of apology before tying her hands behind her back.
“No matter,” she said. “It’s improper, but understandable.”)
She kept her spine straight and chin up, like a figurehead in the prow of the dinghy as they rowed back to the ship that had started all her adventures.
The deck was already quite crowded with prisoners and pirates. Members of the crew mumbled greetings to her with downcast eyes; the Lost Boys regarded her curiously. Hook stomped over, impatient and furious.
“Now hurry up with this foolishness, Miss Darling,” he said, thrusting his face into hers. “You wanted to trade yourself for Peter Pan—which is ridiculous, ask anyone here. You’re no Peter Pan, not half his worth to me. And anyway, I’ve captured you quite handily and made no sorts of promises to let you go, so you haven’t even anything left to trade with. I’ve got you fair and square there, Miss Darling.”
“Not half his worth … ?” Wendy started to object before getting control of herself.
The sun sparkled brightly on the sea, but something glinted in the rigging that didn’t quite belong there. Possibly the head of a fairy peeping out to see how things were progressing.
“WELL!” she said dramatically, making sure everyone’s eyes were on her. “Captain Hook, now that you have Peter Pan, what do you intend to do with him?”
She addressed him like a mother to a child with a song sparrow, or frog, or fox kit, or any other inappropriate pet. Patiently, like she wanted him to work out the ridiculousness of it all himself.
The pirates—and the Lost Boys—looked over at Hook with interest.
“What am I going to do with him?” Hook demanded. “Why, I’m going to exact revenge on him for what he did to me!” He shook his hook for emphasis.
“So…you’re going to cut off his hand.”
Hook’s—and everyone else’s—eyes drifted involuntarily to the unconscious Peter, pale and motionless. Defenseless. Wendy risked a quick look at his shadow: it lay limp in the cage, like the umbra of an unwound pile of string. She made the minutest nod toward it.
Her own shadow silently detached, rippling over the planks of the deck like a centipede. Again she felt the strange inside-out pain, the hollowness that pulsed along her limbs and torso.
A zip of light—Tinker Bell had also used the distraction when everyone was focused on Peter to get to the Lost Boys.
“I’m going to teach him a lesson he’ll never forget!” Hook cried. “That all of Never Land will never forget! I’ll make him watch as his beloved world is destroyed. And then I’ll have him walk the plank—without any flying, or rescuing mermaids, or whatnot. Or maybe I’ll execute him myself. One shot to the head.”
He pulled out his pistol and aimed it menacingly at Wendy.
“You would really kill Peter Pan? Your archnemesis. Your greatest enemy. Your sole reason for living these days, it seems.”
“Yes, well, maybe I’ll find other reasons once he’s gone,” Hook said thoughtfully, looking at his pistol and frowning at a smudge on it. “Perhaps once again I’ll be able to enjoy the simple pleasures in life: raiding a port town, attacking a merchant vessel and stealing its gold, a bit of plunder here, a bit of pillage there.…”
“Now you’re talking!” Zane said encouragingly.
An amber glimmer swooped over the other side of the ship and disappeared among the prisoners. One pirate suddenly turned, having thought he saw something strange out the corner of his eye.
“But…you two have fought each other forever,” Wendy said loudly, stepping forward—and drawing all attention to herself again.
Hook frowned and cocked the hammer on his flintlock with an ominous click.
Wendy shrugged as best she could with her hands tied to indicate no threat was intended. She continued to walk around Peter’s body and Hook, appearing to think about both of them while blocking the pirates’ view of the Lost Boys and any fairy goings-on.
“Hook and Peter, Peter and Hook, always battling it out on the seas or in secret hideaways.…You’re so archetypal, so famous, so ever-present in Never Land that everyone knows your legendary exploits. Both here and in the nurseries of London, where stories of you are told to frighten little children.”
Hook gave a modest dip of his head.
“And that’s the beauty of the two of you. Peter Pan, always young and full of life. Captain Hook, scurrilous sea dog and villain of the tale. Blast you, Peter Pan! I’ll get you next time! You’re equal, you’re opposite. You can’t get rid of one or the other. Not forever.