The smell of dead fish suddenly hit her full in the face.
They had reached the wharf. Seagulls with glowing red eyes plunged beneath the waves that lapped against the seawall, emerging with beaks loaded with squirming, black-eyed fish. The fish seemed unaffected by the Red Spectrum.
Slatted wooden planks stretched across logs that protruded vertically from the ocean floor. Ships, one more ominous-looking than the next, were tied to these moorings. There were three-masted carrack ships, brig warships, schooners, two-masted brigantines, fluyt cargo vessels, and galleons.
But, like everything else in this world, the ships were in a state of decay. Their sails resembled bedsheet ghosts—disembodied specters billowing in the shore breeze. The wood of the hulls appeared to be rotting and worm-infested. Caitlin hoped they weren’t to the point of being unseaworthy.
“What kind of ship are we looking for?” Caitlin asked.
“Pirate ship. Brigantine.”
“With real pirates?”
“If they haven’t shoved off yet.”
“Is that safe?”
“Ha!” Her gruncle laughed. “Sometimes the safest place is in the company of armed and dangerous men.”
Derek led the way down the dock. He stopped by a ship bearing two masts and ragged, ghostly sails. Caitlin counted at least ten cannons emerging from its sides. Sure enough, the skull and crossbones flapped in the wind atop the boat.
Is this the Jolly Roger?
Derek slapped the side of the wooden vessel.
“Ahoy!”
“Wait,” Caitlin said. “Do you know these guys?”
Before Uncle Derek had a chance to answer, a head-kerchiefed, mustached, toothless man slid down a rope dangling from the ship’s mast. He landed on the deck before them. He was pale, and his eyes were bloodshot.
“Blimey, mate,” said the toothless man with surprise. “S’good to have you back.”
“Good to see you,” Uncle Derek said. “Meet my lovely young niece, Caitlin. Caitlin, Billy Bones.”
“Nice to meet you, Miss Caitlin,” Bones said as he strode down the plank to shake her hand.
Caitlin nodded with a smile and shook. “Likewise.”
Bones’s hand was Eskimo cold.
“Any member of the Blackshaw clan is a friend and crew member of mine. Come aboard.” He pointed to Caitlin’s missing eye as she climbed the plank. “Nice patch. We’ll make a buccaneer of you yet.” Bones’s curious eyes found Tin
Man.
“And the silver lad?”
“The Tin Man, from Oz,” Derek said.
“Shiver me soul,” Bones said as he shook Tin Man’s hand, “Come aboard, mate.”
Tin Man smiled. He tailed Caitlin as she boarded the vessel. Derek began hobbling up the plank last. Bones saw the limp.
“Gout?”
“Nah. Caught a bite in the river.”
“Snapper?”
“A bloody ugly one.”
“Better yer ankle than yer arse!”
Derek smiled as he reached the deck. “Don’t suppose this vessel will be sailing anywhere near Neverland Island?”
Bones slapped the mainmast. “That’s exactly where she’s headed.” He winked and said, “You know, they party every night on that island. Some good tail there.”
Derek gestured toward Caitlin, scowling at Bones.
The pirate cringed. He cleared his throat and said, “Lemme fetch ya some biscuits and rum.”
“I’m in desperate need of water,” Caitlin said.
“I’ll fetch a mug o’ that, too.” Bones scurried off.
Caitlin rubbed her stomach as nasty, gnarling sounds burbled in her belly.
Uh-oh.
Her hunger was beginning to surpass her thirst. But she wasn’t going to mention that to her gruncle or Tin Man. No point. If they didn’t make it to Neverland in time, she and Tin Man would go completely blood-eyed and, as Gruncle Derek would say, Bob’s your uncle. No reason to agonize over it and heighten tension during the boat ride.
Gruncle Derek, meanwhile, was surveying the main deck. He inhaled a lungful of air and turned to Caitlin. “I’d tell ya to catch yourself a whiff of this ocean spray, except it stinks like dead trout and undead pirate.”
Caitlin sort of envied the undead pirates. They weren’t blood-eyed or even half blood-eyed. They were normalized ghouls, like the royal-blooded princesses. They could get by on somewhat regular food—like biscuits and hot spices—whereas Caitlin’s palette was limited to entrails with a side order of cartilage.
And she was getting hungry.
CHAPTER Thirty
Natalie slowly raised her eyelids, then stretched her limbs and body from head to toe. She had just woken from her nap. She smiled because it felt more like she had woken from a long, heavy, mesmeric sleep. She felt refreshed, recharged, and just really, really good.
Until she realized something about the floor. . . .
And the space around her. . . .
Nothing was moving. Or swaying.
Which meant she was no longer on the water.
No longer on a boat.
Then where am I?
She bolted upright. Her eyes strained as they swept her surroundings. She was inside a dark cavern—a bare-bones bunker with gray walls of rock. The only object in the room was a heavyset red quartzite slab of rock. It was flat on top, about knee high, and set in the center of the space.
And the only source of light was a thin band of recessed lighting running the length of the curved walls. The source of the light seemed to be pale-blue sunlight seeping in from somewhere.
She heard soft humming, barely audible. She couldn’t identify its source.
The air temperature seemed pleasant enough, perhaps a touch on the cool side. And the air smelled like fresh ozone
and fresh summer rain—sweet and pure with a subtle hint of musk.
A murmur of warm air erased the light chill around her.
She rubbed her arms to warm them.
Then she had second thoughts about that.
She had an eerie feeling.
She wasn’t alone.
She scrambled for a door.
She circled the room, palming the walls and searching for an exit. The walls were completely smooth. There was no door. Anywhere. Only walls. And that thin band of faint blue light.
But it wasn’t electric light. It was indeed a razor-thin crevice in the wall where sunlight was leaking in.
There were no windows.
No obvious way for anyone to enter or exit the space.
It felt like she was trapped in a child’s riddle.
What kind of room has no doors or windows?
A mushroom.
Lame.
She thought perhaps that zombie pirate had fed her hallucinogenic mushrooms, and now she was in the middle of some kind of loopy, paranoid, delusional head trip?
She remembered another riddle.
A girl is trapped in a room that has no doors or windows. There’s only a basement. But the walls and floor are not breakable. And yet she manages to escape. How?
Hmmm.
She tabled that riddle and moved on to a different riddle that she recalled.
She smiled.
This one might provide a way out.
I’m all alone in a house that has no doors or windows. I have to get out. Where am I, and what am I?
Easy . . .
A baby chick in an egg.
Bingo! That’s it!
Natalie hauled ass, running full force into the wall.
BAM!
Ouch!
The walls were bone solid.
I think I dislocated my shoulder.
Just as she was about to go into full panic mode, she heard footsteps.
They were coming from . . . everywhere.
Huh?
The sounds were bouncing off the circular walls, making them impossible to source.
She knew she had to get out of there.
How did that other girl in the riddle escape a room without doors or windows and with unbreakable walls?
Natalie’s face broke into a smile gradually and triumphantly. And after checking to see if her solution to the riddle was correct, her jaw dropped to the floor in horror.
CHAPTER Thiry-One
There were six pirates on the ship that Caitlin could see, and they were all scurrying around preparing the boat for launch. One of them, the muster gunner, went by the name of Crabbit and he had long dreadlocks that were almost as long as Caitlin’s hair.
But where was the captain?
“Who’s commanding this vessel?” Uncle Derek shouted boldly, as if reading Caitlin’s mind.
As if on cue, the door to the hull swung open and the captain emerged. He wore a three-cornered hat with a feather and a shirt with billowy sleeves that spilled from under a leather, lace-up vest. A heavy leather belt harnessed a long sword that hung over black leather pants, which hugged the shape of his muscular legs. His face was chiseled, with a strong jaw
and nose. Dark eyes dripped danger, but in a sexy, rock-star kind of way.
And there it was, at the end of one sleeve, in place of a normal hand: a gleaming, polished, iron hook.
“Behold!” Gruncle Derek said. “Our notorious master and commander, Captain Jas. Hook.”
Caitlin’s knees went weak. Even in the body of a forty-something-year-old, he oozed charisma. Unkempt hair fell perfectly into grungy place, and shaded spectacles rested on exactly the right spot on his nose. He seemed the type that didn’t give a damn what anybody thought about him, and by that, he set the bar. His confidence stirred something in Caitlin.
Captain Hook approached her and Derek. With lively eyes and an impish grin, he removed his hat and bowed like they were royalty.
Then he glanced up at Caitlin. His smoldering eyes were like doubled-barreled cannons taking aim at Caitlin’s virginal innocence. She was square in the crosshairs.
“Captain Jas. Hook at your service, milady. How can I please you?”
His voice was saturated with charm, as if his vocal cords had been dipped in sugar.
“That’s my kin, Hook!” Derek warned.
Hook’s eyebrows arched as his eyes rolled to Gruncle Derek. “Oh. I beg your pardon, Blackshaw. My apologies.” His eyes shifted back to Caitlin. “Well, then, let me say that it’s a genuine honor to meet you, my fair young maiden.”
Caitlin’s jaw locked. His very presence and deep eyes stirred her insides like a sorcerer stirring his magic potion.
She nodded and curtsied.
Did I just freaking curtsy?
The captain stuck out his hook, and Caitlin shook it. It was smooth and electric warm, but the tip was a sharp spike.
“And who’s our metallic guest?” Hook asked as he eyed Tin Man. “Wait, don’t tell me . . . ’tis the woodman of tin who gained a heart?”
Tin Man smiled and said, “’Tis I. And I believe prior to your captainship of the Jolly Roger, you were formerly boatswain under the command of the infamous Blackbeard?”
“Aye,” Hook replied with a nostalgic gleam in his eye. He extended his arm. “Well, me hearty from another kingdom, let tin meet iron so we may formally exchange pleasant greetings.”
Tin Man reached out his silvery-white hand and shook the iron hook.
“Welcome aboard the Jolly Roger. Make yourselves comfortable.”
The captain then nodded to the group. “What’s your business on Neverland?”
“Quick detour,” Derek said. “The Tin Woodman thinks the song of the nightingales there might heal some of their blood-eyed affliction.”
“Aye—a precious blessing that would be. And if it does?”
“We’re off to the Twin Mountains of Velarium,” Tin Man said. “If they exist.”
“Of course they exist,” Hook declared. “And someone has clogged up the water arteries inside that mountain. Which is why my crew and I, and all of you, are pasty-skinned and gluttonous as ghouls. There’s your proof of their existence.”
“Some say Blackbeard is the one that dammed the water,” Tin Man said.
Hook’s eyebrows went crooked. “I’ve heard the same. That blasted buccaneer wittingly gave himself over to the Lord of the Curtain. That’s where Jas. Hook draws the line. One thing to plunder a man’s ship and loot his treasures. It’s a whole other thing to pilfer his pancreas and loot his liver just to fill your own belly. Uncivilized, it is. Even ruthless freebooters have a moral code. For that reason alone, I’ll sail you to the Twin Mountains myself.”
“We need to find the shut-off valve and drain the summit,” Tin Man said. “But no one has ever been to the summit to see where it’s hidden.”
“On the contrary,” Hook responded. “That young, crazy bloke Peter Pan has. Before the affliction, Pan flew there often to swim and partake in Lord-knows-what other activities in the Dipping Pools. I’m certain he could provide a map to where this shut-off valve is hidden.”
“Where do we find him?”
“The roguish lad throws a party practically every night. We’ll be dropping anchor on the north side of the island. Make your way to the south side. You’ll find him there. But forewarn your young maiden, Blackshaw—since the rise of the affliction, Pan and his merry mates have become quite the sordid bunch.” Hook slid his good hand inside his coat pocket and drew out a small brass spyglass.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I shall give the command to hoist anchor.”
Hook paced away down the deck with authority, looking the undead sailors up and down, scrutinizing their every detail, while Tin Man, Caitlin, and Gruncle Derek took seats on the floor of the bow.
Captain Hook took command of the wheel and the Jolly Roger shoved off, speedily sailing away from the dock at Dead Man’s Cove and toward the open sea.
CHAPTER Thirty-Two
Natalie stared, wide-eyed. Her mouth hung agape.
She had solved the riddle. She felt shell-shocked.
The girl had escaped out of the room because, in addition to having no windows, no doors, and no breakable walls or floors, the room also had no ceiling.
Duh. The girl obviously escaped via the roof, or lack thereof.
When Natalie initially looked up after nailing the riddle, there was nothing but blackness where the ceiling was supposed to be. But then a bright purple light started flashing rapidly above her, like a warning. What made her mouth fall open was the distance to the flashing purple light.
As it flashed, the purple light began moving higher and higher still, until it reached an elevation so high it winked out of view. She figured it had reached to around twenty thousand feet. Perhaps thirty thousand—as high as the double-decker A380 she had flown to Los Angeles in from London.
Which is, like, more than a hundred times longer than my soccer field at school.
This made her feel as if she was looking up at the purple light from an abyss.
How did I get all the way down here? How will I possibly ever get out of here?
And where is that nefarious kidnapper who calls himself Blackbeard?
She screamed at full volume, throwing her voice upward.
“Hellloooo!”
The sound died fast. It did as much good as standing on a sidewalk and trying to call out to someone sitting above in a passing airplane.
Another soft breath of warm current circulated near her, erasing the chill in the air.
And again she had the creepy feeling she wasn’t alone.
Wait. It isn’t just a feeling.
She somehow knew she wasn’t alone.
Who else—or
what else—is in this room with me?
A grinding sound broke the silence. It groaned like a winch or a hand crank being turned . . . like someone was hoisting chains.
A deep, low rumbling began throbbing into the room, vibrating in her chest. Something big and heavy was moving.
I hope it’s not hungry.
Whatever it was, the chains were pulling it along.
A dragon?
No.
A large part of the wall started receding.
There’s a hidden door—the wall itself!
Natalie stepped away from it.
“How ya doin’, lambkins?” the gravelly voice resounded in the room.
Blackbeard!
She was almost delighted to see him walk in. She shook her head and replied, “How am I doing? Well, the porridge was yummy, the cheese hard and moldy, I went wee-wee, but this time I almost filled the bucket with my real pee, and then I fell asleep. So how did I get down here?”
“I carried ya. Yer actually light as the feather in me captain’s hat.”
“You’re not wearing a captain’s hat.”
“That ain’t my point.”
“And where am I?”
“Center of the universe.”
That stopped her in her tracks.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Ain’t supposed to mean anything other than what I just said. And I says yer standing in the center of the universe.”
“Like, with planets and galaxies orbiting around me?”
“Yup—something very close to that.”
“What do you want from me?”
“Nuthin’. The Lord of the Curtain wants to meet you. There are plans for ya. Royal plans.”
“You mean that duplicitous offer to become a bona fide princess and ruler over the so-called Kingdom of Eos?”
“Aye.” He seemed pleased that she remembered.
“No thanks. Not interested. I just wanna go home. And I’m not gonna meet that Enchanter dude either.”
Blackbeard cackled. “Ha—more‘n likely ya already did.”
Her brows scrunched together. “What do you mean?”
The Lord of the Curtain Page 21
