by Andrea Jones
“I want you to suffer for what you nearly did to our boys.” She pressed the flat of the blade under his jaw. She spat her words. “That is only one of the consequences of your actions.” Pushing the steel against his chin, she lifted his head, angling her own as she studied his face— so familiar, so foreign. At last Jill raised her eyes and looked above him, to her lover.
She drew a long breath. “And of all people, it took a pirate to teach me mercy.” Dropping the rapier’s point to the deck, she regarded Peter once again. “I will allow you to live your story. And I will live mine. Like my pirate, you are a legend, Peter Pan. Legends rarely die… but they do grow.” As Peter opened his mouth to object, she overrode him. “I don’t want you to grow up. What I want for you is to learn. As I am doing.”
Peter perked up. “Learn a new story?”
Placing both hands on the hilt of the sword, she leaned on it. “Yes. Your new story. I’ll tell it differently from now on.” Her deep blue skirts billowed with the sea air, swirling to caress the blade. “Listen, Peter.”
Hook relaxed his grip on Peter as the boy stilled, always his habit at story time, to attend Jill’s words. Jewel plunked down to sit, folding her legs on Nibs’ shoulder and resting her chin on her fists. Ship’s company stirred, leaning forward in expectation. They were learning to appreciate the yarns spun by Red-Handed Jill.
“As the blood feud ended, Wendy and the boys grew up and away from Peter Pan. But he went on living happily, having adventures in the Neverland. He never made peace with the pirates or the Indians, but he learned to beware of them. And from that time, any Lost Boys he found, he cared for and raised until they could no longer slide through his front door. When this happened, Peter brought them to the House in the Clearing. He himself was never allowed to enter there, but the young men were welcomed by grown-ups, and guided into their futures. And all on the Island remained forevermore under the protection of a certain sea captain and his lady, who still return from time to time to assure that all is well.”
The silence that followed was filled by the yawn of the ship as she tugged at her anchors, stretching and pulling herself awake. A stiff breeze set her flags to snapping and pushed the sea sloshing against her hull. Her sails ruffled along the yardarms like tapping fingers, anxious to be unfurled and spread against the wind. The Jolly Roger was ripe to sail.
Jill was ready, too. “Captain, does the new story satisfy you?”
“Perfectly, my love. Your reputation is well deserved.” Hook looked down on his captive, savoring victory for one long moment. Then he released his hold on his mother’s son.
Peter pulled away from Hook and swiveled to study Jewel. “Tinker Bell?”
She turned up her nose. The boy strode with his accustomed confidence toward her roost on Nibs.
“You have to come back with me.”
She chimed threateningly.
“That medicine wasn’t meant for you, it was for Hook!”
Not deigning to drop him a note, she blazed.
“You can’t be his fairy. You’ve always been mine.”
She turned her back to him and swung her legs around to dangle off the backside of Nibs’ shoulder. Her heels thumped, but she watched Peter out of the corner of her eye. Peter perceived it, and grinned.
“All right. I’m sorry.”
Her head snapped back and she studied Nibs’ big ear. His hair stirred in the hostile draft of her wings.
Peter spun to face Jill, questioning. “Isn’t Tinker Bell going to be part of my story any more? Ever?”
“Sir? What are your orders?”
Jewel whipped around to plumb her master’s expression, hope lighting her wings. But Hook’s aspect was stern. He gestured to Nibs, who returned the vial to his captain’s outstretched hand. “Jewel is not at liberty to join you now, Pan. You know very little about her, after all.” He pocketed the vial. With sagging plumage, Jewel loosed a dispirited tone. Hook listened to it, then raised his chin and sent a message to Jill.
His thoughts were open to her, and she voiced them. “It is unlikely Pan will gain enough insight to reach accord with such a divine creature. But perhaps, in another chapter, he will be clever enough to pay attention to our Jewel, and to learn about her.” The divine creature lifted her wings and glowed.
Peter grinned slyly. “I am clever!”
With all the grace of her breed, Jewel rose to her feet, casting off to circle Peter once in a sparkling ring. She cruised up to the crow’s nest, where Mr. Noodler welcomed her into his hand. He lifted her to the brim of his hat, and she consented to climb aboard to man her station there and take up watch alongside the other sailors. It was her turn for lookout duty.
Hook and Jill watched Peter goggling up at her, a surprised expression on his face. Was he learning already? Jill turned to Hook and presented the hilt of his rapier. “With my compliments.” She watched as he sheathed it, then she plucked Peter’s dagger from her sash. “Captain, with your permission?”
“You are the storyteller.” But he moved to her side to stand guard as Jill held the handle out to Peter.
“I give you your weapon, and I give nothing away.” She tucked the bright silver dagger into Peter’s sword belt, next to his Wendy pocket, “‘For he was never without his knife.’”
He flashed a smile at her, and she could just see his bright green eyes, almost covered by his golden hair. Like the first time she’d ever seen him.
He laughed. “It was a good idea I had, for Wendy to borrow it when she was captured by pirates!” He secured it, then he sprang from the deck. Jill smiled, getting used to him again. He moved so swiftly through the air that one couldn’t distinguish the features that had fascinated his Wendy. Soon he became a familiar blur. And so, unceremoniously, Peter Pan left for home, without looking back.
Jewel looked up from her duty to listen as he crowed. Then she settled in with her shipmates and regarded the horizon, like black Roger above.
The captain’s order rang out. “Mr. Smee! Weigh anchor!”
The vigorous reply shot back from the bow. “Aye, aye, Sir! First shift, to your stations! Haul away, lads, and drop sails!” In a chorus of ayes, Hook’s men surged into activity. They tucked their weapons away to man the capstans, straining to heave up the dripping anchors. Swarming up the rigging, they unlashed the blossoming canvas, relishing the rock of the Roger as she yielded to temptation at last and broke from the arms of the bay. Like their captain, they were men of appetite, as eager as the ship herself to sample the offerings of the open sea.
As Mason deserted the crow’s nest, the whistle of a precisely aimed whiplash rose from the deck. Mr. Noodler stole a glance over the rail at the activity below, then with his backward fingers smuggled a flask from his pocket. He turned his eyes upward and cocked his head, but slowly, so as not to jar the sailor in his hat.
“Have a little nip, Miss Jewel?”
Leaning over the brim, she ascertained the direction of her master’s attention; a coil of leather snaked itself about his boot, and with a sultry stare, hand over deliberate hand, Jill was reeling him in. Jewel hopped from the hat. Flitting toward the flask, she smiled conspiratorially at Mr. Noodler. From the looks of things, Time was on her side.
The captain’s eyes were luminous again. With one ankle tangled in the lash, he leaned his lady against the mast. Jill’s red hand had already tossed away the whip handle and was ardently engaged elsewhere.
The master wouldn’t be needing his Jewel for quite a while.
Chapter 29
Other Oceans
The Pirate Queen retained her dignity with difficulty. She fairly flew to the cabin. Her feet just grazed the boards as she ran over the deck, and engaged not at all the wooden grain of the steps. The pitch of the ship became meaningless as she transformed to a creature of air once again. As if they could fly too, the captain’s boots behind her tapped the stairs lightly, and only every other one as he sprang up them to catch her. Slamming the door required only a
moment, but turning the key in its lock became a labor to savor as, with deliberation, he turned to her and smiled half-way, suffering her to wait on the anticipated click of the bolt. She nearly dove for him before he ended her torment.
“Sir, you try my patience!”
“Madam. We have all the Time in the world.” Leisurely, he discarded his belt and sword. He drew out a handkerchief and wiped his curving blade clean of poison. And then his hook took possession of her, plucking her from the air where she hung, her feet dangling over the carpet. His arms caged her. “A lovely bird, you are. My bird of Paradise.” For once he didn’t have to bend down to claim her kiss. But still he made her wait. He tilted his head and studied her face. “Open your lips, and speak to me—” But he didn’t take it.
She gave it to him. Impatiently, breathlessly, like the very first kiss. And also like the first, she wanted it never to end. Hook stood with his feet apart, solidly on the floor, his own kiss delving in her lips. Weaving his fingers in her hair, he tethered her securely. He was familiar with the ways of fairies now, and surely this winged thing could not be captured except with love, and a steadfast hand.
But hurried as Jill had been to bestow that kiss, she took her time afterward in slipping her hands downward, over his velvety waistcoat and into his pocket, to mine for sparkling treasure. Hook regarded her indulgently. Searching the warm recesses of his person, her ruby fingers lingered until she found the vial and gathered it up. Her eyes shone like the crystal. Holding it out, she asked once again, “Captain, with your permission?”
But his indulgence was at an end. “No.” Hook seized her wrist, and dragged her, floating, toward his bunk. A shadow fell over her face as her feet came to rest upon the floor, but Hook was adamant.
“I’ll not enter so lightly into the workings of magic. Too many times it has failed me already.” He directed her hand to the bed shelf, where he compelled her to set the vial down. “We will perform the rite, and afterward I will allow you to fly wherever you will.” She smiled solemnly then.
His eyes transfixed her as he eased her pistol from her sash and laid it aside. Gradually, he shrugged away his coat. Jill descended to the floor, gracefully, and with ceremony relieved him of his waistcoat. He lifted her skirts and ran his hand about her hips, searching for the fastenings, eventually letting fall her petticoats. She waited for them to settle, then knelt on them at his feet. Setting her hands on his thighs, one at a time, she drew her fingers down the velvet from its widest to its narrowest points. Her hands settled onto the cuffs of his boots, and she drew them off by degrees, to position them precisely in their place by his bunk. He reached down to her and with deliberate consideration, raised her up again. Leaning toward her inch by inch, he cradled her face in his hand, and when their lips met at last, he kissed her forever. Time meant little to her any longer. Less than nothing, to him.
The ship reached open water and, flying herself, kicked up her heels in liberty. The pirate pair listed to the bed and sank into it. One good hand unlaced her dress. One red hand loosed his breeches. Together they served each other with reverence, freeing one another of clothing. But he stayed her hand at the clasp of his harness, and the hook and its trappings remained intact over the sculpture of his chest. “My mermaid is already free.” He ran his fingers over the jewels where they glinted between her tresses.
The lovers fitted their limbs together, lingeringly, as the love-song of deepening water serenaded them and the prospect of the sea’s expanse opened to their view. Hook responded to the promise of the horizon; he kissed Jill ardently, thinking of her, and of yet another love. His eyes strayed. “You must rise now, to meet my other, older mistress.” He lifted her, turning her to the window and supporting her as she leaned back against his chest. Delicately, his hook parted the hair draping her eyes.
Jill clasped his wooden wrist on her shoulder and looked out, gazing in awe upon his other lady. Her changing contours were charming, and mysterious. The Roger sailed upon her, solitary, within a great circle of undulating current. No petticoat of cloud or vapor restricted the sun from ravishing her with its kisses. The sea accepted the light, lifting and plunging at will, according to her whim. The crest of each green wave formed a gem to adorn her, and dazzled the woman’s eyes.
“It is no wonder you took to the sea. She is rich in every way.”
“And makes us even richer. You shall see.”
“I little thought I’d ever leave the Neverland.”
“But you aren’t leaving it. You have seen a single port. Once you have awakened here, the only way to forsake it is to abandon your desire.”
“But to leave the island of my dreams…”
Hook’s eyes drank in the prospect of the sea, then he looked down and filled his soul with the sight of Jill. “There are other islands, my love. I will show you them all.” He turned her in his arms and drew the curtain of her hair aside to kiss her throat. “Follow me.”
Arching her neck, she received his caresses, so very contented. But the vial glittered with temptations. Her eyes wandered to it and soon she caught it up. Then the golden rain showered their bower, east, west, north and south; the air wavered with it. Bearing a scent of morning gardens, it settled like dew on their mouths, and tasted like roses. It spangled the man’s hair and emblazoned the woman’s jewels. Hook and his Jill fell together and rolled in the residue, their bodies glistening in the sunlight. Their eyes were struck, bedazzled with the brilliance of each other yet refused to close against the magic, and shimmering, their bodies joined together as they kissed with golden lips. Even the strappings of his brace became encrusted with gilt, like the bridle of some winged horse. Locked, glimmering, in the freedom of each other’s embraces, the two ascended effortlessly, floating on shining currents of air. In their exalted bed, mounting to heights of scintillating sensation, they fused into one another, and as unmeasured moments passed, their passion exploded into stars. By the time they bumped against the beams, their breathing surging through their mouths, the feathery air on which they reclined seemed the most natural couch in the world for lovers to share.
Hook drew his lips from hers, and even his laugh was gilded. “I used to envy the birds. Even they cannot match us now!” Trapped in the grain of the beams overhead shone more little stars, scraped from his glowing shoulders and twinkling down on their magic circle. The lovers reclined together, suspended, their hearts soaring, their eyes still blinded to everything else.
But the sea was calling. At length Hook’s ears attended it, and Jill, though not yet understanding the liquid language, was drawn, as ever, to the open window. She pulled him with her and flung the casement to its widest extent. “Come, Hook! Fly with the birds. Fly with me!” Her radiant arms stretched longingly, one toward him, one over the sill.
But he stabbed his hook in a beam of the ceiling and anchored himself. Reaching down, he seized her round the waist. “Hold, my love. I see now how very easy it was to entice you away from home.” He gathered her into his arm. “You feel the power of flight and you forget your position. But I have made you a queen over men this time. You will find them easier to govern than boys.” His eyes appreciated her splendor. “And easier to tempt.”
Jill looked at her lover in surprise, then laughed at her state of undress. “Forgive me! I’d no thought of anyone but you.”
“A fault for which I shall never upbraid you. Fetch your gown, before I forget myself. I’ve an obligation to discharge. We’ve yet to complete the terms of our accord.”
“You were generous. You granted all I asked and more— except for Nibs and Tom.”
“You demanded their freedom.”
“Which you refused.”
“It didn’t occur to you then that they desired to join me.”
“Even though I meant to join you, too.”
“And I had already granted their freedom. I couldn’t give to you what belonged to them.”
“Nor could I give you what belonged to others. You worked
ruthlessly to free my heart, so that I was at liberty to grant it.”
“The only thing in the world for which I lacked. Except for the tale, the accord is sealed.”
“The story of your Beauty. Yes! I hold you to our agreement.”
Reluctant to descend, they settled on the floor to leave footprints in the fairy dust as they waited upon each other, donning only essentials. Once Jill had coaxed his claw through its lacy cuff, Hook led her to the couch and took her into his arms. The flightless swan supported their backs, catching a little glitter of its own. Their eyes, blue as sapphires, met and held. Hook noticed that her eyelashes still sparkled with magic. He began.
* * *
“You told me the story of James, the young man who entered into the Neverland to mold his destiny. Here he found everything he desired. Skill, experience, wealth, women, respect… power. He didn’t court companionship, for ignorant of its charms, he had never sought it. By day he lived his fantasies, and by night he gathered strength. In the form of Beauty.
“She came to him in his dreams and whispered to him shyly, like a maiden, through the veil of sleep. Growing ever bolder, still she declined to join him— yet she taunted him with his incompletion. He reached for her but she tormented him, hiding within his soul behind a curtain of Darkness, torn just enough for the light of her smile to enter. As he dreamed, he could see her smile, a ray of loveliness, but intangible, unkissable. He could hear her voice; she spoke to him in golden words, but when she told his tale, she dictated that he should suffer loss and pain and interrupted passions. But also, ultimately, love.
“Over time, her features became refined, her voice clearer. She swam like a mermaid in and out of his sleep until one morning he netted his desire, fixing her image in his waking mind. He caused her likeness to be set in his skin. He commissioned her face to be carved in wood. Having gained this power over her, he ordered that she should bear his weakness and turn it into strength. And he hung her, his sweet tormentor, at the fore of his ship— the prow of his life. Now her hook plucks the waves, her hand summons the unattainable. Like the interrupted man, she seeks to grasp what she cannot hold.
