I attempt a smile. “What do you say we call this a draw? We each have a friend down for the count. Why keep going? I’ve got better things to do, and I bet you have a pretty busy schedule. Right? So let’s call it a day. It’s been nice to meet you and I’d show you to the door, but, you know, I’m attached to an unconscious person.”
His face is impassive. His lips don’t twitch. His eyes don’t blink. He is either frozen or built from stone or perhaps simply unfazed by my attempt to make him go away. Yeah, it’s probably that last one.
I try a different tactic. “Hey, you hungry?”
And finally this gets a reaction. His eyebrows shift upward, slightly but unmistakably, before quickly slamming back down as Captain Hook realizes he’s given himself away.
“There’s pizza bagels in the freezer,” I tell him, and then to sweeten the pot, I add, “a family-sized box of them, not even opened yet.”
Captain Hook blinks. Aha! I’ve got him. He picks up Tinkerbell like she’s a feather pillow and heads toward the kitchen. As I sit there in shock, Captain Hook strolls back in and lifts Smith with as little effort as he used to grab Tinkerbell. Having no other choice, I trail behind him to the kitchen.
After he settles Smith onto a chair next to the one that Tinkerbell’s slumped over in, he microwaves a plate of frozen pizza bagels and sets them on the table between us.
I push the plate toward him. “They’re all yours, big guy.”
He accepts with a nod and starts eating. Less than five minutes later, every last one of them is gone.
“Now you want to leave?” I try.
Captain Hook shakes his head. “Sorry, kid, it’s time to go have a daddy-daughter reunion.”
“So you work for my dad?” I ask, trying to stall. “Like that Rabbit guy?”
“That weasel? Are you kidding?” This comparison seems to bother Captain Hook, for reasons I don’t understand. “I’m not a bad guy.”
“Really? Because my unconscious friend and your stated intent to kidnap me say otherwise.”
He sits there mulling something over, while I sweat and curse myself out for being unable to resist back-talking someone who is in the position to quite literally crush me. Finally, Captain Hook leans forward and says, “If your eye causes you to stumble, pluck it out and throw it from you. It is better for you to enter life with one eye, than to have two eyes and be cast into the fiery hell.”
“Um,” I say, because what kind of answer is that even?
Luckily, Captain Hook fills me in. “That’s the bible passage your father quoted while removing my eye.”
My stomach clenches. My father. Of course. “Oh.”
Captain Hook nods. “Yeah.”
I gulp. “So what did you do to piss him off?”
He pauses, giving me another one of those assessing stares before answering, “I failed to find you.”
“You . . . you . . . what?” I stutter.
“I failed to find you,” Captain Hook calmly repeats. When I continue to gawk at him, he takes pity on me. “You’re not the only special person in the world, you know.”
“I’m not special,” I blurt out automatically.
The Captain impatiently waves this away with one massive hand. “You have special abilities. While your specific powers are rare, there are people all over the world with equally strange abilities.” He pauses significantly.
“Like you?” I guess.
“Yes,” he confirms. “Like me. And like Jules. And many, many others who your father keeps as pets. There are even more who your father is simply content to keep tabs on from a distance. And then there are his obsessions. The ones he knows of, but can’t find. A girl who has stayed forever seventeen by stealing other girls’ bodies and lives. A boy with the power to absorb bullets and magically heal. And . . . you. A girl who can grant wishes through moonshine.”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “That’s not right. This is the house where I was born. He knows where I live. I’ve been here the whole time. Not hiding at all.”
“You haven’t been hiding, because you didn’t need to,” Captain Hook corrects me. “Someone put a very powerful protective spell over you.”
By this point I’m sure the Captain is just as sick of my gape-mouthed confusion as I am. His eyes narrow and he leans across the table. “You can’t be this clueless. You’ve granted too many powerful wishes to be innocent.”
“I am that clueless!” I say. “Really! I