The Captain

Chapter One

The war council convened in the great hall of the Viking village, a structure of grand timbers and thatched earth built in the ancient Norse tradition. Like all buildings in Neverland, the lodge had the peculiar habit of growing or shrinking based on the size and number of its occupants.

At the moment, it was full up.

It was so full, in fact, that its walls now jostled against the neighboring homes, several of which had been forced to edge over a bit, sighing and grumbling at the inconvenience.

Inside, Captain Hook surveyed the motley gathering, careful to maintain his commanding presence even as he withered quietly on the inside.

How had his life come to this?

A war council … with fairies.

He wondered where he had gone wrong—what decisions he might have made differently, somewhere along the line, that could have avoided this latest absurdity. But ever since he had met Wendy Darling, it felt as though every step had led inexorably to this moment. As though fate itself were mocking him.

His gaze swept across the gathered assembly.

Tigerlilja, leader of the clan that had protected Neverland for centuries, sat at the head of the longhouse table, her lips set in a grim line. Her brother, Vegard, sat next to her, his massive arms crossed over his broad chest. They, at least, seemed to understand what their limited forces were up against.

“A war council,” she had promised him.

“A war council,” Vegard had agreed.

But what Hook had expected and what he now found himself a part of were two very different things. This, he thought, was not a war council. It was more like a drunken night at the pub, if that pub were chock-full of magical creatures shouting over each other and throwing bread rolls.

“We should invite the mermaids.” The everlost twin scowled, pounding his fist on the table.

“No, we shouldn’t.” His brother pounded his own fist against the dark wooden planks, making both their plates jump and clatter.

(Hook hadn’t spent much time with the winged crew and didn’t know most of their names. But even he could see they were twins.)

The first surged to his feet. “Yes, we should.”

“Don’t be daft,” the second shot back. “They’re stuck in the lagoon. What are they going to do, man the cannons while they flop about like fish?”

Several of the innisfay protested in melodious, jingling chimes. Their flame-red hair cast an ominous glow over the wide map that lay spread out across the table, all but lost beneath a clutter of metal plates and mugs.

Hook’s attention snagged on the figure in the center, a stick-figure giant marked with a hand-drawn ‘X’—Buri, who wanted to destroy Neverland so he could finally kill Peter Pan. (A desire Hook understood perfectly.) But if Pan died, Buri’s ancient powers would be unleashed, encasing the world in an endless winter of ice and snow.

And that, clearly, would not be in the best interest of the British Empire.

One of the imps stood up on his seat, planted his fists on his hips, and puffed out his chest. “The mermaids aren’t stuck in the lagoon.”

“Shut it, Barnaby.” The golden-hued imp sitting next to Barnaby didn’t even look up. He was too busy swiping a fistful of fried potato slices from his plate and shoving them into an overstuffed pocket. “You’re just going to confuse things.”

A third imp stood up on the other side of the table, mirroring Barnaby’s posture. “Yeah, shut it, Barnaby! Shut it right now, or I’ll rip your heart out and cut it up in my stew!”

Hook blinked slowly, then sighed. With the fate of the world hanging in the balance, this did not seem like a lot to work with.

Wendy, who was seated more or less across from Hook, must have had a similar thought. She winced at the imp’s belligerence, and Pan (who was sitting next to her, of course) spoke up immediately.

“Don’t be rude, Scrant. The Wendy doesn’t like it.”

“Say that again,” Scrant yelled back. “Tell me what to do one more time and I’ll have your liver for dessert!”

Hook’s jaw twitched ever so slightly. He hadn’t gotten to know the imps any better than he had the everlost, but he was starting to like that one.

Tinker Bell, however, took offense on Peter’s behalf. In the blink of an eye, she transformed into a tiny red dragon and hurled herself toward Scrant, darting in and out of swatting range as she tried to bite him.

Wendy’s innisfay companion, Charming, jingled merrily from his perch upon Wendy’s right shoulder.

It was at this moment that Charlie Hawke, Hook’s navigator and Wendy’s childhood friend, cleared his throat in a meaningful sort of way—an effort that had no effect whatsoever.

Tinker Bell still flitted around Scrant, who waved his arms wildly in the air trying to defend himself. The twins were now wrestling each other, toppling off their seats onto the floor where the skirmish continued. The everlost contingent cheered them on.

“Ahem!” Charlie tried again, clearing his throat more loudly this time. The imps, innisfay, and everlost didn’t seem to hear him. But the Vikings and the British in the room—including Wendy’s brothers in arms, John Abbot and Michael Bennet of the Fourteenth Platoon—all gave him their attention, so he forged ahead, doing his best to steer the conversation toward a modicum of productivity.

“We’ve increased the size of our fleet here in Neverland considerably,” he began. “Between the vessel we stole from Blackheart—the Ravenhawk, which still needs a captain—and Captain Darling’s Jolly Roger, we don’t have enough sailors to crew them all. Most of the everlost will stay with Pan, of course—”

“Except for Tootles,” Pan interrupted. “Tootles sails with the Wendy. That’s very important.”

“Right,” Charlie agreed quickly. “Except for Tootles. And the Fourteenth will be glad to follow her as well.” Charlie paused, his eyes darting to Hook. “Assuming that’s where they’re assigned. But even then, one platoon isn’t nearly enough. And we’re already spread too thin. We need more recruits.”

Tigerlilja’s eyes narrowed. “If you think four flying ships are going to decide this battle, you don’t understand Neverland at all. You have no idea what lives on this island—creatures like you’ve never even imagined, plenty of which could destroy any of our ships. And who knows how far Buri’s influence has spread? Or how large Blackheart’s army has grown? You saw the wyverns for yourselves.”

Hook grimaced. When they had breached Blackheart’s defenses, the sight of the wyverns lifting off from the towers had chilled him to the bone.

“Worse than the wyverns?” John asked, echoing Hook’s thoughts.

“Worse,” Tigerlilja confirmed.

Charlie gulped. “Worse than the dragon on the mountain?”

“Much worse,” Pan boasted. “Nothing scares me. I’ve brought all kinds of terrifying creatures to this island!”

“Of course, you have,” Hook muttered.

“Will the dragon fight for us?” Charlie turned to Tigerlilja, hoping to cut Pan off before he could really get started.

“Only the dragon can answer that,” she replied, “and only Pan can ask him. But the dragon isn’t the biggest question. The real question is what the various denizens of Neverland will do. Blackheart’s words will ring true to far too many of them. They don’t trust humankind. Most of them are here because they were driven from your world.”

Tigerlilja fell silent, glancing from Hook, to John, to Charlie, to Wendy, meeting each of their eyes in turn.

“But Blackheart’s human too,” Wendy protested. “Or he was, before he became an everlost. And he wants to help Buri destroy Neverland. Why would they ever help him?”

“He will lie to them,” Tigerlilja said simply. “And they will believe him because he has aligned himself against England. They will not understand the truth until it is too late.”

“They’ll listen to Jokul,” Vegard said quietly.

Tigerlilja’s eyes flew wide, and she snapped her head around to glare at her brother. She didn’t say a word, but this particular glare spoke volumes.

“I know.” Vegard raised his hands between them in an unspoken apology. “But it’s true. A lot of them will listen. That is, assuming we can convince him to help. He might be our only chance.”

“Then we’re already lost.” Tigerlilja clenched the edge of the table, her knuckles bright as snow with the force of her grip.

“I’m sorry,” Wendy interrupted gently, “but who’s Jokul?”

“You don’t know Jokul?” Pan crowed this at the top of his lungs, and the entire room fell silent, turning to stare at Wendy.

“Um … should I?” She looked to Charlie for help, but he only shrugged.

Tigerlilja continued to glare at Vegard even as she answered the question.

“In England,” she said, “you’d know him as Jack Frost.”

❮✦❯

Chapter Two

“Jack Frost!” Wendy exclaimed. “But he’s—”

She had been about to say that Jack Frost wasn’t real when a bread roll came flying through the air, cutting off her words as it hurtled toward Charming. She caught it deftly in one hand, her fingers closing around the still-warm crust, then glanced at her shoulder to make sure the tiny fairy sitting on her shoulder was all right.

The tiny, magical fairy.

Sitting on her shoulder.

In a land where time stood still.

“Oh,” she said quietly. Of course, Jack Frost was real. “And he lives here? In Neverland?”

“Aye.” The single syllable rumbled from Vegard’s chest.

Wendy leaned forward, curiosity overtaking her surprise. “Does he truly bring the winter?”

“He brings terror and destruction.” Peter grinned. “And I found him.”

“Of course, you did.” Hook pinched the bridge of his nose with his good left hand.

Vegard glanced at his sister. “He brings an army of his own to this fight. If we can convince him to join us.”

“Do you think we can?” Wendy asked.

Tigerlilja's expression hardened. “No. He won’t listen to us.”

“You don’t know that.” Vegard pronounced each word slowly, his voice firm but gentle.

“I do know that.” The clanswoman’s shoulders tensed. “Maybe once …” Her eyes dropped to the table, and Wendy caught a flash of something she had never seen there before—a profound, unhealed sorrow. But then, with a subtle shake of her head, the guarded mask of fierce determination snapped back into place. “It doesn’t matter. Jokul is not our enemy, but he is not our ally either. He abandoned this clan a long time ago.”

Wendy paused. She couldn’t decide whether she should ask the woman what had happened or not. Tigerlilja had obviously been hurt by the history between them, and Wendy didn’t want to pry. But it did sound like an interesting story, and Wendy loved stories almost as much as she loved flying ships.

Besides which, this particular story might hold the key to understanding where the man called Jokul stood when it came to the fate of humanity. If he was already working with Buri …

Wendy shuddered, but Peter interrupted her thoughts.

“He didn’t abandon me,” he told Wendy with a grin. “Jokul’s my friend. Would you like to meet him? I’ll take you if you like.”

Given what little she had heard about the man, Wendy wasn’t sure she wanted to meet Jack Frost at all, but Hook’s growling baritone addressed the Vikings before she could reply. “Is there any chance this Jokul might join forces with us?”

Vegard met his gaze steadily. “There’s a chance.”

Hook turned to Tigerlilja, waiting for her assessment.

The woman sighed deeply. “I suppose there’s a chance.” She shrugged, running her thumb along a notch in the wooden table. “A small one. If it’s Pan who asks him.” Then she added wryly, “Assuming he can remember his mission long enough to ask.”

Hook’s eyes burned with frustration, reminding Wendy of the caged tiger she had seen in him back in England. She knew what he was going to say even before he said it.

“Then Captain Darling should go with him. We’ll assemble a party.”

“No,” Tigerlilja countered. “If they’re going at all, and let me be clear, I’m advising against it, they should go alone. The more humans Pan brings with him, the less chance Jokul will listen.”

“Advising against it?” Hook’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“Because,” said Tigerlilja, “I can’t guarantee her safety.”

Hook’s jaw worked back and forth as he watched Wendy in silence, his eyes locked on hers. “Can we gather enough forces to have a chance without him?”

“No.” The Viking leader’s reply was unequivocal. “We cannot.”

A muscle in Hook’s cheek twitched. “Then so be it.” He rose from the table with fluid grace, his coat settling around him like a shield. “Captain Darling, you will accompany Pan to meet this Jokul. Report to my quarters for a full briefing before you depart.”

◆

When Hook, Wendy, John, and Charlie had arrived in Tigerlilja’s village for the war council, they had discovered a small but serviceable barracks waiting for them on the outskirts of the settlement.

It was oddly cozy for a barracks, with warm furs draped across simple beds and small windows that framed the most beautiful view of the mountains. Yet there was something distinctly temporary about it—something in the way the corners seemed to shimmer when Wendy wasn’t looking at them directly—that gave her the unsettling feeling it might pop out of existence at any moment.

As a result, she had stored very few possessions in it, preferring to carry most of them with her in her travel pack. She collected what little she had left behind in a matter of moments, affording her almost no time at all to reflect upon her new circumstances.

“Captain Darling,” he had called her.

Wendy’s heart soared all over again. She was a captain. A real captain in the Royal Navy, and of a flying ship, no less! She hoisted her pack to her shoulder and smoothed the sides of her blue captain’s jacket, her fingers running fondly over its polished gold buttons.

And then she sighed.

She hadn’t wanted to leave her ship even long enough to attend the war council. Now, she would have to extend that absence when there was still so much to do. She had just been assigned the beginnings of a crew: part of the Fourteenth, a few of the imps, and Tootles, of course. It wasn’t enough, but it was a start. She needed to be with them, training the Fourteenth to become true sailors and stitching her patchwork corps into the whole cloth of a ship’s crew.

It was what she wanted, and it was what her crew needed.

But it wasn’t what was best for England.

England needed an army. And it sounded like Jokul had one.

For the first time since she had put it on, the weight of her captain’s jacket felt heavy on her shoulders. She wished she could talk to Nana about it, but even the dog was on the Jolly Roger.

“I’m grateful you’re here with me,” she said to Charming, who was riding opposite her pack on her other shoulder. “It turns out there’s a lot more to being a captain than commanding a ship. But sailing is the only part I was trained for. I don’t know anything about recruiting an army.”

Charming answered in a somber, chiming warble that Wendy couldn’t understand at all. But then he stood up straight, looked her firmly in the eye, and nodded.

“Oh, I hope you’re right,” she said quietly.

Together, they left the small room and headed for Hook’s quarters at the other end of the building. Wendy had assumed Hook’s “briefing” would amount to a private, long-winded warning about keeping Peter in line, so she was pleasantly surprised to discover Hook, Charlie, Vegard, and Tigerlilja all waiting for her together.

“Captain Darling,” Hook began, addressing her as she entered, “I asked Tigerlilja and Vegard to join us so they can brief you further about this Jokul before you depart.”

“And I told you,” Tigerlilja snapped, “that I have nothing more to say.”

The two of them glared at each other so fiercely across the room’s small table that Wendy thought either one of them might leap over it at any moment.

Hook drew himself up to his full height and practically snarled in reply. “I am about to send an officer of His Majesty’s Royal Navy into unknown territory in an attempt to recruit an unknown entity into a war against unknown forces. I won’t have her going out there unprepared. Tell her whatever you can.”

When Tigerlilja refused to answer, Hook took a long, deep breath in through his nose and exhaled slowly. “Please,” he added finally, “for her sake, if not mine.”

Tigerlilja stared at him a moment longer, then turned to Wendy, her gaze softening at least slightly.

“There honestly isn’t much I can tell you. I don’t even know where he is. He came here a very long time ago, as did so many of the fay, seeking asylum.”

Wendy’s brow furrowed. “Asylum? From what?”

“From you.”

“From me?” Her eyebrows shot to the height of their reach, arching together in extreme protest.

“No, not—” Tigerlilja shook her head. “Not you personally, of course. From humankind. If you do find him, be prepared. Jokul can be dangerous, especially when it comes to humans.”

“But you’re human too,” Wendy pointed out. “And you obviously knew him.”

“Like I said, that was a long time ago. And in any event, we’re clan. That made it different … at least for a while.” Her eyes took on the same sad look they had before when she spoke of him. “He blames humanity for driving the fay from your world. He won’t trust you. Our only hope is that Blackheart has been bringing more and more humans to Neverland. Jokul won’t like that. If you find him, be sure he knows that once Blackheart is defeated, you’ll gather all the humans he brought here, and you’ll leave this place forever. All of you.”

Leave Neverland? Wendy thought. Forever?

But it was Hook who answered. “The sooner the better. Anything else?”

Vegard cleared his throat. “Pan will protect you, but don’t let Jokul draw you away from him. And try not to provoke him either. He has a good heart, but Buri has poisoned it. If you can’t get through to him, just leave—before he does anything rash.”

“Buri’s gotten to him?” Hook demanded, his voice sharp. “Then what’s the point of going?”

“He doesn’t follow Buri,” Vegard insisted, “but Jokul has a natural affinity for snow and ice, and he hates humankind. Between the two, it makes things … complicated.” He tried to smile at Wendy, but she didn’t find this particular smile to be reassuring in the slightest.

“I’ve half a mind to call the whole mission off,” Hook growled.

“No,” Wendy said firmly, though her heart had begun to race at Vegard’s warnings. “If we need an army, and if we can’t defeat Buri without him, then we have no other choice.” She held Hook’s gaze. “England has no other choice.”

The muscles of his jaw twitched twice during the silence that extended between them, but, at last, he relented.

“Then go. And Godspeed.”

Nevertheless, as they were all leaving, Hook spoke to her again. “One moment please, Captain.”

Charlie gave her one last hug for good luck, then slipped out with the rest, leaving her alone with Hook. Wendy braced herself for the long-winded warning she had expected from the beginning. She sighed and tilted her chin up bravely, prepared to suffer through it. But, as it turned out, that wasn’t what he wanted to say at all.

“Captain Darling,” he told her (and she had to admit, she very much liked the sound of him saying it), “do be careful.”

“Of course, Captain,” she said softly. And because she had tilted her chin up so bravely, she found herself staring suddenly into his forget-me-not blue eyes.

“The most important part of this mission,” he said, just as softly, “is for you to return safely. I … that is, we … England needs you.”

Before she could reply, he cleared his throat and spoke again. “You are dismissed.” And then he stepped back, bidding her Godspeed once more on her mission.

❮✦❯

Chapter Three

“England needs me, Charming. Imagine that.” Wendy turned to the innisfay, who was seated once again upon her shoulder. He had been waiting for her outside Hook’s temporary quarters. Now, he cocked his head, looking puzzled.

“Well, yes, you’re quite right,” Wendy agreed. “I’m a captain now.” She brushed her hands down the sides of her coat, a gesture that was quickly becoming a habit. “And I was a navigator before that, and a diviner before that. Of course, England needs me. But I didn’t know that Hook knew it, if you catch my meaning.”

Charming raised a pointed eyebrow and said nothing. Not a single note.

She narrowed her eyes in mild suspicion, but then Peter’s voice pulled her from her musings.

“Ready?”

Wendy looked up to see him hovering a foot or two above the ground, his arms crossed over his chest and a huge grin on his face.

“I—” Wendy started, but Peter didn’t wait to hear whatever it was she might have said, so now we shall never know what it was.

“Follow me!” he told her, and he darted off toward the distant tree line.

“Oh dear,” Wendy said quietly. Peter was always a bit of a loose cannon, but he had a very particular look about him at the moment that spelled trouble. If there was one thing Wendy had developed during her time as a diviner, it was the ability to smell trouble from a mile away.

“I’m not sure you should come along,” Wendy said, turning to Charming. “He seems even less predictable than usual. And I have no idea what we’re about to get ourselves into with this Jokul fellow. It might be safer if you stayed here.”

Charming frowned and shook his head.

“I could order you not to come,” Wendy suggested, frowning a little herself.

The innisfay launched off her shoulder to hover in front of her nose. He brushed his hands down his sides as though smoothing an imaginary officer’s jacket, then shook his head, crossed his arms, and glared at her.

“I suppose you’re right,” Wendy said slowly. “You’re not technically part of my crew.”

Charming nodded sharply, as though the subject had been decided.

And, apparently, it had.

“Well, come along then,” Wendy said, relenting with just the barest hint of relief. “We’d best hurry or we’ll lose him, and he’ll forget he’s supposed to wait for us.”

In truth, Wendy was tremendously glad to know that Charming would be coming along. She adored Peter, but, given the curse and the resulting state of his memory, being alone with him sometimes made her feel even more alone than she might have felt without him.

And Wendy wasn’t at all sure she felt ready to handle Jokul by herself.

Having come to a decision with Charming, Wendy looked up, only to discover that Peter was already nearing the forest. Instead of flying high in the air, looping and spinning through the sky as he often did, he was moving with a distinct sense of purpose.

“Oh!” Wendy exclaimed. “Charming, hurry! Don’t lose him!”

Charming saluted sharply (despite having just established that he wasn’t part of her crew), and he darted off to follow Peter into the forest.

Wendy broke into a hard sprint, doing her best to keep up despite the weight of her pack.

“Peter,” she called. “Peter, wait!”

But Peter showed no sign of slowing down. He disappeared between the trees while Wendy was still a hundred yards away, and Charming had made up only half that distance, at best. Wendy’s heart sank into the pit of her stomach. She had wasted too much time talking to Charming, and now they were going to lose Peter completely. This had been their best chance at stopping Buri, perhaps their only chance, and Wendy had failed before she had even begun—on her first official mission as a captain in the Royal Navy.

Spurred on by the thought, she sprinted even faster, saying, “No,” under her breath with every quick stride. “No-no-no-no-no-no-no-no.”

Then Charming disappeared after Peter, and Wendy was all alone in the field, her eyes focused on the spot where they had both faded into the shadows. Would Charming be able to keep up? Or was Peter already too far ahead, off to visit Jokul without them?

Precious moments later, Wendy reached the tree line and broke through into a world of perpetual twilight. She stumbled in the sudden darkness, her eyes too slow to adjust. “Peter!” she called again, her hands now splayed out in front of her as she ran blindly between the trees.

“Yes?” The answer came from just behind her left ear.

“Oh!” She spun, but her heel caught a root and she started to tumble backward. Instinctively, she reached for him, and his strong hands caught her own. As her eyes finally adjusted to the dim light, Peter came into view.

He smiled down at her, still holding her hands. “Hello, the Wendy.”

“Peter,” she said quietly. The relief that flooded through her was so overpowering and immediate that she almost hugged him. “I thought I’d lost you.”

“Lost me?” Peter asked. “But we’re on a mission together.”

“I was afraid you might have forgotten,” Wendy admitted, staring into his ice-blue eyes and feeling suddenly shy, and more than a little embarrassed.

“Forgotten? I could never forget you, the Wendy,” said Peter.

Charming, who was hovering behind his right shoulder, chimed away at him angrily, his hair a fiery red.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Peter said in reply, his gaze still locked on Wendy’s. “I forget nothing.”

Charming rolled his eyes, and Wendy smiled. She took a gentle step back and finally let go of Peter’s hands. When she did, he reached into his shirt and pulled out the small leather pouch that hung around his neck.

“Innisfay dust!” Wendy exclaimed.

“Of course,” said Peter. “That’s why I came to the forest to wait for you. I know you don't like them to see you fly.”

“You really did remember.” Wendy stared up at him in wonder. Suddenly, she wanted to hug him again, though for a different reason than before.

And if Peter had been any other man, he might have recognized the sudden change in the way she looked at him. He might have stilled, watching her, hoping against hope that she might take one step closer.

But, of course, he was Peter.

“Are you ready?” he asked brightly.

Captain Darling sighed a little. If she was at all disappointed—just if she was, mind you, without saying anything for certain—she set the moment aside for the sake of the mission, as any good captain would have.

“Ready,” she agreed.

And with a quick sprinkling of innisfay dust, they were on their way.

❮✦❯

Chapter Four

Hook awoke with a sudden pain in his chest—a pain unlike anything he had ever felt, as though an iron fist had taken hold of his heart, squeezing it until he thought the organ might burst. The pain eased for a moment, then gripped him again, harder than before.

He took a short, shuddering breath and clutched at his chest with his good left hand. But the moment his fingers touched his skin, the pain ebbed away, leaving him drenched in sweat. He waited through two shallow, cautious breaths. Then three. But the pain didn’t return.

Afraid to sit up, he lay still, and a chill passed through him, racing from the top of his head to the base of his spine. Was he sick? Had he caught malaria from one of those dreadful innisfay?

Wouldn’t that just be par for this godforsaken island.

And then, across the room, something moved.

Hook was still in Tigerlilja’s village, resting in the temporary barracks under full light of day, but he had locked the shutters tight and drawn the blinds against the eternal sun. The room was black as moonless night, but he could have sworn something moved, just there, in the far corner.

He strained his eyes against the dark, but he decided it must have been the last remnant of a dream. He couldn’t have seen anything. It would have been impossible.

Perhaps the pain had been a dream too?

Keeping his good left hand pressed firmly against his chest nonetheless, he raised his hook before his eyes, testing the light. He could barely see the curve of its blade. Not even a single glint of steel. His own arm, mere inches from his face, was nothing more than darkness against darkness.

Slowly, carefully, he drew his palm away from his chest—no, from his heart. The pain had been in his heart, that much was certain. He let his fingertips rest there gently for a time, but then he lifted them away.

Nothing.

Hook scowled. What foolishness was this? He was letting the blasted island get to him—stories of old Norse gods and the end of the world. It was a weakness he could ill afford. Was he frightened of his own dreams now? Imagining terrors in the dark? Honestly.

He had witnessed the throes of battle many times over. He had lost dozens of good men—men he would not forget. He thought momentarily of Nicholas and his heart hurt again, but not like before. This was a quiet ache, one with which he was well familiar. It was the hollowed absence of grief. The simple weight of command.

He took in a sharp breath. And exhaled slowly.

And then the thing moved again.

In an instant he was fully alert, crouching in the center of his bed, his hook at the ready and his pistol in his good left hand.

But he didn’t know where to look. It was as though he had felt the thing more than he had seen it.

And then he heard it. The quiet laugh of a young girl, beautiful and lilting—with the harsh, subtle undertones of nails clawing across slate.

“Don't call out,” she warned him softly. “You’ll want to hear what I have to say. If you call out, people will die. And you will hear nothing but their screams.”

“You think I’m afraid of you?” Hook still couldn’t see his adversary, but he leered into the darkness, nonetheless. “I’m not the one hiding in the shadows. Show yourself. Or say what you have to say and be done with it. I have no time for games.”

Now the laugh sounded like a woman, not a girl, and it came from the other side of the room. A single exhalation followed by a guttural snarl. Lower, and far more dangerous.

Hook snapped his head toward it, but still he could see nothing. How many of them were there?

“No time for games?” the voice taunted, coming from the foot of his bed. “You’re in Neverland, you fool. You have all the time in the world. And yet, only moments ago, you thought you had no time left at all. Such is the power of death. It can end even eternity.”

Hook cocked his pistol, but the woman only laughed again.

“Your silver cannot harm me,” she told him. “And if I wanted you dead, you would be dead. You are safe enough. For now.”

As she spoke, her voice flitted about the room, first in one corner, then the other, then high overhead, as though floating near the ceiling.

“I thought the innisfay couldn’t speak.” Hook’s eyes narrowed in the dark.

“I. Am. No. Innisfay.” The words were clipped, almost whispered in their harsh declaration.

And then he saw it. A nebulous form in the dark. A woman, her shape uncertain. A silhouette of a hip. A hint of … horns? Like his own arm before his face, she was darkness within darkness.

“What are you, then?” he demanded, careful to keep his voice from trembling. Careful to keep his good left hand steady.

“You may call me … Shadow.”

The final word came from everywhere and nowhere.

From every corner of the room.

From inside his own mind.

And the shape vanished.

Hook swallowed. For a moment he thought the creature had left, but then it coalesced again, perching at the foot of his bed like a predator. One leg remained folded beneath her, the other stretched out to her side. Her hands splayed across the bed as she leaned forward.

Hook pointed his gun squarely at her chest, but she didn’t even flinch. “If Blackheart sent you with a message, you’d best deliver it.”

“I speak for no man,” she hissed. “I speak only for myself.”

“Speak then,” Hook snapped back. “Say what you have to say, or I will kill you. One way or another.”

The voice chuckled. “I think you will find me a more worthy foe than an everlost child.”

In that moment, all light was extinguished. Hook might as well have been crouching in a tomb.

He felt a breath on his neck, and the voice whispered in his ear.

“Hello.”

He swiped at the sound with his hook, but it met only air.

Then the dim light returned, what little there was of it, and the creature was sitting cross-legged at the foot of his bed. She held her face in her hands, her elbows propped against her knees, staring at him with coal-black eyes.

“At least hear me out,” she told him. “Or you might lose your chance to save your precious—”

“Wendy!” Hook blurted out. “What have you done with her?”

Shadow laughed again, the mocking notes falling like sleet in the depths of Hook’s heart. “I was going to say, ‘your precious England,’” she told him. “But I find your mistake … intriguing.”

“Save it from what?”

Hook was starting to believe what she had said. That he couldn’t kill her with his silver. But he trained his gun on her new position, nonetheless.

“First, a question.” The creature tilted her head, considering him with a disturbingly innocent expression. “Do you think that if you defeat Blackheart, Peter will leave England alone?”

Hook said nothing.

After a long silence, the shadow continued. “You know that he won’t. He will follow her back home. He would not be able to stop himself even if he tried. And he will be more invincible than he is even now.”

“What’s your point? I’ll deal with Pan when I’m done dealing with Blackheart. He’s the more immediate threat to England.” But her words had echoed Hook’s own thoughts, and now he wanted her to go on.

“You will not be able to ‘deal with him,’” said Shadow. “You cannot kill Peter in a duel any more than you can kill me. But I can help you strike him down when he least expects it. While he still considers you an ally.”

“How?” He spat out the word, unable to help himself.

Shadow chuckled. “I will get you the weapon you need, and I will tell you when to strike. I will even help you defeat Blackheart. This, I promise. But you must tell no one that we have spoken.”

“Why do you want Pan dead?” He would not promise her anything. Would not admit the hope that had flared in his heart, not even to himself. “If you're as powerful as you seem, why not just kill him yourself?”

In the blink of an eye, her face was less than an inch from his own, her breath caressing his lips with the chill of the frozen tundra. “I am far more powerful than you know.”

And then, just as suddenly, she was gone. Her form vanished, leaving only her voice, coming again from everywhere and nowhere, her words echoing through his mind with a touch of grief so ancient he thought he might drown in it.

“But I cannot kill Pan,” she told him, “for reasons you cannot understand. Like you, I only want to be free of him.”

— End of the sample —

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