As Wendy hit the ground and Cecco released her to her hands and knees, the last of the torches extinguished itself, casting Skull Rock into utter and impenetrable darkness.
Wendy pushed herself up to her feet once more and turned toward the place where Hook had been holding her brother. At least, she thought it was the same place. It was impossible to tell.
Only the fairies – four of them in all – were visible in the cold, black interior of the cavern. Two were near the entrance, taking shelter behind two giant boulders that protected them from the majority of the wind and rain.
Another hovered several yards away from Wendy. It wasn’t Tinkerbell; Wendy would have been able to tell if it was. The fairy spun in place, obviously trying to cast some sort of fairy magic that would give them all light – but nothing was working, and the wind was buffeting the tiny pixie’s wings with a mad vengeance.
The fourth and final fairy floated in the center of the room. But, despite the blustering gale, it was unmoving. Wendy could see dark bands around its body, as if –
Someone was holding it!
The fairy suddenly shook, sprinkling its pixie dust into the darkness. And then it was released to be carried further into the cave by a gust of wind. Wendy’s heart sank. She had no idea who had just used the fairy in that manner, but she was positive that it wasn’t Peter. He could already fly.
The pixies were doing more harm than good in this battle.
A grunting sound and the clash of steel on steel took Wendy’s attention from the darkness below to the darkness only a few feet away and in the air in front of her. There was a clang, and then another one, and then a kind of thunk. Once more, there was nothing but the storm to break the silence.
It seemed to be calming down a bit again, but Wendy didn’t trust it. It was a wholly unnatural storm, tied to the whim of something angry and unseen. It was like the breath of some massive water dragon. Or the will of Poseidon.
Someone ran into Wendy then, sliding a strong arm around her waist to lift her once more from the rocky ledge. She gasped as her feet left the ground, and tried to think of something happy so that she could catch herself if she fell.
But she doubted the pixie dust was any good any more, anyway. It only lasted so long and she’d only received a tiny amount from Tinkerbell. So, as a second resort, Wendy clung to her captor, turning toward him to wrap her arms around his neck.
She recognized Hook instantly. He was bigger than Peter. And his clothes were different. There was the black lace beneath her cheek, and Hook didn’t smell of leather as Peter did, but of expensive cologne, stolen spices, and soap. His long sable hair was damp where it brushed Wendy’s cheek.
She wondered if he was going to fly her to the top of the cavern and then drop her. At least she hadn’t heard a gun go off. Michael was safe.
But he didn’t drop her, and in fact, his grip on her was secure and felt as if it had no plans to lessen any time soon. She couldn’t tell where they were going and wondered how the hell Hook could. Maybe he’d spent more time in Skull Rock than she had. Maybe he and his pirates were very familiar with it. . . . Perhaps his treasure was buried here.
Hadn’t she written something like that once?
Her thoughts were as scattered as the rain and sea on the wind. She closed her eyes and waited for things to change. For something to give.
And then it did. The tips of her shoes scraped against stone once more and Wendy opened her eyes. They were outside. The sky was lighter here and the storm had indeed let up. The clouds swirled slowly overhead, deep charcoal in color. The wind whipped through her hair, but not as violently as it had in the cave.
Hook waited until she had her footing firmly beneath her, and then he let her go and turned away from her. Wendy stared warily at his back, unsure of what to even think, much less do in this situation.
He walked a few paces away, the wind rippling through his thick black overcoat and the lace cuff that framed the silver hook on the end of his arm. Wendy’s gaze fell on that hook and she thought of all that it represented.
On impulse, she took a step forward. “Hook, it wasn’t my fault, I swear it. I – ”
But Hook spun around, blue eyes flashing, and strode forward with determined speed. “Do – not – speak!” he hissed at her, closing the distance between them and raising his left hand so that his knuckles threatened her cheek. Wendy flinched and turned her face away, falling quiet.
When he did not strike her, she looked back up at him. A stillness had come over him. His blue eyes searched hers, the expression on his face at once unreadable. “I had hoped that you would be the answer,” he whispered then, with a slight shake of his head. “A way out of. . . .” he faltered, swallowing hard. Then he waved his hook at the swirling eye of the storm and the troubled, dark sea and all of Neverland beyond. “All of this.”