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My uncle’s dressed in black, like he’s in mourning, his long coat flourishing in the sea breeze. The feather in his tricorn hat waves and flicks. He might be past his prime, but he’s still as deadly as they come.
“Ahh, yes,” my uncle says, stepping closer to Smee. “You said you had something I’d want.”
“Aye. The king’s daughter. My brother won the gauntlet, only to find out that his new bride is a blood witch. She’s gifted, capable of controlling an entire ship with a snap of her fingers. I’ve witnessed her commanding a Wysterian. She’s all yours as long as you keep her alive and well. In exchange for my brother’s shadow, of course.”
The Crocodile scrubs a hand over his jaw, scratching at his stubble. “I didn’t know the king was hiding a blood witch. Do you know how many witches of mine you’ve condemned? Why do you care about this one? She was arranged to marry him, right? It’s not like they married for love.”
A handful of his witches follow our uncle onto our ship, their dark ropes obscuring their faces. The thought of Scarlet becoming one of those... I can’t fathom that.
My uncle eyes me and his gaze alone makes me feel dirty, like oil has dripped across every pore of my exposed skin. He’s always been manipulative, able to worm his way into people’s minds and plant thoughts inside their heads.
“Seeing as he’s shackled, I take it your brother isn’t quite on board with this exchange,” my uncle says, propping his hands on his hips.
Smee shakes her head. I’ll kill her for this... I love her with all my heart, but if Scarlet leaves with that man, or dies by his hand, I’ll float her myself.
“No,” Smee says, “He’s not. She’s bewitched him. He thinks he loves her. It’s the only reason I’m willing to make a trade with you. He won’t ever forgive me if I float her, so she’s yours if you help me get his shadow back.”
The Crocodile looks from Scarlet to me, his smile growing wider. “In love, you say? Well, that’s quite the surprise.”
I clench my fists, forcing my voice to remain steady. “You’re not taking her.”
I might not have magic or my shadows, but my sword is still at my hip. Gripping the golden handle, I pull the cutlass free. If he’s going to try to take Scarlet, he’ll have to go through me. I put myself in front of Scarlet, from where she sits on the ground, knees to her chest.
“Oh please, stand down, boy. I’m not here to fight ya. I do think we need to chat, though. There are things you should know, things your father refused to tell you or spelled you to forget. I wasn't the only one who knew where your shadow was. I took him there myself. That compass I gave you would lead you right to it, but I’m going to guess since you haven’t bothered to use it, that you’re still hoping to strike a deal with Pan.”
“You’re lying. My father didn’t know. That’s why we were tracking Pan,” I say, letting my sword drop to my side.
“I assure you, he did. He just didn’t like the cost. Seeking out Pan and making the deal was his way of getting around it.”
“Around what?” Smee says, tossing up her hands. “If our father knew, he wouldn’t have hesitated to get Sebastian’s shadow back. It’s all he ever wanted.”
“He wasn’t willing to pay the price. You see, it was my fault you lost your shadow. I was supposed to be watching you. I let you out of my sight and by the time I got there, Pan had already taken half your soul.” The Crocodile paces across the deck like he’s telling a story to children, drawing all the eyes on the ship.
“That’s not news to us. We knew you were responsible. It’s why our father kicked you off the Jolly Roger.” Smee crosses her arms, her manicured eyebrows pinching together.
“It was part of the reason,” my uncle says, pulling off his gloves one finger at a time. “You see, we didn’t know the price. We knew a sacrifice was needed and I was willing to trade my soul for yours, but when we reached Pan’s vault and entered that tomb, fate had something else in mind.”
The Crocodile holds up his hand, revealing a twisted symbol that looks like it was banded into his flesh. It’s long healed. It’s not even shiny anymore.
“If you were so willing to give up your soul for mine, to right your wrong, why did our father hate you?”
The Crocodile’s blue eyes connect with mine over the deck. “We learned three things that day. The person missing their soul has to be the one to open the tomb. You’ll be branded like this,” he flashes the symbol on his palm. “Your spirit will guide your shadow back to our realm. Secondly, we learned that the sacrifice must be someone you love. They don’t have to be present, either.”
“What was the third?” Smee asks, stepping closer.
“The person I loved was your mom,” he says, looking between me and my sister.
“Which one? We have different mothers.” Smee narrows her eyes, staring at our uncle through slits.
My uncle shakes his head from side to side. “You’re wrong. You both have the same mother. Your father lied to you.”
“My mother was killed by blood witches,” I say, lifting the sword again.
“No, she was killed by me. Your father told you that because he didn’t want you to blame yourself, then had a witch take away your memories of it. You were only six years old, and she was with you when her soul left her body and went into the vault. He worried that it would traumatize you for life.”
I can’t believe what I’m hearing... though a small part of me wondered. It seemed a bit coincidental that both of our mothers were killed by blood witches. Granted, it comes with the territory. And Smee was old enough to remember when the woman who raised us died. She was hexed. They looked so similar to one another; we never questioned it.
“Honestly, if it weren’t for you, no one else would’ve been able to get Smee out of your mother’s stomach in time to save her.” The Crocodile steps closer and my grip tightens on the blade. It's not a memory I care to look back on. It's more like a nightmare. “You share a mother, but the woman who helped raise you, the woman you believed to be Smee’s mom. She never had children, but she treated the two of you like her own.”
