Page 36 of The Last Lost Girl

“Surat and Kingston,” Paris introduces, pointing to each. “They are like brothers. And they fight like brothers when they aren’t getting along, too.”

I remember seeing them playing cards on deck earlier when I left Hook’s quarters. They board the boat together from opposite sides. Surat had his hands on his knees and was breathing hard when he emerged from the tree line. Now in the skiff, he slumps over the second his bottom hits the bench. I can’t help but wonder what happened to him.

Kingston claps him on the shoulder. He’s tall and lithe with beautiful dark skin and hair, and a smile as wide as the Neverland shore. Even from a distance, his laugh is contagious and my lips curl upward at the sound.

As the skiff brings them to the ship, I look to the quarterdeck and notice that Hook is gone. Paris follows my line of sight. “In his quarters, more than likely,” he supplies.

Probably busy rummaging through my digitally-preserved memories.

Paris leaves me for a few moments to help Smee, Cairo, and a few sailors I haven’t met hoist their crewmates from the skiff. As soon as they’re aboard, the skiff sinks and everyone scatters to their positions. Then the anchor is lifted and the sails are unfurled once more. In a blink, we set sail for town.

While I’m unattended and mostly unwatched, I move my crate closer to the mermaid and whisper to get her attention. “Hey!”

Her head lolls as it swivels toward me. Her breathing is more labored than I’ve seen it. She tries to push herself up and whimpers a cry.

“I’ll help you,” I promise. “When they sleep. They won’t let me leave the deck to look around for tools, but when they sleep, I’ll find one.”

As if she understands me, she dips her head, then lays it against the wooden beam at her back. She doesn’t raise it again, and soon her cries begin anew as the ship lurches forward and we carve a new path through the ever-changing waves.

fourteen

Paris returns after his duties are finished, wearing a wince. “The captain would like to speak with you privately.”

Fear turns my ribs to stone. “Did he say why?”

“Non, and given his temperament, I did not ask.”

Great.

He offers his hand and I take it, letting him help me up and hoping he can’t feel how sweaty my hands suddenly feel.

The panes spill the lit candles’ warm glow onto the deck from the windows. Through them, I can make out Hook’s broad form as he hovers over his desk, using a quill pen to scribble something into a book he holds open with his forearm. He purses his lips and blows the ink dry.

“Paris?” Hook says as he opens the doors.

He hums in question.

“See that no one disturbs us.”

The Frenchman winces again but waves me inside. I barely have time to take a tentative step inside before Paris closes me in with Hook. I’m surprised the hem of my dress didn’t get caught in the door. His footsteps trail away.

The captain’s deep green eyes are waiting for mine when I finally drag them up. And it feels like a hummingbird is fluttering in my chest when he dips his chin and softly says, “Ava.”

An ache forms deep in my chest. Him saying my name shouldn’t make me feel anything but fear… but it does. I can’t help but feel like there’s a familiarity to the way he says it.

I clear my throat and wrap my arms around myself, looking around the room at anything but him. I try to look bored, tired, anything but afraid. Because people like him feed off fear.

“Hook.”

“Would you like to sit down?”

“I’d rather stand.”

Accepting my wishes, he slowly walks around his desk until he stands in front of me, too close for my comfort. I step back until my shoulder blades hit the doors. If he’s trying to intimidate me, it’s working. He knows my name. I’m certain he knows about Belle. And I don’t know what that means for either of us.

The pirate withdraws my phone from his pocket and holds it up to unlock the device with my facial features. Then he turns the screen toward me.

I glance down as a silly video of me with Belle begins to play.

---