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Follow up question: Was I the bad guy for holding onto it?
That would have made for an interesting twist, and given Leo’s reaction to it on the island, it was a possibility. What if the rock was the thing the pixie needed to escape this realm? What if she was one of those souls like the lost boys, trapped by Petra and forever doomed to flit about in service to the demon?
She could only zap people to a couple different places. The fact that one of those places was Hook’s ship was all fucking kinds of special, but that little detail didn’t matter, not to me. What mattered was the pendant and what I could do with it.
Was the magic in it more powerful than what the glitter bitch wielded?
I could dream.
I pressed my hand to my hip, checking again, for the umpteenth time, that the pendant was still tucked safely in my pocket.
This would work out. It had to work.
On the deck, a dozen of Petra’s frat boys stood their ground with the largest one demanding the pirates release me. For as big as the guy was, Leo would have towered over him, except Leo was nowhere in sight.
Even if I’d been an unwilling guest on the ship, the lost boys all appeared to understand that the other men would never freely give them what they wanted. The two factions seemed to hate each other on principle. Then again, they had been at odds for a few years, give or take a lifetime or two.
I couldn’t make out everything that was being said, but the words ceased to matter when the fighting started. My view of the action was woefully limited and every time I started to inch the crack in the door wider, I heard Hook’s voice in my head telling me to stay put and stay safe. I tried to listen to that hot, gruff warning, feeling the heat of his breath on my ear as he whispered it to me before slipping outside.
I tried.
Between the clanging swords and the taunting shouts, there was a constant struggle, with the lost boys pushing Hook’s men toward the railing and the pirates drawing Petra’s guys closer to the center of the deck. It didn’t take long to figure out the lost boys’ goal was to pitch the pirates overboard. With the sun on its way down, the sirens would be out in force and those carnivorous sea monsters would be all too happy to tear any of them to shreds.
Not exactly a genius plan, and Hook’s men had clearly been down this road a time or two, but the thought still made my skin crawl. Fortunately, I didn’t have long to dwell on it before William stumbled into my field of view with a sword skewering his stomach and blood pouring down his front.
Fuckity fuck fuck.
I yanked the door open, grabbed him by the collar and hauled him into the room with me.
“Miss, no! I must stay and fight.”
“With a sword sticking out of your gut? I don’t think so.” I examined the position of the sword. It was entirely possible the blade had sliced through several important organs, but maybe that didn’t mean anything in this realm. “Can you die or are you like Ho—the captain?”
William blinked at me a few times as though he was having trouble processing the question. “It’s complicated. I’m not like the captain, not by any means, but it would take quite a bit more than a sword through my middle to kill me. The same goes for most of us on the ship.”
Interesting. “Most? If I were to be wounded like that, would I die?”
He nodded once. “It takes time for the realm to work its magic. Years.”
There went that idea, and now I had so many more questions that I would probably never get an answer to. “If I pull the sword out, will you still be able to fight?”
He nodded again in that curt, yet respectful way he had. “Yes, I’ll be fine.”
“Is the captain immortal?” I wrapped my fingers around the hilt of the sword as I spoke, trying to keep William’s attention on the conversation.
For all I knew, he might have suffered this very injury a hundred times before. A sword to the midsection might be nothing more than an irritating flesh wound to a man like him, but damn, it looked like it hurt. Sweat beaded his wide forehead, and his brow was pinched, though he was clearly trying to hide his pain.
“Yes.” His voice hitched on the last word. He knew exactly what I was doing.
“How long have you two—” I gripped the handle and pulled back as smoothly as I could “—known each other?”
William let out a breathy groan and doubled over, pressing his hands over the wound now pouring blood from his abdomen.
“Never mind. New question. How long will it take to heal?” I looped my arm around his waist and tried to guide him to the loveseat, but he resisted.
“Not long now that the blade is out.” He pulled up the hem of his shirt and showed me the wound. While it looked gory as hell, the flow of blood was slowing, and the flesh was already starting to knit itself back together. As an added bonus, the man was surprisingly ripped under his stuffy first mate clothes. We’re talking at least a six-pack with a hint of a happy trail peeking over his linen pants.
“Holy shit. Is it always that fast?” I caught myself reaching out to touch his stomach but pulled back when he stiffened. “Sorry.”
