by Anna Katmore
Helpless and frustrated to the core, I clamp down on my teeth. My glance skates over the silent and dark park beneath me. In a couple of hours, the first visitors will come. I could shout down to them and ask for help then. They will find a way to free me from my prison up here. But morning is a long time coming.
Lifting my chin, I roar into the night, “Hook, you goddamned bastard! I’ll get you for this! I’ll smash you and spit on your wasting bones!”
Just when I hang my head and fight against the lump of anger in my throat, I feel one end of the rope easing off just a little.
Angelina
EVERYTHING FROM THE moment Hook kissed me under the tree in my garden is like a freaking déjà vu. I’m perched on the bed where he dumped me and stare at the closed door. He actually had the nerve to lock me into this cabin. Is this what you do in Neverland after kissing someone? Imprison them?
Very subtle, Hook. I so believe your story now.
The thing is he almost had me believing him indeed. I’ve never been kissed like that before. Or maybe I have, because everything about it felt so amazingly familiar. His touch, his smell, even his taste—I rub my tongue against the roof of my mouth so I can savor it once more. And then there was this door in his room. I don’t know where it’s leading, but the sight of it broken sent shivers down my spine. Almost as if I was there when it happened, but there’s no path in my mind leading to that information.
What’s his purpose of bringing me here? He kidnapped me, for Christ’s sake. Does he really think that will make me trust him more? Oh boy, I should have listened to Peter and not be so stupid as to wander outside at night alone.
Massaging my temples in slow circles, I try to come up with a plan. How do I get back home, away from this ship, the scowling crew and their impossible captain? My parents will go insane with fear when they find out what happened in the morning. Then again, they won’t be able to make any sense of it at all. Their daughter is gone and a small heap of gold sits in our garden. Jeez, they will think someone left the treasure to buy me!
I roll my eyes and would have kicked myself too for this stupid thought. Of course they’ll know in an instant that I was kidnapped. They’ll call the police.
And then what? I scold myself and cut a glance to the ceiling. Send them after me to Neverland? Clever idea.
Irritated to no end, I hug my knees to my chest and rest my forehead on them. Only when my thoughts shift to my little sisters and their broken hearts when they find out that I’ll never come back, my anger at Hook turns into sadness. But it’s more than that. It really frightens me to think of what will happen to me on board of this ship. Never one to be scared easily, tears spring to my eyes, but I’m not going to let them take over.
I’ve cursed Hook in so many different ways and so loudly that my throat feels sore when I clear it now. I sniff, lift my chin and sweep the room with a glance. There must be a way to escape. Unfortunately, the window is sealed, so there’s no chance of climbing out. Behind the dirty glass, the shore of what I believe is Neverland shrinks away. The Jolly Roger takes aim at the horizon.
“Where are you headed, Hook?” I mumble and let the purple satin band that ties one part of the curtains aside run through my easy grip. Suddenly a strange realization strikes and makes me spin around. This room, with the nice curtains, the purple carpet and the clean bed sheets isn’t what one would exactly call the sleazy quarters of a pirate. Everything in here looks like being chosen with caution. Chosen to suit a girl.
Me?
I gasp. Just like with the broken door, I feel like I’ve seen this cabin before. I’ve already been in here. The feeling is strong enough to make my chest tighten. Now, the question is, was I kept prisoner in this room before, or was I…a guest?
Sinking to my knees on the soft carpet in front of the simple bed in the corner, I pull at my hair and let go of a frustrated sigh. For some reason I have this feeling all would be good and I could go home if I only remembered what really happened the last time I was in Neverland. Both Peter’s and Hook’s stories have their similarities, but one of them is lying. I want to believe that it’s Hook, but kissing him earlier felt right in so many ways. What if his story is closer to the truth than Peter’s?
If only Peter was here now. There are so many questions I need an answer to, and somehow I think I’ll only find out what happened when I confront them both at the same time. And then Peter could fly me back to London, because from the determination in Hooks gaze since he brought me on board, I dare say he’s not going to do that anytime soon.
A rattle in the lock makes me snap up my head. Boy, maybe I was wrong and he already changed his mind?
It’s a jolly old pirate with a red bandana on his head and a gold tooth who cracks the door open and shoves his head inside. “The cap’n says ye can move freely on the ship now. He also warns ye not to jump overboard, because there’s sharks in the waters and he ain’t not care about havin’ to jump after ye.”
The most dangerous of those sharks is captain of this ship, I’m sure. When the pirate beams a bright smile at me that would send a horde of zombies running, an unexpected thank you slips over my lips. He closes the door before I can even question my sanity.
So Hook widened my leash. What’s he playing at? To make me feel comfortable on his ship? Not gonna happen. I keep rooted to the spot on the floor, thinking hard on a solution for my problem for another hour. But the only chance I see of returning to my world after all this mulling is to leave this ship somehow. So with a grumble and limbs number than twigs, I rise from the floor eventually and sneak to the door.
Just a crack to spy outside, that’s enough for starters. Some merry singing in piratical language drifts to me together with laughing from a few men that obviously play a game that involves a lot of drinking. I open the door a little wider and peek around the corner. There are several smudgy men on the main deck, some working, some playing cards or with their daggers, and they all ignore me. Taking a wary step outside my cabin, my glance travels across the rest of the ship. Heaps of ropes thicker than my wrists lie everywhere. There’s a stack of cargo boxes close to the railing, with folded heavy white fabric on top which supposedly are sails not in use.
There’s another deck above the main one. It’s where Hook took me first. His quarters are located there, and above them is the bridge. Moving my inspective gaze up to that last tiny deck, I meet the captain’s sharp blue eyes. With a gasp, I jump two steps back and hide in my cabin.
Gee, I should have known he was watching my door, even if he’s obviously the only one on board who does. So why does that surprise me? In an attempt to steel my nerves, I square my shoulder and lift my chin, then I step out once again. This time, when I seek out his gaze on purpose, I’m prepared and don’t budge an inch. To my staring him down, his answer is a slight twitch of his lips that grows into the faintest half-smile.
With the scowl still pasted on my face, I turn my head away, deliberately slow, and start exploring the ship. If he’s still watching me doing it, I don’t care. The one pirate who sprang me from my prison is kneeling on the floor now, scrubbing the boards, a bucket with water standing next to him. As I pass him, he tilts his head up, almost shyly, but quickly looks back down. The same happens when I cautiously walk past the small group of men sitting around an upside-down barrel that serves as a table. There’s a deck of cards on top, a bottle of rum, and a handful of coins. Playing Poker? I can’t tell, but when I try to catch their eyes, they quickly lower their gazes back to the cards in their hands. It’s almost like they all want to but were forbidden to talk to or even look at me. It makes me uncomfortable.
Did Hook give those orders? If so, why did he?
Since none of the crew pays me any obvious attention, I decide to take the chance and check out my options of getting off this ship. We’re so far out on the sea now that there’s no land in sight in either direction. Even if I jumped, I wouldn’t know which way to swim to get back to the shore. And w
ith the many black fins, there really are sharks in the water. I shudder. Putting only a toe in there would be suicidal.
The captain’s eyes follow me. I can feel them everywhere I go. It’s like he’s patiently waiting until a frightened little kitten comes out of its hiding and starts eating from his hand. And know what? I’m that stupid kitten. Except, I know perfectly well what he has in mind and will never give him that. He can stand there and watch me until hell freezes over. I’m going to find a way off the Jolly Roger in the meantime.
Ignoring Hook, I lean over the railing and find a rowboat tied to the ship’s side. What if I loosened the ropes, let the boat drop to the sea, and jump into it? I could row myself away.
Casting a scrutinizing glance over my shoulder, I sure find Hook observing me with intrigue from his place on the bridge. When our gazes meet, he slowly shakes his head. He thinks to stop me with that gesture? Well, he’s in for a surprise.
I start working the first rope, but these knots are so tight, there’s no chance I can loosen them even a little. The skin on my fingertips is sore after a couple of minutes and I’m not an inch closer to escaping.
“Need help with that?” a voice startles me out of the tedious task when it’s way too close beside me. My head snaps up and I face a guy dressed in black from head to toe, with shaggy ginger hair and a scar parting one of his tilted brows. He was with the card players.
“No thanks,” I growl. “I can manage.”
“I can see that.” He really has the nerve to chuckle at me. Then he puts his calloused hands over mine, moving them out of the way. With one quick pull, the knot comes open and the boat dips down at one side. As he walks to the other side, he throws me an inquisitive look. “May I ask where you intend to go once you’re in that dinghy, lass?”
Too stunned to really register what he just said, I switch my gaze back and forth between him and Hook, who watches us with strange amusement. “Aren’t you scared your captain will whip you for helping me escape?”
“There’s no whipping on board this ship, angel.”
He could only mean the last word as a derogative endearment, but somehow it sounded like he called me by my name. The one only my sisters ever called me…and then everyone out of this fairytale as it is.
“Besides,” pirate Scar Brow continues, “James Hook is a boneheaded fool. He should know better than trying to keep you trapped on the Jolly Roger. In the end you’ll talk him into whatever you want again. There’s no way around that.”
Even though this guy is obviously eager to help me, I sense he’s holding something back. He’s two-face. Every cell in my body screams caution.
“So, you plan on rowing back to London?” He makes it sound casual, but I notice how he’s fumbling with the second knot with great reluctance. “Because it sure is a long way there.”
“I don’t care how long I have to row,” I snap. And it’s the truth.
Startled by my tone, or maybe just acting like he is, he placates me with his palms up, then fumbles some more with the rope. “All right, all right. I was just wondering if maybe you should take some water with you and food too, so you won’t die after a day out there.”
Concerned about my life? I eye him sideways.
Scar Brow lets a smirk slip. “It certainly would put the cap’n in a worse mood than before, and he was already insufferable the past few weeks.”
“Insufferable?” I huff a laugh. “I can see where that comes from. With me gone and no way to press matters with Peter Pan for his lost treasure, he sure would let his anger out on the crew.”
The man’s eyes are trained on me as the rope suddenly slides with a swooshing sound through the iron ring, nearly startling me out of my skin. A second later there’s a tremendous splash as the small boat lands on the water.
I glance down and back at the man who acts so out of character for a pirate.
“So?” His mouth curves into a friendly smile. “Shall we go fetch some traveling fare for you now?” At my hesitation, he dares me with a trustworthy look. “Let me show you to the galley and maybe give you a quick tour through the ship too. I promise the boat will still be waiting down there for you when we get back.” The most unbelievable thing happens then. He holds out his arm for me to hang on to.
Maybe it’s the surprise switching off my reason, but my arm actually loops around his without me giving it intentional orders to do so. The guy seems a little less surprised about my giving in than me, but it sure makes him happy. “I’m Jack, by the way. Jack Smee.” Somewhere under that layer of coppery stubble on his cheek appears a dimple.
“Angel,” I murmur as he drags me away, back in the direction I came from.
His chuckle then sounds highly amused. “Yeah, I know.”
Confused about what’s actually happening here, I throw a look over my shoulder up to Captain Hook, who’s standing at the sterncastle still, arms folded over his chest, his focus on me. All this chitchat and help from one of his men must have confused him too, because he arches one perfect brow at me, definitely more than just a little intrigued.
Jack Smee didn’t lie about the food or the tour he promised me, because our first stop is in the ship’s galley where he tells the tall, slim man who stands with his back to us that he should throw together some packed lunches for the captain’s girl. When the man turns around with a disturbingly delighted face and calls out my name, I duck behind Smee to hide from being crushed in a bear hug.
“So it’s true then, ye don’t remember us,” he states with obvious disappointment. The only word I have in my mind when looking at him is potato, but that can’t mean anything and it might as well just linger, because he was peeling a pile of those when we came to disrupt him.
Loaded with a new charge of enthusiasm, he straightens his back like a true British gentleman that he sure is not and holds out his hand. “Me name’s Ralph.”
See? It’s Ralph. Not Potato.
Coming out of my hiding, I shake his hand but remain silent. He certainly knows who I am anyway. “Ye gonna go on a journey or why the packed lunch?” Ralph wants to know.
Smee answers for me. “The lass wants to take the dinghy and row herself back to London.”
So slow that it’s almost funny, Ralph turns his head to Smee and questions him with a quirky look. The pirate in black next to me only lifts his shoulders and lets them fall again, making helpless, big eyes. He pulls me on then but tells the cook over his shoulder, “Fill her a bottle with water too. We’ll pick it up in ten minutes.”
I’m tempted to ask Jack Smee what’s behind all his friendliness, but I don’t get a chance, because where he leads me next is totally out of a picture book.
“Oh my freaking Goodness!” words burst out of my mouth as we stop at the edge of a gallery, looking down at hills and hills of gold and silver. A ladder leads down to that part of the ship, but really, I only have to take one step forward and I’d be standing on the highest pile of coins already. This is one hundred times the amount that landed in my garden before Hook cornered and kidnapped me.
“But where does all this gold come from?” I cry out. “I thought—”
“That Peter Pan had it?” Smee cuts me off. “He did. But we found it a few weeks ago and of course reclaimed it.”
I fully turn my skeptical scowl on the pirate Jack Smee now. “Why are you showing me this?”
“I think this speaks in the cap’n’s favor, no? You said something up on deck that had me wondering.” A shrug rolls off his shoulders. “Or maybe just because of the beauty of it, I don’t know.”
He does know, all right. So that was his plan from the beginning. To help his captain earn some brownie points with me. And heck, he almost managed. Okay, who am I trying to fool here, he did manage. Hook was right when he told me he had his treasure and didn’t need me to find it. How much more of what he told me was true? I don’t want to, but I really start to wonder.
“Come on, lass. I’m sure Potato Ralph has your traveling far
e ready.”
Smee’s words drag me back to the here and now. I shoot around, staring at him with two pizza plate eyes and a gaping mouth. “What did you just say?”
Seriously confused about my reaction for the first time since he approached me, he frowns down at me. “Come on?”
“No.” No! That wasn’t what I meant. “You said Potato Ralph.”
“Because that’s the man’s name.” The V between his eyes deepens even more. “Anything wrong?”
Wrong…right…I don’t know which, but that I knew the cook’s name, or part of it, before somebody told me is not really comforting. It’s just further proof of what I struggle to believe here. Jeez, my head starts to hurt again.
Kneading my temples, I cut a wary glance at Smee. “All the pirates on board know me, don’t they?”
“We sure do.”
“And I knew you too?”
He nods.
“So you all remember me, but I don’t remember you. Why is that?”
Losing only so much of his confidence, he shrugs casually. “I guess there’s always something playing with your mind when you come here. See, last time you started to forget your own world, and once you were back home, who knows”—he grimaces—“maybe you started to forget Neverland.”
“How long have I been here last time?”
“Five nights.”
“What?” I gasp. “I’ve never been gone from my world that long. If it really all happened the night I fell off my balcony, then it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes!” That was the time I’ve been knocked out cold anyway. “I could have dreamed up a lot of stuff during that time, but five nights in Neverland? I beg you!”
Smee scrutinizes me like this bit of information is as valuable to him as it’s confusing to me. “So maybe time works different in our two worlds?”
