Hook would give her the justice the courts denied. It would be his wedding gift to her. Clenching his jaw, he wondered if she would understand or beg him not to. But in his world fate wasn’t determined by a judge, it was settled with a sword and she was his woman now. Her wounds were his, his to hold and to heal.
“Believe in me, little bird,” he whispered, before brushing a tender kiss against the curve of her jaw. Rolling out of the bed gently, so as not to disturb her slumber, he stood and dressed quickly. Walking over to his dresser, he methodically switched out his hook for one with a more versatile tip. Rather than the steel curving, this attachment was flat and long and straight as a blade. It took no time at all to change out. Finished, he went in search of his first mate.
Smee was above deck, manning the helm.
It was the peak of night; most of his crew were below in their sleeping quarters, only a few straggled about. But even they were slumped over barrels and crates, feet propped up and hands tucked on their bellies, softly snoring out a lullaby.
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 *cat 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.