As did Remy.
She grabbed the hand holding onto her and stepped out of his grasp before taking a couple of steps back. She needed to see him for herself, to see if it was true, if she really had died. From the corner of her eye, Remy noticed three more people make their way onto the deck of the ship – two women, one of which was also familiar, and one man, as tall as the one currently standing in front of her.
“Really, this is all her fault,” the captain said.
It was really him. The man – captain – who controlled this ship. The ship that led souls to their final destination. He still looked the same, though two years rarely ever changed anybody. Unlike the other males that composed his small crew, he was short, probably barely reaching under six feet, but there was something about his presence that commanded attention. Remy was not certain if it was his tan skin, his dark brown eyes nearly matching the color of his pupils, or the charming smile that revealed two gold teeth in place of his upper canines. He also had short hair, but his was dark brown in color, and fell into his face quite messily. His face was angled, his cheekbones high. His attire was unkempt, matching those of his crew, but clung a bit tighter to his body probably because he had more muscle than the tall man. A worn, tri-corn hat sat on his head, revealing his role aboard the ship, and a red bandana was wrapped around his right boot. A piece of lace was tied around his right wrist, and as astonishing as it sounded, it actually looked familiar to her. Why it was there in the first place, Remy could not say, but certainly the outfit was unique and reeked of piracy.
She realized that he had tilted his head in her direction, actually possessing the audacity to blame her for this particular situation they found themselves in.
“Excuse me?” she said. Nearly shrieked was more like it, but ladies did not shriek, and even though Remy was far from home, she was still a lady.
“Yes, Captain,” the familiar man said, crossing his arms over his chest and cocking his head. “How, exactly, is this her fault?”
“You see, it’s a long story,” he drawled, employing his right hand in order to emphasize his point that he had yet to make, “but the lass here found herself in a bit of a tiff, and if it wasn’t for me, her body would be sinking down to the depths of Davy Jones’ Locker.”
Remy felt herself swallow. It still had yet to dawn on her that this man, however audacious he was, saved her life.
“Would explain the bruise starting to form on her face,” one of the women said, pointing to Remy’s throbbing cheek. “I should probably get something for it.”
“Not now,” the first man snapped, probably harsher than he had intended given the wince that touched his face for a second before leaving as fast as it had come. Remy watched and he clenched his jaw and then continued, “Our Captain Grey was just about to inform us why he felt the need to travel to another world simply to save one girl – albeit one we have met before – from certain death.”
“”What?” the man who had not yet spoken asked in a gravelly voice. “How’s that even possible that she has been here before?”
Of course! How could she have not thought about it before?
Before her rescuer could address the question, Remy raced across the deck until she reached a set of stairs that led below deck. Remy hitched up her skirt in her hands, racing down the stairs two at a time. She was thankful once more she had the mind to wear boots rather than those dreadful heels. Had she not, she was positive she would have tripped or fallen numerous times before now.
She reached a dark, narrow hallway. Keeping the momentum, Remy jogged down the hall until she reached the third door on the left. This was the one, was it not?
Remy grabbed the doorknob and turned, expecting the door to open.
It didn’t. The door was locked.
“Learned my lesson, thanks to you,” the captain’s low voice said from behind her.
Remy turned, frowning. “How am I supposed to go back then?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest.
“I suppose you’ll have to solve that riddle for yourself, darling,” he answered in a breezy voice, “because it is no concern of mine.”
Well, if this particular exit was locked, it would reason that there was another one that was opened. She chewed her bottom lip as her mind began to work, trying to come up with an idea of where the new exit might be. Perhaps this place was much like a dream world, where in order to wake up one must be faced with pain or something especially frightening.
“Yes,” she murmured to herself before running back towards the staircase.
“What?” she heard him call after her.
She ignored the man. She had an idea that she needed to work out and could not be distracted anymore.
Remy dashed around the group of people still collected on the deck until she reached the side of the ship. She pulled herself up and was about to throw herself into the water – maybe the pain or cold of hitting the water would send her back home – when someone grabbed her wrist and yanked her back so she stumbled rather ungracefully down on the deck.
“I wouldn’t be doing that if I were you, missy,” the captain said from beside her.
Remy glared at him. How dare he? Since he was not offering any sort of solution to her problem, she expected him to allow her to come up with one by herself and then put that solution into action. Not stopping her from doing that! He reminded her of an annoying fly that was constantly buzzing in her ear, and it did not matter how much she tried to wave him away, he flew back, buzzing even louder than previously.
“And why,” she asked in a tight voice, trying to maintain some sort of control over her patience, “would I not want to be doing that?”
Remy noticed the dry look now touching the captain’s features at her slight mocking tone, his eyelids at half mast.
“Why don’t you look before you leap?” he suggested, and leaned over the side of the ship. Remy frowned but followed suit. “Does that look like normal water?”
Remy followed his long finger with her eyes and she could not help a small gasp. The ocean resembled the Caribbean superbly – it was a clear, crystal blue that was transparent all the way down to nearly the bottom. It looked warm and refreshing, the perfect place to cool down during a hot summer day. Defacing the appearance of the familiar ocean though were things in the water, slivery, wispy things that Remy could not explain. She had never seen anything quite like them before, but there were many of them swimming along in the wake of the ship.
“What are they?” she asked in a hushed voice, her eyes still lingering on the translucent forms.
“Souls,” was the captain’s curt reply.
Souls.
“And if you were to jump off the ship and into soul-infested water, your own soul would be lost forever,” he finished. His voice lacked any of the playfulness it normally occupied.
Remy turned in order to face him, looking for the only answer she cared about in his dark eyes. “Am I dead?”
“You are not dead.”
Though she knew the four members of his crew were standing just off to the side, Remy’s only focus was him. He was the captain and, as such, would probably have the most knowledge about this world, about where she was, and most importantly, why she was here.
She decided to be direct.
“Why am I here?”
“You are here because I saved your life,” he said. “Did you even possibly consider that your plan of escaping your arranged marriage by stowing away on a ship you know naught of was daft, to say the least? That there was a good chance injury would come to you since you lack any knowledge of defending yourself? That yes, even you, the lone Cutler child with a grand inheritance could die? Hmm?”
“I do not need a lecture!” Remy snapped. “Do you not think I already feel stupid? My own ignorance has become apparent, thank you very much. And I must say, I barely know you. How do have all of this information on me? And why are you so angry with me?”
“I am Captain Nicholas Grey an
d I know everything,” he said in a commanding voice, his hands on his hips. “I am angry because you believe that the world is constantly working in your favor. Not only do you decide to sneak out your window but your manner of getting off the island is to hitch a ride with men you do not even know. Your death or injury did not cross your mind once. Am I correct? Your world does not revolve around you, missy. You should appreciate your life more. And I know all of this information because it’s not every day that a woman – nay, a girl – escapes the clutches of death.”
Remy clenched her jaw, once again trying to keep a hold of her temper. She felt hot tears sting her eyes and blur her vision, but she refused to cry in front of him, witnessed by all. She knew that everything Captain Grey told her was true. She should have taken into consideration that in all probability, her plan would not be as black and white as she had believed. But that gave him no right to assume he could talk to her as though he knew her, as though he held some sort of authority over her. She was a Cutler after all, and the man before her looked nothing short of a pirate.
“Who do you think you are?” she asked him.
“Who do you think ferries the bloody souls, hmm?” the captain asked, bending his neck so he could look at Remy levelly in the eye. His pointed nose was nearly brushing the tip of her own and she could feel his breath invade the front of her neck. She was so enraptured by the closeness between the two that she did not even flinch when the swearword left his mouth. In fact, dare she admit that the way his lips formed around said word was actually attractive? “Who do you think is in charge of ensuring that souls reach their final resting place without incident? Why do you think you came to me, to my ship, when you died the first time?”
“You said I was not dead.”
Captain Grey growled through a sigh as he abruptly backed away from her frame, obviously frustrated with her. “That is all you’re worried about?” he asked. “Your own life?”
“I do apologize but was it not you who suggested I appreciate it more?” Remy asked, raising her brow.
There was a smothered though feminine chuckle just off to the side, but neither Remy nor the captain paid whomever it was any mind.
“For the last time, you are not dead,” he said in a low voice, sending chills throughout Remy’s body. “Place your hand over your heart. You will feel it beat.”
Remy still was unsure, but did as he suggested. There, drumming underneath her flat palm, was her heart beat, faster than normal, but still there, pumping life throughout her body. When she was satisfied, she dropped her hand and regarded him warily. “Are you alive?” she asked.
“Yes.” He motioned to the people listening intently to their conversation. “They are not.”
“Then why can I see them?” Remy asked. “Why do they resemble human beings and not spirits? Why are they on your ship and not in the water?”
“Which question would you like me to answer first?” At Remy’s look, Captain Grey went on. “You can see them, because in the Underworld, not all people are dead. Killed in your world, yes, but that does not translate to death here. You are not dead until you reach your final resting place. Some souls are more ready to move on than others. They resemble humans because souls that are not ready to pass on but have died retain the shape they had in life. Souls who are ready have no need for their physical forms, and instead, shed their body until their soul is left. They are on my ship because they are a part of my crew. Each one agreed to assist me in my task because I cannot keep this ship afloat by myself. Obviously they are not ready to pass on and before you ask me why, let me tell you that it is not my business to say and not your business to know.”
Remy allowed a small bout of silence to encompass her as she took in what he said. With each word, his voice was less restrained until it returned to normal and he did not sound as upset. It made Remy tread cautiously with her next question. “Why are you here then? If you are, in fact, alive?”
Another smothered giggle pierced the silence. This time, Remy looked to see who it was coming from and found that it was from the woman standing next to the man with the dirty blond hair. Well, Remy was not happy about it either.
“That is neither here nor there,” he said quickly.
Remy opened her mouth, ready to press Nick for more information regarding his origin as a soul tender? A ferry? She was not sure the title he used save for Captain. Upon further thought, however, she closed it.
“Well,” she said, smiling. Really, how could she have not thought of this before now? It was more commonsensical than the first idea. “Thank you for everything. For saving my life. For telling me all you could about this place. The Underworld, was it? But I really must be returning home now. Like you, I have learned my lesson and promise to be more careful and will not be running away anytime soon. So.”
Captain Grey blinked once, twice, and then furrowed his brow. “So… what?”
“You can take me home now.” She looked up at him with big eyes.
Instead of going on their merry way, he threw his head back and laughed so his captain’s hat nearly slipped off his head. Remy felt her teeth grind together as she narrowed her eyes at him once again.
“And what, pray tell, is so funny?” she asked in a tight voice as she tilted her head up in order to look down her nose at him.
“Do you honestly think I can wave my hands and – poof! – deliver back to your world?” he asked her through his laughter.
“Seeing as how you brought me here with your hands, I find it logical to assume you can take me back home,” Remy said, feeling her patience begin to waver.
Suddenly, the captain looked sheepish. “Yeah, about that…” He looked away for a moment before back at Remy. “I technically should not have been able to do that.” He shrugged his rather broad shoulders.
“What?” Remy asked. Again, she was a proper young woman and did not allow her voice to break the proper octave.
“You see, I can travel to earth and back whenever I feel the need to,” he continued. “I can also keep track of what happens on earth thanks to a special glass ball” – he stopped himself and grinned. Remy could not deny that this particular facial inflection was not unattractive. “But enough about that. Just because I can travel between the two worlds, does not mean I can kill any living being nor can I transport them from one world to the other.”
“That still does not explain why I am here.”
“I have no other explanation but that one.” He glanced over at his crew and with a subtle nod, beckoned them over. “Since you’ll be staying here for a length of time, you best get to know the crew. I am obviously the captain of this vessel, you may address me as Captain Nick. That man over there” – he pointed to the tall, angry man from before – “is my quartermaster Edward Steel. The woman who had a troubling time at keeping her laughter in check and keeps count of the supplies is Adele Fowler. The man next to her with the incredibly blue eyes is our physician, Calum Hall, and next to him is his assistant, Giselle Thomas. Ladies and gents, this here is” – again he stopped himself, but this time to look at Remy. “What was your name, darling?”
“Not darling, that is certain,” Remy said with a roll of her eyes. “My name is Remy Cutler, of Port George.”
“Yes, yes, Remy Cutler from Port George,” Captain Nick said, nodding his head repeatedly. “Giselle, love, why don’t you give our newest recruit a tour of the ship? Possibly check her cheek while you’re at it?”
Giselle stepped forward, but before Remy left with the blonde woman, she turned back to Nick. “I will be leaving soon,” she said with determination.
“Sure you will,” he said. “Even so, you should see where you’ll be sleeping, darling, just in case another one of your plans doesn’t pan out.”
Chapter 3
“I probably should apologize for Captain Grey,” Giselle said once the two were out of earshot. “He does have a way for getting under the skin, and not in a good way.” She offered Remy a warm smile
that Remy attempted to return but could only muster a grimace.
She was stuck here. For an indefinite amount of time.
Giselle seemed sweet though. She had straight wheat colored hair that she tied back with a piece of black ribbon so strands ceased to litter her face. Her stormy grey eyes seemed to hold a strange feeling of friendliness in them, despite the dreary color. Her skin was porcelain, much like Remy’s own, despite being on a ship that sailed to and from a destination on an ocean underneath the hot sun. There was a slight indentation on Giselle’s chin, rounding out the soft angles of her heart shaped face. She was slender, much more slender than the females Remy had interacted with on a constant basis, but it did not deter from her obvious beauty. The young woman was short, two or three inches shorter than Remy herself. She was clothed in brown pantaloons and a blue tunic. It surprised Remy to see that her attire, like the men’s, were filled with dirt and holes and looked old, as though wearing this particular outfit was consistent rather than every now and then. Surely as a woman, this had to bother Giselle. She could not possibly be proud of the way she looked.
“Forgive me for asking,” Remy said as she followed the shorter woman, “but should you not wash your clothes? They look rather… dirty.” Remy was not sure if she had chosen the correct word that aptly described what she saw, but it was most certainly the least offensive.
She watched as a light pink blush took over Giselle’s delicate features. “I must apologize for my appearance,” she said. Giselle stopped at the top of the stairs so she could look at Remy without craning her neck. “We weren’t expecting any visitors and these were the only clean clothes I could find, believe it or not.”
Remy did not actually believe it. Did they not have someone to wash their clothes for them? Or, if Giselle was not lying and all of her clothes were dirty, could the crew not stop at a nearby shop and buy some new ones?
“Is appearance not important on a ship?” Remy knew the question was rude, but she could not think of a better way to ask it.
Death in Neverland: Book 1 in The Neverland Trilogy (The Neverland Series) Page 3
