Page 1 of Stalking Wendy Darling

Chapter One

WENDY

THE SILVER ISLE

“There’s something incredibly wrong with you,” Tajo said with a wrinkle in his nose as he watched me hack up the torso of a cow.

“This is a butcher’s shop,” I pointed out, pausing humming my jaunty little tune to talk to him, the cleaver dripping blood as I gestured at him. “I’m butchering.”

“With a little too much delight for my liking,” he muttered, but went back to slicing meat for the counter in the shop at the front.

I’d been working here for three months now and I was loving it. Not only was it fun to hack up meat, it helped me manage my violent tendencies, something Mama Darling said was going to get me killed one day. Not that the anger would burn me up and I’d spontaneously combust in an explosion to rival the fireworksof cannon fire, more like I’d pick a fight with the wrong person. It almost happened last week.1

“You’re just jealous that I can find true enlightenment in a cow carcass,” I teased Tajo, smirking at his broad back as the dark-skinned man shook his head and ignored me.

I went back to hacking up ribs, a glow of pride in my chest at the clean cuts. Damn, I was good at this. Maybe I could get promoted to… to chief beef hacker.

“Jealous without a doubt,” the man drawled, tutting as he glanced out the shop window. “Look at that. Fool kids running around like they’re invincible.”

I went back to humming, lining up the ribs I’d butchered in a neat little row. Tajo liked to talk; he didn’t need my help to carry a conversation.

“There’s a whole pack of them out there, laughing and joking as if black sails weren’t sighted off the coast of Gold Haven this morning. I’d put three silver on them going right to the docks to catch a glimpse of the ship. As if they wouldn’t be slaughtered by the crew.”

“They’re kids,” I pointed out. “Kids are fascinated by danger.”

“They’ll be fascinated all the way to a watery grave.”

I shook my head and brought the cleaver down again, enjoying the loud thump of it on the counter. Everyone who grew up in the islands knew the rule: never, ever, whatever you do, draw the attention of Hook’s crew. Most sane people kept their heads down to avoid eye contact, and if people spotted black sails on the horizon, they stayed indoors. It was smarter that way—the crew of Death’s Right Hand, better known as the Banshee, weren’t just philanderers; they were black-hearted thieves and cold-blooded killers. If a town pissed them off, it would be burned to scorch marks, razed to the ground. After they looted everything valuable, presumably. It would be pretty dumb to burn valuables.

I could admire their panache and style, and killing anyone who earned their wrath sounded pretty fun actually, but I was a girl’s girl through and through and I drew the line at their constant kidnapping of women. Every summer the Banshee made berth, and a woman was stolen, never to be seen again.

And sure, it must have gotten lonely on board that ship, and dick was probably not everyone’s flavour of choice, but had those bastards never heard ofaskinga woman? Kidnap was wrong. And honestly, embarrassing for them. Imagine being so foul that you couldn’t even get a woman in the most disreputable taverns on the islands. We had one here in the Silver Isle. It was called the Rotten Ewe, it stank of stale beer and sweat, the floors were always sticky, and it was a hotpot of drunks, coarse language, gambling, and loose morals. If those men on the Banshee couldn’t even get a leg over with Two Moons Theresa, I pitied them.2

“Wendalyn,” Tajo said with a little huff that told me he’d be scowling and sulking soon. “Did you even hear me?”

“Huh?” I turned to face him, dismissing thoughts of pirates. “Sorry, I was thinking about boobs.”

He sighed. Heavily. “Your sister’s outside; she’s waving at you through the window.”

It was closing time already? Aw, I didn’t even get to finish hacking up my cow. “You’re not even going to say my distraction by boobs is relatable?” I asked Tajo, my arms folded across my chest.

“Your workday is over, please leave,” he said instead.

I rolled my eyes and waved at Joanna who hovered outside the butcher shop window in an attractive confection of silk and ribbons. I’d probably wear a dozen different ribbons if I worked in a ribbon factory, too. People might look at me strangely if I wore the things I made as a fashion statement. Ribbons and pork chops were not one and the same.

When my sister looked at me through the glass, a smile creasing her eyes—a rich caramel, completely at odds with my storm-blue, much like the rest of her, warm and brown and soft was at odds with me, cool gold and angular—I fluttered my fingers at her. She wrinkled her nose at the blood, but she must have got the message because she leaned her back against the window as I washed my hands, scrubbing a brush under my nails until they gleamed.

“Be careful,” Tajo warned when I threw on my coat, smoothing my hands down the row of gold buttons. I won them in a game of cards last month and they were a source of pride for me. Growing up in Mama Darling’s Children’s Home meant finery was few and far between, but siblings were everywhere I looked. Joanna was my favourite—sweet and doll-faced and beautiful, but with a wicked sense of humour no one would suspect behind those big, brown eyes.

“I’m always careful,” I assured my boss and ignored his scoff. “You be careful, too. Don’t get eaten by the meat grinder.”

The look he gave me was flat and exasperated. Smiling, I headed into the shop, a little bounce in my step as I looked out the window—and everything inside me ground to a halt.

Joanna wasn’t leaning against the shop anymore. She was being dragged down the cobbled street, fighting like hell as a behemoth of a man attempted to throw her over his shoulder at the same time she kneed him in the balls. A spark of pride formed in my chest at how viciously she fought, but it was drowned out by a sudden surge of rage.

No one hurt my sister.No one.

I hurled myself across the checkerboard tiles of the shop floor and wrenched the door open. The bell above it let out a pleasant little chime.

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