Page 27 of Veiled in Stars and Silver
A branch snapped somewhere off in the jungle. He paused, jerking me close. If our lives weren’t at stake, I might have shoved him away or stabbed him, but I watched the trees surrounding us, searching its depths. A wolf howled off in the distance.
“I have an idea where we can hide,” Hook whispered. “Follow me.”
He led me a little further into the woods until we came to a tree. Hook dropped my hand and dug around the roots. He grunted in satisfaction as he uncovered a wooden door with a handle. Reaching down, he jerked it up and signaled for me to go first.
I approached the open hatch and peered into darkness. “What is it?”
“A rum cache. There’s plenty of them on the island. Not every pirate knows of them all. Hopefully, Pan won’t think of checking them. Let alone this one.” Again, he motioned to the hidden cellar. “After you, lass.”
I crawled into the hole. Hook dropped in right after me, pulling the door shut, closing us into utter blackness. But then I heard him strike a match, and a light sparked inside a lantern on the floor. Usinghis hook, he picked it up and held it aloft. “It's not much, but it will have to do.”
Crates stacked close to the rooted ceiling filled the space. Old scratchy, dirt-laced blankets covered the top of them. I stepped up to a stack, trying to make out the faded painted writing on the side. Everything that had barely happened spiraled through my mind.
I gripped my knife in my hand, breathing hard. Now that we were relatively safe, my emotions rose to the surface. I didn’t believe Hook. He was the enemy; I didn’t care. This was all a trick. The stone had bewitched Tiger Lily. It was the only explanation. If not, everything I knew about Neverland, about Peter, and Hook was false.
The lantern dangled from the curved metal that made up his left hand. He watched me, unmoving. “Wendy?”
I spun and rammed the knife into one of the wooden crates over and over.
“Hey, hey, hey! Destroy your own property, love, not mine.”
The knife tore from the box, and I growled, turning on Hook. Setting down the lantern, he opened a crate near him and pulled out a rounded bell-shaped bottle. “Rum?”
“You want to get me drunk,” I snarled.
He leaned on the crate. “Yes, because if they find us, I definitely want you tipsy to make it all the harder to escape our pursuers. When did you eat last? It may be a while until we acquire something to sate our hunger. A little rum in your belly might help.”
As if in response to his words, my stomach growled loudly.
I glared at the smirk on his face. He shook the bottle at me. I sighed and marched over, taking the ginger-colored container from him. The cork was wedged deep inside, but using my knife, I managed to pop it.
I took a sip. It had a sweet taste.
I took another sip and sank to the dirt-covered ground, leaning against a stack of crates, bottle clutched between my hands.
“I hate this place.”
“Aye. As do I.”
I glanced at him curiously. “You had a life before Neverland?”
“I was a tailor. A poor tailor in a poor town.” He took another drink before setting it aside. With the help of his hook, he ripped the sleeve from his right arm. “I even had a family. A wife and a wee baby. A daughter.”
“The names tattooed on your chest.”
He glanced at me, surprised, as he wrapped the now torn fabric around his wound, using his mouth to tie it off. “Yes. They were everything to me. We all had lives like that. Me, Smee, Lillian. Every one of us.” He reached for his drink and took a lengthy swig. “That was long ago. Too much time has passed. They are gone now—both my wife and my daughter. Dead.”
Deep emotion laced his voice when he spoke, his expression distant. Then his eyes hardened. He took another drink, looked at the bottle with disgust, and shoved it into the crate.
I stared at my bottle of ginger-colored rum. “When I was younger, I wanted to come back. I wanted Peter to come for me so we could go on more adventures. And then, when I lost my brothers,I needed to get to them.” My eyes rose to Hook’s. “And you. You were the enemy. The one person I could never trust. You were evil incarnate. For years, all I thought about was killing you.”
His expression turned grim. “Pan designed it to be that way. There was no way for you to know.” Rising, he grabbed a blanket covering the crates and pulled it down. “You should get some rest. I’ll keep a lookout.”
Pan designed it. Did I believe that? That Peter was capable of everything Hook claimed? That he was the real mastermind. That he’d kidnapped my brothers? But Peter never cared about John or Michael. Indeed, when they first visited Neverland, he often didn’t even remember who they were. It made no sense.
I took the blanket from him. “I don’t trust you.”
“Damn it, Wendy. After what you confessed,Ishould be wary ofyou.”
