Hook's Revenge Read online

  “If my father was so wicked, how could you have loved him in the first place? You were so perfect.”

  Evelina laughed. “No one is perfect, Jocelyn—certainly not I. In the same way, no one is perfectly terrible, though James would have liked to think that he came close. He had deep feelings: love, loneliness, passion—”

  “Disgusting.”

  “—but he kept his humanity, truly everything dear to him, locked up tight in an iron box. A box to which, I’m afraid, he refused to share the key.”

  A memory itched at the back of Jocelyn’s mind, but she couldn’t quite scratch it.

  “When I returned home and learned I would be your mother, it was the happiest time of my life. The last thing I remember is looking into your tiny red face, so strong and new, and knowing that I would never accomplish anything greater. Even though I knew that you would be fine without me, if I had been given a choice, I would never have left you.”

  “How could you possibly have known that I would be fine?”

  Evelina’s eyes twinkled. “Let’s call it a mother’s intuition. And I can tell you this: you will not only be fine; you will be great. I know it.”

  Jocelyn held out the last remaining perfume bottle. “I…I broke the rest. I’m sorry.”

  Evelina took it and dashed it to the floor. The bottle shattered like all the others. “I don’t care. They weren’t important. Not like you.” She reached over and cradled Jocelyn in her arms. “I am the one who should be sorry.”

  Jocelyn allowed herself to be hugged for a long while before asking, “Can you stay?”

  “I wish I could, but even fairy magic cannot bring the dead back to life. However, I can remain in this room for as long as you need. Time will not touch us here.”

  Time. Jocelyn thought of the ticking clock buried deep inside the Neverland’s crocodile. All the girl’s problems pressed in. Her father’s request had not yet been fulfilled, her crew was at the mercy of the merciless Captain Krueger, and Roger…Jocelyn shook her head. As much as she felt comforted by her mother, she wondered if she had wasted her fairy wish. “I don’t know what to do.”

  “The first step is to decide what you really want.”

  “I want to do what my father expects of me.”

  “James is dead and expects nothing.” Evelina seated herself on the bed, patting a spot beside her. “What do you want for yourself?”

  Jocelyn sat, pulling her bare feet beneath her. “If I don’t finish this business with the crocodile, I will live with the failure my whole life. I want to succeed, but I don’t know if I’m strong enough.”

  “You are. You have a power within you even greater than all the magic of the fairies.”

  “No offense,” Jocelyn replied. “You probably do know a lot, being from another realm or something, but I’ve met the fairies. You have no idea how powerful they are.”

  Evelina laughed. “Oh, Jocelyn, children are ever so much more powerful. The proof is simple. What happens when a child says, ‘I don’t believe in fairies’?”

  That Evelina, she was a clever one. She must have known that all children, with the exception of a few addlepated simpletons, can answer that question in their sleep. Listen up, so you can be sure to get it.

  “Every time a child says, ‘I don’t believe in fairies,’ a fairy falls down dead,” Jocelyn recited.

  “Something similar happens when a child turns that doubt inward. The part of her that can do anything fades away. In time, and fed enough disbelief, it will die.”

  Jocelyn wasn’t sure if she agreed, but she listened anyway.

  “The crocodile feeds on fear and doubt. A few years ago you would have been able to defeat it without much difficulty, but now more uncertainties have crept in. In order to get what you want, you must find a way to push them back.”

  Jocelyn pulled at a ragged thread on her sleeve. “That’s the big secret? Believe in myself and everything will turn out fine? That sounds…stupid.”

  Evelina laughed. “That doesn’t make it untrue. Or easy, as I’m certain you will discover. It holds the key to anything you may wish to accomplish, not just defeating the crocodile. You must look within yourself to discover what you really want, believe that you can have it, and not allow anything to keep you from it.” She smoothed a lock of Jocelyn’s hair, tucking it behind an ear. “Rest now. You have a difficult task ahead of you.”

  Jocelyn snuggled down into the bed, drowsiness settling over her like a comforting blanket. Her mother’s cool hand caressed her forehead. Evelina began to hum a lullaby, and the girl closed her eyes. When she opened them, she was back in the forest, the stillness only broken by the sweet song of a nightingale.

  “Decide what I want. Believe I can have it. Don’t let anything stop me,” the girl repeated to herself as she stood and started up the path.

  Jocelyn wanted to rescue her crew and to defeat the crocodile. She was determined to do those things, but there was one thing she needed to do first—something she wanted above all else.

  Jocelyn had to find Roger. He might choose to end their friendship, but he would do so remembering her.

  Jocelyn didn’t know where to look for Roger, but she thought the fairies might have an idea. “Meriwether!” she called as she walked along, hoping the little prince would come.

  Unlike humans, fairies only have room for one emotion at a time. We are a much more varied species. For example, when I look at you I am filled with many emotions—distaste, irritation, apoplectic rage—but fairies are simply not big enough for such complexities.

  Meriwether was too filled with joy at Jocelyn’s call to hold a grudge over her choosing to remain human. He flew straight for the girl, alighting on her outstretched hand. She was glad to see his damaged wing was nearly healed, though she was not quite as happy to find his desire for kisses had remained unchanged.

  “Meriwether, stop that. I need your help. Can you show me how to find the lost boys?” He nodded and zipped through the trees, up a trail to the Mysterious River. Jocelyn followed as they traveled with the current, mostly uphill. After a time they arrived at a deep pool whence an upward-flowing waterfall crashed and roared as it ascended a rocky cliff.

  The girl stared in wonder, only tearing her eyes away when Meriwether gave a gentle tug on her ear. He pointed up the bank, where Roger and the other lost boys were stomping around in the brush.

  Roger bent over to examine a plant of some sort. In the short time since she had seen him last, he’d changed, now looking even less like the boy she knew. He was wearing a leaf-and-moss vest with pants made of coarse, dark fur. Looking closer, Jocelyn detected a new wildness about him that had nothing to do with his clothing.

  The boy straightened, wiping his hands on his pants. They met each other’s eyes. He smiled his familiar smile, waved, and motioned for her to join him. Jocelyn felt hope crack open a door inside her chest. She tried (but utterly failed) to keep some composure as she ran to him.

  “Hello, girl. Want to have another berry fight?” he called over the rush of the waterfall.

  The hopeful door slammed shut. “No, I don’t want to have a berry fight! Roger, listen to me. You have to try to remember.”

  “Very well. Remember what?” Meriwether flitted about Roger’s head, making rude gestures. “Is this your fairy? Peter has a fairy.”

  “Meriwether, stop that!” she said. He settled onto her shoulder, wings tickling her neck.

  One of the lost boys, still wearing his torn jackalope hood, joined them. He scowled at Jocelyn but did not otherwise acknowledge her. Holding up an acorn, he asked, “Is this it, Dodge?”

  Roger shook his head. “No, sorry, Ace. That’s an acorn. It won’t do anything to the pirates.”

  “Are there pirates nearby?” Jocelyn asked, thinking of her lost crew.

  “Certainly,” Roger said. “Their ship is
harbored right over there.” He motioned vaguely up the waterfall. “Or at least it was this morning.”

  “How about this, Dodge? Is this it?” the chubby boy yelled from where he stood, holding up a rock.

  “No, Fredo, that’s a rock!” Roger called back to him. He chuckled and went back to searching through the undergrowth.

  Jocelyn tried again. “Roger—”

  “It’s Dodge.” He didn’t even look up.

  “No, it’s Roger! And I’m Jocelyn.”

  “Hi, Jocelyn.” He sounded just as he always had. He couldn’t be completely gone.

  “Roger. Try to remember. What about the school? Miss Eliza Crumb-Biddlecomb’s Finishing School for Young Ladies?”

  He shrugged. “That doesn’t seem like the kind of school I would go to.”

  “You weren’t a student. You worked there: cook’s helper, undergardener, and all-around errand boy?”

  He continued his search, moving a bit away from her. “That sounds like a fun game.”

  “It wasn’t a game!” she shouted.

  “You are very grumpy this morning. Did you have breakfast?”

  “No, why?”

  “I don’t know. I thought you might get short-tempered when you don’t get enough to eat. I wish I had some food in my pocket, but I don’t. These bearskin pants didn’t even have pockets when Peter gave them to me, but I gave two purple beetles to a gnome tailor and—”

  The twins called out in unison, “Look, Dodge! We think we’ve got it.” They held up a pair of brown turtles.

  “No, Twin and Twin,” Roger said. “We’re searching for a fruit, remember? A green fruit with purple spikes. Boys, come over here.” He pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket. “Look at this.” All the boys gathered around. Jocelyn stood at the edge of the circle, feeling very small and alone. “See,” Roger said, “devil’s apple. There’s a picture right here. Spread out and keep looking.”

  Jocelyn craned her neck to get a look at what he was holding. It was the page she had torn from Impress Your Friends, Confound Your Enemies: 1001 Poisonous Jungle Plants and How to Use Them. She could see her apology, written on one side. “That’s my note! Where did you get it?”

  Roger scratched his head. “I don’t think it’s yours. A bird gave it to me a few days ago.”

  “That was Edgar. I asked him to deliver it. I tore a page from your book so I could write to you. Think, Roger! Can you remember the carriage house at school? We went there to read and dream about having grand adventures someday.”

  Roger knit his eyebrows together. “Aren’t we having adventures now?”

  “We are, but this isn’t the way it was supposed to work out. We were supposed to go together. You promised! But then Miss Eliza thought that we…that I…”

  “Who is Miss Eliza? Is she here too?” He looked around. “I don’t think I like her very much.”

  “That’s right, Roger, you don’t. She sent you away to a dreadful place and said we couldn’t be friends.”

  “That wasn’t very nice.” He was still frowning.

  Jocelyn felt a lump in her throat. “No, no it wasn’t. When I tried to find you, to tell you that I was sorry, you were already gone. That’s why I sent the note.”

  “Why were you sorry? What did you do?” he asked.

  This was hard to talk about. Jocelyn checked to see where the rest of the lost boys were. They had spread out along the river and the edge of the forest—too far to hear, even if there hadn’t been a roaring waterfall masking her voice. Meriwether’s wings tickled Jocelyn’s neck again. She shooed him away. He flew off and settled on a nearby limb, arms folded, with his back to her, the very picture of a sulky fairy.

  Jocelyn cleared her throat. “If I…” Her mouth felt dry. She swallowed and began again. “If I hadn’t needed you so much, if I had left you alone, you wouldn’t have been sent away.”

  Roger grinned at her, though not quite in the just-for-her way Jocelyn wished to see. “So, if you had decided not to be my friend, this Eliza person couldn’t have stopped us from being friends.” He nudged her with his elbow. “Sounds like you did something terrible, for certain.”

  What Roger said made sense. Some of Jocelyn’s guilt fell away, only to be replaced with more sadness. Roger, her Roger, was right there in front of her, acting the same friendly way he always had, but he didn’t know her.

  “Anyway,” the boy continued, “if you want to have an adventure, you can help us find some devil’s apple. We’re going to make a drink for the pirates. It probably won’t kill them, but it might make them think they are seeing ghosts or something. All except that one with the eye patches, I suppose. Perhaps he would hear ghosts, though.”

  Absorbed as she was in her desire to make Roger remember, it took a moment for his words to sink in. The one with the eye patches? “Is he on the ship you were talking about?” Perhaps, by some miracle, her men had not been captured at all.

  Roger slapped at a mosquito, still intent on his hunt for the poison. “Oh yes. Him, a pirate with one arm, a portly one that cries all the time, and a couple others.”

  “And they aren’t prisoners? They’re all right?”

  “No, they’re not anyone’s prisoners. And they’ll be all right until we give them some devil’s-apple juice. We are at war with them, you know.”

  “Meriwether,” Jocelyn called. The fairy crossed his eyes and stuck out his tongue at her. “Fine, then, if you don’t want to do something special, just for me.” Jocelyn gave what she hoped was a coaxing smile. “Something that no one else could do…”

  Meriwether rocketed over and began making a nest in the girl’s hair.

  “All right. All right. Stop that. I need you to fly up the cliff and see if you can find the Hook’s Revenge in the harbor. She will be flying a black flag with a red hook. Will you do that for me?” He nodded his head, bells ringing joyfully, and shot out of sight.

  Jocelyn turned back to Roger. “I thought that Krueger had captured them.”

  He stopped digging through the bushes and sat back on his heels. “Is Krueger an evil-looking pirate with a scar on his face and pointy teeth?”

  Jocelyn nodded. “Have you seen him?”

  Roger shivered. “Yeah. The ones in the harbor—your men? They were fighting him a couple nights ago, in the storm. Peter heard there was a pirate battle, so we drew lots to pick a side. After we helped your pirates win—”

  “You helped my men defeat Krueger? How?”

  “Oh, that was easy. Peter let us use some of Tink’s fairy dust and we all flew out to the battle. If you can fly, and those you are fighting cannot, well…that puts them at quite a disadvantage, you know.”

  Jocelyn scowled, remembering her dream where that flying Peter Pan so unfairly fought with her father. But if Pan and his lost boys—and Roger—had helped her men fight off Krueger, she couldn’t be too irritated, could she? “So you killed Krueger and his men?” she asked, unsure of what she wanted the answer to be.

  “Killed them? Oh no. At least, I don’t think so. We pushed a few into the water, but their ship was only a short swim away. I know the captain made it aboard for certain. I saw him climbing up a loose rope, looking angrier than a wet cat.”

  Jocelyn shivered at the thought of Krueger, out there somewhere, possibly plotting his revenge.

  “Anyway,” Roger went on, “after we helped your pirates win the battle, Peter declared war on them, but he didn’t want to fight them the same old way we fought the others. He told us to think up a new plan while he finds out what side Tiger Lily wants to be on. We decided to poison them. That is, if we can find the apples.”

  The lost boys were gone now, off searching in the thick foliage surrounding them. Roger walked closer to the river. “I don’t think it’s a water plant, but my information cuts off in the middle of the description.”


  Jocelyn moved between him and the water. She grabbed him by the shoulders. “Roger!” she shouted over the roar of the waterfall. “Try to remember who you were before you came here. Please! Try to remember me!”

  He stared hard at her face. “I…I…” His eyes drifted from her face to a spot behind her and grew wide. “Watch out!” he yelled, and shoved her to the side.

  Jocelyn fell hard, banging her elbow on a rock. She turned her head toward the river. The crocodile was clawing its way up the muddy bank, coming straight for her. Only now, when it was nearly upon her, could Jocelyn hear a clock tick-tocking over the sound of the waterfall.

  The girl tried to pull her sword from its scabbard, but she was lying on it. She struggled to get to her feet, to free her sword, to fight, but wasn’t fast enough. From off to her right, a rock flew toward the beast, crashing into its side with a hollow thud.

  “Run, girl!” Roger called to her.

  With a deep, reptilian snarl the beast turned toward him and lunged. A pair of massive jaws caught the boy by his leg and began pulling him toward the water. Roger’s scream was alive with pain and terror.

  Jocelyn scrambled to her feet, positioning herself between the monster and the river. “Let him go!” she commanded, ignoring her fear. Still holding Roger in its jaws, the beast turned a half circle, now parallel to the river. Jocelyn drew her sword. It backed away, dragging her now-silent friend in the direction of the forest.

  “I said let him go!” she shouted again, leaping forward. She lashed out with her sword, striking the monster in the soft area behind its front leg. Her blow did not puncture the skin, but it did appear to cause the monster some pain. With a low growl, it dropped its captive and retreated into the trees. Once the crocodile’s ticktock had faded completely, Jocelyn looked down.

  Roger lay at her feet, crumpled and still.

  Jocelyn knelt in the mud, cradling Roger’s head in her lap. He was breathing, but his face was too pale. “Help!” she screamed. “Somebody help me!”