Hook: Dead to Rights (Captain Hook and the Pirates of Neverland Book 1)

by Melissa Snark

  The crew knew it, too. Absolute stillness descended over the ship. No one so much as murmured, but I felt their collective shout in my bones.

  Aggression coursed through me, that heating of the blood and desire of limbs to take action. The compulsion proved so powerful, tremors shook me. I stilled myself through an act of discipline and assumed a ready stance. My gaze fixed on the deck, and I waited pensively to see if the phenomenon would repeat.

  "What was that?" Buzz fluttered his wings with anxious energy.

  "I don't know."

  "Could it have been a whale?"

  "Not a snowball's chance on a summer beach, but you're headed in the right direction. That shock originated from below."

  "Did she scrape bottom, sir?" Mr. Mullins asked.

  "No, she didn't. The ocean floor here is more than a league deep." I'd experienced scraping bottom, too, and this wasn't that. I had a niggling suspicion about what it might be, but I preferred not to speculate.

  "Your orders, Captain Hook?" Mullins asked.

  "Stay the course and pass the word. Tell the chief engineer to meet me on the main." Foreboding hung over me like a guillotine, an inescapably bad feeling.

  "Aye, sir!" Mullins relayed the command.

  "I thought I was supposed to be your chief engineer?" Buzz's pixie aura turned querulous ochre.

  "Now's not the time for petty rivalries. The survival of the ship may depend on your ability to work with Wright."

  "Oh!" Buzz shivered and didn't say anything more. Just as well, because my mood had turned gloomy. I'd brought Buzz on board with the anticipation there would be hiccups between him and Wright. I was prepared to work through it with them, but I'd also expected to have more time. As it stood, the pair hadn't even met yet.

  Things were about to change fast.

  I descended to the main deck, a trip that felt like an eternity. Buzz rode on my shoulder, uncharacteristically quiet, which made the thud of my steps seem all that much louder. The crew followed my every move. The burden of their gazes—and seventy souls—pressed down on me. Their lives and the ship depended on my judgment.

  The disruption came again, same as before, but harder. This time the collision struck the underside and at the stern. Revenge shivered her timbers beneath the strain of the assault. She groaned in agony and I moaned in sympathy. A ship was the same as a living creature, except she had wood and steel in lieu of blood and bones.

  Once the deck evened out, I hurried across to the port side. Cairstine Wright joined me against the railing. She smacked her hands onto the ornate taffrail and leaned out, mirroring my stance. Side by side, we stared into the ocean. The water, which had been teaming with millions of fish moments before, was smooth as silk... save for one thing.

  A column of bubbles gurgled to the surface. Buzz hopped from my shoulder to my wrist and perched on the curve of my hook. His shimmer lent a magical glow to the steel.

  "This is bad, Captain?" Wright spared Buzz a brief glance. Her stoic facade slipped, revealing her curiosity and mistrust. Neither reaction was unexpected or unreasonable. Cairstine had grown up in the all-human community on Rackham's Cay, and machines interested her more than people. She had little experience with her own people... and even less with faerie folk.

  "Worse than bad. Chief Wright, this is Chief Buzz, our new head of Faerie Engineering." I gestured between them by way of introductions.

  "Faerie Engineering?" Wright snickered. She smiled with her eyes, and even her frizzy hair crackled with hilarity.

  "That's correct. Faerie Engineering." I leveled a mean stare, daring her to make a mockery of my pixie.

  She stiffened and snapped her mouth shut.

  "See that?" I aimed my hook at the churning spot on the otherwise smooth sea. By now, I suspected the identity of the creature troubling us, but I had no definitive proof beyond that turbulence. Well, that and the niggling suspicion worming its way through my gut. My frustration with our hidden enemy mounted.

  "Something must be done to force the beast to the surface," I said, unintentionally voicing my thoughts aloud. "But what? How does one destroy an underwater enemy?"

  It'd been a rhetorical question, but Wright and Buzz both agreed with profuse enthusiasm that they did indeed perceive it, too. I bit back a snarl of annoyance and muted a reprimand since there wasn't time.

  The aspect of an enormous snake rose to right below the surface and swam broadside to the ship. For ten seconds, a serpentine coil breached the swells. Sunshine glanced off opalescent scales, casting a spray of blue and green light.

  Buzz gasped. "What is it?"

  "An overgrown sea slug," I drawled.

  "A serpent?" Cairstine asked.

  "Ol' Esmerelda. She lives in an underwater cavern on Devil's Rock. I've never seen all of her at once, but she's at least three hundred feet from tip to tail." In a snap of suspicion, I wondered if Peter Pan was somehow behind the monster's attack.

  "Whoa! That's enormous." Buzz fluttered his wings, lifting a few inches above his perch. "How long is Revenge?"

  Cairstine clicked her teeth. "Half that."

  "Oh." Buzz dropped to my wrist again.

  In unison, the engineers asked, "What does she want with us?"

  Cairstine added, "We don't have treasure in our holds."

  "Good question, but I'm more concerned with stopping her. We have twenty-eight guns on board, but we might as well have none for all the good they'll do us against that." I asked myself if I was paranoid for wanting to believe Pan was behind this. Everything wrong in life couldn't be blamed on the eternal boy...

  Could it?

  Ol' Esmerelda knocked again. The ship rocked and rolled, and we automatically adjusted our stances to compensate. The motion had become familiar. The conversation continued without interruption.

  Buzz fluttered his wings. "Why are the guns useless?"

  Wright beat me to the answer. "Revenge is blind and defenseless against attacks from below. The cannons can't be aimed into the water. So unless the serpent comes up against our sides, the artillery is ineffective."

  "Hmm, not an effective design. We'll have to do something about that," Buzz mused, stroking his chin.

  "Never mind that now. Focus on our immediate problem. Whatever is attacking us is beneath the ship. I need a solution, and I need it now," I said, but I doubt either of them heard me.

  Wright bent to address the sprite. Her head blocked my view of him, so she appeared to be talking to my hook. "We need to find some means of delivering an explosive charge at depth."

  Buzz's featherweight left my hook. He landed on Wright's shoulder, causing an unfamiliar feeling to stab me. It might've been jealousy, but that was impossible.

  "The deeper the better," Buzz said. "Marine creatures have amazing hearing. They're susceptible to loud noises."

  "A bomb with a long fuse might work, but we'll need some way of keeping it dry." She tucked her face toward him, a habit I'd already acquired over the last couple hours.

  "Carry on, then." I eased away, but I might as well have stomped for all the attention they paid me. Well, that'd gone better than expected. I wished the pair of them a prosperous and productive future together.

  "Oh! Oh! Oh! I have an idea!" Buzz threw up his arms and his aura exploded into multi-colored sparkles.

  "Tell me?" Wright rolled on the balls of her feet.

  "Wine!" Buzz shouted. "We need a barrel of wine!"

  In the clouds, a rooster crowed. "Cock-a-doodle-doo!"

  Chapter 19

  Doomed—Damning Decisions

  Peter Pan swooped around the main mast and disappeared behind the sails, but his cocky cry resounded through the afternoon sky. "Cock-a-doodle-doo! Cock-a-doodle-doo! Cock-a-doodle-doo!"

  "Argh." A growl rumbled from my throat. That sound. It grated on my nerves. I winced and ground my teeth. On reflex, I grabbed for the hilt of my cutlass. Steel hissed on leather, and the blade cleared the scabbard.

  Buzz, still standing on Ca
irstine's shoulder, emitted a high-pitched squeak. His aura turned lime-green. "Jehoshaphat! It's Peter Pan! He's going to pluck my antenna and then my wings! I'm doomed. Dooooomed."

  "Over my dead body. He'll have to come through me first." Wright drew her flintlock pistol and cocked the hammer.

  Buzz hugged the curve of her neck. "My hero!"

  Oh, what a pair. There was much I wanted to say, but sarcasm had to be denied for pragmatic reasons. "I'll deal with Pan. Wright, Buzz, return to your task."

  Pan emerged from behind the mainsail and shot skyward. The higher he ascended, the smaller he appeared, until he receded to a bright green splotch. Sunlight glanced off the enchanted dagger he wielded. It was a tactic I recognized from previous encounters. When Peter reached the pinnacle, he would drop into a steep dive-attack.

  Wright hesitated. "By task, you mean the sea serpent, Captain?"

  "If you've any doubt, walk yourself off the plank." I kept my gaze pinned to Pan, craning my neck to follow him. The blinding sunlight forced me to squint and the position crimped my spine.

  "Aye, aye, Captain." Wright hurried off, taking Buzz with her.

  I settled into a fighting stance: weapons ready, legs braced, and knees bent. Tension thrummed through my frame. I kept my limbs limber, ready to pivot on my heel to meet his attack from any direction.

  High above, Pan executed a swan dive, speeding so swiftly he appeared a green blur against the blue. I held my position for a critical second, assessing his trajectory. Peter flew arrow-true; I was the bullseye on the target.

  Astonishment swelled through me. Temptation tugged. It flashed through my thoughts to stay put until the last possible moment and then step aside. Would he hit headfirst and knock himself senseless or punch a Pan-shaped hole in the planks? How many levels would he penetrate before he finally stopped? The matter was doomed to eternal speculation. I would never risk damaging my ship. Before the wonderance played out, I was already running.

  Heart hammering against my chest, I sprinted toward the bow. The longboats and dinghy were stowed against the fo'c'sle bulwark. I drove with my knee, tucked my limbs, and hurtled onto the platform. Upon landing, my foot caught on something concealed beneath the tarp. I stumbled, struggling to recover my balance on the uneven surface.

  In my peripheral vision, Pan streaked past off the port side, traveling parallel to my path. Playing cannonball with the main deck must not have appealed to him. It provided quite the impetus. Given the choice between a broken limb and Peter's dagger in my back, I preferred the former. To free my hand, I clenched my cutlass between my teeth. A headlong charge carried me into the next leap.

  Not high enough this time. I smacked bodily against the bulwark. The collision knocked the wind from my lungs. My jaws clamped shut on the steel blade hard enough that my teeth ached.

  My hand missed the balustrade, but my hook caught. I planted my boots, walked the wall, and hauled myself up and over. Before I cleared the railing, the hair on the back of my neck rose, and a thrill shot down my spine.

  Gooseflesh rose on the back of my neck. Danger!

  On pure instinct, I ducked and dropped. Before I hit the deck, Pan whooshed inches overhead. The point of his dagger sliced the air, and a blustery wind blasted across my back. The cutlass slipped from between my teeth. It clattered to the deck. Luckily, I didn't impale myself when I landed in a heap.

  I crashed onto the fo'c'sle deck like a rogue wave, startling two members of my crew. The men shouted and fled. One jumped to the main deck, and the other dove head first through the open hatch.

  Pan's reckless flight put him on a collision course with the foremast. I drew a sharp breath and hoped for a crash. At the last moment, he swerved sharply aside, but then flew straight into the ratlines and got entangled.

  "Confound it!" Pan thrashed about within the net, struggling to free himself. Frantically, he sawed through hemp lines with his dagger. He was helpless. Trapped.

  A perfect opportunity.

  Where had that darned cutlass gone? I groped for the dropped weapon, and closed my hand on the blade. Sharp pain lanced my palm, but I barely noticed. The whole of my attention focused on my rival. I flipped the weapon around, secured a solid grip, and lunged straight for Pan.

  He sliced the final rope and spilled from the net. My cutlass drove through the spot he'd been moments before. Missed again. A snarl churned in my chest.

  Pan flopped on the deck, completely vulnerable.

  I found myself caught in the gravity of irresistible temptation. I could've run him through and finally ended our destructive rivalry. Denying myself that satisfaction was painful. It hurt, physically and spiritually, but I refrained, because Ol' Esmerelda was still a threat to Revenge.

  I harbored no doubts that Pan had orchestrated the sea serpent's assault on my vessel. How he'd managed it remained in question. His murder, while satisfying, wouldn't necessarily guarantee the serpent would cease her attack. I couldn't kill him without unraveling the mystery, but that didn't mean I couldn't hurt him.

  Pan started to rise.

  "Oh no, you're not going anywhere." I drew back my boot and delivered a short, vicious kick to his side.

  Peter groaned and bowled into the balustrade where he remained prostrate, clutching his ribs. Wheezing, he struggled to rise.

  I planted my boot on his back and pushed him down. I needed those answers now, so I threw out a taunt. "That dive-bomb attack never works. Yet, you keep trying it."

  "It's called 'death from above' and someday it'll be the end of you." He propped himself up on his elbows and glared, hatred in his gaze.

  The feeling was mutual.

  "Perhaps, but it seems more likely you'll brain yourself first." I could've explained to Peter why his "death from above" attack kept failing. Every time he attempted the maneuver, he ascended higher than the time before, which gave me more time to evade. Of course, I'm not stupid, so I kept my mouth shut.

  An inconvenient jolt lifted the entire ship, throwing off my balance. Peter wormed out from beneath my foot. By the time I recovered my footing, he'd escaped. Pan somersaulted into flight and brought his enchanted knife into what he probably imagined to be a proper fencing position.

  "On your guard, Hook!"

  "En garde." I assumed a ready stance with my cutlass raised, and our conflict resumed without a formal signal. Pan darted nearer and stabbed at my shoulder. I executed a smooth sidestep and countered.

  Our blades clanged together.

  The edges met and slid across one another with a hiss. When the weapons parted, I ducked beneath the dangling ratlines.

  Peter pursued.

  The fo'c'sle deck was a tight, cluttered space. We circled the mast, vying for the upper hand. Now, Peter Pan and I shared an animosity well suited to embittered enemies. Our conflicts had certain unwritten, but mutually understood rules. In keeping with tradition, we sparred with words and weapons. For decades, we'd been evenly matched. I was taller and stronger, and despite his juvenile stature, Peter had faerie stamina and dexterity in excess. When combined with flight, he'd always managed to hold his own against me, and while it stung my pride to admit, he often bested me. Peter's recent growth spurt, however, had added a few inches to his height and bettered his reach. The difference threw off my rhythm, and he wasted no time in taking advantage of the vulnerability.

  With a cry, he swung at my left side. I brought up my hook to parry, but miscalculated the angle. The dagger glanced off the vambrace that secured my hook. The stroke didn't damage the leather, but once it reached the top of the armor, the blade sank into my flesh and sliced a deep cut across the back of my forearm. Blood spurted from the wound, but my pride stung worse. I was angrier with myself than him over the lapse and I vowed it wouldn't happen again.

  Peter claimed the victory. "First blood is mine and so shall be the victory!"

  "Not so fast. I'm not dead yet." I set myself once more in the proper stance.

  Peter thrust, I parried, and th
e fight resumed. He jeered. "You're still alive because I wish it. I could kill you now, Captain Hook. You are at my mercy."

  "Ah, is that so?"

  "It is, but I spared your life for the sake of Wendy." Peter tried to maneuver me into backing up into the open hatch. I wasn't falling for such trickery, especially not on my ship. This was my home turf. I had every plank committed to memory, right down to the knotholes.

  "How thoughtful you are to consider the chit's feelings. Granted, we've only known one another a few hours, but I do believe Wendy has grown inordinately fond of me."

  "Liar!" Peter's aura blazed, throwing a shower of fiery sparks. His face twisted into an ugly mask. He threw a wild thrust, leaving an opening in his guard.

  The fervor of anger drove me into a powerful lunge. With an executioner's design, I heaved the cutlass at his throat. Peter sprang away in the nick of time. He caught hold of the mast with both hands and spun around it, kicked at me with both legs.

  I spun and brought up my hook, intending to impale him. I reversed direction and brought up my hook a second time. Faerie intuition must've alerted Peter to the danger. He yelped and twisted, but not fast enough. The point sliced across his throat.

  Pan dropped and squarely on the deck at my feet. Red oozed from the thin gash over his Adam's apple. Another inch and I'd have torn out his gullet. Peter swallowed convulsively. He looked about as astonished as I felt, but I doubt it was for the same reason. Surprise echoed through my mind, the same thought over and over. Peter has an Adam's apple? Boys grew them in puberty. It meant his physical age must've been at least eleven.

  "Say, I do believe you're growing whiskers," I taunted, dueling with words as well as weapons. "At first I mistook that shadow on your upper lip for a spot of lint. But now I see it's definitely a mustache!"

  Pan came at me in a frenzy, his silvery blade flashing. "Fibber! Wretch! Take that back!"