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.