Or if Hook was.
She frowned at that thought, wondering why she cared. But she had no further time to dwell on it, as Cecco then dropped the rope and pulled his own sword from his belt to swing it toward hers. She braced herself for the impact and was not disappointed when their blades crashed noisily against each other, sending shockwaves of pain down her sword and up into her arms.
A new ache settled in around her shoulders and a big part of her wanted to let the sword go. But Hook had taught her how to put that pain from her mind. He’d taught her how to ignore it so that she could keep the sword firmly in her grip.
Hook – the very pirate she was now trying to escape – had taken her aboard his ship and given her food and drink and shelter and even lessons in sword fighting. No other member of his crew had ever received such treatment.
Why had she?
Another bolt of lightning split the sky outside of Skull Rock and thunder vibrated the stone beneath her. The hilt of the sword quaked in her slippery grip; Wendy fought to hold on.
“Give in, girl,” Cecco told her. It was the first time she’d ever heard him speak. His voice was low and heavily accented. “You’ve committed the crime, now you’ll do your time.”
Wendy slowly shook her head. She didn’t want to walk the plank. She didn’t want to die at sea or be flogged or lose a body part or any of those other horrible punishments that she’d read pirates dealt upon one another.
She would rather die fighting.
Of course, escape would be a better option. But, again, she couldn’t take to the air with the pirate in front of her. He would easily block her path.
Cecco roughly pulled his sword away, shoving her back a few steps as he did so. Wendy caught herself and kept her sword arm up, watching him with wary gray eyes.
But the pirate waved his sword gracefully to the side and then darted over Wendy, performing a perfect aerial flip as he cleared her head and the tip of her sword.
Wendy was forced to turn around to keep him in front of her. And when she did, it was to find both Cecco and Mullins standing before her now, the firelight from the torches overhead dancing wickedly in their eyes.
*****
Hook turned away from Wendy and his men and focused on Peter, who was holding his head with both hands and trying to stand once more. His magical sword lay on the ground beside his boots.
Hook lowered his own sword and leveled it beneath Peter’s chin. “It appears as if never is not quite so long, after all.”
Peter looked up and Hook noted that his eyes were no longer glowing red. They were green and clear and there was a stillness to them, as if they were the surface of a pond that no stone had disturbed for centuries.
Hook frowned, trying to find the fourteen-year-old boy in them. But Pan was elusive as ever, and so Hook’s gaze narrowed. “It’s over, Pan.” He raised his sword, ready to make the killing blow, when Smee’s voice cut through his consciousness and brought him up short.
“Cap’n, look out!”
Most people, at hearing those words, would have turned to look – as the warning so foolishly suggested. However, Hook was no fool. He knew good and well what “look out” really meant. With practiced speed, he lowered his sword and crouched down, managing to duck out of the way just as an arrow went whizzing over his head to smack into the bouldered wall across the chamber. Hook glanced at the arrow as it toppled to the water below, and then he straightened and whirled to face the direction from which it had come.
Pixie dust trails lined the interior of the cavern, marking the presence of four fairies, at the least. Hook followed these trails to the entrance of the cavern. The Native known as Lean Wolf stood with several other members of his tribe at the storm-wrought mouth of Skull Rock. He was being braced by his companions against the wind and rain and rising tide. And he was notching another arrow.
The situation was going from bad to worse.
Hook had had enough. He’d come to Skull Rock for two reasons and two reasons, alone. He wanted to kill Peter Pan. That was a given.
But, as James Hook stood there, in the wake of the storm and the arrows and formulated a brutal and heartless plan, it wasn’t Pan he was thinking of.
The second arrow shot toward him and Hook once more easily sidestepped the flying weapon. Behind him, he heard a scuttling, shuffling sound. He turned; Peter was going for his sword.
Hook strode forward and kicked the blade out of the way just as Peter’s hand would have closed over the hilt. They watched it skitter across the wet black rocks until it was stopped by a second pair of boots, brown instead of black.
Mr. Smee bent and lifted Pan’s sword, holding it aloft in his hand. For once, the bespectacled man was smiling a smile that was a touch less genial and a bit more nasty than the one he normally wore.