Page 16 of Stalking Wendy Darling

“Ooh, scary,” I taunted when he bared his teeth—dull, ordinary teeth, nothing to be afraid of. “No tentacles this time?”

His eyes seemed to darken further, sucking in all light. The deck was unsettlingly quiet around us, no sound for miles except the sea kissing the hull. “You think you can kill me, Wendell?” His laugh this time was low, quiet, and laced with a subtle threat like poison in wine. “You wouldn’t be the first to die in pursuit of my death.”

I raised an eyebrow when he pulled himself off his own sword, not blinking at the blood or what must have been sharp, demanding pain. “You wouldn’t be the first I’ve killed,” I replied sweetly.

I didn’t understand the little flare in his eyes before they narrowed on me. It wasn’t anger. He almost looked interested, but that would be madness.

I let my other hand fall to my side, discreetly inching it towards the dagger I’d stashed there earlier. “And it’s Wendy. You should know the name of the woman who kills you.”

Hook pinned his full attention on me, his head tilting to the side, the crimson feather on his jaunty hat fluttering in the wind. My heartbeat kicked up. This wasn’t going to be an easy kill. I couldn’t keep the smile off my face.

Hook was bigger up close, still as lithe and wiry as a swimmer, but taller, and there was muscle corded around his arms and chest that I didn’t expect. He’d hidden much underthat brown coat. I could tell he was used to fighting in the way he held himself, and it wasn’t a civilised type of fighting. It was the kind I’d learned—dirty and gritty and ruthless.

“You really think you can kill me?” he asked, lilting, something in his tone I couldn’t parse.

I loved to chat with the best of them, but I had killing to do, so instead of replying I whipped my stolen rapier around as a shiny distraction and drove forward with my dagger. The movement made pain erupt down my shoulder, driving arrows of agony into my chest, but I gritted my teeth and added weight to the blow.

Hook stepped aside far too quickly. I spun, barely keeping my balance, my teeth gnashing.

“Cute attempt,” he remarked, a glimmer in his black eyes. “But it’ll take far more than that to even wound me. And here I thought you weren’t bluffing about killing me,” he scoffed.

“I killed all your crew, didn’t I?” I snapped, and witnessed the first chink in his armour. He looked beyond me, a slight tightening around his eyes. I read it as anger, maybe even rage, but I should have taken it as a warning because he leapt across the slick wooden deck so fast I couldn’t track the motion. He moved like smoke, sifting through the air so fast he was something other than human.

Adrenaline hit my system, making everything sharper and shakier at once. I had no choice but to surrender the sword when his hand wrapped around the hilt, cool skin brushing mine and leaving an inexplicable trail of fire.

“Witch,” he spat, nostrils flaring as he tore the rapier from me and stared at me like I’d bewitched him.

“Octopus,” I shot back, too unsettled by that fire to come up with a better retort. I leapt aside when he came at me, unnervingly fast, his body a coiled whip of tension and wrath,nothing at all human in that movement. “What the hellareyou?”

He was in my personal space in a millisecond, only an instinctual movement sparing me from being skewered on his blade. “Better,” he said through gritted teeth, his chest rising and falling quickly.

I snorted. “Better than me? Dream on, Hooky.”

I swore darkness spilled from his eyes. The deck went still. Even the ocean paused its tumultuous to-ing and fro-ing. “Do not. Call me. Hooky.”

“Sure thing, Hooky,” I agreed, thrusting my hand past his flared coat and raking a slice across his ribs with the tip of my dagger. The fabric of his clothes parted easily. Damn, this was a nice knife. I thought the guy who sold it to me had been lying, but maybe it really was from one of King John’s tittering courtiers. “I’ll make a mental note to never call you Hooky, Hooky.”

His stare flattened, nostrils flaring like a furious bull, and I was so amused by that comparison that I didn’t see his rapier coming down on my side before the tip drove into my thigh.

“Alright, Fucky—yes, I changed your name—I’ll allow that one, since I got you in the shoulder.”

“I already got you in the shoulder,” he pointed out, tearing the blade free. “I’m winning.”

“Oh, fuck you,” I snarled, darting out of range and pretending the ship didn’t momentarily black out. “You arenotwinning. I took out all your crew.Iam winning.”

“This isn’t about the crew. This is about you and me.” He used the bloody rapier to gesture between us. “You’re bleeding from more spots than me. I’m winning.”

A red haze shuttered over my eyes and I straightened, blood whooshing between my ears. I was going to kill him, and I’d make it slow.

Hook never took his eyes off me, matching me step for step as I darted across the ship, pilfering a sword from Neville’s scabbard. “I knew something was wrong with you when you killed Barrington,” he told me, advancing with tight, lethal steps. “I should have thrown you overboard that night.”

“Oh, definitely,” I agreed, adjusting my stance so I was ready to meet him when—holy fucking shit, he moved too fast! I barely got the blade up in time to catch his rapier as it drove down at my chest. Sweat rolled off the tip of my nose, my arm shaking as the swords scraped and locked, thescreeeeechgod-awful. “That sets my teeth on edge,” I said with a wince.

“Likewise,” he ground out, pushing harder, trying to rip the sword from my hand. Wind blasted my hair into my face, blinding me for a split second, and Hook used it to snatch thedaggerfrom my hand.

“Hey!” I complained, then grunted, falling back as heat lanced my side.

“Like I said,” he taunted, throwing my knife to the deck, as if to prove a point. “I’m better. I’m winning.”

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