Straight On Till Morning (Disney Twisted Tales) - Liz Braswell Page 0,56
human or reptile—and which moved a little when not looked at directly. Also a set of musty black-bound books, some of which had blinking eyeballs set in their covers.
“Splendid, splendid!” Hook said enthusiastically—concealing his disgust. “How much for the lot?”
“If you were a good fellow, I’d say free—the chaos and pain released by your attempting to use them would certainly make it worthwhile,” the witch said with a smile that wasn’t entirely unkind. “But since you’re one of us, I have to charge. Let me see.…”
She waddled back and forth in front of her fire, a giddy, almost childlike look on her face as she tapped her tooth in thought.
Hook fidgeted.
Smee whispered, “You don’t think she’ll make us get her more babies, do you, Cap’n?”
“Even I have my limits,” Hook whispered back.
The witch whirled around, and both men jumped like boys caught by a teacher.
“All the rum on your ship!” she declared happily. “Not the grog. The real, pure stuff. Also any cones of sugar. And a silk dressing gown.”
“Absolutely,” Hook said in relief. “Whatever you like. It is yours.”
Moreia rubbed her hands together in excitement. Strange oils came off them but disappeared into dust and smoke before hitting the floor. Smee began to inch toward the exit.
“Oooh, I haven’t had a real drink in years. And there’s spirits like it, too.”
“And you look like a woman who deserves a nice gown to eat your, er, breakfast in,” Hook said politely.
The witch cackled. “Oh, the dressing gown is for a bit of a disguise.…There’s a handsome young merman I rather fancy. And who, I might add, could stand to be taught a lesson or two.”
“Well, I’ll leave you to your projects,” Hook said hastily, standing up.
The witch rolled her eyes and spat. “Least I’m honest about my issues. Chasing Pan, indeed. Put your anger at lost youth into violence, I say. Go burn some villages or raid one of the other islands. Become a despot. Keep yourself busy.”
“I’ll just have what you ordered sent up here by a couple of my men. With some extra goodies for you, of course,” Hook said, pushing the door open with his rump and bowing out.
“Oh, you’re too kind. I’ll have one of my own ‘men’ bring you the books once I get what I want. I don’t suppose I need to tell you there is no way your ship is leaving these waters until you hold up your end of the bargain?”
“And I don’t need to tell you that my cannons are aimed at your lovely house on the off chance you don’t hold up yours, of course.”
“Always a pleasure, Hook.” The witch grinned and blew him a kiss.
“For me as well.” The captain tipped his hat before setting it on his head and closing the door behind him.
He and Smee stood for a moment in the dismal half-light of the weird island and its foul vapors, breathing deeply in relief.
“That weren’t pleasant, if you don’t mind me saying so, Cap’n,” Smee eventually said.
“No…but I wonder,” Hook said, thoughtful. “Maybe what we feel now…that’s how people feel when they deal with pirates. I mean, we’re frightening, too, aren’t we? Killing and looting and looking generally fearsome…Isn’t that why the heroes always come after us?”
“Never thought about it that way before, Cap’n,” Smee admitted, scratching under his hat. “I guess that’s why you’re the cap’n, Cap’n! Always thinking the deep thoughts and whatnot.”
“True,” Hook said, nodding. “Too true, Mr. Smee. ’Tis a burden of leadership. You know, I will almost miss her when she’s gone, with the rest of Never Land. Poor old witch. Now let’s back to the ship. I want to get her the rum and be out of here as soon as we can. And I think it’s high time for a bath and a shave.…I always feel unclean after dealing with her.”
“That’s the thing! One bath and shave coming right up, Cap’n, sir!” Mr. Smee said happily.
And the two brightly colored pirates descended the steep spiral path, the only red and blue and gold things for miles around. Hook’s feather bobbed jauntily in the air. He even smiled despite the foul breeze.
Soon he would have the shadow showing the way.…Peter Pan was as good as gone, along with the rest of Never Land.
Tinker Bell’s glow lit the dark understory of the jungle with a sprightly—if feeble—twinkling. Whatever triumph Wendy had felt upon surviving the mermaids soon dissipated into the dark, moist, enveloping atmosphere.