Page 66 of The Last Lost Girl

We watched his three friends jump from the skiff into the shallows and make for the coverage the jungle’s foliage provided. Watched as the wind caught our sails and dragged us farther up the shore.

“The Cove,” he finally answered, watching me carefully, like he was wondering if I remembered seeing it on the map.

I pictured the map in my mind and saw The Cove written in his spidery script. “On the southeastern side of Neverland,” I replied.

A proud, approving glint formed in his gaze. “That’s right. The others will fan out over the island while you and I search a few areas that provide the seclusion Tinkerbell might seek. Assuming you’re right and she didn’t fly straight into Peter’s waiting arms.”

I told him she wouldn’t do that, but I could tell he didn’t believe me when he quirked that scarred brow, so I repeated it. “She wouldn’t.”

Smee and Milan were up next to leave the ship. Smee handed the ledger to me and told me to record their names and drop-off location – the north side of the island – as he held the rope and pushed off the hull, landing expertly on the skiff’s bottom.

Smee tapped a thick golden band clamped around one wrist. I couldn’t tell what was engraved on it, only that something was. Milan flicked a thin ring encircling his thumb. I watched and held my breath as the gentle giant and slender Italian made their way across the sand unscathed.

As the ship maneuvered farther around the shore to the next drop-off point, Hook stepped closer to study what I wrote in the ledger. When I asked if I’d done something wrong, he said, “Not at all; it’s perfect,” but the slick way he said it made me slide my attention to him. Then he said something that got my mind racing. “I’m just wondering… Do you remember anything about last night?”

I cleared my throat and felt my cheeks heat. I didn’t remember anything particularly noteworthy, but now I wondered if there was something he needed to remind me of. I told him the same, then waited for him to fill in any blanks.

But of course he didn’t. He ignored me, stepped away again, and called for Paris and Juneau. The Frenchman sauntered over and slid a hand around my waist. Hudson tracked the motion, then fixed on the place where his fingers pressed into my skin as he kissed my cheek.

“Be careful, mon amie,” Paris said.

I smiled and gave him a quick hug, adding, “I will if you will.”

“Always,” he said, crossing his heart as he stepped away to join Juneau, who was already in the boat. Then he turned and told me to stay with Hudson, which wasn’t necessary, because there was no way I was letting him out of my sight.

Hudson asked the men if they had their charms, his voice sharp. Paris lifted the cuff of his shirt to reveal a bracelet of gold links, while Juneau tugged at an earring.

After the men took off in the skiff we sailed farther eastward, yet Hudson didn’t mention anything about last night. He certainly insinuated that something happened and that I’d forgotten more than the journal, but what?

When I tried to ask again, he flashed a smile and shouted for Kenya and Dublin. A golden hoop draped over the top swell of Kenya’s ear. He rubbed a thumb over it as Dublin sat across from him in the skiff, twisting a chain around his neck. “Ready, Cap!” Dublin announced after Kenya nodded to him.

Hudson and I were next. Anxiety twitched like forks of lightning beneath my skin. Telling me he’d be right back, Hudson strode across the deck and down the steps that led deep into the ship.

The wind dragged the boat farther down the shore. I watched the island slide by, wondering where Belle was on the cursed stretch.

Sydney emerged from the ship’s belly. His long, wheat-colored hair was tied at his nape and smothered by a worn, brown leather Akubra hat. Hudson clasped his hand and told him to sail to The Cove and wait for us there.

With a curt nod to his captain, Sydney turned and watched me with wary eyes as I untied my shoes, toed them off, and stuffed my socks into them, then knotted the strands together to hang them over my shoulder. None of the men had shoes small enough to fit me, but Hudson said he could camouflage them and they would be fine. They wouldn’t be as visible as my red shirt would have been. He promised the underbrush would provide plenty of coverage.

Hudson told Sydney the plan. “Everyone will meet at The Cove before dawn, then we’ll make our way to the shore. When we leave on the skiff, sail there, drop the anchor, and wait for us to emerge.”

Sydney nodded stiffly, but his eyes were still fixed on me.

The skiff knocked into the hull as if nudging us to hurry. Sydney held the rope and he and Hudson eased me into the boat’s sloshing bottom. My feet found the bench seat, then I stepped down into the bottom and sent the rope back up. Surprisingly, the seawater gathered at the bottom of the small boat was pleasantly warm. I braced myself against the sides when a wave sent the skiff bouncing against the ship’s hull, then again when Hudson stepped aboard.

Sydney watched emotionlessly as the skiff dragged us toward Neverland.

Toward my sister, I reminded myself, trying to stay positive.

“Sydney doesn’t like me being on the ship, does he?” I asked.

Hudson’s spine stiffened as he searched for the right words, then he said, “No, it’s not you. It’s him. He’s very particular. He doesn’t like to leave the ship. He’ll visit town for short stints, but only because I insist on it. And he never steps foot on Neverland.”

When I asked him if he knew why, he shook his head and said that Sydney didn’t write things down as far as anyone knew, so he likely didn’t recall details of whatever happened to him on Neverland, but his mind remembered the fear that prevented him from leaving a place he knew was safe.

Hudson trusted Sydney to remember his instructions, so I decided to trust Hudson. Or try my best to. He and the others have survived this far. What was another day? Besides, just like he had no other choice, at this point, neither did I. Even so…

Anxiety is an awful beast that reveals the worst-case scenarios at the worst possible times.

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