at my night dress. Soaked and dirty with more than just soot and grime from the Ranger—it’s covered in Calico Jack’s fingerprints. My throat closes up at that thought, and I reach down and yank the fabric up. It sticks to me like a wetsuit, but I don’t stop pulling, not even when I hear stitches popping and the material ripping. Once it’s off, I toss it to the corner and grab Hook’s clean shirt.
It’s sick, so damn sick, but I can’t help myself. I press it to my nose and inhale. I’m afraid of him. Iknowhe’s out for my blood. But I still get an indescribable sense of comfort from his scent.
Shaking myself out of my brief insanity, I pull the shirt over my head, then grab the pants. They’re a little stiff, likely made of canvas or something similar, and once they’re on, they billow around my waist. The belt comes in handy, and I cinch it tight.
I gather my hair and tie it in a loose knot at the back of my neck, finishing up as a knock comes at the door. I recognize the cadence of it at once.
“Come in,” I call.
“—your stupid face with the back of my hand if I catch you taking a gander of my ass again.” She points at a red-faced Smee before slamming the door in his face.
“Is he a problem?” I ask.
She laughs. “No. Not at all. He wasn’t even looking at my ass. I just like to fuck with the pencil pusher.”
I lean against the table as she comes closer, her eyes taking me in.
“You’re hurt. Again.” She frowns and inspects my lip and cheek. “Fucking Calico Jack. I’m glad he got what he deserved. It was a long time coming.”
A chill goes through me, and I hug myself.
Her eyes narrow. “I knew he was an utter shitstain. I’d heard enough stories. Blackbeard never liked him, and I think Anne tried to kill him on more than one occasion. But she does that to all her husbands.”
“Wait, they’remarried?” I feel like my mind’s been blown too many times to still be intact.
“Yeah, like I said, she’s been gunning for him for years.” She smirks. “But Hook is the one who finally sent him to the deep. No one could’ve predicted that even if they had a ship full of crystal balls coated in fairy farts.”
I laugh.
Her smirk turns into a smile as she pulls me into her arms. “I’m glad you’re all right.” She lowers her voice. “I wish you could’ve seen the look on Hook’s face when he found your rope hanging out the window. Work of art, that was.”
“Oh, shit. He knows I left?”
“Aye.” She pulls me back at arm’s length. “He stormed out of the cay cursing Blackbeard and his mother for a whore. I barely hadenough time to throw in with him before he hightailed it back to the Jolly Roger and took off after you.”
“Why’d you do that?” I peer into her eyes. “I mean, why’d you leave Blackbeard and go with Hook? I don’t presume it was for me.”
“Not entirely, no.” She shrugs. “I suppose I felt the call of adventure. When I joined Blackbeard’s crew, we were only at sea for one season before he decided to retire and settle down with Huran. I didn’t sign up to be a cook in a grand house. The sea called to me then, and it called to me again when I saw Hook racing off to the water.”
“So now you’re a pirate on the Jolly Roger. Is that a promotion?” I have zero clue how pirate rankings work. I assume there’s a clear hierarchy, especially since there’s a captain.
“I’d say it’s a bit of a sideways move as I’m hired on as a boatswain, but there’s a whole heap more fun out here on the water. And damn, it felt good to strike down some of those goddamn whoresons on Calico Jack’s sloop. They had it coming, the lot of them.”
She’s so fierce. Even now when she’s bruised and dirtied from battle, her braids hanging in disarray and her clothes torn and damp—she’s still ready to do some damage.
“I wi—” I stop myself before I say the dreaded ‘w’ word. “I mean, I would love to be like you,” I admit.
She cocks her head to the side. “Come again?”
