A brief “mmrt” answered her, then the feline swiveled to walk away.
“Good enough for me,” Wendy said with a shrug.
When the hall branched, her guide followed the growing sounds of men at work. This reassured Wendy that her choice was correct. Soon she was rewarded with the sight of the ladder-like stairs she had bumbled down earlier.
She turned to nod to the cat. “Thank you.”
The beast whipped its tail from side to side, then bounded up the steps.
“Huh.” In the dim lighting, it had looked like the cat possessed two tails for a moment.
As she reached the top, the calls of the crew took on a new cadence, but Wendy didn’t note the difference until she saw two men pulling in the gangplank.
“Why are we leaving already?” Wendy asked the deck at large, not bothering to quell the anguish in her voice. Her hands gripped the railing.
“Our business here is finished.” The nefarious tones of Hook came from behind her. “And the naval police were starting to sniff around.”
Wendy whirled to face him. “This is Malu?”
Indifferent eyes flashed her direction for a split second. “Yes. So?”
She spun away to face the port. The ship had barely started moving. Without further thought, she readied herself to launch over the rail, lifting her skirt to free her feet. Her forward momentum was stopped by a muscled forearm that materialized around her middle.
“I wouldn’t. You’re just as likely to be crushed between a ship’s hull and the pilings as make it to shore.” He hummed a little. “Moreso, actually.” The idea didn’t seem to bother him any.
Wendy ignored the pleasingly melodious words behind her left ear and strained against the strong arm encircling her waist to peer into the murky waters.
“You wouldn’t want to ruin such a lovely dress, either, now would you?” Hook asked flatly. He loosened his grip, apparently feeling that his words or the growing distance had persuaded her, and allowed her to slip free.
Having seen firsthand the jetsam and other trash that floated under and around the docks, she had to agree. That didn’t mean she had to let him win. The naval police headquartered here in Malu. They were still her best chance to rescue her brothers and the other Lost Boys from Peter.
She turned to her antagonizer and poured out every bit of fear, anxiety, and helpless anger into her glare, then replied with biting sarcasm, “My apologies, did the men steal it from your closet? I’d be happy to return it after procuring a new one.” She gestured toward the port with an elegant twist of her wrist. “Oh, look. Shops.”
Hook watched this masterful performance without expression, even when one of the rubbernecking crew members choked on a poorly suppressed snort of laughter and spent the next few moments sputtering and coughing.
Seeing nothing in his eyes, Wendy took a new tack. “Where are you stopping next?”
“Marfa.”
“Marfa?! But that’s in—”
“Sharamil, yes. You’re well-versed in geography. Congratulations.” Hook punctuated his dry observation by turning smartly on his heel. He left her gaping like a fish and gave orders to the crew as he marched off to who-cared-where.
With an exaggerated huff that only relieved a portion of her feelings, Wendy turned her gaze to the three crewmen who hadn’t received (or weren’t following) Hook’s latest orders. Allthree suddenly recalled urgent business elsewhere. Lacking targets for her ire, Wendy stomped over to a chair-height crate and settled onto it. Her new position afforded a decent view of the main deck.
She forewent ladylike posture, pulling her still-bare-but-slightly-cleaner feet up and folding them beneath her skirt. The cat appeared in the same sudden manner as her sheeries, who had yet to return, and settled on the crate beside her, just out of reach. Wendy wasn’t in the mood to be comforted, anyway.
Gauging the position of the rapidly sinking sun, she realized she had less than an hour of daylight left. Cradling her chin in one hand and slouching to rest that elbow on her knee, Wendy settled in to ponder her next steps.
Waiting to land in Sharamil was out of the question. Not only would it take too long, but their authorities also couldn’t enforce the law outside of their jurisdiction. And the laws would be different. Maybe killing children was legal in that desert country.
“Fine. Probably not,” she said.
The cat ignored her, but a passing crewman, who might have been in his thirties, gave her an odd look. But whether that was because she was talking to herself or because she spoke without lifting her chin from her hand, thereby causing her head to bounce up and down, Wendy couldn’t say. Nor did she really care.
If theJolly Rogerwasn’t going to make port again for a while, she needed to make her own way off. Swimming in a dress was a death wish, so a floatation device would be necessary. This idea straightened her spine. There must be a small boat for when the ship weighed anchor somewhere without a dock.
Scrutinizing her surroundings more carefully, Wendy searched for such a vessel. The deck held a number of expected ship accouterments—crates, nets, and the like. And at the far end of her line of sight, a small boat hung from ropes and pulleys. With dusk an imminent threat, she decided now would be the perfect time to start testing her limits. Would the crew object to her wandering about the deck? Did Hook order them to keep her from exploring certain regions? Time to find out.
