“Watch, Gwendolyn. If you have any doubt of the choices before you, watch what your Captain is capable of.”
The Captain has already turned back to the Dark One and is slowly lowering himself to his knees, his head bowed before the dark creature, his eyes level with the boy’s motionless body. “Go with God, Davey,” the Captain whispers as he crosses himself. “And forgive me what I must do.”
The Dark One thrusts its hand forward again, offering the fistful of glowing thread to the Captain. This time the Captain accepts the thread of the boy’s life in cupped hands. For a moment he simply holds it, the glow lighting the sharp angles of his face, and I can’t tell if it’s revulsion or appreciation that makes him pause. Then he lifts his hands and inhales deeply, his lips soft in a rounded O as he breathes in the boy’s light. With each breath, the boy’s body convulses in the air with an agonized groan.
“You see, Gwendolyn,” Pan whispers as I watch the horrible drama play out before me. “Your Captain cares so little for those who follow him, he will drink in the boy’s life, and the boy will die.” The boy lets out another frail, awful moan. “Imagine, my dear, what he would do to you.”
It’s not your allegiance I want, the Captain had told me. Is this what he meant? Is this what he had planned for me?
I can’t make myself look away from the scene in the dark hold before me. The Captain’s face is a combination of pain and relief, regret and horrible delight. With every breath of light the Captain takes, the boy’s moans shatter the stillness of the night. With each breath, the small body twitches and convulses, and the boy’s skin begins to turn a dusky, mottled gray. Dark jagged lines that remind me of the crew’s tattoos snake their way across the boy’s skin, until his entire body is covered with a web of them.
Finally, the small body convulses silently with one last, horrible twitch and goes limp, falling back to the pallet. And when his body hits the ground, it shatters into hundreds of jagged pieces that skitter across the floor of the hold.
The curve of an ear settles near my feet, and I let out a strangled gasp.
The Captain goes perfectly still at the sound.
Pan tries to pull us back far enough to avoid being caught, but it’s too late. The Captain’s wild eyes have already found us in the darkness, and when he sees who it is, and that I am not alone, his face contorts with fury.
“Unhand her,” he growls, his blade raised unsteadily toward Pan. His eyes aren’t quite as sharp as usual, almost like he’s having trouble focusing.
“I don’t think she wants to be unhanded.” Pan’s arms are still around me. “Shall we ask her? Would you like me to unhand you, Gwendolyn?”
I hear his voice, but it sounds so far away. My vision has gone dark around the edges, and it feels like I’m looking down a tunnel. All I can see is the small, fragile curve of the boy’s ear lying on the ground near the toe of my boot.
“I’m warning you. Leave the girl,” the Captain growls again, his voice even less human this time as it tears from his throat.
“Or what?” I can practically hear the taunting smile in Pan’s voice. “Will you kill me? Will you kill her, as well? Perhaps you’ll drink in her life, just as you drank in the boy’s?”
The Captain growls, lunging forward, but whatever he’s done has taken a toll on him—his legs seem to be too unsteady to hold him, and he stumbles. “Let. Her. Go.”
“I don’t think I will,” Pan says calmly as he begins to back us toward the ladder. “I don’t think I could countenance leaving such an innocent here with the likes of you. I’ve already promised to free her, you see.”
“Gwendolyn.” The Captain’s eyes are wild. Their once-dark irises almost seem to glow in the darkness of the hold, like the fury has lit him from within. “Don’t listen to his promises,” he rasps. “Nothing but lies.” He tries to stagger toward me.
But all I can see is the shattered pieces of what was once a boy scattered across the floor. “And you haven’t lied to me?” I whisper. But then my voice grows stronger, more sure. “You told me the Dark Ones could breach the boundaries between our worlds, but you never mentioned that you’re working with them.”
The Captain only stares at me, his jaw tight, and his dark eyes flashing with some unspoken emotion I cannot place. But he doesn’t deny it.
“It’s up to you, Gwendolyn,” Pan coaxes. The warmth of his arms feels real and strangely secure. “I will not force you. I would never treat you like a prisoner.”
The implication is clear—that the Captain has treated me like a prisoner. Not that I need to be reminded. My wrists still ache from his crew’s treatment.
“Think of Olivia,” he whispers in my ear. “I can take you to her.”