Straight On Till Morning (Disney Twisted Tales) - Liz Braswell Page 0,109

dust.

“But Wendy,” one twin cried, makeup running down his face and pooling around his mask.

“Get up!” the other one, equally askew, urged.

Wendy staggered to her feet, feeling it was a bit much to ask of her right then. Hadn’t she just taken out a pirate? Her body had been through a great deal over the past few days; she was broken like a doll. And where was Tinker Bell? Somehow this all would have seemed easier with her friend nearby.

Aha: she was still on the ship. Peter and Hook were crossing swords amongst the rigging. Peter balanced on the bowsprit, slashing down at the pirate captain. Hook held his hook behind his back and skillfully parried up. Neither one of them seemed in a haste to end the fight. Tinker Bell floated and buzzed around them, making the occasional jab at Hook.

Wendy couldn’t see all the details, of course, but her mind filled in Peter’s grand smile and sparkling eyes. Such a small boy, really, to be fighting so carelessly against such an evil, nasty, experienced, and large pirate (with guns and hooks). Yet that was not the impression the scene gave. He looked like the living embodiment of fearlessness, of seizing whatever the moment brought and assuming it would all work out somehow.

Wendy found that besides admiration she felt more than a touch of envy. He was everything that she, a girl so otherwise full of words and worries and doubts, wanted to be.

“But really!” she scolded herself. “Here I am, still thinking and observing and watching, when really I should be rejoining the fight!”

There. One of the twins was down on the ground, nursing his wrist. The other was backed up against a tree, trying to avoid being run through by Ziggy. Wendy began to push off into the air, but suddenly there were strong arms around her, holding her to the ground instead.

“NO! Unhand me, villain!”

She tried to bring her blade back down behind her, slashing wildly. “I’ll cut you!”

“That was a short trip from Wendy words to prison patois,” a voice spoke dryly in her ear. It was Zane, who despite his slender look had tautly muscled arms and rocklike, immovable shoulders.

“I’ll not serve you again!” she cried. “I’d rather die!”

She wasn’t sure if this was entirely true, but she was enraged at being unable to move, and anyway, she really did hate laundry.

“I’m not capturing ye, I’m saving ye, ye daft molly,” the pirate said, exasperated. He dragged her to a tree, flinging her thoughtlessly upside down, face-first, into the sand in front of it. It was an extremely unbecoming, awkward, and most of all embarrassing position to be in—made worse when she realized he had done it so he could bind her wrists and legs.

“You brute! You villainous cur!”

He worked quickly and methodically, ignoring her words as well as her kicking legs while they were still free.

When he was done, he picked her up like a sack and sat her back down properly at the base of the tree.

“You don’t belong in this fight,” he said. “You have your reasons to hate Hook, but you’re going to get yourself killed.”

“No one ever dies in these battles,” Wendy scoffed. “None of the good guys do.”

Zane’s look turned dark. “Hook is serious this time—he’s completely mad. He means to do away with the Lost Boys for good. And Peter Pan, and everyone else.”

“But…the Lost Boys…they’re children!”

“They’re children who chose to fight pirates,” Zane pointed out. “They’re children who cut the hand off a pirate and left him with one hand, one hook, no sanity, and a death wish for the entire world. Believe you me, I don’t want to be wasting none of me time with this here folderol. I want to be out on the open sea, shooting down cargo vessels and looting them, then maybe take a month or two in some island port with coconut rum and time to think things over in the sun.”

He took her dagger and threw it into the jungle. “The faster this is all over, the faster we can set sail and leave Never Land forever.”

“Yes! Forever! Hook intends on destroying it after he’s done with Peter!”

“Aye. Seems a bit much,” he said with a shrug.

“But do you have any idea how he intends to kill everyone?”

“Not a whit. We’re carrying some extra powder—or were. Maybe that has something to do with it. Who knows.”

“Oh, you’re useless. Why are you even saving me?” Wendy demanded. “I’m a child