neverland_is_forever@yahoo.com


Chapter Two: Puerto Bello, Part II

The Indian Village, Neverland.

The sky had turned a forbidding gray color, and the clouds had gathered together in a thick blanket, appearing out of nowhere to block the sunlight. An ominous chill hung in the air, the creeping, hushed stillness that overcomes midday laughter in the bloodless usurping of a summer day. It was the calm before the storm.

Slightly, Curly and Nibs wandered between the teepees, inconspicuously observing the activities within while searching for a certain shaman that could answer their burning questions.

"I told you he wouldn't be here today," the towheaded leader grumbled. "He's gone to the River of Night to commune with the spirit world at the Sacred Temple!"

"For the last time, Nibs," Slightly answered, extremely annoyed, "I never said you had to come."

"Will you two just shut up before we disturb the entire settlement?" Curly hissed. "It won't take that long to finish looking, and if we don't find him, what's bad about paying a visit to Hard-to-Hit and Tiger Lily?"

Nibs sighed. "Fine, fine. Just keep your eyes peeled, okay? I don't want to be here all afternoon."

Curly peered into one of the sizeable tents at the end of the row. "Psst! Hey guys! Over here!" Curious, the others wandered over at his frantic waving.

Even though Curly closed the tent flap behind them, an eerie greenish light somehow permeated the room. "Looks like the chief did a little redecorating," Slightly commented.

Rows and rows of herbs, candles, vials and tinted glass bottles lined the walls. Bizarre, fantastic liquids swirled in every crevice, creating an opalescent shimmering effect, like pearls drifting beneath the waves. Piles of strange objects and stones lay in the corners; yellowed books stacked high with ancient knowledge held a treasure trove of binding spells, chants and incantations. The shaman kept a magician's cornucopia.

"I feel like we've just found the mermaids' secret caverns," Nibs whispered in hushed tones. The others nodded in agreement, rubbing their arms.

"It looks as though you are in need of advice of some great importance," boomed a voice from behind them.

The boys spun around and practically ran into the tall figure filling the entrance. "Great Big Little Panther!" Slightly cried. "Uh, I mean, that is… we have a slight problem on our hands that we thought needed your attention. You see, Wendy's gone forever, so she isn't going to be a big help, and Tink went with Peter to the future, so we all know they're going to miss supper. Not that most of it doesn't end up on the walls anyway, but-"

"Silence," the shaman waved his hand, and the boys crept closer together. "I know why you have come." He walked past them towards the center of the giant tent and indicated towards log benches surrounding the fire. "Sit." They scrambled.

"I have seen many portents," he continued, "of times to come. Great hardships lie ahead, and the outcomes of events are uncertain." The Chieftain sprinkled dust from one of his pouches on the fire. "The spirits are restless once more, hungry to escape the bonds of the underworld that lies next to ours."

As the boys watched with fear and anticipation, Great Big Little Panther lifted his hands, and a column of purple smoke shot straight up from the fire. It curled outwards, wrapping itself around the Lost Boys. "The darkness is never really dead. It is always there, lying dormant, waiting for the day when its land can merge with our own."

As they watched in horror, the mists became faces, horrible twisted shapes that hissed and screamed, crying for vengeance and bloodshed. A low keening noise, almost beyond the realm of hearing, snaked around the room, demonic and horrible to the ears. A shudder slid down Curly's spine, and the others had to fight the urge to scream.

"The Heart of Neverland is the secret of its immortality. It has the power to keep the forces of nature in balance, and preserve the boundaries between good and evil, the living and the dead, the light and the darkness." A glow materialized in the middle of the room, a warm aura that extended and grew, and the monsters slowly faded away. "Once we have lived in Neverland long enough, we become a part of its life force," the shaman explained.

Familiar faces drifted in and out of the mists. Happy memories of the Lost Boys listening to Wendy's stories, scenes of the Jolly Roger and Pan's fights with Hook, volleyball with the mermaids. Nibs gazed on the scenes, transfixed. He reached out to grasp one, then remembered that they were only air. "Peter allowed Wendy and her brothers to stay too long; they grew into our tree of life. When they left, they took a significant amount of that life force with them. That is why everyone is three years older than before. One year for each soul gone."

Slightly sighed. "I don't mind looking older, as long as Pan does as well. For most of us, it hasn't made a huge difference."

"I would have advised Peter and Tink, if I had seen them sooner," Great Big Little Panther intoned sternly, "not to bring anyone else back from the other world. If he does, allowing them to leave could cost us more than mere time."

"You mean… whoever returns with Peter will have to remain here- forever?" Curly gulped.

The Chieftain sighed. "I do not know. But I have already foreseen the arrival of many foreigners in the near future." He spread his palms to the ceiling, and all at once, the entire room blazed with symbols, writing in the language of the Indians, scattered across the walls and floor, glowing in a plethora of colors and shapes. "What Fate has written, the stars must follow in their course. And so it will continue, the exchanging of lives, for many moons to come."

"Who do you see, Panther?" Curly asked, his eyes wide.

He lifted his face. "Many newcomers from the past, one with a dark mind and darker purpose still. And a stranger from a faraway land I have never seen…" He shook his head. "This one is different. Not harmful, but full of understanding. Yet there is much frustration and anguish… it is unclear how this ends. I worry."

"I don't know much about magic," Nibs said slowly, tracing one of the patterns on the ground with his fingertips. But Shaman," he inquired, meeting Panther's gaze with troubled eyes, "what does it all mean? Are you casting spells against someone?"

The boys held their breath. Panther rarely used magic to interfere in others' actions. In fact, they couldn't remember him using sand incantations since Hook had stolen them and almost destroyed Neverland.

"Indeed not," he replied. "They are spells of protection, to ward off evil. Your friends are in grave danger."

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Puerto Bello.

"Get up! Move! We haven't got all night!" Jezebel shoved the sleeping girl awake.

"Wha-?" Eve mumbled, raising her head and blinking. Where's Peter?

"Yes, that's right," Jezebel snapped. "You're back in the real world now, and in the real world, we earn our rent."

"Where's Peter?" Eve demanded groggily. "I know he can pay whatever it costs to stay here."

"You mean your cousin? He lied to you, darling. He didn't have any money. He's working off a night's rent somewhere else, because we've only the single bed in the back left."

"But-" Eve smelled foul play. Peter and Tink wouldn't really leave me all alone here without telling me… would they? Her stomach was starting to turn. Whether it was from hunger or panic, she didn't know.

"What do I have to do?" she asked warily, crossing her arms.

"First of all," Jezebel replied, giving her the once-over, "You'll need to change your clothes." She took Eve's hand and pulled her into a back room.

"Shut the door." The barmaid dug into a nearby chest and threw various sets of clothing on the bed as Eve stared blankly. Finally, having found a piece that was satisfying to her taste, she tossed a bunch of red and white cloth at Eve and closed the lid.

Eve stood there in disbelief. "You want me to wear this?" She let the dress fall out into shape.

"Color is good in this tavern," Jezebel shrugged. "People know you work here. Well? What are you waiting for?"

Sighing, Eve changed into the clothes, sliding on the boots the waitress handed her and standing up. Jezebel immediately hopped onto a nearby table and began to change her hair before she could protest.

"What if Peter returns and doesn't find me because he's looking for my old outfit?"

Jezebel smirked. "I doubt it. Crimson tends to stand out. Come on, then, what was it? Eve." She jumped down. You're not eating until you work, and it's going to be a long, busy night."

Four hours later, Eve was starving and dizzy from the heat of the room. The colors were too bright, the bar too crowded. She could barely keep her head up to serve drinks for her customers.

"Here's your ale, sir," she sighed quietly, switching back to English after using her small knowledge of French in order to set a glass down for a young sailor sitting at the end of the bar.

"Hey there, wait just a minute, lass," he said, grabbing her arm. "I've been wanting to talk to you all night."

Eve rolled her eyes. Another drunken Dutchmen. Just what I need. "I'm busy, sir. I have to work." But when she pulled away again, he yanked back, swinging her around the corner of the countertop. "What's your name, tart?" he grinned, and a bunch of his comrades burst out laughing.

"Get your hands off me!" she hissed, leaping away. "Jezebel! Jezebel!" But the fair-haired girl was at the other end of the bar.

"Hey Jezzie!" the man yelled lazily, and to her amazement, he actually got the occupied barmaid's attention. "How much for this one?"

Jezebel laughed. "Eve? Sorry, Maryn, that'll cost ya."

"Oh?" He slid a bag of coins across the counter at her as Eve watched incredulously, mouth hanging open. Her countenance wavered between shock, disgust, and blind rage.

Counting the money, Jezebel said, "It's late and we're full. Tomorrow. Will you still be in port?"

Maryn didn't look happy, but he nodded. "I always come here, Jezzie," he smirked, looking Eve up and down. "I just have to remember why."

Eve marched up to Jezebel and dragged her out of earshot. "What are you doing?" she gasped.

"I'm letting you have a job," Jezebel replied, into even looking up from her purse. "What does it look like I'm doing?"

Suddenly, Eve felt sick. "This is a brothel. The restaurant is only a front."

"Of course. What did you expect? That I can make a living under the innkeeper from Hell as a waitress?" She tucked the money into a band under her skirt.

"You can't force me to do this! I'm leaving," Eve spat. Jezebel took two steps and blocked her way.

"And just where exactly do you think you'll go?" she hissed into Eve's ear. "You don't even know where your cousin is. I do. With one word, I can have you both hanged as spies." Her malicious tone didn't escape Eve's hearing. "They don't take kindly to the English around here."

The new barmaid choked. The nausea in her stomach was rising again, and she struggled to breathe as the tears started to fall. Whatever happens, I'll find a way out of this. I'll find Peter tomorrow. "Fine."

"Eat something. You look like death." Jezebel left her there, and Eve slumped down on a stool, a sob threatening to escape her throat. I want to go home. She covered her mouth, tasting bile. The room was spinning. I don't even know where home is.

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Dawn.

Hook glanced at the hills, watching the explosion of the outpost with a satisfied grin. "That's our signal, men! They're invading the town. Signal the other ship and move out!"

In seconds, the deck was alive with shouting, and both the crews of the Jolly Roger and the Oxford were racing forward with the surprise attack. They would have to act quickly to avoid the sentries waking both of the strongholds; several lights had already gone on by the southern ridge.

"Let's give the fort over there a warm pirate welcome, shall we, Mr. Jukes?" Hook pointed at the nearest cliff. "Fire when ready."

"Aye, aye, Cap'n." Billy lit the fuse and sent a roaring message to the dozing guards above.

Within minutes, the ships had devoured the main buttresses of the forts protecting the harbor, and they were sailing into Puerto Bello's main cove. Mullins and Cookson frantically mixed an oil and pitch into a liquid in a canister as Jukes motioned for them to hurry. "We're in position!" he screamed. "What's taking so long?"

"Ready aaz veel ever bee," Cookson responded, loading the cannon. "Zees Greek Fire vill vork? I never even heard uhv eet, and I vrom dere!"

Jukes laughed. "Trust me, it'll work." He put a match in the jar and sent the mixture sailing over the ships in the harbor, spraying them with burning patches of fuel. Mere moments passed before all of the merchant ships were in flames. There was no escape for the people of the town.

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The Menagerie.

Eve groaned. She had no idea what time it was, but it had to be too early to wake up. Glancing at the remains of her dinner of bread and undercooked chicken, she made a sound of disgust and pulled herself out of the straw bed. She didn't even want to think about how dirty it probably was, or how much everyone smelled.

Out of nowhere, a flying object smashed into the lone window of the room, imploding the panes and sending shards of glass flying everywhere. The torch rolled over to the door and came to a stop, inches from Jezebel's face.

She opened her eyes, grumbling. "Eve, this had better be goo-" She took one look at the torch that was burning into the wooden framework, and let out a scream that could have woke the dead.

"Water! Get water!" She dashed out of the room while Eve smothered the torch with a blanket. Jezebel returned, nearly tripping over her in the process. Luckily, the fire hadn't spread quickly, and they extinguished the door with relative ease.

"What in blazes…" Jezebel wandered over to the window frame, and Eve scrunched up behind her to see where it had come from.

"Blazes is right," Eve whispered.

It was a living nightmare. Under the pink rays of sunlight, a massacre unfolding right in front of them. Crowds of brigands ran through the streets, shooting randomly at any passersby unfortunate to be in range. Half of the block was ablaze, and groups of men with torches were moving on to other homes and shops, setting everything on fire. Pirates carried chests, armchairs, silverware, and even paintings into the street, piling up their takings like goods at an auction. Screams of terror cut through the air.

Amidst the looting, pillaging and plundering, the citizens of Puerto Bello cowered in street corners, carrying possessions they had grabbed in haste, hoping to escape the violence. Most did not. Men on horseback rounded them up and marched them away. Occasionally, one could see buccaneers enter homes and carrying out screaming women and children to join the twisted parade of hostages. In a few instances, they dragged the women back inside.

"Dear God," Jezebel murmured, trembling. "Raiders."

"Get away from the window!" Eve hissed, tugging at her arm. "Did the others find out already?"

As if in answer to her question, a group of shrieking women pounded down the stairs, pushing and shoving each other in their desperation to exit onto the streets.

"Well, that's one way to do it." Eve shrugged her shoulders.

Jezebel thought hard. At last she moved again and reached under the support beams of her bed, grasping the money strapped there. "We'll never make it out of the town alive. They're streaming in from the western road. Follow me. I have another idea."

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Billy Jukes raced along the docks, throwing himself into the melee with the rest of the pirates. He had lost sight of Hook, but it didn't matter. The city was theirs for the taking.

"Matey! Over here!" Mullins shouted. The gunner ran up to his shipmate, who was struggling with the clasp to a small chest. "Here, let me try," Jukes offered, attempting to ignore the cries of doom and destruction echoing around him.

"Locks. I hate these things," Mullins grunted. He dropped the box, pulled out a pistol, and shot the lid open on the first try.

"Or we could do it that way," Billy replied.

"Half's yours," Mullins grunted, pulling out a handful of coins. "I'm off to the residential homes." He paused, dreaming with glee. "Jewelry is a valuable thing."

Jukes bent down in the street, gathering up the remaining money in a satchel. When he stood up, Mullins was nowhere in sight.

Damn, he sighed. It's always better to sack in numbers. Jukes reasoned with his conscience. I haven't killed in years. Do I really want to prove my inexperience and humiliate myself in front of my comrades? They're probably running citizens through right now.

Just then, a band of captives rounded the corner, heading towards the eastern fortress. Starkey was walking alongside them, thoroughly engaged in conversation with several uncomfortable-looking women. "Oh, no, ladies," he was saying. "Not a rogue, no! I'm a gentleman, born in Winchester. Did I tell you of my unsurpassed skills in chess?"

Billy coughed, choking on his laughter. Then again, maybe not.

He decided to head down the street. A few blocks away, everything was quiet. Save for the houses burning, he didn't hear any signs of life, and wondered if the stores had already been hit.

Voices, barely audible. Two people speaking in agitated tones, arguing about something. A trapdoor? He spun around, listening. Then he heard them again. Was that Mullins and Mason? They were coming from the building directly ahead of him. He strode up and swung open the door.

The voices stopped abruptly. It was a tavern, and by the looks of it, untouched. Jukes noted the bottles of liquor lining the wall. Definitely untouched.

He could hear breathing in the room. Faintly, but it was there. And the only possible place to hide was right next to him- the bar.

"All right, get up," he ordered, drawing his sword. "I know you're in there."

Nothing.

Jukes rolled his eyes and took a few steps forward. "Mullins, if that's you pulling this trash, I swear by the Seven Seas, I'll-"

A lone figure raised its head above the counter, then slowly stood up, trembling.

He stared in astonishment. It wasn't Mullins. It was a girl, most likely several years younger than he was, standing equal to him in height. She had dark eyes and unnaturally pale skin, her blackish brown hair tied up in a sash to match her red and cream dress. Her mouth hung open a little, as if she were trying to speak but could not. The girl's eyes darted nervously about before coming to rest on him.

So, the raiding parties hadn't captured everyone. "There were two of you," he managed to say.

A second girl emerged from behind the counter. This one was the same age, a blond, also dress in dazzling colors. She had the defiant look of a kid in a bakery with sugar on her hands- unrepentant and regretful only that someone had caught her.

Great, Billy thought inwardly. What now? He couldn't just let them get away, but he hadn't the slightest notion where Morgan was taking the captives. Curse you, Mullins, can't you ever show up when I need you? "Move towards the wall."

"That won't be necessary." A cool, controlled voice spoke from the doorway. "I'll take it from here."

Startled, Jukes spun around, curious as to who would bother to claim his menial task.

This man was a buccaneer, and one of some rank, possibly a captain of a lesser ship sailing with the Oxford. He wore clothes suited for the foppish elite-his hat, shoes coat and bloomers were made of pale blue embroidered silk and accented the linen shirt and auburn wig that completed the outfit.

His power, however, was his persona itself. From the moment he appeared, he controlled the floor, wearing a satisfied beginning of a smile that lingered on his lips.

"Who are you?" Jukes asked hesitantly. "I have the situation under control." The gunner's sword never wavered.

"Second in command to Sir Henry Morgan. My name is none of your business," he snapped, his eyes shifting from the pirate to the captives. "Who are they?"

"Townspeople, I suppose," Jukes replied. "I found them here, trying to hide." The man prowled the length the bar, his lithe, measured movements like the languid pacing of a tiger stalking its prey. His steps came to a rest directly in front of the two women. "Really," came the indifferent reply. He turned to Jezebel. "Et qu'est-ce pourquoi vous n'êtes pas déjà volées?"

Eve noticed that her manager remained abnormally unperturbed. Either she isn't smart enough to realize the danger we're in, or she's remarkably hard to impress. "Nous sommes attentées pour enfuir, je vous assures," Jezebel answered with flawless French.

Seemingly satisfied, he shifted his attention to Eve. "Et vous?"

Eve faltered. She glanced over to Jezebel, who shook her head once, sharply. "Je ne sais pas, monsieur."

He searched her face, looking to expose a lie. Then her eyes met his, and Eve felt her blood run cold.

In them, there was nothing and everything all at once. His irises were an endless gray, a sea of storms, full of contempt and malice. He held a sense of apathy to the plight of humankind, a desire for cruelty, and a lust beyond quenching in the mortal world. She saw that they were cold, empty, and heartless. But the inferno raged on beneath his calm, cool exterior. He was a coiled spring, waiting to explode.

At last, he leaned on the counter. "So you are not a spy, then?" he asked casually.

"Of course not," she burst out hotly. "I'm not even-"

He blinked. Jukes drew in his breath sharply. Eve suddenly realized what she had done and slapped her hand over her mouth, cringing and squeezing her eyes shut.

The buccaneer smiled and nodded once, his assumptions having proved true. He backed up from the counter, unsheathing his rapier and twisting towards Billy in one swift movement. "The first is a native here. The second…" at this, he raised the end of the blade and leveled it with Eve, "is not."

Eve mentally hit herself. Stupid, stupid, stupid!

"Where are you from?" he demanded, his voice edged with steel. "All English are either dead, in prison, or are seizing this town. Speak."

"I'm not from England. I'm an American," she answered unsteadily, eyeing the sharp point near her throat.

He smirked. "Do you mean… a colonist?" His voice had subsided into a soft, dangerous tone. "There is no such nationality. All subjects in the colonies are under royal charter from his Majesty, Charles the First." He sneered and fingered the cloth of her sleeve. "And roundheads over there, I imagine, would be hard pressed to wear such interesting colors as these."

"I-- I am not a Puritan," Eve stumbled, desperately thinking of the right thing to say.

He lifted the blade and leaned closer. "Then what are you?"

She looked down. "I don't know."

"She doesn't know." His sarcastic imitation bounced off the walls. "Ah, yes, of course! Do you know, mademoiselle, what that makes you? An operative against the crown, a heretic, a runaway slave or the fleeing wife of a nobleman."

"I am not any of those things!" Eve protested, shouting.

The captain grabbed her arm, shaking her violently. "Then tell me who you are! How did you come to be here in a Spanish settlement with poor language skills, no apparent means and no help whatsoever?!?"

"Peter Pan," she whispered.

Jukes heart nearly leaped out of his throat. His mind raced. Peter Pan? That's impossible! It was too fantastic, too unbelievable to be true. But if it was…

"Say that again," the nobleman commanded, bringing the rapier to rest on the edge of her neck. He noticed Jezebel edging away. "Boy!" he ordered Jukes. "Train your musket on that one. If she moves, shoot her."

The stripes of a wildcat were beautiful. Comprehend their meaning, and it was already far too late. Eve knew she was going to die either way. On most accounts, she was already dead. Any death had to be better than the fate in store for her after the raid. "Kill me," she ordered defiantly.

He hesitated, surprised. "You heard me!" she shouted, pressing her skin against the sword. "I don't have a past or a future, so I cannot possibly answer your questions or tell you what you want to know. You wouldn't believe me. All I can get you is a little money. So just kill me. Right now."

No one moved. For a few moments, she simply met his gaze, daring him to act, sick of the confusion and the lingering sadness she did not understand. I am weary of games.

Eve closed her eyes, preparing for pain. When it didn't come, she opened one of them, astonished to see the rapier falling away. "Very well," the man replied icily. He shoved Eve roughly to the floor and turned to Jezebel. "Retrieve the money."

"Of course," Jezebel answered slyly. "Promise to let me go, and I'll find it for you. You can torture her if you wish."

Eve's mouthed dropped open. "Jezebel!"

"Live and learn, Cherie," the barmaid replied impassively. She tossed a bag of coins on the counter.

The stranger grabbed the sack. "Tie them up," he spoke to Jukes. "Our colonist here would obviously rather die than force her guardian to pay ransom, but I'm confident she's worth her weight in gold- a governor's daughter, at least. See that they're transferred to my ship; it's in the harbor."

"What?!?" Jezebel screamed.

This enraged Jukes. He had waited passively throughout the conversations with the man, watching the reactions of the captives. He knew there was something that the dark haired girl wasn't telling anyone, and this intrigued him. But he was also sure that if Hook ever found out he'd let someone with information on Peter Pan go, he'd be flayed alive. "Wait," he growled. "These are my prisoners. I found them, and I claim them as spoils to my ship."

"Under whose jurisdiction?" the man taunted, turning his blade around and glaring at Jukes.

"I believe," another man answered amusedly from the opposite entrance, "that the leader the lad was speaking on behalf of is me."

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"Move it!" one of Morgan's men bellowed. "Move your feet or lose your head!"

"Refresh my memory," Tink hissed at Peter, tugging at the knots around Peter's wrists. "How often do I let myself get into these calamitous escapades with you?"

"Oh, about every day or so, give or take a few," Peter grinned. He marched in time with the other hostages from the tavern. "Are you almost done? We need to find Eve and depart from this dreadful place."

"I'm WORKING on it," she spoke through clenched teeth. "Hold… your… horses. There!" The ties snapped. Peter rubbed his sore wrists. "Wait until the next building, then fly as fast as you can."

"It's really too bad, you know," Peter mused. "I've always wanted to learn how to fire a musket…"

Tink gave a noise of frustration and ducked back under his cloak.

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Jukes breathed a sigh of relief. Captain Hook, along with Smee, Mason and Starkey, filled the doorway, watching the scene that had unfolded before them.

"This brigand," Hook gestured to Billy, "untried as he may be, is correct. Whatever he deems worthy of the Jolly Roger belongs to my self, Captain James Hook, and my crew." He chuckled. "And who might you be?"

The buccaneer's eyes narrowed. "Sir Francis Wittingthorn, Captain of the Sphynx and its members, second in command only to Morgan himself. And I beg to differ," he continued, raising his eyebrows and gesturing towards the other door, where his men were pouring in, cutlasses in hand. "Whatever I find, regardless of how much your men have undoubtedly tarnished it, is rightfully mine."

"Well then, Captain," Hook replied, his hardened mouth spreading into a devilish smile, "I suppose we have a problem." Starkey leaped forward, pushing the barrel of his gun into Wittingthorn's forehead. Hook raised a hand at the approaching crew of the Sphynx. "One more step and you'll be less one leader."

"Here she is, Cap'n," Jukes clasped Eve's shoulders and pushed her forward. "The one who knows Peter Pan."

"Excellent. Well done, Jukes," Hook beamed, lauding Billy for the first time since he could remember. "Mason!"

The muscled pirate lumbered over to Jukes, who was securing the ropes around Eve's wrists. "I apologize for this, miss," Billy mumbled. "Captain's orders."

"A polite barbarian," Jezebel muttered. "Well, there's a first time for everything."

Mason hoisted the shocked girl over his shoulder. "Ready, sir."

"I swear, you'll regret this." The fury emanating from Francis's words never affected his placid, unwavering expression. His gaze settled on Hook's. "We shall meet again, Captain." The corners of Wittingthorn's mouth curled into a morbid, derisive grin. "Mark me."

Hook paused briefly. By Jove, he thought with sudden clarity, I'm positive I've met this venomous dandy before. Something about him was unmistakably familiar… He shrugged the notion off. Still, the unsettling feeling remained, as if he was a fool for forgetting someone who carved such a striking impression. Even after they had left the tavern and were rushing towards the ship, he felt uneasy…

The entire town remained engulfed in chaos. Hook's crew knew the plans and wove around the grim battles in the eastern end. Bodies decorated the streets, macabre portraits of the grotesque deaths they had suffered. Eve shuddered and closed her eyes. The group arrived at the docks and wasted no time boarding the Jolly Roger.

"Is the treasure loaded?" Hook barked tramping up the creaking loading boards to the deck.

"Aye, Cap'n," Smee saluted him and smacked off his own glasses in the process.

"Smee," the captain sighed, his vision drooping at the sight of several large trunks waiting on the pier, "I meant the newest load as well."

"Oh, to be sure, Cap'n! 'Tis loaded and packed away here somewhere!" He ran about, bumping into various supplies.

Hook dragged his hand across his face. "I started out with merely a semi-incompetent crew," he groaned. "Mater, you were right. Time makes fools of us all."

After several explanations and specific instructions to Smee, Hook lost his temper. "Odds, bobs, hammer and tongs!" He pounded his fist against the rail. "Mullins, Cookson, Mason! Belay that and bring those boxes there on board!"

After they weighed anchor and were well into the middle of the bay, Jukes glanced back at Puerto Bello, a blazing beacon in the early morning sky. He scoured the harbor, took a few steps towards the bow, then ran back to the stern and did a double take. Another ship was leaving shore early, and its gallery was open, banking for a broadside.

Eve stood nearby, her hands tied. She saw the crimson flag, and knew it for what it was.

No quarter given…

"He's going to kill us all," she mumbled in shock.

Jukes heard and gave her a sharp look. "Cap'n!" He yelled. "I think Wittingthorn's still angry with you!"

"Of course he's still mad at me, ya clabber dungeon lummox!" Hook raged. "He's going to have to stay that way for a very long time!"

BOOM!

The sound of the shot bounced off the cliffs around the cove, ringing in everyone's ears. Moments later, the blast ripped through the bow's deck, splintering the wood and gouging out a trench in the ship.

Eve screamed until her lungs gave out. The remainder of the crew was hastily descending the rigging, so Jukes firmly pushed her towards the galley trap. "This is no place for a lady," he remarked, leading her down the steps. "You'll be safe down there." Billy crawled back up, shut the door and locked it.

The Sphynx fired several more shots, while Jukes returned fire, creating a sizeable hole in Wittingthorn's forecastle. The Jolly Roger escaped further damage, save for a piece of the deck wall that was easily replaceable. "I think they're out of range, sir," the gunner spoke up.

Hook paced back and forth, glancing out to sea. "We're heading straight into those damnable mists again. Where is the girl? Bring her on deck. I wish to speak to her."

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"What do you, mean, 'abducted?'" Pan bellowed. "You were supposed to take care of her!"

"Don't look at me," Jezebel protested. "I just lost half a month's profits, my customers are dead, and I must be hallucinating, because I'm taking to a little glowing firefly that yaks at me. Besides, Eve annoyed this captain that questioned us."

"Who?" Tink demanded. "Hook?"

"No. Hook took her in the end, but this was another man entirely. I think he said his name was Wittingthorn." She frowned. "Come to think of it, she probably ended up on the friendlier ship."

"Oh, sure," Tink glared. "Out of the frying pan and into the fire!"

Peter's temples were throbbing. All this trouble, and we can't even save a single girl. He was furious at Jezebel for being so careless, and even more worried about Eve. "She's coming with us," he blurted out suddenly.

"Who? Me?" Jezebel snickered. "Where exactly do you think you're going? In case you haven't noticed, the city is surrounded."

"I'm aware of this," Peter grimaced. "All too well." He glowered at Tink.

"So I made the sleeping spell on the guards a bit too potent," Tink scoffed. "Hey, mistakes happen." She snorted. "At least I'm not the one who left our charge in the midst of a seedy, libidinous-"

"Anyway," Peter interrupted, "the fact is that you lost my cousin to a bunch of bloodsucking pirates." He gave her a pointed look. "You owe us one."

Jezebel rolled her eyes and sighed dramatically. "All right, fine. Have it your way. This town's all washed up. I'll go. Just let me get my things." She trotted into the back room, emerging a minute later with a small satchel. "Well?" the barmaid asked. "What are we waiting for? Let's forget this whole place ever happened."

She didn't notice that Tinkerbell lingered behind them, or that the agile fairy sprinkled a small amount of dust from above that glittered on her golden hair.

All the remaining prisoners had marched to the last hillside fort standing, and the privateers were having a meeting with Henry Morgan, so Pan had little trouble avoiding the chance lookout on guard.

The trio gingerly stepped around the carnage beneath their feet, scanning the horizon for ships. "That's strange," Jezebel murmured. "Just a second ago, I was certain I saw two ships beyond the cove. But I looked again, and they were gone. Almost like a mirage in the fog."

Peter and Tink strained their vision. "That's no ordinary fog," Peter swallowed. "I see them too." Seconds later, he was in the air, flying out to sea.

"What in the world…" Jezebel murmured in astonishment.

"It's easy," Tink instructed patiently. "Just- um, well…" She thought for a moment. "Push off. Imagine lots of money. Tons of money. Suddenly, it's all yours."

It worked immediately.

Peter was a mile ahead of them. The clouds darkened, but he was nearing the ships with every second that passed. As he flew above the first one, Pan observed a band of privateers, the hired pirates of an unfamiliar crew. He struggled to pass them, trying to see into the ever-thickening mists that hovered on the ocean's surface.

Then he realized that someone was there, walking near the side of the second galleon. A girl in a red and white dress. Eve. Next to her, towering well over six feet, his pale hair waving in the breeze, was James Hook.

"Eve!" Pan shouted. "I'm coming! Don't worry!"

"Peter!" Eve screamed.

"Ah, Peter Pan," Hook grinned, his usual venality having returned in full force. "Let me just say what a pleasure it is to know that you simply cannot bear to have me gone for one whole day without first wishing me farewell."

"Stow the formalities, Captain Codfish!" the boy retorted. "You have something I want."

"Do I now?" Hook pretended to be taken aback. "Why, so I do. You want me to return your competence. Haw haw."

"Let her go, Hook."

"Indeed," the Captain smirked. "If you want her, you'll have to come and get her." The mists were taking them further and further from sight, no matter how fast he flew. "But don't forget what's waiting right here, just for you."

The last image Peter Pan caught was of a frightened Eve, clinging to the railing and calling his name, and Hook's silver claw raised high in the air. Then they were gone.

The flying boy hovered in the mists. All that was left was the distant sounds of masts billowing in the wind, and a vast, endless sea.

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Copyright © 2001 Cassandra Lynne.
May not copied or reproduced without permission.