Hook & Jill (The Hook & Jill Saga) (23 page)

Wendy looked down and took her time, spreading her skirts to sit. She smoothed them and folded her hands in her lap. She looked Peter in the eye. And then she lied to him.

“Nibs and Tootles went out to scout. I wouldn’t expect them back before dark.”

Michael started to speak, but John and Curly quelled him with frowns. Michael shifted his gaze between them, then appealed to Wendy. “Will we really be fighting a war soon?”

Wendy held out her hand and as Michael took it, she petitioned Peter, her voice earnest. “There’s no need for our boys to fight pirates, even now. There is another way.”

Fire lit Peter’s eyes. “Hook’s gone too far this time. And you heard him. He said he’s only begun!”

“I know he pushed you unmercifully yesterday, but he’s ready for you. He knows exactly what he’s doing.”

Peter studied her. “You know what he’s doing, too. Why is that?”

Wendy sat Michael on the floor in front of her, and her hand settled to rest on her pistol. “Remember that I made up his story in the first place. Far away in London, I dreamt him into life, and if there is some kind of connection because of that, I’ll use it now to stop trouble.”

Peter shook his head. “I can’t share you. First thing when the boys get back, we’ll form our battle plan.”

Wendy’s own battle plan had been forming in her mind. Her fingers lingered on the barrel of the gun. “Leave it, Peter. Everyone will be all right. I promise.” Her pulse sped.

Illuminating the tree shaft, Jewel appeared. She jingled into the hideout, hovered, then flew to Peter’s shoulder.

“Hey, Tink! You’re awake. Seen Nibs or Tootles anywhere?”

John caught Wendy’s eye and jerked his head toward Jewel. Catching his meaning, Wendy cut in before the fairy could report the two boys’ whereabouts. “Shall I tell a story while we wait to hear from them?”

“Yes. Why not read one from your new book?” Peter’s eyes glinted. “I think
that
was left behind by pirates, too?” He sat back, smiling in his mischievous way. “Let’s hear Hook’s idea of a good tale.” Jewel glittered, but as always before story time, she made a dash for privacy.

Wendy’s heart skipped a beat. She signaled to John and Curly to sit down. “Did you have any adventures today, Peter? I’d like to hear about yours first.”

“I did. It was great fun. But it seems you’ve all had adventures of your own today— without me.”

Jewel poked her head out of her curtain. Wendy confronted his accusing face.

“Peter.”

“I knew Slightly had to go. But suddenly the Twins are gone, too.” Slowly, he wagged his head. “And you won’t tell me where Nibs and Tootles are.”

The boys stirred uncomfortably. Wendy didn’t move.

“Even you, Wendy. You’re going, aren’t you?”

She gazed, unswerving, into his green eyes. “Does growing up mean going?”

“You know my law.”

The three boys gasped.

“I have to follow other laws. Natural laws. I can’t help it, nor can the boys.” She leaned toward him. “Peter. All children grow up.” She thought her heart had stopped. “Except one.”

“Except one. I’m all alone.”

Jewel held her breath, watching as Wendy reached out her hand and laid it over the wound on Peter’s arm. “Things do seem to be changing. It takes courage to face change.”

His face was grim, his words forthright as ever. “I have plenty of courage. But I won’t be alone. I won’t let you go away.”

The fairy drew her head back and squeezed the curtain.

“I’m here now,” Wendy said. “Some part of me will always be here.”

“I don’t ever want to be without you, living alone.”

Wendy drew a sharp breath as she heard another echo, words in the woods…
weary of living alone
…

Dropping her hand from Peter’s arm, she sat up straight to stare into the darkness of the corner, concentrating. She focused on it until her gaze penetrated the shadows. At last, she expelled the breath. Hue by hue, the truth revealed itself, its colors blazing to life. It all fell brilliantly into place. And at the end of the spectrum she beheld them, just as he had predicted she would. They did exist. They had been there all the time.

The shades of black!

The tension in her body relaxed, and she lowered her regard to the wondering boys. She counted them.… Three left. And they must go soon, too. Hadn’t he told her?

She turned her gaze to the tiny shrouded room. Only the glimmer behind the green curtain would remain. The envious glimmer.

“Peter.” Wendy kept her eyes on the glow. “I finally understand.”

It was a master plan. A so subtle plan. Why hadn’t she plumbed its depths before? She had been rocking on the surface, while the current worked its purpose, pulling, pushing, fathoms below. Plunging herself into it now, she felt it moving her, swirling all around her, filling her with wonder. And yes, with admiration.

Clearly, the direction it would take next was up to her. This was no mermaid’s trick. Wendy would swim right along this time, with her eyes wide open. And she gave herself permission.

She drew a long breath and released a sigh. Relieved, she slowly nodded. “Your Wendy will make everything all right.” Her wanton lips smiled. A new adventure.

The niche darkened, but even that den of envy wasn’t completely black.

A scarlet drop bloomed as tiny teeth bit a little pout.
Patience
,
Jewel
.

Chapter 21

Revelations

Wendy plunged off the cliff, laughing as the salt air whipped her hair and stung her eyes. She swung away from the cliffside until the rocky gates of the bay opened and expanded in front of her. The
Jolly Roger
was a jewel, glimmering in the dim setting of Neverbay as the sea tried to steal her away. She burned lights enough to display her shape, but unlike Wendy, all was quiet within her as she rocked there in the night.

Flying toward Hook’s ship at last, Wendy approached with caution, but confident she would find no hostility there. Hook would have given orders that she be watched for and made welcome. Long Tom lay darkly at rest, the crew disposed in similar fashion below, with one exception.

Mr. Cecco was on duty that evening. The light of his lantern shone on his bracelets as he extended his arm to Wendy, assisting her to descend to the deck. His hand was dusky, warm and clinging— like his eyes. She easily returned his smile, unaware as yet of the effect her own might have on a sailor.

“Ben trovata! Bellezza
.
”
He bowed gallantly and, retaining her hand, escorted her across the deck and up the steps of the companionway. Its rail and ornaments were carved to perfection, painted in gold. She felt the grain of the planks under her bare feet, cool, and just damp enough to secure her footing on the tilting surface. Attentive to the lady, Cecco lingered outside the captain’s quarters to see that her knock would be answered.

But Wendy was in no hurry to knock. She stood outside the door, trying to absorb the image of black lettering on the brass plate:
Capt
.
Jas
.
Hook
. The lantern reflected to precision within it, as if engraved there itself. Smee must polish this plaque every day. Or a cabin boy. Tootles? She blinked the thought away and glanced at Cecco. He smiled encouragement, kissed his fingertips, and backed away. She was alone at the door of decision.

Or so she believed. When she rapped, the door opened in a rush, letting out a wedge of light to dawn over her form, creating her shadow. The silhouette of what could only be Mr. Smee bent to greet her. “Good evening, Miss.” Wendy stepped through the door. As it shut, the light squeezed itself back into nothing, but her shadow remained, took on the shape of a boy, and flew up and away over the water, speeding blackly toward the Island. Mr. Cecco perceived him, and now that the lovely girl was out of sight, increased his vigilance.

On the other side of the door, candlelight surrounded Wendy, and that scent of tobacco she now associated with Tinker Bell. She glanced about the cabin. Underfoot, the Oriental carpets. Dining table, harpsichord, and desk straight ahead across the aft section, and all along the stern a cushioned recess beneath the windows. The silken couch behind its curtain on the starboard side, on her left now. His four-posted bunk, sculpted and tapestried, to port. Her survey stopped there.

Further examination was unnecessary. The room was rich, glowing, inhabited by taste and luxury, just as she had furnished it faraway in that place called Long Ago. But the evidence of her pulse informed her that, like Hook himself, knowing of this room and being possessed by it were two very different experiences.

Fine as they were, the trappings dwindled in significance. Wendy was compelled to focus not on his surroundings, but on the man himself. Hook’s presence commanded one’s attention, she found, whether in other settings or gracing his own ship. At once his beautiful blue eyes captured hers, and everything else melted away.

No, not everything. She felt the churning start up again inside her.

He had risen to stand behind his desk as she entered, and now inclined his head to her. “Welcome aboard.” He wore golden brown tonight, and a pleased expression that grew to a satisfied smile. He had, indeed, been waiting for her. She was learning about Hook, catching up.

Mr. Smee stationed himself behind her. “Will you sit, Miss?” He offered a chair before the desk, but she shook her head. She was too keyed up to sit. She suspected she had walked into another trap, but her courage found an opening through which to flow. Determined to turn the current Hook had set in motion to her favor, she wasted no time.

“Hook. You said you had accepted my terms. Are we agreed then?”

Hook was more than gracious. “If you doubt it, I will accept you again.” He waved Smee away and stepped around the desk. As prepared as she thought she was for this meeting, Wendy was caught off guard; without warning Hook held out his arm and she slid within his reach. His hand stole into her hair, grasped it at the base of her skull, and pulled her toward him, persuading her to join him in another kiss, warm and wanting, but all too brief.

He released her, and as his support withdrew, she felt the shifting of the sea again.

“I am impressed.” His eyes continued the embrace, then he spoke over her head, to Smee. “Walking into the lion’s den, with only a pistol to protect her!” His smile returned to her. “It must be my Jill tonight.” He dropped his gaze to her gun. “I see you received my letters. And tied them up with ribbon.” Mocking.

No, she hadn’t been ready for this at all, and it thrilled her. She mirrored his mocking tone. “I was afraid to come to you— afraid, I mean, that it might be bad manners to come to you armed.”

At once Hook fell serious. He stood close to her, spreading his hand over the gun and pressing it to her side. “This is your weapon now, more powerful than your stories. Don’t think of being without it again. You must use it against any who threaten you.”

Looking up at him she smiled, half-way. “Even you?”

But he granted no answering smile. He raised his hook into view and caught a strand of hair on her face. He stilled, and his blue eyes bound her. “Never give up power, once you hold it.” Caressing her hair with his hook, he combed it back, making music on the strands. Near to her ear, and entrancing.

Hook himself appeared fascinated, watching it, listening to it sing. He caught another curl and played again. She closed her eyes, but sought the answer. “Isn’t that what you’ve done, giving it away to me?” The ship swayed, and Hook gripped her elbow to steady her as the anchor cables yawned.

“When you’ve decided who you really are, you will understand that I give nothing away.” He let her go and turned abruptly, resuming his place behind the desk, standing. “Let us get to business. It is, after all, rather late in the evening for a mother to be away from her children.” A touch of sarcasm.

“I’ve learned that they can take care of themselves. They seem to be flying from the nest.”

“Like their mother before them. And what else have you learned? I’ll wager your boys are wondering what is becoming of their Wendy.”

She raised her chin, still meeting his gaze, but her nerves would no longer permit banter. He was right. It was best to get to the point while she could think clearly.

She said, “I’ve just visited the Twins where you’ve placed them. They’re happy; they’ve decided to stay with the native women. I believe Slightly will wish to stay on where he is. And I’ll be sending John, Michael, and Curly home to London in the morning.”

“And how do you propose to guide them there?”

“With the aid of your accomplice. Tinker Bell.” She watched, but he gave no indication of surprise, no emotion at all. He spoke evenly.

“I see I am not to be disappointed in you.”

“It suits her purpose to help me, this once.”

“And you’ll trust her, this sweet little impkin— with poison in her pocket?”

Wendy turned ashen, and pressed her hands on the silky surface of the desk. “Poison!”

“Oh, yes. That was the first time I saved you.”

“The first time?”

“When I caught up to her, she was preparing to brew you a tonic.”

Wendy’s face betrayed her shock. She had underestimated the creature’s determination. Foolishly. Then, remembering that her rescuer once plotted this very demise, she looked on Hook with amazement. “But you stopped her?”

“Certainly. And I must insist that from now on you be more selective in choosing your companions. As I refuse to spend all my time rescuing fair maidens, I shall, in future, require you to exercise a full measure of prudence.”

Too stunned to sift his words for their full implication, Wendy scanned the desktop, searching among the brass, crystal, and leather for some kind of help. “But I can’t ask Peter to guide the boys home!”

“Once again, you must rely on me. Ironic. I’m the one who advises you to trust no one. But you may rest assured.” He waved his hook. “I agree to grant safe passage, with the fairy. Do go on with your demands.”