Hook & Jill (The Hook & Jill Saga) (15 page)

Her heart beat with wild alarm. What else did he know?

“Pan must see it too. What will his reaction be to
that?”

She cast her eyes down, silent.

“I thought so. You claim you are loyal to him, yet you break his law. And he will betray you, as well, when you most need him.”

Her jaw jutted and she shot him a defiant look. “I don’t believe you!”

He raised an eyebrow. “Yet you respect truth above all things. I will prove it to you. Easily.”

She was dazed, but realized she must learn more of his scheme. “You talk of truth? Then tell me. You spoke to Smee of Peter’s weakness. What did you mean?”

“The clever vixen, always trying to divine my plans.” His eyes narrowed. “Or are you simply casting until you may inquire about my own weakness? To gain power over me?” The hook waved, negligent of its effect. “It matters little. I am an open book, to you.” He inhaled deeply. He began to pace. “I meant that youth paints the world with a boring palette. Only two possibilities exist for Pan. Black, or white.” He swiveled to face her. “Such children see only two shades.”

Wendy looked past him, seeking some kind of help from the surroundings that at one time seemed so friendly, but had deceived her. She became aware of the dusky twilight of the woods, and the glare of the sun on his earring. “Dark… and light,” she murmured. Against her will, as if a wedge of intellect was prying her from the boy she loved, she acknowledged this man’s thinking.

“Exactly.” His tone had grown shrewd.

She said softly, to herself, “There is nothing in between, for Peter.”

“And you will betray him as soon as you are able to see the shades of black.”

She stood transfixed by his piercing stare. He hadn’t moved closer, but by some insidious means, he encroached. She felt his presence filling her, inky dark velvet and heavenly blue eyes. She had difficulty breathing.

“I behold you at this moment,” Hook observed, “attempting to reconcile the twain. But according to Pan, all his deeds are light. Acting for what he believes to be good, he has never thought of consequences. He doesn’t even know the pain he causes.” Hook cast a gaze upon his claw, his lip curling. “The damage.”

Wendy had already learned not to be distracted by his speech. But she must play for more time. “Damage… to you.”

“You are young, but I will tutor you.” He considered his hook. “There was terrible pain, for a very long time. And I had to relearn everything.” His head jerked up and he glared at her. She stepped back.

“I was a master swordsman. Do you think it was easy to regain my skill? I couldn’t wield a spoon, let alone a cutlass. I couldn’t even sign my name!” Hook stopped and thrust his hand toward his side. Wendy braced her body, thinking he was about to draw his sword, but he pulled a small book from within his coat. “By the time I was able to scrawl my signature, even my name had changed.” He tossed the book to her. “Look at it.”

Wendy caught it and searched his face. Her fingers felt the giving relief of leather. She opened the book, dragged her gaze from his, and looked down. Then she understood.

Inside the front cover, he had inscribed his name. The name his enemy had inflicted on him, along with his wound:
Jas
.
Hook
. The signature was flourished and bold, but barely legible. Her forehead creased; her heart bruised. Looking at him again, she closed the book and held it out.

“Keep it. You may find it to your taste… Storyteller.”

She nearly dropped the book.

“Yes, I know that, too.”

Of course he knew it. Wendy stared at the book’s glittering letters for a moment before she could make sense of them. It was a collection of antique fairy tales.

She kept her gaze on the volume. He was so far ahead of her. As if he had read the book, and she was only beginning it. She would have to match his cunning. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words that had always been her allies wouldn’t rally. She swallowed, and tried again.

“What duties will be expected of me?”

He relaxed, but his expression gave no sign of his feelings. “That is as yet undetermined. The important thing is that you join me.”

“But I heard you tell Smee—”

“Enough! Let us just say that I am weary of living alone, a man among animals.”

The pounding of her heart made it difficult to keep her features calm, but Wendy mastered them. Surely Hook didn’t mean he wanted— companionship— but only that his men needed manners. Uncertain, she set the book down as if it were made of glass. She waited for more information.

“My dogs are faithful, but mongrels, all of them. Your talents will bring a welcome change for us. I’ve seen what you’ve done for your pack of boys.”

She sought to absorb this evidence of his observation. How had he seen, and when?

“You will be, perhaps, more welcome to my crew than you were to Pan’s. After all, ‘pirates love ladies.’ How did you put it? Those who have ‘proved their valor.’”

Wendy’s knees went weak. Hook had spoken her own words, from the story of Red-Handed Jill! The realization rushed through her like the wind, to leave her reeling, her soul in shreds. Hook’s perception delved far deeper than she’d supposed. Not only could he tell her story— he’d somehow lived it.

And he could touch it. He moved a step closer. With excruciating leisure, he raised his good hand and, as she shivered, lifted a lock of hair from her shoulder. Drawing it toward him, he released it, strand by strand, to her breast. “Seeing how lovely you are, I expect you’ll be obliged to demonstrate
your
valor. Many times over.”

He had played the card that broke her concentration. Her mind began to panic, her breathing grew rapid. She struggled to make one point very clear to him. “I know nothing of men. I’m just a girl.”

“And innocent enough to believe in fairy tales. As if your tender age could protect you.”

“If not my age, what?” She grasped at her last hope. “Will you protect me?”

“Wendy. You must have learned by now to rely upon no one. You must protect yourself. I daresay you always have.”

She lowered herself to the bench, her head bowed, her thinking fast and desperate. Hook took advantage of her distraction to direct a glance and a nod toward the roof of her house. A burst of fairy light rose from it, and Jewel sped off on his errand in the direction of the Lagoon.

Wendy’s thoughts raced. How to outwit him? He knew too much! He played his game as if the outcome was fated to his advantage, as if he had already won. She felt herself losing to a subtle mixture of force, inevitability, and something else she didn’t want to admit, even to herself. It was attraction, yes— physically, he was everything she had imagined, and he stirred her. But it couldn’t be admiration. He was a pirate! A pirate, who envisioned her as a lady. A man who had called her lovely. It was almost as if he could read her heart.… Countered by her own reaction to this man, Wendy could not find a way to win freedom, for herself, for Peter, for the boys. And he must know that, too.

If only she could shut herself away in her little house one more time, and stay forever. But it was so fragile. And if she stopped there, her story would take no form. As he had foretold with maddening assurance, her experience was already shaping itself into her soul.

And then he was beside her. “Wendy Darling, what shall we call you? You must have a pirate name, hearty.”

She turned to face him straight on. She summoned the fiercest name she knew, and threw it at him. “Red-Handed Jill!”

“Red-Handed Jill. That’s the one. You must tell me her story… one night…” His mouth twisted with insinuation. “When the children are abed.”

He loomed over her, all black velvet. “What is
your
weakness, my Jill?” But he held two fingers to her lips. “No, I will answer for you.” His fingers moved lower to caress her chin. “I have already used it against you, haven’t I?”

He forced her chin up so that his incredibly blue eyes caught and kept her own. “And I will use it again.”

The ache jabbed within Wendy. She thought surely he must have thrust his hook in her. She must be dying. But the hook crouched on her shoulder, cold and sharp. She made an attempt to turn her head toward it, but he held her chin. Her body began to shake, and she couldn’t stop.

“I will use you again, and again, until I have satisfied my Darkness.”

His hand lay on her cheek. “You know of my Darkness. You have told of it. Did it make a cozy bedtime story for your brats?” His thumb lingered on her kiss before his hand slid to her neck. He dropped his eyes as if appreciating how easily it fit around her throat. Something else he’d had to relearn. His thumb stroked her neck.

“As I say, I am an open book. Take care, lest one day my eyes burn red, and I close upon you.”

But this day, his hand remained open, and his eyes remained blue. Wendy felt his grip release her.

“Jill.”

Her throat closed of its own accord, her shoulder pricked, but when she dared to look, hand and hook were resting, harmless, on his thighs. She began to breathe once more. To think once more.

If she was destined to be Jill, she had better recapture her courage. She grasped it by the tail. “What is it you really want from me?”

Hook had drawn back and, head tilted, was studying her face. “At the moment, I want you to tell me a different story. Open your lips, and speak to me of this kiss.” And without touching her again, he leaned toward her so that his lips lingered an inch from her own. She was certain, then, that he saw it, that he sensed its impatience, and that its waiting time was at an end.

And it was, after all, not a prince, no prince at all who had come to claim it. Hook was no prince.

He was a king. A pirate king. The king to break the queen’s enchantment. He placed his open lips over her own, at the corner of her mouth, directly upon it. But he didn’t take it.

She gave it to him.

And she felt the wind rush through her this one last time. But it wasn’t the wind now who twined her hair in his fingers and gathered her kiss in his own until finally and at last, Time no longer existed for her.

Above them, the blue smoke ceased to billow. It puffed itself out and blew away in the parting breeze. And without warning, the chimney hat gave voice to its scream, for a clear, high shriek exploded on the roof. It sounded like crowing.

It was Peter.

Hook’s blue eyes ignited. Wendy had never seen him smile before.

“Right on time!”

Chapter 15

Passion Play

Hook was up, he spun around, his sword shrieked from its scabbard and steeled his hand.

“Don’t touch Wendy, Hook!” Peter stood straight, straddling the roof of the house. He held his bright dagger ready.

“Too late.… I
have
touched her, and long before today.”

Peter leapt from the rooftop to stand a sword’s length from Hook. “You filthy pirate! She’s mine.”

“She has just become mine. Is that not so, ah— what shall I call you?” He tossed a quick look to Wendy.

She sprang to her feet, shaking off her trance. “It depends who wins, doesn’t it?”

“Precisely. Your ‘Wendy’ and I were discussing the future, Pan. Not yours,” his brow creased in mock concern. “You have no future.”

Peter advanced with his green eyes flashing. “I’ve future enough to rid the world of you forever.”

“Peter, keep back! He doesn’t want me, he only means to kill you.”

Hook began sweetly, “A mother’s weakness. A story to protect her young. But I do want her. Who can resist her?” He circled left, so that Peter’s steps countered. “Can you, Pan?”

“I’ll resist you, with my knife!” Peter hunched forward, holding his knife steady and beckoning Hook with his hand.

But Hook only scoffed. “Your knife isn’t enough for her, now. She has agreed to join me, if I give her what she wants.”

“You don’t know what she wants!”

“Indeed? I have just delivered it.” He regarded Wendy warmly, “And accepted her terms.”

Peter turned his head to follow Hook’s stare. Wendy’s cheeks burned. The boy fired back, “Pirates don’t honor terms with girls.”

Watching Wendy, Hook’s regard intensified. “But just as you suspected, she doesn’t want to be a girl any longer.” Wendy tore her gaze from Hook to look into Peter’s eyes. She saw Peter falling for it. And she couldn’t deny it; Hook had trapped her in the truth.

But Hook was cold once more. “Decide now, Pan…” He kept circling. His movement forced Peter to present his back to Wendy where she stood in front of the house. “How far will you go to keep her from me, your Wendy?”

“I’ll fight you to the death, Hook.”

Hook smiled genially, his tone conversational. “Yes, I know that. But whose death?” He lunged, and the two weapons collided with a rasping scrape. Peter’s dagger was no match for the rapier. He could only deflect the charge— until a sword appeared from nowhere and fell into his outstretched hand.

Wendy was startled to see Nibs overhead and the Lost Boys flying toward her through the forest. Nibs had tossed the sword, and Peter’s courage flowed into action. In one movement, he transferred the dagger to his other hand and seized the sword, parrying Hook’s next thrust and launching his own attack.

Wendy fought her fear. She had to think. “No! Nibs! All of you, get away!”

But the band of boys paid no heed, settling on the grass to stand tensed around the duelists, with the little house forming part of their circle. Jewel, too, had streaked from the forest. She hovered above them, her light blazing. John and Michael looked pale and perplexed, as if awakened from nightmares, but the other boys were flushed and their expressions fierce. Each of their knives spoke its own lethal language. Hook marked their positions.

Peter’s voice rang bold as ever, “Leave Hook to me, boys!”

Distraught, Jewel flitted from boy to boy, resonating with dismay. Again Wendy cried, “Michael, John, go home!” She stepped into the circle to wave the band away, but all eyes fastened on magnificent Peter. And black Hook.

Peter glowed. “And miss all the fun? The boys and I have been itching for this fight, haven’t we?”