untidy spots of ink all over his sketch. None of it made any sort of sense except for the flourishes Hook had described, which were drawn as neatly and intricately as an architect’s diagram.
“Er, lovely, Cap’n.”
Zane let his eyes roam over the rest of the desk, which was covered with black leather-bound books, scrolls written in what appeared to be Greek, and one particularly hideous tome labeled The Necronomicon.
“I knew you would like it.” Hook grinned smugly and chomped down on the upper cigar of the twin cigarillo holder he sported.
“Yes, Cap’n. Amazing, Cap’n. So the boys were kind of wondering when…ah…all this would be over? It’s a lovely spring day, sir, and we’ve got a cracking breeze. Perfect weather for despoiling a port or two.”
“Yes, yes, I know, I feel it, too, Zane,” Hook said with a sigh, looking nostalgic. “This sort of air reminds me of when I was a young man, skewering a few of the queen’s finest. But you know, work first, play later.”
The pirate was on the one hand relieved by this answer from the intemperate Hook. He had expected to be fired upon, or stabbed—or worse, to sit through one of the screaming, incoherent lectures the captain of the Jolly Roger so enjoyed.
On the other hand, the seemingly random tempers of Hook were actually quite predictable. This behavior was not, and therefore terrifying.
Knowing he was dangerously tweaking the crazy, Zane nevertheless persisted. He had drawn the short straw, after all, and pirates did keep to their code.
“Ahh…and what work would that be, Cap’n?”
“Why, finding Peter Pan, of course!” Hook said, laughing at his crew member’s idiocy. “Once we have him I can put my final plans into action. He must be there to watch the destruction of Never Land, of course. I mean, if we’re short on time I could just…leave him to his and everyone else’s fate. But that would be missing the point, wouldn’t it? It would be revenge, but lacking finesse. Anyway, one way or another, after that we’ll be free to do whatever we want. Maybe we’ll upset the power structure in a small Caribbean island nation. That might be a nice change, eh? A little civil war and revolución for the masses? Roast some pigs, party like it’s 1699?”
“That sounds lovely, Cap’n. It’s just that the crew…well, this…work of capturing Pan seems to be dragging out a bit.…”
He continued quickly, seeing the look on Hook’s face.
“And this whole involvement ye have here with shadows and black magic—it ain’t right, sir. It ain’t right or wholesome. That’s the way of witches and sea sorcerers. We none of us signed up for a sea sorcerer as a captain, sir.”
He swallowed but held steady. That was the truth, plain and simple.
“Ah, well, I suppose I could see your issue with that,” Hook relented, tapping his chin thoughtfully with his hook. “But shadows—what can you do? There is no other way to deal with them other than black magic. They are…literally…black.
“But you’re right about things dragging out a little long. Time’s a ticking, Zane. You can practically hear it. That foul beast of a crocodile is nearly upon me. We don’t have forever, you know. The sooner we get this done the sooner we can move on with our lives. I have to rid the world of Peter Pan and his silly Never Land friends before we can all be free.”
Zane sighed.
The captain of the Jolly Roger was somehow both more reasonable and more insane than ever. There was nothing that could be done besides mutiny—and who was going to try a mutiny against a psychotic, hooked captain who now knew black magic and had captured the power of a shadow?
“What if,” the pirate begged, “what if we went after some other annoying lad—one of the other Lost Boys, maybe? Or someone else entirely? Someone close and easy to grab? Then you can do whatever you want to Never Land and we’ll all be on our way.”
Hook laughed. “Well, what would be the point of that? This is revenge, Alodon. Peter Pan must see what happens to everything he loves and perhaps just die on his own—of a broken heart.”
Zane ground his back teeth in frustration.
He tried a different course.
“You know…some would say your chasing after Pan isn’t actually about revenge, sir.”
“Oh? What else would it be, then?” the captain growled, holding up his hook. Despite his growing lunacy, he kept it regularly sharpened and polished; it glittered even in the low light