Chapter 4

Starkey tightened his grip on his blade. "Explain."

"He will likely die due to blood loss, right? Do we all understand?"

The two pirates nodded, although Smee silently took exception to the assumption that Hook was already doomed. Titus continued,

"These items will allow you to magically transfer some of your own blood into him."

Smee blinked in surprise. He'd never heard of such a thing. "Really? Does that really work?"

"I've used it with some success," Titus confirmed. But Starkey was still scowling.

"I notice we 'ave only your word on that, matey."

"That's true," said Titus nonchalantly. Smee put the finishing touches on a bandage and settled Hook onto his back.

"Let's see," Smee demanded. Titus opened the drawstring and dumped the contents of the satchel onto Hook's torso: four wicked-looking metal spikes, one slightly longer and thicker than the rest, and a hinged golden cuff. Starkey scoffed.

"Mad, you are. We're supposed to allow those bloody daggers anywhere near us? Not a chance."

"Look at him, Starkey," Smee whispered urgently. "He's barely breathing. A small chance is better than none."

"He's as likely to kill us all as save 'ook!"

That gave Smee pause. But he still requested calmly,

"Explain the procedure."

Titus picked up the larger spike. It was a bit more than seven centimeters in length, and comparable in diameter to a spindle on a spinning wheel.

"This goes in him, right about… here."

He pointed to the left side of Hook's throat, where the jugular vein was located. Then he selected one of the smaller spikes - five centimeters to the other's seven, and not quite as thick.

"This would be positioned here, in whomever decides to give up some lifeblood."

He indicated the spot on his own arm, just below the crook of his elbow.

"And the cuff?"

Titus shrugged. "Merely marks the recipient of the blood. Gives the enchantment a direction."

Smee swallowed. "Sounds reasonable to me."

"Bollocks," Starkey spat. But he studied Hook's slack features, his weakening breaths, and he sighed. Flicking the cutlass to Titus' throat, he warned, "No tricks. 'e dies - any of us die - you die, along with all your mates. And your brother over there."

Titus nodded seriously. "Fair enough."

Before the bosun could change his mind, the healer hefted the gold cuff and fastened it around Hook's right wrist. It snapped shut with a solid click. Next, he lifted the big spike and dipped it in his home-brewed disinfectant, then dug his fingers into Hook's neck for a moment, pinpointing the best spot for insertion. Grimly, he pinched a fold of skin, set the tip of the spike at the base of the tent he'd created, and pushed. Hard. The metal penetrated Hook's flesh and Titus guided it upwards, nearly parallel to the skin, until he judged its position correct. Hook remained motionless.

Titus selected one of the smaller spikes and turned to the other two pirates with a look of challenge. "Who's first?"

Starkey more than met the expression with a defiant sneer of his own. "Do your worst."

Titus grabbed his tattooed left arm, and Starkey passed his cutlass to Smee.

"Up to you, matey. If 'e be telling tales, avenge us."

Smee inclined his head solemnly. Titus punched through the skin of Starkey's arm, and the pirate winced. The spike vibrated momentarily, started to glow, and then disappeared, reappearing with its mates on Hook's chest. Starkey glowered and rubbed his arm.

"What the bloody blazes was that?"

Titus met his frown apologetically. "Sometimes happens. Blood's not compatible."

"'Compatible?' Blood is blood, innit?"

"Apparently not." The healer selected another spike and turned to Smee with a raised eyebrow. The first mate held up his arm and looked away. Titus quickly placed the spike and watched it turn a scarlet hue. Smee glanced down with a grimace.

"Does that mean it's working?"

"It does," confirmed Titus. "I guess your captain is half lucky."

"Half?"

"Amount of blood he's missing, he'll need at least one more person to help him out. And I doubt you'll find a willing volunteer in here."

Starkey brandished his weapon. "Who says they 'ave to be willing?"

"The rules of the enchantment, actually. Won't work otherwise."

With that, he made to turn his attention to another patient.

"Wait," Smee called after him. "How do I know it's been long enough?"

"It's automatic. Like the failed one - it'll return to the others."

Starkey cocked his head at Smee and quietly asked,

"Feel all right, matey?"

Smee sank onto the small edge of the bench above Hook's head, nodding and holding his arm as still as he could. "What now?"

Starkey blew a quiet breath through pursed lips. "I'm open to suggestions."

Looking down at the sallow form of their captain, Smee asked,

"Do you think you'd be able to carry him back to the ship? It seems unlikely he'll be able to help."

"I can," Starkey assured him. "But that leaves our defense to you."

Smee swallowed, but nodded grimly. "Maybe we should go, then. Take all this with us, and get someone else from the crew to give their blood."

Starkey's calculating gaze landed on Titus, who was working diligently in another corner. "What say we take 'im, too? Gives anyone we come across incentive not to kill us, and 'e can make sure all this is set up properly." He waved vaguely at the enchanted items on Hook's person.

Smee assented reluctantly, knowing that he would have to be the one to guard and control their hostage until they reached the Jolly Roger. There were a lot of ways that could go wrong, particularly with the man's importance to the villagers: they'd likely be willing to go to extreme lengths to ensure Titus' safety. Stifling his imagined failures, Smee quietly prepared his dagger and met Starkey's eyes. The bosun recognized his readiness, tightened his grip on his own weapon, and then called,

"'ealer?"

Titus cast a glance in their direction, and Starkey waved him over urgently. With a visible sigh and a few words to his current patient, the healer sauntered close.

"Something amiss?"

As soon as he was close enough, Starkey lunged. He drove his fist into the healer's gut, and while the man doubled over, the bosun stepped around behind him in an instant. He pressed his blade firmly against Titus' throat and dragged him up, holding him tightly against his body. A few cries of consternation sounded from the room, and Starkey twisted his captive to face the rest of the villagers.

"'e's to accompany us on our way. Once we're off, you can 'ave your precious 'ealer back. Until then, no one follows or comes near, or 'e dies."

To emphasize the point, Starkey increased the cutlass' pressure until Titus hissed a wince. The handful of villagers that had risen to their feet sank slowly back, defeated. The bosun kept a sharp eye out as he murmured at Smee,

"Tie his 'ands."

The first mate grabbed an extra bandage from the bench as he stood. Starkey backed a step away from Titus but didn't relent at all with his cutlass. Carefully, Smee grabbed the healer's arms and forced them together behind his back, then wound the bandage tightly between and around his wrists. He tied a firm knot as the healer complained,

"I helped you. Bloody pirates! You won't get away with this."

Smee ignored his protests and took Starkey's place, with Johnny Corkscrew now the threat controlling the healer. The first mate suddenly felt a twinge in his arm, and when he looked down, it was to see the embedded spike glisten and then vanish. A small globe of blood welled from the puncture wound. Smee peeked over his shoulder and saw all three smaller spikes reunited upon Hook's chest. A moment later, the larger spike removed itself from Hook's neck and joined them. Starkey snatched the lot of them up and dropped them carefully into his coat pocket, along with the captain's hook. Finally, he crouched, gathered Hook into his arms, and gingerly hefted him over one shoulder. Smee winced as the pirate captain's arms dangled behind Starkey's back, which put extra tension on the wounded shoulder. But there was nothing to be done about it.

Starkey led the way through the door. He paused to check both directions down the street; it was clear for the moment. Smee backed out behind the bosun, keeping Titus as a shield between himself and the room full of morose villagers. Once the door was closed behind them, Smee and his captive took point, with Starkey close behind. Smee was careful to check every few moments that they weren't being followed as they made their way around the corner and in the direction of the Jolly Roger.

A few blocks into their journey, they began to hear shouts up ahead, then the distinctive sound of marching feet. Starkey swore.

"Sounds like reinforcements 'ave arrived."

Smee shivered in dread. "What do we do?"

The bosun came to a stop and listened for a moment, then shook his head grimly. "Can't tell their position. There's a lot of 'em, though."

They advanced slowly, and the ruckus grew louder. Starkey cursed again and indicated a darkened doorway just ahead to their left. "In there, matey."

Hastily, the group stumbled into the abandoned building. As they waited for their eyes to adjust to the darkness, Starkey bent and deposited Hook onto the ground as gently as he could.

"I'll go 'ave a look," hissed the bosun. "Keep 'em both quiet."

Smee tightened the pressure on Titus' throat as he willed himself to stop trembling. Starkey peeked out through the doorway and then slunk outside on his scouting mission. A tense silence waited his return as the moments slid by. With his free hand, Smee carefully reached out and felt Hook's chest: the captain's breathing was even and had slowed some. He still felt dangerously cool to the touch, though. Smee berated himself for not asking Starkey to throw the captain's coat over him before leaving - it was bunched on the floor nearby, but the first mate didn't trust himself to maintain control over Titus while searching through the darkness for the garment.

Finally, Starkey ducked back inside. "It's bad, Smee. There's a whole platoon of soldiers; dunno where they came from. I don't think we c'n risk carrying the captain past 'em, least not until they've dispersed a bit."

"What about the ship?"

"She'll surely be a target, but I'd wager they'll focus on clearing the streets and assisting the wounded before daring to attack. They may even 'ave a ship of their own on its way."

Smee grimaced. "What should we do, then? The captain might still die if he doesn't get more blood soon."

The bosun sighed. "I could attempt to sneak past 'em myself, without the 'indrance of dead weight and an 'ostage. I'd be more stealthy, and able to run or fight if discovered. Then I could bring back some reinforcements of our own; even a volunteer to 'elp the cap'n. What'd'you say?"

Smee thought for a moment. "Won't they search the buildings? We'll be pretty vulnerable in here without you."

"They may give a cursory check at first, but'll probably save the thorough search for later. We could conceal you and make the dwelling appear empty at a glance."

Smee certainly didn't like the idea of being so helpless. Who knew how long it would take Starkey to make it to the ship and back? And if he got caught, how long would Smee be able to wait before the soldiers found them? Would he have to abandon Hook in that case? But though he pondered frantically, he could come up with no better plan. He sent out a quick prayer to whatever deities might listen to a pirate, then agreed.

Starkey put flint to a lantern wick and kept the flame low as they observed the building's interior. The occupants lay slain on the floor, all of their meager belongings rifled through and strewn about. The only hiding place large enough to accommodate the three men was beneath the bed. Still, at first glance it would appear vacant and of no interest to the soldiers, and there was a back door if Smee did end up having to make a run for it. Without much discussion, Starkey gently carried Hook to the hiding place and slid him under, farthest away from the front door. Afterward, Smee pulled Titus over, and then forced him to his knees. Pausing, the first mate looked up at Starkey.

"Hurry," he implored. "And… bring Casey, will you?"

Starkey cocked an inquisitive eyebrow. "That scrawny thing? What the bloody 'ell for?"

Smee didn't know if their relation increased Casey's chances of having compatible blood like his own. But it was worth a try.

"He… he owes the captain a favor," Smee lied in explanation. Starkey shrugged.

"If you say so, matey."

Smee crawled under the bed, dragging Titus with him, and as Starkey blew out the lantern and disappeared through the door, the first mate settled in for a very long, very tense wait.

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AN: Casey is Smee's son, unbeknownst to the rest of the crew, as well as Hook. Their story is explored in "Or Sleep with the Fishes."