Hook's Pan (26 page)

It’d been surprisingly easy to convince them Trishelle was now one of their own. After pitching the first two dissenting voices overboard, the rest had miraculously come around to his way of thinking.

It was a dirty business being a pirate, especially the captain of the ship. He would never be tamed, not fully, but he was a pussycat for her and he could only hope that that would be enough.
 

 
“Captain?” Smee quirked a brow at his approach.

Gazing out at the endless expanse of calm water, Hook tipped his head. “Set a course for Lebanon, Missouri.” He sounded out the strange name.

“Earth?” Smee’s blue eyes widened. “Have you decided to return her then?”

“No.” He clapped his first mate’s broad shoulder. “In fact, I wish this trip to remain between the two of us. Tell no one of it.”

A smile tipped the corner of Smee’s lips. “Ah, a wedding surprise then?”

“In a way.” Hook crossed his hand and sword behind his back.

“Aye, aye, Captain.” Smee turned the wheel fast, muttering the destination beneath his breath. A black void opened up, then swallowed them whole.

Staring at the revolving tunnel of swirling lights Hook clenched his jaw. He did not know whether Kurt Smith even lived in Missouri. But he’d soon find out.

Shooting out the other side of time, he studied the odd, mundane landscape.

Streetlamps winked along slickened black roads, casting an eerie yellow light everywhere. Storefronts were closed up and overhead a multitude of stars shone as they sailed along the air currents. They were high enough up in the clouds that should anyone look up, they’d think the passing ship nothing but moving clouds.

But there was no fear of discovery, the world was hushed with the quiet of sleep. He rarely came to Earth, apart from searching out Pan, he’d no desire to ever linger for long. Earth had always been a dirty, ugly place with hardly any magic and little belief in it.

But he couldn’t help feeling a slight affinity for this small town, wondering if each place he passed had been one she’d walked through.

“Why are we here, Captain?” Smee leaned over whispering, as if afraid to fracture the stillness around them.

“To find a man named Dr. Kurt Smith.”

Curiosity blazed in the depths of his blue eyes, but he did not ask. Smee merely mumbled the name, this time it was the ship that turned itself. Heading now in a more northeastern direction.

A satisfied smirk touched James’ lips. The bastard was still here.

It didn’t take long before the ship began to slowly descend from the clouds and as it did so a shimmering gold veil covered its entirety, a form of protective magic imbued within the very wood itself. Now, any humans that looked on would see and feel nothing but air, as if they were a ghost ship. The crew could look out, but none could look in.

Finally they came to rest upon a street littered with quaint homes. The house in front of him was simple, square, with a thin meandering pathway that led to a brightly painted red door. Flower boxes lined the windows. A small flag waved in the gentle breeze.

The place reeked of woman and a gnawing burn of bile chewed at his gut. Men like him, they never changed. They’d ruin one life, then move on to another, and another. Repeating the past everywhere they went, leaving nothing but death and destruction in their wake. He’d seen it all too often.

He turned to look at Smee. “Not a word,” he cautioned again.

Smee zipped his fingers across his lips. Nodding, Hook walked down the gangplank. Before he’d made a living plundering and looting, he’d been a pickpocket and petty thief. A very good one at that.

Withdrawing a pick from his pocket, he walked up to the front door; he did not fear being seen. On Earth, only if he wished to be seen, would he be seen. And there was only one to whom he wished to show himself.

It took nothing to slip his new hook into the door, using it as a wrench before sliding the pick in, wiggling it until each pin clicked into place. Still keeping his hook in the lock, he turned the knob and the door slid open on silent hinges.

The house was quiet save for the tick-tocking of a wall clock. Shuddering at the god awful sound, he moved down the hall, following the snoring strains of sleepers.

The noise came loudest from the room at the end of the hall. Easing the door open he stood in the shadows. A man and a woman lay in the bed.

The woman was slight and fair with dark hair. She, he ignored. The man beside her was twice her size, thick around the middle and wearing a beard. This man did not at all fit the description Trishelle had given of a handsome man, but perhaps the years between hadn’t been kind. His ship would never steer him wrong, there could be no doubt this was Kurt Smith.

Hatred filled his veins, and his breathing intensified. This was the man. The man who’d ruined Trishelle’s sister, who’d killed her belief in love. A fat, pathetic wastrel of breath.

Cold rage gripped him. “Kurt Smith,” he boomed, because he had to make certain that what he was about to do happened to the right man.

Screaming, he shot up, eyes scanning the dark room. “Who’s there?” he cried, reaching for a bat beside his bed.

Stepping into the light, Hook smirked. “Your worst nightmare.” Then rushing the bed, he dropped his shoulder and pounded a fist into Kurt’s paunchy gut, making him double over and wheeze.

Kurt croaked out, bloated face gasping for air as he dropped the bat to grip his stomach. “Bethany, call the cops,” he screamed.

The brunette sat up, terror in her gaze as she first scanned the room. “Kurt, what’s wrong? What’s the matter?”

Hook crossed his arms as a grin tore from one corner of his jaw to the other.

“Call the fucking cops, bitch!” Kurt yelled again.

She hopped out of the sheets, clutching her nightgown tight as horror of another sort filled her eyes. “Baby, but what’s wrong. What’s wrong?” She was crying now.

Kurt pointed at Hook. “Can’t you fucking see him?”

Licking his teeth, Hook laughed. “Of course she can’t, because I’m not really here.”

Dark eyes bulging in his head, Kurt swung his head around, staring directly at Hook. “What do you mean you’re not here? You’re right there.”

“Honey, who are you talking to? You’re really scaring me,” Bethany whimpered, shaking all over.

Shock scrawled across his fat face, and then he was shoving fingers through his hair. “What’s going on here? What’s going on?”

Yanking on Kurt’s shirt, Hook drew him to his side. The stench of the man’s breath punched his nose. Bethany screamed; he could only imagine how this must look to her, her husband being flung through the air by an invisible hand. But there wasn’t time to worry about niceties.

“Remember Jacqueline Page?” Hook sneered, shaking Kurt hard.

“No…no.” Kurt moaned, the whites of his eyes flaring large as spit flew from his lips.

“You murdered her child. You killed her!” he growled, letting the anger control him, fill him.

“No, that crazy bitch took her own godd—”

Slapping Kurt’s face, so hard it stung his own palm, Hook hissed again, “She is dead because of you. Never again. I am your shadow, I am death, I will breathe down your fat, fucking neck for the rest of your miserable life. Lay a hand on another and I will kill you.” He laughed, and the sound rushed through him like wild fire. It spewed from his belly, his throat.

Cowering like the dog that he was, Kurt flinched, tossing a hand across his face. “Who are you? Who are you?” he screamed.

Tearing Kurt’s shirt open with the flat edge of his hook, he smiled before pressing the blade against his chest. “I am Captain James Hook and you have been marked.”

Then, with quick slashes, he drew a J.H. in the center of Kurt’s chest. The echoing cry of his screams rang in his ears long after he’d finished.

Walking back to the ship, he looked at Smee who now was standing beside the railing with a look of awe shining in his light blue eyes.

“Take us home, Smee.”

~*~

“You look beautiful,” Betty whispered, twining a length of baby’s breath through Trisha’s plaited hair the next morning.

Betty was dressed all in red. From the gown, to the large feather tucked into the bun at her head, as were all her bridesmaids. With her dark hair and dark eyes, she looked striking, like an exotic flamenco dancer. And with no belly whatsoever. It was amazing to Trishelle how time moved here. Betty and Gerard gave birth to a healthy baby girl they’d named Chrysalis Caron. A black haired, brown eyed chubby faced girl who grew bigger each day. She was adorable and made Trisha think dumb thoughts. Like having one of those with Hook.
 

They were inside the captain’s quarters of the Jolly Roger. Which was now anchored in the middle of the Seren Seas. It’d been a year since Trisha had agreed to stay on with Hook.

Well, a year by Earth time anyway.

She stared into the vanity mirror, green eyes wide in her sun-kissed face as she waited for the sick feeling to twist her up. To tell her this was wrong, he was wrong. But it wasn’t coming. Because this was all she’d ever wanted, she just hadn’t known it then.

“It’s just too bad your parents couldn’t see this.”

Trishelle scoffed. “Betty, please. You know my parents and I hardly even talk and besides, how exactly would you have expected me to explain the groom to them? Well, Mom,” she tapped her chin, “I’m marrying Captain Hook, he’s as terrible as the stories say, and I love him. Surprise.” She laughed, then shook her head. “No way.”
 

“I can’t believe they didn’t even want to come. That’s so sad.” Betty dropped her hands on Trisha’s shoulders.

“I didn’t actually tell them I’m getting married today, Hook and I are going to be doing a rededication on Earth. I think it’s easier that way. No explanations necessary.”

“Except of course when they see his wicked hook. And FYI,” she glanced around then dropped her voice to a whisper, “that thing is so hot. But don’t tell Gerard I said that.”

Trisha laughed. “Deal.” Then blowing out a deep breath she stood and spread her arms. “So how do I look?”

“Like a heavenly vision,” Danika’s voice interjected and Trisha and Betty both twirled.

“Danika!” Betty grabbed her chest. “Why are you always so sneaky? You could give us some warning at least…sheesh.” Her ivory cheeks glowed crimson.

Palms moist, heart fluttering, Trisha closed her eyes for a split second. “Thank you,” she whispered, and meant it.

“Are you nervous, lass?” Danika asked, her ten-inch frame hovering in front of Trisha’s eyes. Even she was dressed up today, her normally blonde-gray ringlets were caught up in a twist. And rather than her typical briarwood vest and tights, she wore a gown of flowers. Several different varieties and in different colors—red, blue, pink, purple, white, and yellow. Wherever she moved the scent of spring followed.

She looked beautiful and every inch the fairy of tales.

“I’m nervous, but not because I’m not sure.” She smiled, because it was true. She couldn’t wait to start the beginning of her story with him. “I’m just anxious to get this going.”

“You’ve got a cat that ate the canary look, Dani,” Betty winked. “Go ahead and say it, you did a damn good job.”

“Aye, I did.” Her grin broadened. “But I’m not through yet.” Extracting her wand, she aimed it at Trisha’s chest. “I think you look beautiful, but the bride must never be outshone.”

Frowning down at her bodice, Trisha didn’t have a clue what she was talking about. The dress was exactly what she wanted. An ivory chiffon, one shouldered goddess gown. A soft glow fell around her, and when the light faded, the gown remained but now she was draped in pearls and diamonds.

“Now you are perfect.” She beamed like a mother hen with her chicks.

Holding out her palm, Trisha waited until Danika dropped into it before saying, “Thank you, Danika. For everything.”

Betty nodded too.

Bright blue eyes brimming with tears, Danika sniffed then nodded. “I did what I had to do. But always know, I love you girls as if you were my own.”