“Many a time. We’ve had our fair share of skirmishes, though I haven’t had a run-in with the kraken in ages.” He smiles somewhat wistfully. “Brings back old times.”
“Exactly how long have you been a pirate?”
“No idea.” He turns and yells, “Smee, get a move on!”
“Yes, Captain. Now heave, you scurvy lot!” Smee yells at the crew who all begin to pull the huge ship even farther toward shore.
“You have to have some memory. You said you were at Eton. I don’t know when that school even started. Like the 1700s maybe? You don’t remember what year you were born?”
“No.” He stops rowing. “I wonder about that sometimes.”
“About when you were born?”
“No. More like, I wonder if the island made me do all the forgetting or if I did it myself. I remember my sister, bits and pieces of my mother, and just a feeling when I think of my father. A raw sort of anger. But I can’t recall detail. I don’t know when I first left the mainland. Even if I try to recall it, it’s not there anymore.” He taps his temple. “It could’ve been yesterday or 1,000 years ago—either way, it’s not real to me anymore.”
“I think that’s it.”
“What’s that, lass?”
“It isn’trealto you. That’s why it slips through your fingertips. Like when children stop believing in the tooth fairy or Santa or even Neverland—that’s when it’s not real for them. When it all starts to fade away. Make believe and magic—all gone. But for you, it was the opposite. The world you knew isn’t your reality anymore. This world is.” I look up at the moon that’s partly hidden behind fat clouds. “The one where there is no sun and the kraken lives in the sea and fairies have dust that makes them fly.”
“Perhaps.” He continues rowing. “Perhaps that’s what it is.”
I know that has to be the truth, especially when I can’t remember how long I’ve been here. How many days or nights? What was so important for me on the mainland? I don’t know. That realization scares me. I’m becoming untethered, Neverland drawing me closer with each swirl of a second, dance of a minute, and flourish of an hour.
The rowboat slides into the sand, and Hook helps me from it and onto the shore. We’re both soaked, and the sea breeze sends a chill through me as I rub my arms.
“Skylights, Starkey, gather driftwood!” Hook yells to them. “I want three lookouts at the top of the cliffs! If anyone so much as gets a tickle that there’s a Lost Boy nearby, I want you to send a signal immediately. We take no chances with these cunts!”
“Aye, Captain!” The entire crew chimes in.
Some of them let go of their ropes and splash through the surf before taking off down the beach.
“I’ll have you warmed up in no time, lass.” He wraps his arm around my shoulders and leads me away from the water and to the stone wall. “There.” He points to a slight indentation in the chalky cliffs.
When I stumble, he scoops me up again.
“I can walk.” I kick my legs half-heartedly.
“You can, but I’d rather carry you.” He slides his hand down and squeezes my ass. “Much more enjoyable this way.”
“James!” I squeal, but he only squeezes harder.
“Keep that up, lass, and I’ll have to warm you up the old-fashioned way.” He leans down and bites my ear.
“Didn’t I tell you that you should work on your threats?” I squirm in his hold.
“Not a threat, lass. Never a threat when it comes to you.” He winds his way in between some scraggly bushes then enters the shallow cave. “This’ll do nicely.” Lowering me slowly, he backs me up and sits me on a low ledge of stone. “Stay put.”
“I will.” I wave a hand at him. “Go do your pirate stuff. I’m fine here.”
He shakes his head. “Pirate stuff?”
“You know, yell at your crew and call them land lubbers or something.”
“I’ll get right on that.” He grips the nape of my neck and drops a kiss on my lips. “Don’t move, lass. I mean it. Sky and Starkey will be bringing firewood in two shakes.”
“Okay! I’m not moving.” I cross my arms over my chest.
