Page 14 of Stalking Wendy Darling

“Shit,” I breathed shakily, stumbling down the stairs and passing the crew’s quarters. I was shaken and unsettled and honestly, fucking scared, but I knew an opportunity when I saw one. The crew were scattered and busy, focused on the storm tossing the Banshee from side to side. No one would notice someone slipping into the stores.

The storm covered up the usual creaking of wood, drowned out the chatter of voices and rush of the ocean. All I heard was howling, violent wind. Had the tornado moved around us, or was it heading to wreck the ship as I raced down tight, wooden corridors? I only had a vague idea of where the hold was sincethe captain had thwarted my attempts at searching the ship last night.

The captain…

Ugh.

The captain who caught me, pulled me safely back on deck, who saved my life. And there waslingeringin the way he touched me! Real, strange, undeniablelingering.

And then he went psycho, screamed at me to take off my watch, turned into a half-man-half-octopus thing1 and threw my watch into the sea.

I didn’t know what to think about any of it, so I focused on staying upright as the ship pitched sideways, following the arrow-straight corridor until I thought I’d walked far enough to be near the hold.

The first door I opened showed a room clumsy with weapons and stacked to the ceiling with cannon, ammunition, hammers, pry bars, and a dozen different kinds of tools I didn’t even recognise. No guns. That was a shame. No daggers, swords, or cleavers, either. They must have been stored somewhere else.Note to self: find them.

I closed the door and moved along the corridor, pausing only when the ship tilted and threw me into the wall.

“Fuck!”I howled, the pain so explosive that I forgot to lower the pitch of my voice, my vision pure white. I hit the wall on my shoulder right where Hook shot me, and it was so excruciating that I just slumped there against the wall, streaming tears, remembering how to breathe.

“Soon,” I gasped. “You can kill him soon.”

I pulled myself together with effort, shoving the tears off my cheeks with rough fingers, and continued on down the tight hallway, throwing open door after door. I startled, my eyes flying wide when one door opened on a store room, a man bent overa crate as Neville—silent, grunting, scowling Neville—ploughed the absolute life out of him.

When he turned, anger tightening his eyes, I gave him a thumbs up and put on my most laddish persona. “Get in there, son!”

He scowled, flicking a hand at me. His meaning was clear: fuck the fuck off. I smirked and closed the door, continuing on. I liked Neville. I really hoped he, or Wynton, weren’t responsible for kidnapping my sister. It would be a shame to kill them.

“Bingo!” I hissed when I found a cavernous room further down the hall, packed to the rafters with crates, barrels, nets, and assorted junk.

I palmed the knife at my thigh as I closed the door behind myself, using the silvery storm light coming through the tiny windows to navigate my way around the towering supplies. How did anyone ever find anything in here? It would take hours just to locate a gun in this place. But Anton took my pistol off me the day I boarded and Ireallywanted it back. Hook deserved to be shot the way he shot me. An eye for an eye.2

“Joanna?” I called, peering over a tower of fishing nets. I’d pay actual money to see the gruff, scowling pirates of this crew fishing, like men doing an honest day’s work. I snorted at the thought of Rolando grappling with a slippery fish.

“Wendy?” A small voice came from the back of the room, behind a mountain of wooden crates. Louder, stronger, she said, “What the hell?”

I grinned. That sounded more like my sister. I sauntered around the untidy mountain and crossed my arms over my chest, letting a grin curl my mouth as if I wasn’t in deep, scorching pain.

There she was, huddled inside a big wooden cage, her clothes the same she wore the day she was taken, her head sporting asizable lump on her forehead, her hair wild. Alive. Grinning right back.

“You didn’t think I’d just let you be kidnapped did you? That’ssonot my style.”

Chapter Nine

WENDY

Assured that these bastards were feeding my sister, giving her water, and not taking advantage of her—apparently Hook put the fear of god into them if they so much as brushed her hand with their fingertips—I put the next phase of my plan into action.

It was a pain in the ass to fray more ropes with the razor I’d snuck aboard, and even more of a pain to not be seen as I worked. But it was necessary. I needed the Banshee anchored right where it was, not sailing off to another island.

After that, it was surprisingly easy to get into the kitchens.

“Captain sent me down here,” I muttered, a deep frown cutting lines into my face as I stalked into the small galley kitchen, a new hat on my head and the sleeves of my white shirt rolled up. It needed washing, the pits stained a wretched yellow, but I wasn’t the only one on the ship who didn’t smell of sunshine and daisies. Besides, I’d have access to better accommodations very, very soon. I had to beat my smile back into a frown at the thought.

Right then, on with the show.

Step one: take out the chef.

Wait, I already did that.

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