How hard is it to find one fucking shadow?
From the edge of my balcony, I can see the trees rustling in the forest below and the glow of torch light as the men scour the woods. They have yet to find Pan’s shadow.
All incompetent idiots, if you ask me. Peter Pan is due to arrive here tomorrow night. I need to have his shadow before then. I glance in the direction of his territory and can just make out the cut of Marooner’s Rock against the moonlit sky.
I hate Peter Pan. It is a hate that thuds in my chest like a bad dream. Sometimes I get caught in a fantasy of what it would feel like to shove my hook into his gut. I detest the sight of my own blood, but Peter Pan’s I’ll gladly watch gush out of him.
Leaving the balcony, I return to my office and start straightening the items on my desk to distract myself from the sheer frustration of not seeing results. I like my quill clean and returned to its case, the ink pot stoppered with the crystal cut top bought from one of the other islands when we were actively sailing.
I straighten the stack of books on the edge of the desk, line up the spines, and some of the frustration ebbs out.
When I look up, I spot Smee in the doorway. She has that look on her face like she’s just consumed a sin she wishes to purge.
“What is it?” I ask and cross the room to my bar when I spot a smudge on one of the glasses.
Smee comes into the room and shuts the door. Her boots are heavy on the worn wood. “One of my spies in the fae palace has just sent me a message.”
I already don’t like where this is going.
One of the reasons why I wanted Smee back when Pan took her, when I had to make the difficult decision to give away my sister in exchange for Smee, was because of her ability to get where others can’t.
She has spies all over Neverland and the Seven Isles.
There is only one person she can never get her eyes on.
I suppose all things considered, that’s a very high success rate.
“Spit it out, Smee.”
She paces out to the balcony and positions herself in the square of light spilling from the open door. The balcony is my private space and so we are always alone here. Smee leans into the railing and lights a cigarillo, letting the sweet smoke puff out of her full lips. She leaves it there, hanging from her mouth as she hooks her elbows over the railing. The ocean air sends the tail of her bandana flapping at the crown of her head.
The suspense is killing me. Smee knows it. It’s her clever, subtle way of putting me in my place. I suppose I have to respect her for it.
“Smee,” I say, her name vibrating on my gnashed teeth.
“Tilly has summoned the Crocodile.”
If it were possible for a man to lose every ounce of blood with nothing but bad news, I think I would be wrung dry. Nothing but a husk of a man.
I’m cold and numb.
A gentleman such as me should have no weaknesses and yet I have three.
At least one of them is dead. If only the other two were as well.
I turn away from her and rearrange the glasses on the bar, then pick up the smudged one and polish it on the edge of my shirt. “What about your spies on the isles?”
“I heard from one at the port of Summerland that the Crocodile arrived there two days ago and left quickly after.”
I close my eyes and summon a breath to stop the burn of vomit at the center of my throat. It would be poor form to vomit all over my bar.
My residual limb throbs and so does the space where my hand used to be. The pain is a ghost I can never exorcise.
Fucking Crocodile.
It’s been years since I faced him but I can conjure an image of him as if he were burned to my retinas.
He is cut from granite. Hair dark like nightmares. Eyes green like a mamba snake. Just as quick to bite too.
I can hear his voice, the drawl of his laugh. It echoes in my head. Like salt rubbed on stone.
My stomach spins and I quickly fill a glass with rum and sling it back and focus on the burn of the alcohol, the fuzziness that settles over my veins.
The Crocodile is depraved and ungodly.
I will never rest until he’s dead.
If only I could get close enough to him to shove a dagger in his heart.
I turn back to Smee. “Double the reward. Tell the men now. Whoever brings me Pan’s shadow will be rich by tomorrow night. But only if they find it before then.”
