Page 22 of Veiled in Stars and Silver
“To discover where Pan took your brothers.”
Chapter 8
Hook
Hook stalked ahead through the jungles of Neverland, anger seething in his belly.
She’d killed a man.
She’d killed his man.
From the looks of it, he was Aaron Devonshire, a newer recruit to Neverland. One who actually had a family to return to. A wife and two kids, he recalled. Aaron had put his trust in Hook.
And now, like so many others, he was dead.
It wasn’t Wendy’s fault. He knew that, and he couldn’t really blame her. Not to mention he’d killed his share of his own men before realizing the full strength of his immunity. And yet, losing another good man stung. His hand balled into a fist, placing the condemnation where it should go. For all of it. For the one who had forced Hook to turn into a desperate monster capable of anything.
Pan.
“I don’t understand.” Wendy pressed after him. “You should have died long ago. Peter said that the Crocodile got you in the end.”
“Sorry to disappoint.” He grit his teeth. Damn her for bringing up an event he’d rather not relive. “It wasn’t my time.”
The surrounding jungle was green and deep. Vines hung suspended from branches and the large leafy bushes reached out to block their progress. Whereas the shores of Neverland were cool and pleasant, the farther a person traveled into the island’s interior, the more the air became damp and humid.
He glanced back at Wendy. She followed, but at a distance, a wariness in her expression, keeping a hand near her knives. Pan must have found where Hook had left them in the dinghy and given them to her. His saber was belted at her waist. Forcing his fingers to unball, he paused. He shouldn’t allow her to walk behind him. Her lack of trust meant that any second, he could find a blade buried inside him.
And then Hook would have failed. Everything.
“What do you mean that the rock around your neck provides protection against Peter’s power?” she demanded, her green eyes narrowing. Every movement she made was the epitome of suspicion.
His hand dipped into his shirt, and he pulled out the silver stone. A black cloud of differing emotions ran through him as he held its coolness in his palm. “Everyone brought to Neverland becomes Pan’s mind slaves, forced to act out his morbid games to fulfill his sense of adventure.” A storm raged in his chest. So many memories. So many years of pain. “He controls this entire island, everyone and everything surrounding it. Even my crew.”
Her emerald eyes narrowed even further. “Except you… and me.”
He nodded. “Pan rarely commands everyone at once,” he said. “Sometimes, when his attention is off somewhere else, others get…free time. They can’t leave Neverland, but they get some sense of autonomy.”
His fingers hardened around the silver stone, and he tucked it back into his shirt. He continued walking, with Wendy at his side. Her teeth sank into her lower lip, her glare constant, and he could tell that she doubted every word that left his mouth.
“So everyone here are his slaves?”
“That is correct, lass.”
A breeze blew, ruffling her clothes, making her shiver. Sand covered her limbs and damp hair, and her fingers brushed a few stray strands aside. Her blouse clung to her breasts, showing off her round, supple skin. The sight was affecting Hook’s concentration. She peeled up the fabric, no doubt to avoid the impropriety, only to notice too late that Hook watched her as she did. Damn, she was beautiful. She clenched her teeth and shot him a murderous glare.
She plowed on ahead and Hook followed. Despite the seriousness of the conversation, a grin split his face.
“A few weeks ago, I received a package with a spellbook left for me at Madame Pearl’s,” he continued. “Among the many spells it contained was an incantation that would summon this stone to keep me safe from Pan’s power. Once I had it, I put it on and Pan hasn’t been able to control me since.”
She didn’t answer. He grew a bit worried at her silence. Like at any moment, she might declare him an evil liar and attack. Her stride was strong, confident. He’d seen her handle those knives strapped to her with deftness. She was deadly, well-trained. There was much to admire about Wendy Darling besides her beauty.
Which was what made her so dangerous.
They stopped in their journey, the overgrowth blocking any sign of a trail.
He faced her. “If you will. I’d like my cutlass, so I might get us through.”
Her hand landed on the hilt, and she stepped back. “Yourcutlass?”
