On Nightmare's Shore

By Jonathan Wenzel

When an ancient enemy returns to steal Neverland's closest guarded secret, its inhabitants must unite to keep from falling into ruin. In the face of impossible odds and the prospect of Neverland's desolation, Peter Pan must find a way where none can be seen. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jonathan M. Wenzel
• Release date: Dec 25, 2022
• ISBN: 9798218126636

Book preview

PROLOGUE

HOOK WATCHED THE corner of the cabin from his bed through half-closed eyes. The room was dark, but he knew he wasn’t alone. And James Hook was nothing if not patient.

So, he waited.

For nearly an hour he lay, unmoving, keeping both his half-closed eyes and the pistol he slept with, trained on the shadow in the corner.

I’m getting too old for this, he thought to himself.

What say I stop pretending to be asleep, and you stop pretending I don’t know you’re there? Hook said, finally opening his eyes.

Agreed, a wet, guttural voice whispered from the shadows.

What do you want? Hook demanded. And know that I’ve had my pistol trained on you this whole time.

If my intent was to kill you, you would have died before I revealed myself, the wet voice replied.

The voice was female, but painfully raspy, and somehow wet.

Hook considered his response, smothering the seedlings of fear that had appeared in his stomach at her words.

How long had she been in his cabin without his knowing? Impossible.

He crushed the doubt and fear and smiled inwardly. Well, struck, he thought to himself. He doubted her claim, but approved her tactics and the verbal strike.

You still haven’t answered my question, Hook said, ignoring what he now fully believed to be a bluff. What do you want?

To make an offer, the voice answered.

What kind of offer? Hook said, his eyes narrowing.

How faresss your war with the boy? the voice asked.

"What does that have to do with this offer?" Hook asked, again taken aback at the shift the conversation had taken.

The boy is made ssstrong by his alliances, the voice replied.

Pixies and kites, Hook said, agreeing. And those accursed mers.

Yesss.

And this offer? Hook asked.

A weakening of hisss alliances, the voice replied.

And how would you propose we achieve that? Hook asked, letting a scoff creep into his voice.

We will ssstrike the mers, together. And then you will strike the creatures in the dry.

What do you think we’ve been doing here? Hook asked. That’s exactly what we’ve been doing for years.

We will ssstrike them together, the voice repeated.

We? Hook asked.

Yesss, the voice answered.

Her answer carried a tone of finality that Hook was hesitant to press. So, he moved on.

And if I refuse? Hook asked.

Then your men will fall under our coral, the voice hissed.

Then why do you need our help? Hook asked. If you’re willing to go to war with every creature on Neverland, myself included, why do you need my help?

I will be victorious with or without you, but a greater number of mine will fall if we fight each other, she answered.

Hook considered her claims. If she could do what she promised, that would indeed help his efforts against that accursed boy. But they were just that, claims, and a claim without ability was nothing but a lie.

And yet, somehow, she had managed to sneak into his cabin without his knowledge. That in itself was no small feat.

If I agree, Hook said, after a moment. And we do this thing, and Neverland falls to us…What then?

We depart, the voice replied.

That’s it? It’s that simple? Hook laughed. We shake hands and go our separate ways?

Hook shook his head.

No, he said. That is never how such things end.

What need does a mer have of the dry? the voice replied.

You’re a mermaid? Hook asked, sitting upright. And you would fight your own kind?

But the speaker did not answer.

As much as he hated to admit it, she was right. Hook’s feud with Peter Pan was not going well. If he were being honest with himself, it was going quite poorly. In fact, if he were entirely truthful it…well, when had he ever been entirely truthful?

That boy excelled at eluding his efforts to capture or kill him. Of course, the plan was to capture and then kill the boy, but at this point, Hook would settle for simply killing him.

Hook needed to kill him.

Often times Hook’s efforts left him looking weak and, at times, foolish in front of his men, an outcome that infuriated him even more.

He burned to be rid of the boy, yearned to finally be rid of the one adversary who had bested him. He looked down at the hook attached to his arm. These days, he never took it off, for only when he wore his hook did the wound of his missing hand stop aching.

When the hook was removed, somehow, impossibly, his mind would instantly return to the moment he had lost his hand. The flashing of steel and teeth and blood and pain would explode in his mind, leaving him trapped in that defining moment of his past.

A weakness, no doubt.

But one that could also be bent to served him.

Sometimes, when he lost focus, or needed reminding of his glorious purpose, he would remove the hook. In slow, ceremonious fashion, he’d unwrap the linen strips that held the hook-laden cap to the end of his arm. In those moments, he’d pull the cap free, releasing the long-since healed injury, and bask in the pain and rage that ignited in a ghost of a hand, screaming back into existence.

He looked from his hook back to the shadow in the corner.

The shadow did not speak. It waited.

He nodded.

I have thingssss to prepare, the voice said. I will return when they are complete.

The window near the corner creaked open and a sound like sandpaper on the deck scraped towards it.

A moment, Hook called.

The scraping paused.

What name shall I give to my men when they ask who our new ally is? Hook asked.

The shadow seemed to turn towards him, almost growing in breadth, looming over him.

Miiren.

CHAPTER 1

WAVES PADDED AT the ship, rocking it gently, making it difficult for even the most seasoned sailors, let alone cabin boys, to stay awake.

Two such boys had taken a break from their nightly rounds to sit in the dark, cool hold, listening to the waves slap playfully at the sides of the ship.

The only other sounds were the faint creaking of the masts and rigging as taut lines held the mast stable. Those gentle creaks added to the peacefulness of the night, while the snoring coming from one of the boys, did not.

Tootles, wake up. You’re snoring, one of the boys snapped. Again!

The boy, Tootles, jerked awake, and balled one hand into a fist, trying to strike his companion.

Knock it off, Nibs, I am not! Tootles retorted, shoving at Nibs, a brown-haired boy, clutching a small leather bag filled with marbles.

Tootles’ sudden movement caused a marble to spill out of one his pockets. It bounced away, the staccato tapping sound of glass against wood echoing through the quiet ship.

Tootles, round and short, while Nibs was tall and lean, both wore mops of brown, unwashed hair. They were often mistaken for brothers, both in appearance and the way they constantly bickered.

You knock it off, Nibs hissed. Or Captain Johnson will have our hides!

I was sleeping, Tootles said, the splatter of freckles on his face contorting in indignation. I wasn’t doing anything!

You were snoring, Nibs insisted. You’re always snoring. And besides, we’re not supposed to be sleeping, we’re supposed to be checking on the supplies.

I was not snoring, Tootles objected again. And the supplies are fine, just like last night, and the night before that, and every other night.

Stow that gab, boys, a voice ordered from above deck. There’s a ship on an intercept course.

The voice obviously belonged to Captain Johnson. The man spoke with perfect precision and clarity. It was as if every night before bed, he polished the words he was going to use the next day.

The boys went rigid with fear.

"Who would dare intercept The Kingston?" Nibs wondered aloud.

We’ll know soon enough, the man replied. For now, get in the hold and stay put.

Aye, Captain! Nibs called, climbing to his feet, and pulling Tootles with him, made his way to the forward hold.

Aye, Captain, Tootles whispered mockingly.

Nibs elbowed Tootles.

Ow! Tootles cried.

I said stow it! the man ordered.

Tootles glared at Nibs, but the boy stuck his tongue out at him.

This is stupid, Tootles complained, descending the stairs that led to the lower hold. I want to go back to sleep.

Quiet, Nibs hissed. Orders are orders.

Tootles rolled his eyes in response, the darkness in the hold hiding his reaction.

You’re rolling your eyes, aren’t you, Toots? demanded Nibs.

I am not, Tootles objected, rolling his eyes again. And don’t call me that! I’ve told you a thousand times to stop calling me that!

Yes, you are, I can hear you doing it, Nibs said.

Hear me doing it? Tootles scoffed. Eyes don’t make sounds, you idiot.

Oh yeah? Then how come– Nibs started, but the sound of a distant boom stopped his retort.

A few seconds later the ship violently shook as something struck it, sending stacked barrels tumbling around the boys.

They screamed and covered their ears in unison, as if ignoring threatening noises would be protection enough.

Who’s doing that? Tootles demanded. This ship is part of the Royal Navy. You’re not allowed to attack ships in the Navy.

They’re called pirates, Tootles, Nibs wailed.

Pirates? Tootles exclaimed. Out here? How?

We’re in the Caribbean, you jolterhead, Nibs hissed. That’s where pirates live. Don’t you pay attention?

The booms were replaced with shouting and the muffled pops of smaller guns being discharged above deck.

I’m sure we’re winning, Tootles said. Do you think we’re winning? We should hide.

Tootles scurried around a stack of crates that were lashed to the ground.

I don’t’ know, Toots, Nibs said quietly, following his friend.

Don’t call me that, Tootles whispered.

The apparent sounds of battle went on long enough for both boys to lose track of time. Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the world went silent.

Did we win? Tootles asked, relaxing slightly.

I don’t know, Nibs said. Then, his voice shaking with fear said, Shhh, you hear that?

Footsteps could be heard on the opposite side of the door to the hold. The boys held their breath, waiting to see if the owner of those boots would enter.

The door creaked open, lantern light revealed a man entering the room. The light spilled over the two trembling boys.

Hello, boys, a voice called.

Captain Johnson? Nibs asked.

I’m afraid not, the man said. Captain Johnson is…Well, let’s just say Captain Johnson is dead.

Is Captain Johnson dead? Tootles asked.

Yes, the man answered. He’s dead.

The boys cowered in fear, backing away from the man.

You killed him? Tootles asked, disbelievingly.

The man cocked his head, considering.

Yes, he said after a pause. I suppose I did. It was self-defense though.

Why? Nibs asked, his voice cracking.

Well, the man said. Because I needed this ship, and Johnson wouldn’t give to me.

The Kingston? Tootles asked.

That’s right, and ole Johnson wouldn’t hear of it, the man said, still hidden behind the glow of the lantern. So here we are.

The boys, devastated at the loss of their captain, and angry at their own inability to do anything about what they assumed was their own pending deaths, did the only thing they could do.

They started to cry.

Please, sir, Tootles sniffed. Please don’t murder us.

We’re not even supposed to be here, Nibs protested.

You’re not? the man asked, obviously surprised by Nibs’ statement. Where are you supposed to be?

The orphanage, Tootles explained. But we hated it there, so we ran away.

We ran away to the docks, Nibs added. And snuck onto the first ship we could find.

It was the only ship, Tootles said. And now we’re going to get murdered. We have the worst luck!

So, you boys aren’t part of the Royal Navy? the man asked, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. You’re not cabin boys? Or powder monkeys?

No, Tootles said, wiping his nose on his sleeve. At least, not really. I mean, once Captain Johnson found us, he gave us those jobs. But like I said, we’re orphans.

Well, that changes everything, the man said, crouching down to their eye level.

They could make out his features now. Keen, green eyes framed by a clean-shaven face. A black hat with silver trim perfectly matched his silver-trimmed, black overcoat.

It does? Nibs asked, rubbing his red eyes with a knuckle.

Of course, it does! the man said. You stowed away onto a ship without permission. That doesn’t make you Royal Sailors. Do you know what it makes you?

The two boys looked at each other, then turned back to the man, shaking their heads in unison.

Pirates, lads, the main said with a smile. It makes you pirates.

The boys’ eyes grew wide. They had of course heard of pirates. A pirate’s life was rumored to be filled with all manner of exciting and terrible things.

The boys looked at each other, each wanting to see how the other would react, yet neither knowing how to respond.

We’re pirates? Nibs asked, incredulous. You’re not going to kill us?

Of course not, welcome to the crew, the man said, spreading his arms wide. A man of honor has to balance necessary evil he’s done with some good.

Huh? Nibs asked.

Never mind, the man said, waving the question away.

But what about the rest of the crew? Tootles asked, worry finding its home in his voice. Won’t they be mad that we’re pirates now?

Um…No. I wouldn’t worry about them, the man said. I’d wager they wouldn’t have much of anything to say on the topic.

Hmmm, Nibs said, chewing his lip thoughtfully. Do we have a new captain then?

Aye, the man said. Indeed, you do, me.

He hung the lantern on a hook in the ceiling and fully stepped into the light.

The boys’ eyes widened again, as they took in the man’s appearance.

His black hat and overcoat were matched with a black shirt and vest. Silver scabbard chains clung to a black leather belt that shimmered in the lantern light.

He stood, removing his hat, black also with silver trim, and bowed to the boys.

Calico, he said. Captain of the recently acquired Kingston, although I plan on renaming her quick-like.

How come?

The first rule of piracy, Calico said, leaning close to the boys. Is to always rename a stol–er–liberated ship. ‘Tis bad luck not to.

I see, Tootles said, nodding.

And if you can also impress your woman in the process, Calico explained. Well, then that’s just an added bonus.

What’s the Kingston’s new name going to be? Nibs asked.

The Anne Bonny, Calico said proudly, waving his hand across the air as he spoke. Has quite the ring, doesn’t it?

I suppose so, Tootles said doubtfully.

So, what is our plan? Nibs asked. "Where is the…the Anne Bonny headed to?"

We’re going to see an old friend, Calico said. Come with me.

The boys followed Calico out of the hold and back on to the deck. Pirates had totally replaced all sailors on the deck. It was the middle of the night, but the ship was alive with lantern light and activity.

The ship had sustained minimal damage in the pirate attack. Calico lead the boys to something enormous, covered in canvas.

The boys had known of the large covered item that was stored in the center of the ship’s deck. But they had been forbidden to investigate, so they had kept their distance.

This is why we needed the ship, Calico explained, pulling back a large canvas sheet, exposing two huge cannons. I need to deliver these girls to a friend.

What for? Tootles asked, touching the shiny black metal.

Apparently he’s been waging some sort of war against an island’s vicious inhabitants, Calico explained. They’re guarding some kind of vast treasure, and he thinks with enough firepower he can put them in their place.

Tootles whistled.

If you got hit with one of these, it’d put you in several places at once, Nibs said.

That’s the point, Calico said, laughing. These things punch so hard, they could knock your shadow clean off. And these mean girls are meant to swivel fast, so they can track your target faster than a normal canon.

Wow, Tootles said, clearly impressed.

Where’s your friend? When will we get there? Nibs asked.

A few weeks, maybe three, Calico replied. Some place called Neverland.

CHAPTER 2

SHADOWS WERE CURIOUS things. They never seemed content with the present, always reaching back to where they’d been a moment ago, or stretching away to what lay ahead. Peter’s shadow was no exception. Or rather, maybe it was. Since his shadow seemed even more inclined to reach and stretch––forever in the past or always in the future.

Peter pressed himself against the base of the giant willow tree. He paused a moment before sliding around it to peer out the other side. His shadow lingered behind him, resting lazily on the grass beside the tree.

His bright green eyes darted everywhere, making sure he remained unseen. Mindful of leaves and stray branches that threatened to crack underfoot, he took a tentative step out from around the tree and listened.

Nothing.

"Good form, Peter thought to himself. We may be in the clear after all."

He took another step forward, but the faint snap of a twig froze him in place. His shadow looked in the direction of the sound, his own head mirroring its movement.

Suddenly he felt something strike the back of his neck. He slapped it in reaction and caught something. He pulled his hand back and saw that it was a tiny arrow. The point had been removed, leaving just the dulled shaft as to not injure its target.

What does that make? a small voice giggled behind him. Thirty to zero?

Thirty-three, Peter muttered, flicking the arrow against the tree. How’d you find me this time?

Your shadow, Tinker Belle said, pointing to Peter’s shadow.

The petite fairy wore a simple dark green tunic and pants, translucent wings whipping behind her.

Traitor, Peter said, glaring at the dark shape resting on the ground in front of him.

The shadow almost seemed to shrug indifferently in response.

Come on, silly boy, Tinker Belle teased. Let’s play again.

I’ll pass, Peter said. I’ve had enough losing for one day.

Peter and Tinker Belle meandered through Neverland’s golden, sunlit forest, listening to the songs of carefree birds and lazy breezes wandering through treetops as they walked.

The forest was alive with activity around them. Fairies darted through breaks in the forest canopy, shadows from soaring kites high flickered over trees and bushes.

They made their way through the sweet-smelling forest without hurry or agenda, simply enjoying the day.

It’s peaceful, Peter said, the afternoon sun gently pressing its heat into his back.

Peace, Tinker Belle said with a happy sigh, her tiny head nodding. It’s my second favorite thing.

Killing pirates isn’t allowed to be your favorite thing, Peter chided.

Peace, Tinker Belle said with a happy sigh, her tiny head nodding. It’s my favorite thing.

Liar, Peter laughed.

Tinker Belle bared her teeth at him and growled. The growl melted into a smile, then she blew a kiss at him.

Peter laughed, then sighed contentedly as they continued to walk.

He’s been quiet, he said.

Maybe ole Hooky is getting tired of losing too, Tinker Belle offered with a shrug.

I don’t think we’ll ever get that lucky, he said.

Teach gave up, Tinker Belle said, remembering Neverland’s first great threat.

Teach wanted power, Peter explained, pushing an errant branch out of his way as he walked. Teach wanted power with as little effort as necessary. Hook wants revenge.

Tinker Belle considered his words.

Teach can get power anywhere, Peter explained. Revenge…well, apparently Hook can only that find here.

You’re probably right, Tinker Belle said, nodding in agreement. We should probably just kill him then.

No, Peter said. If we kill everyone who tries to harm Neverland, we’ll never be done.

I don’t know, Tinker Belle said, her brow lowered in thought. "I mean, eventually we’d be done. After we’d killed everyone."

What I mean is, there has to be some chance for people to change, Peter said. People can change, right?

If you ask me, Tinker Belle said, folding her arms. No.

That’s why you’re not in charge, Peter said with a wink.

Pity, Tinker Belle said.

If we kill Hook, Peter continued. Someone else would just take his place. I understand Hook, I get him. I know the threat. He wants me, not Neverland. And maybe I can show him a different way, given enough time.

Well, Tinker Belle said returning Peter’s wink. He’s not getting any younger.

That makes two of us, Peter said.

Tinker Belle smiled at his comment.

You know what I mean, she said.

The two friends left the forest and walked out into the small clearing that lay between the tree line and the edge of the Obsidian Cliffs.

The wind was stronger on the coast, but still warm. Peter closed his eyes, feeling the sun warming his face, the sea breeze playing with his hair.

Speak of the devil, Tinker Belle said shielding the sun with a tiny, outstretched