Unhooked (13 page)

The Captain told me Pan was the biggest lie of all. But isn't that exactly what Hook
would
say? And it's not like I haven't seen with my own eyes what the Captain himself is capable of—I watched him toss a boy to the monsters in the water. The Sisters, he'd called them. All because the kid hadn't immediately pledged his loyalty. The Captain had refused to show him any mercy at all. Not when the boy begged and pleaded. Not even when he squealed like a scared pig.

“Will your Captain take you to your friend?” Pan asks me.

No.
He already told me he wouldn't.

One thing is clear—whoever he is, this boy knows about Olivia. The prospect of finding her, of finally finding someone who is squarely on my side in this upside-down world, is enough to make me stop struggling. It's enough to give this Pan character a chance.

When my chin dips in the barest nod, his eyes light with satisfaction. “Quiet now,” he tells me as he eases us into the corridor.

He moves through the tight space as silently as the night, pulling me along easily, but he doesn't immediately go to the steps that lead up to the main deck. Instead, he stops at a short ladder that descends to the very deepest part of the ship. “I've one thing more to do,” he tells me, the whites of his eyes glinting in the light thrown by the orbs that follow us.

He motions for me to take the ladder first. My arms still ache, but I manage to keep ahold of the well-worn railings as I inch myself down, Pan following behind me. He's dimmed the small lights that float around him so they're only ghostly whispers of their former brightness. Putting a finger to his lips, he dismounts, and then takes my hands and pulls me toward a glow coming from behind a stack of large wooden crates.

“He won't last much longer, Cap'n,” Will says, his voice startling me as it drifts through the darkness.

“You think I don't know that?” the Captain answers.

As we get closer, I see the two of them silhouetted by a lantern hanging from the ceiling—the Captain and Will. They're leaning over a small body laid out on a pallet on the floor. I recognize the boy as the one the Captain was helping earlier—Davey. For a moment I'm not sure if the boy is alive, but then he lets out a small, labored moan.

Will shuffles back uneasily, his jaw tense and his brow deeply furrowed. But it's not the boy's injuries that have Will so tense. In the dim lamplight, I hadn't noticed the large, dark figure waiting in the shadows of the hold. But now that I see it, my breath seizes in my throat.

As the Dark One approaches the Captain, the hold fills with a familiar metallic buzzing. The creature's wings half unfurl and fill the tight space, but the Captain doesn't move to attack. They stand as though locked in an uneasy truce, each taking the other's measure. Then, in a motion so quick that I barely see the blur of darkness as it moves, the creature plunges its fist into the boy's chest.

The small limp body jerks violently in response.

I stagger back at what I'm seeing, and Pan's arms go around me, supporting me gently but also pinning me firmly in place. “Help him,” I whisper, my voice ragged with the shock of what I just witnessed.

“Shhh,” Pan soothes, brushing his lips against my temples. “It's too late now. Had we arrived a few moments sooner . . .” He trails off, his implication clear—if not for my hesitation earlier, we might have saved the boy.

I watch in horror as the creature's hand passes through the small body, like the boy is no more solid than a ghost. The boy convulses again, his chest lifting up from the floor until his whole body hovers rigidly in the air. When the creature finally withdraws its fist, it brings with it a trailing thread that glows with an eerie luminescence.

The Captain does nothing but watch.

“What is that?” I whisper, unable to keep the horror—the wonder—out of my voice.

Pan's voice is calm, sure, as he whispers in my ear. “It's taking the boy's life, Gwendolyn.”

The Captain stands motionless as the Dark One spools the thin luminescent thread around its dark fist before thrusting it forward and offering it to the Captain.

“His life?” I whisper, horrified.

“Well, perhaps not his life, exactly,” Pan says with a frown.

“Please, Will,” the Captain urges, the desperation in his voice uncharacteristic. The Captain and Will are staring at each other across the darkness of the hold, tension simmering between them. “I won't lose you to this place.”

“No,” Will says quietly, his voice sure. “You won't. Not in that way, at least.”

The Captain frowns as though he's understood more in Will's words than I do. “It's already done. And it would give you more time,” the Captain urges. “Already, your arm—you know what's there is only the beginning. That mark will grow, and when it does, you'll die.”

Will rubs absently at the piece of dark fabric wound around his forearm. “Maybe, but how many times have you told me that there are worse fings than death, Cap'n?”

An uncomfortable silence rears up between the two. “What would you have me do, then?” The Captain's voice is no more than a ragged whisper. “Should I leave all of the lads to die?”

The buzzing thrum in the air grows, signaling the creature's impatience.

Will glances at it warily before he turns back to the Captain and shakes his head as though in defeat. “Do what you must,” he says. His shoulders slump as though the fight has gone out of him, and he walks away from the Captain and the dark creature. His steady steps echo through the dark hold as he ascends the ladder to the deck above.

The child's rigid body is still hovering in the air. The boy's mouth is wide, and his sightless eyes are still open in a combination of pain and terror. The Captain doesn't even seem to see the boy though. His eyes are focused on the place where Will disappeared, toward the ladder hidden by the darkness around us, to the deck above. The Captain's face is blank, his eyes steady, and though I can tell he might want to, he doesn't go after Will.

“Watch, Gwendolyn. If you have any doubt of the choices before you, watch what your Captain is capable of.”

The Captain has already turned back to the Dark One and is slowly lowering himself to his knees, his head bowed before the dark creature, his eyes level with the boy's motionless body. “Go with God, Davey,” the Captain whispers as he crosses himself. “And forgive me what I must do.”

The Dark One thrusts its hand forward again, offering the fistful of glowing thread to the Captain. This time the Captain accepts the thread of the boy's life in cupped hands. For a moment he simply holds it, the glow lighting the sharp angles of his face, and I can't tell if it's revulsion or appreciation that makes him pause. Then he lifts his hands and inhales deeply, his lips soft in a rounded O as he breathes in the boy's light. With each breath, the boy's body convulses in the air with an agonized groan.

“You see, Gwendolyn,” Pan whispers as I watch the horrible drama play out before me. “Your Captain cares so little for those who follow him, he will drink in the boy's life, and the boy will die.” The boy lets out another frail, awful moan. “Imagine, my dear, what he would do to you.”

It's not your allegiance I want,
the Captain had told me
.
Is this what he meant? Is this what he had planned for me?

I can't make myself look away from the scene in the dark hold before me. The Captain's face is a combination of pain and relief, regret and horrible delight. With every breath of light the Captain takes, the boy's moans shatter the stillness of the night. With each breath, the small body twitches and convulses, and the boy's skin begins to turn a dusky, mottled gray. Dark jagged lines that remind me of the crew's tattoos snake their way across the boy's skin, until his entire body is covered with a web of them.

Finally, the small body convulses silently with one last, horrible twitch and goes limp, falling back to the pallet. And when his body hits the ground, it shatters into hundreds of jagged pieces that skitter across the floor of the hold.

The curve of an ear settles near my feet, and I let out a strangled gasp.

The Captain goes perfectly still at the sound.

Pan tries to pull us back far enough to avoid being caught, but it's too late. The Captain's wild eyes have already found us in the darkness, and when he sees who it is, and that I am not alone, his face contorts with fury.

“Unhand her,” he growls, his blade raised unsteadily toward Pan. His eyes aren't quite as sharp as usual, almost like he's having trouble focusing.

“I don't think she wants to be unhanded.” Pan's arms are still around me. “Shall we ask her? Would you like me to unhand you, Gwendolyn?”

I hear his voice, but it sounds so far away. My vision has gone dark around the edges, and it feels like I'm looking down a tunnel. All I can see is the small, fragile curve of the boy's ear lying on the ground near the toe of my boot.

“I'm warning you. Leave the girl,” the Captain growls again, his voice even less human this time as it tears from his throat.

“Or what?” I can practically hear the taunting smile in Pan's voice. “Will you kill me? Will you kill her, as well? Perhaps you'll drink in her life, just as you drank in the boy's?”

The Captain growls, lunging forward, but whatever he's done has taken a toll on him—his legs seem to be too unsteady to hold him, and he stumbles. “Let. Her. Go.”

“I don't think I will,” Pan says calmly as he begins to back us toward the ladder. “I don't think I could countenance leaving such an innocent here with the likes of you. I've already promised to free her, you see.”

“Gwendolyn.” The Captain's eyes are wild. Their once-dark irises almost seem to glow in the darkness of the hold, like the fury has lit him from within. “Don't listen to his promises,” he rasps. “Nothing but lies.” He tries to stagger toward me.

But all I can see is the shattered pieces of what was once a boy scattered across the floor. “And you haven't lied to me?” I whisper. But then my voice grows stronger, more sure. “You told me the Dark Ones could breach the boundaries between our worlds, but you never mentioned that you're working with them.”

The Captain only stares at me, his jaw tight, and his dark eyes flashing with some unspoken emotion I cannot place. But he doesn't deny it.

“It's up to you, Gwendolyn,” Pan coaxes. The warmth of his arms feels real and strangely secure. “I will not force you. I would never treat you like a prisoner.”

The implication is clear—that the Captain
has
treated me like a prisoner. Not that I need to be reminded. My wrists still ache from his crew's treatment.

“Think of Olivia,” he whispers in my ear. “I can take you to her.”

Olivia.
The thought of her shakes me from any wavering. I don't know how much I trust Pan, but I've twice seen with my own eyes what the Captain is capable of. I need to find Olivia. If we have any chance of ever getting home, it will be because we're together, and Pan is offering me that much.

I meet the Captain's eyes and see the fury there hasn't ebbed. “Let's go,” I tell Pan.

With a crowing laugh, Pan scoops me up again and runs.

The Captain tries to lunge for us, but he's still too unsteady on his feet. Pan, on the other hand, moves quickly, deftly through the dark ship, guided by his strange orbs. The instant we're above deck, he leaps, and we are in the air.

“You made the right choice, my dear,” Pan says, his voice smooth and sweet as honey.

But I can't be sure that I have. I'm even not sure there is a right choice in this strange and dangerous world. I close my eyes, not wanting to see the dark water or the ship receding below me, and, as we mount higher into the sky, the relentless rushing of the air echoes my own clawing sense of dread.

The boy grew to hate all of it, but he hated the darkness most of all, for at night, he couldn't see death coming. That night, like so many others, there would be no sleep. When they called for him to “Stand To!” he wore his fear like a tattered coat. . . .

T
HE NIGHT SWEEPS PAST, DARK and thick as ink as Pan flies on. I force myself to focus on the glittering stars above us, because I don't want to think about the tender curve of a broken boy's ear. And I don't dare look down.

Pan's body is my only warmth against the chilly air, his arms the only thing between me and falling to my death. But his darkened expression is so sure, so determined, I can
almost
make myself loosen the tight grip I have on his neck.

His face is masked with shadows, but a smile plays about his lips as we fly. I can't tell if it's from the satisfaction of besting the Captain or from the pleasure of the flight itself, but it seems like a secret smile. I don't think it's meant for me. Still, the longer we fly, the more I find myself drawn to him. The more I find myself wanting him to look at me.

Maybe it's because he smells like the night, wild and free as the wind whipping through my hair, but it takes all my focus not to let myself lean into him. His is a cold scent, distant and empty as a winter day, but that doesn't make it any less enticing. I want to breathe him in, and it's only when he chuckles darkly that I realize I'm doing just that.

Then, before my cheeks can even flush warm with embarrassment, before I can even register how strange it is that I would be so taken by him, we're falling. Or I guess we're diving, but when you're plummeting to earth with no control over the fall, the feeling is about the same. We break through the clouds, the cold dampness of them wetting my cheeks and hair, clinging to my bare arms.

We are still over the endless sea, but the surface of the water is now as smooth as polished glass. It shines pink from the soft morning light instead of the lurid meals of monsters. The clouds and sky glow a rosy amber now, and off in the distance, a sliver of sun is just beginning to peek over the level line of the horizon.