Page 50 of Stalking Wendy Darling

“Oh, I will,” I told him, leaning closer to whisper, “I’m going to burn it.”

His throat bobbed, his jaw clenched. His stabbed leg probably hurt a lot, poor baby. Mywhole bodyhurt because of this twisted fortress, because of his psychotic buddy Gabrielle testing my pain tolerance. All for one reason. All for him. That was why his collection was made up of people of all ages, races, and genders. He wasn’t looking for a specific appearance, didn’t prefer blondes or mature men or young girls. He kept the ones who could handle pain.

And I did not want to think about that, about what it meant for my captain, but I couldn’t shy from it, either. It would remind me why Eldrick deserved to die as slowly as possible.

My teeth gritted, thoughts and memories and pain trying to break me, I twisted the knife into his other thigh. My friends held him up when his knees buckled, a groan of pain finally leaving him.

“What do you want?” he rasped.

“Glad you asked.” I smiled. “I want to know why my captain wakes up sobbing your name. I want to know exactly what you did to him, for the long years he was under your control.”

I tapped his cheek with my bloody knife. “Do you want to know why?”

When he didn’t respond, I grabbed his finger and sliced right to the bone. I couldn’t hack his finger off without a solid surface and a cleaver,1 but I could take his skin off easily enough.

“Why?” he sobbed. “Tell me why.Please!”

I ducked so I could look him dead in the eyes, letting skin flap off his finger, knowing that probably hurt worse than both wounds to his legs. “I want to know what you did to him so I can do it to you. So don’t hold back a single detail. Oh, and if you decide to miss something out, or you think you can stay quiet and tell me nothing? Well, actions speak louder than words, don’t they?”

I grabbed his finger again, angling my dagger to cut away the rest of his skin. I shook it in front of his face, gratified to watch tears spill from his eyes.

“Better start talking, Eldrick.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

WENDY

“Did you have to bring that thing with us?” Laurette asked, wrinkling her nose at the burlap sack I had slung over my shoulder. It was stained and dripping blood but I refused to set it down.

“Of course I did,” I huffed, giving her a surly look because I was exhausted and in pain and needed a warm meal in my belly. “It’s a gift. I can’t leave the gift behind.” Very patiently, I explained, “The whole point of gifting is togivea person something. If you have nothing to give them, the gifting experience is ruined.”

She snorted. “You’re a madhouse.”

That made me smile. She’d said that twice today, and I knew it shouldn’t make me smile but it just sounded so cute. I was a madhouse.

“The captain and his husband are secured, Wendy,” Jaden said, striding down the deck of the beautiful ebony schooner we were borrowing. It came with a small crew and two married captains, but it was the best of the options we had upon fleeingEldrick’s fortress. Ten of the people we liberated from the basement cells1 had come with us.

The others had stayed behind to oversee the glorious bonfire we could spot even from the harbour, orange flames devouring the contents of Eldrick’s nightmare collection, blackening stone, collapsing parts of the structure entirely. The people who stayed behind assured me they’d be safe in the village and that anyone who gave them any issues would find themselves quickly dealt with. Everyone in need of healing had been taken to the doctor’s office in the village. I felt a little bad to be sailing off without even checking they were okay, but I was in a rush.

I was going home.

“Great work, Jaden,” I told the tall, strapping man as he slouched over to Laurette and I, his clothes as bloodstained as mine, his beard and afro drenched in the stuff too.

“The crew are piss scared, you know,” he grunted, his hand pressed to his ribs. I was trying very, very hard to ignore my own injuries.

“Never heard that phrase before.” I forced a grin. “I like it. And fair point.” I looked around at the crew who were preparing to sail with shaking hands, stiff shoulders, and trembling knees. They were a peaceful crew of a ship that never caused trouble. They must have been terrified at the sight of twenty blood-covered prisoners boarding their ship. They probably thought we were murderers and thieves or something.2

“Hi, everyone!” I waved my hands, biting back a curse at the dozen stabs of pain through my body and carefully lowering my arms as sweat pricked my upper lip. “I just wanna clear something up, if you have a minute to listen.”

Panicked looks were exchanged. Flighty glances aimed my way. They kept their distance.

“I’m only borrowing the ship until I can find my own. I’ll be out of your hair in no time, I just need to find my captain again.He has nightmares, you see. He needs me, and he needs this—well, don’t worry about what’s in the bag.” I smiled reassuringly at whoever braved looking my way. “You’re not in any danger, and I promise we won’t hurt you. We’re not evil criminals; we justescapedan evil criminal. So no need to look so afraid. We’re all friends here.”

“You tied up our captain,” a sandy-haired man in his forties muttered, not coming closer but glaring at me from a distance.

“Well, yeah, but I tied him up with his husband. I’m not a monster. And I’ll let them go the second I find the Banshee. Pinky promise.”

“The Banshee?” The man’s skin bleached and he took a step back. “You mean the Harbinger? We don’t want anything to do with the black sails.”

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