Shadow (Wendy Darling #3)(49)

The room was silent as Peter wearily rubbed his face. “I knew what I was seeing, and I knew who had done this. Who would create such a monstrosity? Who could catch and kill a whale of such size, only to make a ship of its bones?”

“Hook,” whispered one of the boys in the front, his face shining in awe at Peter.

“Yes. Hook,” Peter whispered. “Hook and his men were building another ship.”

He took a deep breath in, looking disturbed at the memory. “I didn’t see it at the time for what it was. Hook has easily a dozen ships in his employ—what was another one? Still, I was fascinated. I watched the pirates for hours before I saw him. My lifelong enemy. Hook, striding up from somewhere below, his black boots clicking over the white stone, his navy blue jacket adorned with gold and silver medals, his famous sword always clutched tightly in his left hand. From my hiding spot, I could see the perpetual scowl on his worn face, those beady eyes that see malice in everyone and everything, his short-cropped gray hair. He was barking orders at his men, beating some when necessary, throwing one man into the frothy sea when he wasn’t working fast enough. I watched him command the men to work harder, faster—a brutal slave driver. The look of greed and murder on his face was unmistakable, that famous sneer ticking as he walked along, always at that clipped pace, tick-tock, tick-tock. When he was directly underneath me, I pushed myself back up against the wall, my heart beating loudly in my chest. Hook looked around as if he could smell me, his lips curling up against that hideous face. He paused for a moment, blinked, and then kept walking, whistling his signature tune.”

Peter shook his head with a laugh.

“That’s when I, Peter Pan, made a colossal mistake. Lying on my stomach, I pulled myself back to the ledge and looked over, and when I did, I saw Hook’s steely eyes bearing right into mine.”

The room gasped, along with Wendy, whose heart was hammering, despite her attempts to quiet it. His story had captured her.

“The crafty bugger had just pretended to walk away. With a shout, he alerted everyone to my presence, and within seconds there were pirates swarming up the rocks toward where I was. Hook was among them, scaling the rocks, angry spittle flying from his mouth. I leapt out into the air above his head, barely fast enough—he caught hold of my tunic, and he came out into the air with me. I beat down at him with my sword, and he beat up at me with his, neither of us able to get a formidable strike. His weight was dragging me down, and I do believe that in that moment, I was saved by my tunic ripping. Hook tumbled down into the shallow water, and I surged upward. He climbed out of the water, screaming at the remaining pirates below, and they scattered for their weapons.

“From the air, I looked down upon the two ships and knew what I had to do, even though it might cost me my life. I had an opportunity that I would never have again. The ships were contained, not out on the ocean. Destroying the ships would ensure that you, my Lost Boys, would stay safe from harm, at least for a little while. My head spun as I looked down at the cavern. How could I destroy them with pirates swarming over the bows like ants? I certainly couldn’t hack away at them with an axe. I flew as high as I possibly could, my head scraping the top of the cavern. The towering cavern ended in a haphazard stack of rocks and white dust where the pirates had blown their way in. That’s when I spotted it: there was a low flame crackling on the side of one of the rocks, three forgotten fish cooking on top of it, their tails seared black. I careened down toward the flame, the cool sea air washing over my face.

“Hook screamed again, and then pirates were all clamoring down the rocks, each one with a sword drawn and his black teeth bared in my direction. To reach the fire, I had to fly dangerously low, well within the reach of Hook’s henchmen. I took out the first one with a strike to the upper shoulder. He went down screaming onto the white rocks.”

Peter was now pantomiming his performance, leaping and thrusting his sword out at invisible foes.

“The second and the third tried to cut at my chest, but I leapt behind them and slashed the backs of their knees open, ensuring that they would never walk again.”

He chuckled.

“One grabbed my leg, and so I flew upward until he lost his grip. Sadly, I don’t think that man lived much longer after that.”

The room erupted with laughter, and Wendy found herself frowning. Death was hardly an amusing subject. Peter continued, leaping and flipping in the air, his sword flashing so fast that Wendy could barely make out the golden blade.

“I catapulted over their heads and grabbed a log from the flaming fire, waving them back. There were so many of them now, dozens around me, and I knew I had mere seconds to do what I needed to do. I leapt up into the air again. Unfortunately, an arrow pierced my shoulder here . . .” he pointed near the collar of his tunic, “and I was sent hurtling downward. I hit the black ribs of the ship and rolled a few paces. With a scream, I yanked the arrow out of my shoulder and looked around for my flaming log. It had landed right next to me and was flickering weakly. I crawled toward the flame, blood pouring from my shoulder, one hand over another, dragging myself toward it, thinking only of protecting the Lost Boys.”

At this point, no one in the room was breathing, aside from Oxley, who Wendy noticed was looking mildly bored.

“I reached the flaming log and pushed myself up to my feet. Hook stood before me, the fire illuminating the murderous rage in his eyes. His sword hand was trembling, a smile on his face. Then he spoke.”