Death in Neverland: Book 1 in The Neverland Trilogy (The Neverland Series)

by Heather C. Myers

  “I am,” Remy interrupted. She could not yet fully open her eyes due to the sun’s rays coming through the lone square window. She frowned at the sight, not fully understanding the fact that this tavern could obviously afford gas lamps, bed spreads, and particular cleaning supplies in order to get off the grime and other such germs out of the sheets but not curtains. What if customers wanted to sleep off their headache that one normally got after excessive drinking? Certainly they would be upset at their abrupt awakening?

  Not that Remy personally knew about those particular headaches. She had yet to actually experience one, but Charlie would always speak about how his father would inexplicably become much grouchier the morning after drinking night, even though he seemed happier while drinking. Charlie explained the concept of a what that headache meant, that it was caused by the drinking as though the drinker was being punished by some higher power for indulging too much.

  She wondered if Nick was being woken up by the sun and he was experiencing the type of pain a drinker had the next morning. Although he did have three women with him; surely he would be able to distract himself from the pain, at least for a little while.

  “Come on,” Adele said, breaking through Remy’s thoughts. “Get up.”

  “We really have to leave at this very moment?” Remy would not admit it aloud, but yes, there was some whining in her inquiry.

  “No,” Adele said, shaking her head so her flowing red hair followed behind the movement. “Not yet. The ship still needs to be stocked. But I need to check your bandages and we need to see how the night’s treated your wound. As in, can you walk without making it obvious that you got stabbed last night? Plus, we need to eat – you, missy, need sustenance – and you need to change out of those clothes?”

  “What?” Remy asked. Even she was surprised at the fact at how she did not want to do that. Surely she did not want to wear them, especially since Nick’s tunic was soaked with her blood.

  Adele gave her a look. “Unless you want to advertise your adventure…” She let her voice trail off tellingly. “Here. I brought a change of clothing. For myself, originally, but you need them more than I need them. Obviously.” She tossed beige pants and a white tunic at the girl still lying in bed. “Now come on. I’m starving and can smell the eggs frying from here. Get up and lift up the tunic so I can see the bandage.”

  Remy groaned but did as Adele bid her too. Any movement of her stomach caused her to hiss and it dawned on her that Nick was going to find out about this. She had no idea as to how, but unless she could hide her facial expressions and noise of distress regarding the wound, it would be rather obvious as to what happened. With that in mind, the rest of her movement was focused on biting the inside of her lip in order not to cry out and pray – pray – that her eyes revealed nothing.

  When she was finally standing, she reached down and pulled up her shirt so Adele could look at the injury.

  “Good,” Adele murmured. “Don’t have to change those until tonight.” She let the tunic fall back into place and stood upright so she could look Remy in the eye. “Do you think you can avoid doing anything straining in order to keep your wound from bleeding again?”

  “Do you think washing the dishes is straining?” Remy asked, not unhopefully.

  Adele gave the girl a flat look. “I don’t think so, princess.” She walked over to the bureau in order to look at herself in the mirror. “Now get dressed, and do it quickly, aye? Breaking my fast or not usually sets my mood for the day and it is much too beautiful outside to be in an ugly mood.”

  Remy looked around for a changing sheet but could not seem to find one.

  “Do I have to tell you a third time how badly I want to head downstairs?” Adele persisted, glancing at Remy through the window.

  “Where shall I change?” Remy demanded, feeling herself get more and tenser every time Adele urged her to hurry up.

  “Oh, for God’s sake,” Adele said, rolling her eyes. “Just do it right there. I promise I won’t look, okay?”

  Remy still did not feel completely comfortable with Adele in the same room as she was while changing, especially without a changing sheet to hide behind, but she did not want Adele to yell at her anymore and, in all honesty, Remy knew that she owed the younger woman. Adele had saved her life. The least she could do was rapidly change in order to allow Adele the time she needed to eat her food.

  Plus, Remy was getting hungry too. She had lost blood last night – not enough to kill her, of course – but enough to make her weaker than she was used to. And her stomach was already pressing against her, making pathetic cries of hunger in order to let Remy know what it so desired.

  Remy took off her clothes as quickly and as carefully as she could. Her injury was still throbbing, but it was not as persistent as last night. She pulled on Adele’s clothes and found that they fitted her nicely, more so than Nick’s did.

  “Are you finished yet?” Adele demanded.

  “Yes,” Remy said. In her hands were the clothes she had so recently worn. “What do I do with these?”

  “Leave them,” Adele said in a dismissive tone, shrugging her shoulders.

  “Leave them?” Remy asked.

  “You speak English, yes?” Adele took the clothes from Remy’s hands and dropped them to the floor once more. “Leave them. If Nick finds these, he’ll know.”

  “What do I say when he asks about his clothes?” Remy asked, following Adele out the door.

  “After Nick’s night, I highly doubt he’ll even notice.”

  Remy frowned. She knew that what Adele said was probably true, but for whatever reason, it did not make her feel good. At all.

  ***

  The food was actually delicious. Remy had seconds, something she never did when she was home. Probably because she had always been well-fed and never left wanting. And she had never been stabbed before, of course.

  It was not what Remy expected. This tavern, filled with those people familiar with poverty, dirty, sullied. And yet the food was exquisite. Nearly as good as the food Chef Mason made for her.

  Nick had yet to make an appearance. Apparently the sun had either failed or chosen to avoid Nick’s window this morning. She did not know why, but this behavior Nick was partaking in was rather annoying.

  “Now where do we go?” Remy asked once she had finished her second plate of eggs.

  “What do you mean?” Edward asked, his mouth still full.

  Remy tried not to make a face at his obvious lack of etiquette. “Well, the souls have been delivered,” she pointed out, “and the ship is being stocked as we speak. Now where do we go?”

  “We go back to The Alley in order to pick up more souls,” Giselle explained. “People die on a constant basis. There’s really no stopping or taking a break from this.”

  Remy was about to ask a question but at that moment, Nick decided to grace his crew with his presence. He was wearing the same outfit as he had been the previous evening, except his smile seemed much more satisfied now and he seemed relaxed.

  “How did everyone sleep?” he asked once he reached the table. “Good? I slept brilliantly, thank you very much?” He took a seat as he shouted, “Oy! Can I get an order of eggs? With some bread? And a pint of rum?”

  “It’s the morning!” Remy exclaimed in a hushed voice.

  Nick looked at the woman through half-lidded eyes. “You’re point being, darling?” he asked in a low, almost slurred voice.

  “Should you really be drinking this early in the morning?”

  “Let me tell you a secret.” The pirate captain leaned forward across the table so his face was inches from Remy’s. Though she wanted nothing more than to rid herself of the discomfort his close proximity brought, something compelled her to stay put. “The remedy from a headache caused by drink is to drink more.” A lazy smile slid across his face.

  “That makes no sense,” Remy said.

  The smile on Nick’s face on deepened and he suddenly pulled back, shrugging his
shoulders. “Or does it make perfect sense?” he asked.

  Remy sincerely hoped his question was rhetorical because she had absolutely no idea as to how to respond. Nick’s order was brought to him and it was not long before the pirate captain scarfed down his food. Had he never heard of chewing, exactly? Perhaps the activities he participated in last night caused him to require sustenance just like Remy’s did.

  Speaking of which, where were the women Nick spent the night with? Were they still sleeping, or did they sneak out of the room after Nick had fallen asleep in order to garner more customers? What were the rules for whores anyways? Were their rules, or did they make their own?

  “Sir.” A young boy, a couple of years younger than Remy, interrupted Remy’s mind. He was looking directly at Nick, who was nearly finished with his food. “Your ship is stocked and all ready to go.”

  “Good man,” Nick said, nodding in Edward’s direction. Edward reached in his pocket and pulled out a couple of coins, handing them to the boy. After the boy had rushed outside – really, was a tavern the proper place for a boy his age? – Nick swallowed his last bite. “Let’s go, then. Time to get back to work.”

  ***

  Back on the ship, Remy found herself in the galley washing the dishes. Certainly, this was one of the last places she would want to be, but she was beginning to appreciate the fact that she was isolated here. Unless someone was preparing a meal or eating it, the galley was left empty. Remy figured she could hide out here and avoid Nick, hoping to keep the injury a secret for as long as possible. She was also out of the sun and, though she was loathe to admit it, washing dishes was not exactly hard labor.

  In fact, Remy might actually go as far as to say that it was… soothing.

  Her injury did not bother as much as she had expected though she was looking forward to Adele changing the bandages that evening.

  Adele…

  Remy had thought that the red head had hated her. She remembered Adele from her first trip down here – or whichever direction The Underworld was in comparison to earth – and even then, Adele had seemed happy to see her. She had her arms crossed over her chest and her brown eyes narrowed, full of suspicion. Looking back, Remy could not blame her. Surely Adele had seen plenty of souls pass through here. She probably did not trust that Remy, or whomever else she had gotten to know, would actually stick around for a while. And to be honest, if Remy knew had to get home, she would do it. She would not even hesitate.

  Adele had a right to be suspicious. Perhaps she even had reason to dislike Remy without knowing her too. But Remy was glad for Adele. Without the red head, she would surely be dead. Or in excruciating pain as that man and his witch friend tried to transfer her soul into his body or however it was supposed to work.

  At that moment, the door was opened and in walked the captain of this ship himself. He still had that chummy smile etched onto his angled face with those brown eyes sparkling mischievously. It was a complete transformation from the tense pirate she had met when she was first taken by him and forced here. She did not like to think about it, but it appeared as though Tenedor did wonders on Nick’s mood. It transformed him into probably the person he normally is. But if it was true, that he had been down here for nearly a century, then she could understand how he might need a place as lawless as Tenedor in order to feel free.

  “’ello darling,” he greeted her, his smile revealing gold canines that glinted in the little light that managed to sneak through the dirty windows.

  What was he doing here anyways? Did he not trust her to do her assigned duty? Her eyes quickly descended on her arm and she was relieved to see that her arms were covered by Adele’s long sleeves so the telling bruises were hidden from view. For now.

  “Hello,” she said in a tentative tone, avoiding making eye contact with him. She was worried that there was a good chance he would be able to tell something was off if he looked into her eyes. Remy did not know how, but from her limited experience with Nick, she knew he was quite apt at reading people. Even if they gave no hints of their secrets or looked as though nothing was wrong.

  He could always tell. Like a bloodhound chasing a slippery fox.

  So she focused her attention on the task at hand.

  “I must say, I’m quite surprised at the fact that you are here, doing the dishes,” he said, taking a seat across from her.

  “I am supposed to be here,” she pointed out.

  “Yes,” he agreed. “That’s what makes it so surprising.” There was a pause; because Remy had nothing to say, she kept her mouth shut. She knew better than to try and force conversation when there was no need on her part to do so. That was when secrets were found out. People always knew when conversations were not natural. “So. I heard you had a little adventure in Tenedor.”

  Remy’s eyes snapped up. Nick revealed nothing though, nothing except that tightlipped smile and those sparkling brown eyes. He leaned forward, pushing his brows up so they hid underneath his dark hair and tri-corn hat.

  “Um…” She let her voice trail off only because her mind was trying to figure out just what to say. How could he already know about her – what had he called it? – adventure the previous night that most likely would have ended in tragedy had it not been for Adele? Adele would not actually tell him, would she? Certainly Adele might not like Adele – despite everything they had so recently been through – but Remy really did believe the red head when she promised she would not reveal what happened to Nick.

  “Don’t play coy with me,” Nick teased.

  If he had found out, why was he so… happy? Should he not be mad or upset or at least demand to see her wound in order to check if it was all right? Should he not be more worried? And yet, he was there, smiling, teasing her, as though her trial was not important.

  “You actually ate the bread,” Nick continued.

  Remy blinked. “What?”

  “You know,” Nick prodded. “For someone so picky about dress and drinking and eating and what have you, you seemed to enjoy the bread at Albatross. The food, really. I heard you had two servings of hot eggs when you broke your fast.”

  “Oh.” Oh. Thank God. He did not know! He did not know! “Yes.” She forced a smile. “Yes, I guess it was an adventure. The food was delicious.”

  “Agreed,” Nick said with a nod, sitting up straight. “It also has the best rum on the island, possibly even in the entire Underworld. Perhaps next time you might give it a try.”

  Another fake smile, but no promises were given. Remy hoped to be away from here, back home, and if she was not, she did not plan to indulge in drink. Not after Charlie’s horror stories.

  “Will you at least admit that you enjoyed your time there then?”

  Remy had no idea why it mattered to Nick that she said she enjoyed Tenedor. It was not as bad a place as she expected, but she did not like it. She felt as though she were some kind of royalty because the souls simply stared at her on the island and some – as she had so personally experienced – actually approached her. So no, she did not like Tenedor. She did not like being stabbed and the center of attention.

  But the eager, hopeful look on Nick’s face…

  Before Remy had the chance to answer, the door burst open yet again. Remy frowned, though somehow managed to keep from snapping at Edward and Nick that she would prefer it, actually, if they knocked before barging into the galleys. It was probably the look on Edward’s face that kept her from speaking.

  “Sir,” he said, those deep blue eyes fixed solely on Nick. “A man. In the water. A shipwreck. Just ahead. Please. Come quickly.”

  Nick did not need to be told twice. He was up and out of his seat without a glance in Remy’s direction.

  Which was perfectly fine with Remy. Because she, too, wanted to see what rendered Edward unable to form a cohesive sentence. And if Nick had lingered, he would notice that Remy could not walk completely upright.

  And Remy did not want that.

  Chapter 15

  It t
ook her longer than it normally would have, but Remy made it to the starboard side of the ship, along with the rest of the Black Star’s crew. It was another few minutes before she realized what everyone was staring at, and in that moment, she now understood Edward’s urgency. There, in the middle of the water was a man clinging to his dear life to a wooden sheet, probably once part of his ship that, judging from the pieces that littered the ocean, had been demolished.

  “Oh my God,” Remy whispered to herself. Her body shuddered when she took in the sight of the dead bodies they came upon. Some were missing limbs. Others were bleeding out quite profusely. Others were decapitated. Sometimes, it was only a hand that floated by. But it did not matter. The blue of the water was tainted with red.

  No one was shielding her. No one was telling her that a lady should not see such things. And Remy herself did not look away. She wanted to, and yet she was transfixed by the horrendous sight.

  Who would do something like this? Who could be heartless? These men floating lifeless would never see their final resting place. Instead, they would be lost. And even though was not certain what that meant, exactly, she knew that being lost was probably the most tragic thing a soul could endure.

  It was not fair.

  “Surely we are going to do something, yes?” She tilted her head back so she was looking at Nick, hoping the look on his face, perhaps in his eyes, would give her some clue as to what it was he was thinking. Nick would not just leave the man, would he? Even though he was a pirate, Nick would do the right thing.

  He had when it came to her. This man should be no different.

  “We are not just going to leave him there,” Remy prodded, her eyes still planted on the pirate captain.