The Navigator

Chapter One

Every good story begins with trouble.

This is the one kind thing that might be said for trouble, as it is a nuisance in every other regard and best avoided. But Wendy Darling is already in a good bit of trouble, whether she realizes it or not, and things are about to get much worse.

Trouble number one: Wendy is exceedingly pleased to have made her way aboard The Dragon, but Captain Hook does not appreciate her presence. He is itching for an excuse to place her or any of her friends in irons. This includes John, Michael, poor Reginald, Thomas (the Royal Society fellow), and even Nana, the monstrous Newfoundland dog.

Don’t think Hook is above placing a dog in irons, because he is not.

Trouble number two: Wendy is being treated as the navigator by the first mate, who happens to be her dear friend, Charlie. No one else in Hook’s crew wants her to hold such an important position. There is a good bit of grumbling about this belowdeck, where you might not hear about it, but where it has the ability to fester.

Unfortunately for the crew, Wendy is the only one who can be the navigator because the magical compass only works for her. But if you have ever tried to argue logically with an angry mob, you’ll know that it isn’t helpful.

Trouble number three—

Well, let’s watch together as Wendy discovers it for herself.

She is standing on deck next to Charlie, who has the helm. She is wearing a pair of men’s breeches—dark brown—tucked into her tall, black boots, with a white linen shirt and a cream-colored waistcoat. This is a bold choice for a seventeen-year-old woman in the year 1790, but Wendy is a sailor now and prefers to dress the part. She wears her sword at her left hip, with a brown leather pistol holster strapped to each thigh. She has a larger holster strapped to her back, so her musket would peek over her left shoulder if it were present. Sadly, it is not. All three of her guns are locked away in the ship’s armory. Hook is the only one who carries a gun aboard The Dragon unless the ship comes under attack.

(If you had ever seen the crew drinking and carrying on—which does not happen every night, but often enough—you would understand this policy.)

Wendy holds the compass in her left hand as she stares out to sea. The rest of her platoon is scrubbing the deck under John’s direction. They are not regular members of Hook’s crew, and this is the only shipboard task they are qualified to perform. Besides which, it amuses Hook to watch them perform it.

Wendy feels like she should be scrubbing the deck too, out of solidarity. But she also remembers the cruel taunts of Mortimer Black and the strange song that has haunted her ever since that eventful day some seven years ago.

If women ever sail the sea,
They’ll scrub the decks for men like me!
They’ll marry none but Davy Jones,
And for their children, only bones!

As you can imagine, she would prefer not to scrub the deck if she can help it, no matter how guilty she might feel over having managed to avoid it.

As for Nana, she is sitting calmly by Wendy’s side, not at all bothered by the fact that she has been excused from the scrubbing detail. And Thomas is hovering just behind Wendy’s left shoulder, his hair appearing even more wild at sea than it did in London. He stares at the compass in fascination every time she opens it, as though each instance of its operation is a brand new miracle.

“Astounding!” he says. Or, “Marvelous!”

So now we’re all caught up, and this is how things stood when Wendy opened the compass yet again, reassuring herself for the hundredth time that their course had not altered. Only this time, Thomas said nothing at all.

Startled, Wendy glanced over her shoulder, only to find him staring up at the crow’s nest, high over their heads. She followed his gaze to see the lookout holding a spyglass to his right eye, staring intently off to starboard (which is how Wendy, having been trained in nautical terminology, thought of the right side of the ship.)

“A sail!” the lookout shouted. “A sail!”

Immediately, Smee—the bo’sun (who hated Wendy perhaps more than anyone)—whistled several sharp tones through the silver instrument that hung around his neck.

“Alert,” Charlie said. Wendy nodded, holding her breath.

Suddenly, the lookout whipped a blood-red flag straight to the top of the mast, and the ship exploded into life.

The bo’sun’s whistle sounded again, and sailors shouted to each other, sprinting across the deck.

“What?” Thomas exclaimed.

“French,” Charlie said between clenched teeth. “They’ve seen us. It’s the call to man the cannons.”

Wendy’s hands fell uselessly upon her empty holsters. “My pistols!” she exclaimed.

Charlie nodded. “Go now. While you can. I won’t have you unarmed if we’re boarded. Find Nicholas. He’ll make sure you get them.” He said nothing more, but the look he gave her as their eyes locked sent shivers of fear down her spine.

For the first time since she had left London, Olaudah Equiano’s warning came back to her—as clearly as though he were speaking it now, directly into her mind: “There are worse ways to live, Miss Darling. There is a price to changing one’s destiny.”

Wendy narrowed her eyes and her lips tightened into a line of steel, the hidden kiss in the far corner disappearing altogether. She clasped Charlie’s shoulder and held his gaze just a moment longer. Then she sprinted off to join the throng of sailors making their way belowdeck, with Nana racing faithfully behind.

❮✦❯

Chapter Two

Wendy found Nicholas in the captain’s quarters, but Hook was already giving the boy orders of his own, having nothing to do with Wendy’s pistols.

“She’s going to run. Signal The Cerberus and The Tiger to chase her down. We’ll catch up once they engage. I want that ship!”

“But …” Wendy said quietly, and then she trailed off, not really having meant to say it out loud.

Nicholas paused and glanced her way, but Hook raised his eyebrows and thrust his chin at the door.

“Aye, sir,” Nicholas barked, and he scampered out.

“But what, Miss Darling?” Hook leaned back against the captain’s table and crossed his arms over his chest.

Wendy squared her shoulders and met his gaze, but she said nothing.

“But chasing French ships isn’t our mission?” he prompted her.

“Well, it isn’t,” Wendy agreed. That was exactly what she had been about to say.

“On the contrary. Chasing French ships is always our mission. I do not keep my commission by standing around in a London office staring at maps on the wall. I capture French ships and send them home.”

“I see.” Wendy placed her hands on her hips and then dropped them to her holsters, tapping her fingers meaningfully on each one. “Well, Captain, if we are to engage the French in a sea battle, I would prefer not to be unarmed. Charlie sent me to get Nicholas, to escort me to the armory.”

“Oh he did, did he?”

“He thought I might need some assistance, or at least a proper introduction. After the way I was treated by the quartermaster in London,” Wendy reminded him sharply, “I thought it a reasonable suggestion.”

“You won’t need the assistance because you won’t need the arms,” Hook countered. “The Tiger and The Cerberus are both faster than The Dragon. They’ll make short work of that ship before we even get there. And in any event, I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

“You’re … what?”

“Like it or not, Miss Darling, you are a target. Englishwomen fetch a fine price in certain parts of the world, and I won’t let that happen on my watch.” He paused, offering up a slow, wry grin. “Not even to you.”

“I can take care of myself.” Wendy’s left eyebrow drew itself up to its full height, daring him to say otherwise.

“Hmm. Be that as it may, I am ordering you to remain by my side until further notice. Do I make myself clear?”

Wendy ground her jaw back and forth and locked eyes with him for a long moment before responding.

“Aye, Captain,” she finally said. He was the captain, after all. It was the only thing she could say in response to a direct order.

“Excellent.” He smiled, but the light of it never reached his eyes. “Follow me, Miss Darling. It promises to be a fine show, and we shall have the best seats in the house. I do enjoy a good tragedy.”

They made their way through the ship and emerged, blinking, beneath the midday sun. Only a few white, puffy clouds in the distance marred the perfect expanse of bright blue sky above the endless sea. Hook raised his spyglass to his left eye and turned it toward the hunt, but Wendy didn’t need a contraption to see what was obvious. The French ship was under full sail, doing its best to flee, but The Cerberus and The Tiger were gaining on it.

The Cerberus was a Portland-class ship of three full-rigged masts, with square sails just like The Dragon and fifty guns to her name. She was smaller than The Dragon, but faster—roughly the same size as the vessel she was trying to chase down. The Tiger was smaller yet. She was a survey ship of only ten guns, with a mere hundred crewmen. Designed for speed, she was already ahead of The Cerberus, but she was staying carefully out of range of her quarry. She wasn’t about to take on the larger ship until The Cerberus could join the fight.

They watched in silence as the scene played out, the two British ships slowly closing in on the third. Just as The Cerberus was coming into range, Nicholas rejoined them, weaving his way through the crewmen who stood by on deck. The Tiger was already in position on the starboard side of her prey, just out of range of the cannons, and The Cerberus moved in on the side opposite, flanking the French vessel.

When The Cerberus finally opened fire, Wendy gasped.

“No!” she cried, her voice almost lost amidst the raucous shouts of the crew.

“Perhaps now you see why the fairer sex has no place on a fighting ship, Miss Darling,” Hook commented.

“What? Oh for heaven’s sake, look up!”

Hook was still looking through the spyglass, focused on the details of the battle, so he hadn’t seen what was obvious to everyone else.

Frowning, he removed the glass from his eye and then uttered a half-strangled yelp. A ship was hovering above The Cerberus, just below the distant clouds—a three-masted, full-rigged fighting ship, almost as large as The Dragon herself. A flying ship. And a line of everlost stood shoulder to shoulder along the rail, firing their muskets onto the helpless crew below.

Hook stood impossibly still. “It flies,” he whispered.

“I told you it did,” Wendy reminded him.

“It flies,” he repeated.

“I told you it did,” Wendy said again.

“IT FLIES!” he shouted. He exploded into motion, his coat sleeves snapping as he pointed this way and that, roaring out commands. “All men to arms! Man the cannons! Get us into range!”

His arms dropped to his sides, and his forget-me-not eyes locked onto the flying ship in the distance.

“Captain,” Wendy prompted him, but he didn’t respond.

“Captain?” she tried again.

He turned his head toward her and grunted incoherently, but his eyes never left the everlost.

“My guns, Captain?”

Hook nodded, once, obviously still distracted, but that was enough for Wendy. “Nicholas?”

The boy tore his own eyes away from the spectacle and glanced at her.

“I need you to take me to the armory. To make sure I am properly armed for whatever comes. Do you understand?”

Slowly, his gaze came into focus. He blinked several times and then nodded. “Aye, ma’am. I’ll take you.”

He headed toward the ladder that led belowdeck, with Wendy and Nana following. But every few steps he looked back over his shoulder, until he could no longer see the sky.

❮✦❯

Chapter Three

The entire ship was in an uproar.

“A ship that flies!”

“The everlost are helping the French!”

“She flies!”

The flying bit was no surprise to Wendy, but why was Peter protecting the French vessel? Had the everlost and the French been allies all along?

Her mind raced with the implications.

Peter had given her the compass. He had told her to give it to Hook—and to use it to come find him. Then they had encountered a French ship, located directly along their course. They had chased it, and Peter had been waiting, ready to ambush them.

He had been using her. Ever since he had learned she was at Hook’s estate. He had been using her to get to Hook all along.

She didn’t want to believe it, but what other explanation was there?

By the time they reached the armory, Wendy was fuming. The quartermaster took one look at the raw fury in her eyes and handed over her weapons and ammunition without comment.

Wendy and Nicholas emerged back on deck just in time to see the flying ship tilt wildly and open fire with her cannons on The Cerberus. The everlost took to the air like a swarm of hornets dislodged from their nest, but they soon reorganized themselves, lining up to balance on the far edge of the ship’s airborne hull while the battery tore into the ship below.

Wendy tried to find Peter in the mayhem, but she was too far away to make out any face in particular. And soon enough her gaze was torn from the distant figures by the sickening crack of The Cerberus losing her mainmast. She watched in horror as it parted near the bottom, tilted slowly, and began to fall. The men below scrambled to avoid the timbers that slammed into the deck, and then a second crack signaled the end of the foremast.

The barrage of cannon fire finally ended, but the damage was done. The everlost surged over the side of the flying ship, firing their muskets from midair. Wendy watched as one after another pitched backward through the sky. At first she thought The Cerberus was firing back, but then she realized it was just the recoil of the everlost’s own weapons. The men of The Cerberus were being slaughtered.

With only one mast left and the entire deck in chaos, The Cerberus wasn’t going anywhere. Which meant that The Dragon was finally catching up. Fast.

Hook started barking orders.

“Pay attention to her height! Get in range of that hull! Blast her out of the sky!”

Wendy couldn’t help but wonder whether damaging the hull would do any good. Could you even sink a flying ship? But of course, they had to try.

Peter must have recognized that Hook was gaining on them because his ship turned broadside toward The Dragon.

They’re going to fire on us! Wendy realized.

Peter had given her the compass, and it would only work for her. He had to know she would be on The Dragon. Somehow, even in the middle of a sea battle, Wendy had still expected him not to fire on her.

That was the last straw.

Wendy reached over her shoulder and snatched her musket from the holster strapped across her back. She didn’t know what good she could do with it. She had seen Peter both shot and stabbed to no real effect. But she wasn’t about to give up. Not without a fight. She loaded the weapon and waited for them to come into range, but she never got the chance to fire a single shot.

The cannons on Peter’s ship spat out another barrage of destruction.

“Take cover!” Hook shouted.

“Get down!” Nicholas echoed, and he all but pushed Wendy back through the hatch. There wasn’t time for both of them to get through, and she watched in horror as Nicholas threw himself flat onto the deck.

Michael! John! Charlie! Wendy had no idea where any of her friends were—only Nana was there with her, by her feet as always and barking like mad into the confusion. But the cannonballs screamed harmlessly overhead. The everlost weren’t aiming for the hull. They were aiming for the masts, just like they had with The Cerberus.

Disabling the ships, not sinking them, Wendy suddenly realized.

Maybe Peter was trying to protect her after all.

Another barrage soared through the sky, and this time both the mainmast and the mizzenmast split in two. There was no slow-motion teetering, no chance to dodge the falling timbers. The masts just exploded in the middle, the top half of each crashing down sideways onto the deck below.

And just like that, it was over. The Dragon fired a parting volley, a multitude of explosions so loud that Wendy felt them in her entire body, but the cannon fire didn’t come anywhere close to hitting the flying ship. It had risen high into the sky as soon as The Dragon was disabled. Wendy could only watch as it hovered above the fleeing French vessel, escorting it away.

Of the British fleet, only The Tiger remained undamaged. It circled back toward The Dragon, prepared to render whatever assistance it could.

A furious, inarticulate roar proved that Hook had survived the onslaught. Moments later, he stomped across the deck, vaulting over the debris and trampling the fallen sails beneath his feet.

“Nicholas!” he barked as soon as he saw the boy. “Find Mr. Hawke. I want to see him in my cabin immediately.”

“Aye, Captain!”

Wendy was about to go look for her platoon when Hook’s next growl stopped her in her tracks.

“What do you know about this?”

“Me?” Wendy’s eyebrow jumped in surprise and then crouched dangerously low, followed immediately by the other. “Captain, I would never! We might not always see eye to eye, but I am no traitor!”

Hook regarded her for a long moment in silence.

“We shall see,” he said finally and then turned back to Nicholas. “Find Mr. Hawke, then escort Miss Darling to her quarters. Keep her there until I send word otherwise.”

“Aye, Captain,” he repeated, refusing to meet Wendy’s gaze.

“And fetch Smee while you’re at it.”

“Aye, Captain.” He waited to see if there was anything else, but Hook waved him off. The captain tapped his foot impatiently, waiting for Wendy to clear the hatch. Then he glowered at her ominously and disappeared below.

◆

Despite the slight rocking of the waves, Wendy stalked back and forth in her tiny room. The compartment could only hold three angry steps in any direction, which made her pacing seem all the more agitated by comparison.

Nicholas stood by the door, looking apologetic.

“I’m very sorry, miss,” he said for at least the fifth time in as many minutes. (Had he been much older than his twelve years, he would have stood outside, as a matter of propriety. But he hadn’t felt right about standing out in the passageway as though she were a prisoner.)

Wendy was about to reply when there was a knock on the door.

“Finally,” she muttered.

Nicholas opened it to find Charlie on the other side.

“Is he locking me in irons?” she demanded, having gotten herself well worked up while pacing back and forth. How dare Hook accuse her of conspiring to ambush the king’s ships! As if she would ever! “Or maybe I’ll be walking the plank for doing absolutely nothing wrong! I wish him luck finding the everlost without me.”

“Neither of those,” Charlie said with a grin, “although the day isn’t over yet.”

“Well, what’s it to be then?” Wendy placed both hands on her hips and glared at him defiantly.

Charlie raised his hands in front of him. “Don’t shoot me. I’m just the messenger. But it’s nothing like that, I promise.”

Wendy realized she was still wearing her pistols, and her hands were now dangerously close to their grips. She pursed her lips in chagrin and crossed her arms across her chest instead, but Charlie’s eyes were twinkling.

“We’re reorganizing. The Dragon and The Cerberus are too damaged to continue, but the captain doesn’t want to turn back. He’s sending them home for repairs, and we’re transferring to The Tiger. To be honest, we were only slowing her down anyway. The Tiger is by far the best ship of the three for a scouting mission. The Dragon might be better in a sea battle, but I don’t know what any ship could do against an attack from above.”

“I suppose he’s sending the rest of the Fourteenth back home as well.” Wendy glared at him, but Charlie shook his head.

“No, they’re coming. The Tiger only takes one hundred for a full crew, but Hook made room for the whole platoon.”

Wendy raised an eyebrow.

“It surprised me too, but there it is.” Charlie shrugged. “I’d tell you more, but it’s not like he gave me his reasons.”

Wendy sighed. “Of course not.” She glanced at her trunk, secured to the outer bulkhead. “At least packing isn’t an issue. When do we leave?”

“You can make the transfer as soon as you’re ready. But …” He trailed off, obviously not sure whether he should continue.

“Go on,” Wendy prompted him. “But what?”

Charlie watched her for a long moment and then finally asked the question she had known was coming. “Did you know the ship could fly?”

Despite their year apart, he still knew her better than anyone in the world. She hadn’t mentioned anything about the flying ship when she had told him about her adventures. She had been afraid even Charlie wouldn’t believe her about that. But it was one thing to skip over something while they were catching up with each other. It was another thing altogether to lie to her closest friend.

“Yes,” she admitted.

“Hmm. I had a feeling.”

They regarded each other in silence.

“Did you know Pan was working with the French?” Charlie finally asked.

“Of course not!” she exclaimed.

“All right,” Charlie said, and he held up his hands in protest. “I believe you. But maybe you should tell me the whole story again. Without leaving anything out this time.”

Wendy sucked gently on her lower lip and then sighed again.

“Fine,” she agreed. “But let’s board The Tiger first. There will be plenty of time for stories once we’re back underway.”

❮✦❯

Chapter Four

Boarding The Tiger was not a simple affair.

The decks of The Dragon and The Cerberus were in a shambles after losing two masts each. The Tiger was the only ship that could still maneuver properly, and there were three full crews to be redistributed. But the first complication Wendy encountered had nothing to do with any of that.

She made quick work of untying her trunk from the bulkhead and was about to lift it when Nicholas stopped her.

“Oh no, miss. You mustn’t.”

“And why not?” Wendy snapped. “I’m a sailor, Nicholas. The same as everyone else. I’m perfectly capable of carrying my own things.”

She liked the boy, but enough was enough. She was already annoyed that Hook had left her so long in her quarters. It hurt her to think even Nicholas might start treating her as though she were incompetent.

She bent to grasp the trunk by the handles, without waiting for a reply, but Nicholas dashed over and sat on it before she could lift it. (He hadn’t wanted to grab her, and sitting on the trunk was the only other thing that occurred to him.)

“A sailor, yes, miss. But not the same as everyone else. You’re an officer. You can’t carry your own trunk in front of the men. It wouldn’t be right. Hook would have my hide if I let that happen.”

“I … what?” Wendy straightened back up and stared at the boy suspiciously, but his eyes were wide open, his eyebrows slightly knitted, betraying a clear mix of sincerity and mild panic.

“You are the navigator, aren’t you?” Nicholas asked. “Mr. Hawke has you setting the course. And he calls you ‘Navigator Darling’ in front of the crew.”

“Well … I suppose that’s true,” Wendy agreed.

“Then you’re an officer,” he pronounced. “And officers don’t carry their own trunks. Just wait here, and I’ll fetch someone for you. Please, miss. Promise me you won’t land me in trouble.”

After a long moment of hesitation, she finally relented. “Yes, all right,” she said. “I promise.”

Nicholas stood up slowly, keeping one hand on the trunk and watching her all the while, as though he wasn’t sure he should trust her. When she made no move to pick it up, he finally let go, but he continued to watch her as he crossed the compartment and opened the door. He hovered at the threshold, narrowing his eyes, at which point Wendy couldn’t help but reassure him.

“You have my word, Nicholas. As an officer.”

The boy sighed in relief. “Thank you, miss,” he said. “Don’t worry, I’ll be quick.” He finally turned and left, shutting the door behind him.

Wendy stared at the door a moment longer, then raised both eyebrows at once, uttered a tiny mew of surprise in the back of her throat, and sat down on the very trunk she had only moments ago been about to lift.

“Well, what do you think of that, Nana? Me! An officer!”

Nana barked, once, and sat by Wendy’s feet to stare at the door too. She wasn’t sure what they were expecting, but she sensed from Wendy’s demeanor that something extraordinary was happening and she wanted to be prepared.

Fortunately, Nicholas returned very soon indeed, followed by a thin, older gentleman with a gray beard and a prominent nose that suffered a distinct list to starboard. Despite his age (and his nose), he stood ramrod straight and walked with a sprightly gait, reminding Wendy of Monsieur Dumas. She stood, of course, for a more proper introduction.

“This is Mr. Starkey,” Nicholas told her. “Or Gentleman Starkey, as we like to call him. On account of his manners.”

“How do you do, miss?” he said, and he bowed with a flourish. “Master Nicholas tells me you have a trunk in need of transportation.”

Wendy couldn’t help but smile. “How do you do, Mr. Starkey?” she replied politely. “I appreciate your assistance. Though I must admit I’m not accustomed to the idea that I can’t carry my own things.”

“Oh, don’t you worry, miss. This is the right way to do it,” Starkey assured her. “Officers got better things to do than haul trunks from ship to ship. I’m no officer, that’s for certain. I’ve seen more years at sea than most, but even if I could afford a commission, I wouldn’t spend the money. No, thank you. Leave the deciding to wiser men than me, that’s what I always say. Just let me do the lifting.”

As though to demonstrate his position on the subject, he stepped forward and lifted the trunk easily.

“Navigator Darling will be joining the crew of The Tiger,” Nicholas told Starkey. “I can show you to her new quarters.”

“Aye, sir,” the old sailor replied easily. “Just lead the way.”

◆

They emerged beneath the bright blue sky to a racket of hammers and axes and heaving grunts as the men labored to clear the deck of debris. The sails of the fallen masts had already been untied and rolled for storage, and men swarmed over the remaining wreckage, salvaging whatever they could.

One mast would be enough to get them home, but the destruction still brought a tear to Wendy’s eye. She loved all ships, and most especially this ship. Her first ship. She hated to see it so badly treated.

But she swiped the tear away quickly. She was an officer, after all. She had to set a good example.

They crossed the deck in a line—first Nicholas, then Wendy, then Starkey, then Nana—making their way toward The Tiger, which had been lashed to the port side. Wendy searched the men for any familiar faces and finally found John, who was overseeing the repairs to one of the ship’s railings.

“John!” she called to him in relief, and his face lit up at the sight of her. He came to meet her in long, glad strides.

“Wendy! Thank heaven you’re all right!” He started to reach for her hand but thought better of it while standing on deck, in front of Hook’s crew.

“And you! But where are the others? Was anyone hurt?” She was thinking particularly of Michael, but she didn’t want to give John the wrong impression. (If she had seen Michael first, she would have asked him the same question, thinking particularly of John.)

“Everyone’s fine. Nothing worse than a few bruises in the Fourteenth, I’m pleased to report.”

“And you’re all transferring to The Tiger?” It wasn’t that she didn’t believe Charlie. She just wanted to hear it again.

“We are. I’ve been given the order.” He glanced over his shoulder as he said it, and Wendy followed his gaze. Hook stood by the center mast, well out of hearing, watching the surrounding work crews with a vigilant eye. He had a scowl on his face, as you might imagine, given the circumstances. He wasn’t taking any risks with the one mast they had left.

Just then, the watch at the top of the mast hollered out a warning and pointed toward the distant clouds. All hands turned to see a single everlost speeding toward them through the sky.

The men still had their arms close at hand, and they raised them now toward the enemy, but Hook stepped forward, shouting at the top of his lungs.

“Hold your fire!”

Smee echoed the command from his own position farther to stern, the distinct tones of his whistle carrying easily across the ship even though Wendy couldn’t see where he stood.

Everyone paused to watch as the everlost flew closer. He bore no white flag, but he held no weapon in his hands either. As for Hook, he stood tall and proud, his scowl intensifying as it found a target for its fury. His hair was tied back against the wind, but his long, blue coat flapped gently in the breeze.

It was the only thing on the ship that moved.

As the everlost approached, he slowed his descent, raising his wings behind him to catch the air. He landed gracefully on the edge of the ship’s railing, his legs apart, his hands on his hips, surveying them all with a look of disdain.

His build and his posture reminded Wendy very much of Peter, but his wings were ragged and unkempt, and there was a cruelty in his features that Wendy had never once seen in any of Peter’s men. He leaned forward and addressed Hook, shouting loudly enough for them all to hear.

“I come on behalf of the great Captain Blackheart! Surrender your ships, or else!”

Or else what, they would never know. Hook’s reply was simple but effective: He drew his pistol in the blink of an eye and shot the everlost square in the chest.

Wendy expected the winged man to laugh, but instead, he looked down at the wound in surprise. His face had just enough time to register pain, and then shock, and then fear, before he toppled backward into the sea.

— End of the sample —

❮✦❯