“Rough seas, eh, Captain?” the barkeep asked, barely sparing a glance at the new divot.
Hook grimaced. That wasn’t the half of it. “A mug of your best.” He fished in his coin purse until he found the piece he sought and slammed it upon the wood. Gold shimmered in the dim light. He had a reputation to maintain after all.
Curious glances roved over him from around the room. He stared down each in turn, a smile for friends, a hard look for strangers. Each face he memorized as he waited for his ale. No one approached.Yet.
The barkeep returned, his countenance bright—the coin’s work, no doubt. Foam clung to the rim of the generously filled mug. Hook downed a swig as Smee’s woman climbed off his lap, giving the bar a show of his satisfied manhood. Thin, sour liquid washed over Hook’s tongue.
“Horse piss!” Ale sloshed onto his hand as he slammed the mug down.
“That ’er is fine stuff.” The man gestured to the spilled liquid pooling on the counter.
Hook leaned onto the bar. “Not worth half what I paid you, mate.”
The barkeep leaned in, only the twitch of his pinkie giving away his fear. Everyone had a tell. The bulky man might heft a barrel farther than him, but Hook would wager his skill with the saber any day. “Best I got, Captain. Swear it.”
Hook’s metal hand scraped another gouge in the bar. “You don’t keep special stock?” He turned the point of his hook up, letting it catch the dim gleam of the oil lamp. “For…discerning customers?”
The burly man’s throat bobbed as he loosened his shirt at the neck. “Did, b-but Captain Blackbeard, er, made a-a special request. Might be here any day…”
Hook nearly shook with anger as he pushed back from the bar.Captain Blackbeard. That bloody bastard.He’d had the edge on him since he lost the Heart of Fire, and now he’d even taken his drink. That old croc had it coming. Hook had worked too hard to become the youngest pirate captain of the Cerulean Sea in history. Prince of the Waves, they called him.
And the things Blackbeard had done to him… His hand tightened into a fist. But he was coming here soon? That was interesting. And unfortunate.
“Er, Captain,” the barkeep said. “I do have sometin’ else may interest you.”
A deep breath dimmed the fiery coal of revenge lodged in his heart.Information. Right.That’s why he came. Hook’s brows rose as he leaned in. “Captain Blackbeard’s date of arrival?”
Maybe he could catch him unawares, finally pay him back for some of the misery he’d caused.
“No. Soon, but I…” The man’s gaze darted.
A disappointed sigh slipped from his lips. “A new schedule for the merchant ships?”
That could be handy, especially if any were bringing more of that fine silk from the southern isles. He’d gotten a hefty sum for the last chest heacquired.
“No…”
Another disappointment. Hook stroked the dark stubble along his chin. “You try my patience. Return my coin and those of my men, and maybe we’ll forget this little incident.”
The man’s eyes widened. “Wait, ya want this.” He drew out a leather bag, laughably small in his worn hands. “Promise. Just a smidge and all your worries disappear.” He leaned in across the bar and whispered. “Pixie dust.”
“Pixie dust!” Hook’s bellow cut through the room. Men and women froze. Conversation ceased as all eyes snapped to him. Smee unsheathed the dagger at his side, scanning the room for danger.
A groan caught in his throat. “Can’t a man shout, you scallywags?” Hook gestured with his hand. “Back to it, you barnacles. Drinks on the house.” He lifted his mug and took a long swallow.
Cheers rose. Mugs clinked as sailors followed his lead. Hook wiped his mouth on his sleeve and slammed the mug down again, trying to banish the taste from his mouth. People resumed their play as if he’d never spoken.
Bloody, vile substance, pixie dust. One pinch in a drink, and a man could lose hours in a world of his imaginings. A spoonful? The whole day. There was only one pixie he’d heard of in recent months who stooped so low as to sell her dust to humans—the same one who ruled his head. Tinker Bell.
Hook shoveled a handful of coins onto the bar. “Now, barkeep, tell me everything you know about this pixie dust.”
*****
Hook fumed out of the Rusty Anchor into the dimming twilight, Smee close on his heels. “She’s here.”
“She?” His first mate tucked his shirt into his pants.
The look Hook cast him over one shoulder was flatter than the calm sea.
