The Mighty Hook: Shadows of Neverland, #1

Table of Contents

Foreword

Chapter 1

The Angel in the Green Hood

Chapter 2

We Are Pirates!

Chapter 3

Welcome to Your New Home

Chapter 4

Your Legend Grows

Chapter 5

The Kiss of Life

Chapter 6

When a Man Loves a Woman

Chapter 7

One of Us

Chapter 8

The Heart is the Weakness of Men

Chapter 9

The Host with the Most

Chapter 10

Now you want advice?

Chapter 11

The Delivery

Chapter 12

The Treachery

Chapter 13

Welcome to My Island

Chapter 14

Rats in a Maze

Chapter 15

Welcome to Your Doom

Chapter 16

Yum-Yum

Chapter 17

Strange Days Ahead

Chapter 18

The Empowerment Proxy

Chapter 19

Bad Friends

Chapter 20

Business over Bedroom

Chapter 21

More Plans Coming

Chapter 22

Ghost Pains

Chapter 23

The Open Sea Again

Chapter 24

Checking the List

Chapter 25

Welcome Party

Chapter 26

Is Your Head Clearer Now?

Chapter 27

Party for the Ages

Chapter 28

Caves with Cannibal Children are the Worst

Chapter 29

The Show Must Go On

Chapter 30

Last-Minute Thoughts

Chapter 31

Hide and Seek

Chapter 32

Sitting Pretty with Zombies

Chapter 33

Birds of a Feather

Chapter 34

The Last Act

Chapter 35

We Welcome Your Death

Chapter 36

Blood in the Sand

Chapter 37

Rest for the Wicked

Chapter 38

Victors and the Spoils

Chapter 39

Captain James Hook at Your Service

Meet the Author

Book Club Questions

The Mighty Hook

Copyright © 2022 Mark Tarrant . All rights reserved.

4 Horsemen Publications, Inc.

1497 Main St. Suite 169

Dunedin, FL 34698

4horsemenpublications.com

[email protected]

Cover by S Wilder

Typesetting by Niki Tantillo

Editor: Heather Teele

All rights to the work within are reserved to the author and publisher. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise, except as permitted under Section 107 or 108 of the 1976 International Copyright Act, without prior written permission except in brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. Please contact either the Publisher or Author to gain permission.

All characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. All brands, quotes, and cited work respectfully belong to the original rights holders and bear no affiliation to the authors or publisher.

Library of Congress Control Number: 2022942216

Paperback ISBN-13: 978-1-64450-677-6

Hardcover ISBN-13: 978-1-64450-721-6

Audiobook ISBN-13: 978-1-64450-675-2

Ebook ISBN-13: 978-1-64450-676-9

Foreword

The evil Captain Hook! I first heard these words when I was a child.

I admit, ever since childhood, I didn’t care much for Peter Pan. A high-flying, fanciful, tight-wearing, dagger-wielding lad, obsessed with a young lady somewhere in London. With him, came a cute, little faerie, sprinkling dust on everything like Chris Kattan at a rave.

That all changed when I was in fifth grade. I made a dramatic turn to the macabre, the dark, the exact thing that made those bumps in the night, making me too afraid to look in my closet or under the bed once bedtime hit and most of the lights went out in the house. I was drawn to horror: Frankenstein, the Mummy, Wolfman, Dracula, then movies like Monster Squad, Critters, Gremlins, and then a whirlwind of coming-of-age stories like Goonies, The Explorers, and The Last Star Fighter, even Mac and Me.

Needless to say, my horizons were expanding, and my mind was exploding with theories and ideas of who and what could come out at night, or even during the day. Monsters just didn’t lurk in the shadows of the night but stood out in plain sight with movies like Tremors and Cujo. My mind raced with excitement as to what I could do with all this. What could I write about? What monsters could I create?

I started creating all kinds of stories about zombies, witches, vampires, and my most favorite monsters of all time—werewolves!

I met Mark in New Jersey at Fangoria’s Weekend of Horrors. What an awesome convention! I was there promoting a little-known horror film titled 100 Tears, and Mark was there with his book The Blood Rider (a book about a preacher turned vampire out for revenge in the Old West). What a hoot! We immediately became best friends.

That was ten years ago. Since then, we have tossed ideas back and forth almost daily. Sometimes, something fantastic finds its way to the front. Something new. Something we didn’t know we wanted.

This is that story. I pressured Mark for months, even years, to get this finished. Now it is, and you get to read this masterpiece of horror, action, suspense, and high seas pirate ship battles. Experience a new telling of what really happened on that mysterious island of Lost Boys, guarded by mermaids, zombified children who want nothing more the to drink your blood, and the one man who fought them all, saved the world, and was known only as THE MIGHTY HOOK!

Mark has truly made that youthful, child-like mind of mine smile again!

-- Joe Davison

Actor, Director, Producer, Author, and Amazing Friend

Chapter 1

The Angel in the Green Hood

The cobbled streets of Dorchester were silent. The candlelit streets shone, a slick gloss on the brick alleyway paths. A mist of a fine rain had fallen minutes before, and the smell of cool dampness still floated in the air. In the back allies of the city, the streets were dark. Stray cats darted from the shadows. The south end of this quaint town was seedy at best. You locked your doors, as well as your windows, at night with the hope that intruders would think you had little value in your home.

Down one particularly dark and narrow street, a single, small candle in an empty tin box lit the front of the East Street Orphanage. The small building was nestled between a tailor shop and a deserted tavern with boarded up windows. The orphanages were very poor, and the little money given by the churches to feed and help the children was spent quickly or used by the greedy people running it. A quick, chilly breeze blew, rattling the orphanage sign hanging on the front door just a bit.

Inside the building, sleeping on a straw-filled mattress, lay the caregiver of these poor children. Annie Pluming, a large, older woman, sat up in her bed. She looked around the darkness of the small, black room. Her door was open; a small girl in tattered clothing stood frozen.

Annie was quite startled by the small figure in the darkness but had to address the child promptly to show her control. Mary, what on earth are you doing up? You know the rules. Stay in the room with the others.

The little girl just pointed down the hall.

What is it child? Annie asked.

The angel in the green hood, Mum. He came to the broken windows. He took Sam, Charlie, Ethan, and Paul.

Annie shot up from her bed and quickly ran past the little girl down to the room where the children slept. She entered quickly and scanned the room; it was filled with a dozen small beds, ripped blankets, stained pillows, and sheets. A half dozen children cowered in the corner, shivering like they had seen a ghost.

Come now, get in your beds, she ordered, walking to the small window which was flung wide open.

One of the children from the corner stepped into the moonlit room. But Mum, he took them. It’s true, the stories of the green-hooded angel.

Yes, yes, I know you all sneak out at night to run the streets. Now get in your beds. We will find them in the morning, or they will come back through the window when they grow tired, she answered.

The boy spoke up again. No, Mum. He was here. He came in; he flew in the window and told us to gather around. He told us a story of an island where we could be family. He gave some of us candy as well.

He was very funny; he made us laugh, another young girl offered.

Annie gave a look of disagreement and shook her finger. I have heard enough of this. Now back to bed, all of you!

The children crawled back into bed, tightening the sheets close to their bodies.

There is no angel in the green hood who will take you away. Those are just stories from mischievous boys and girls who like to run away and play.

She walked to the window and peeked out. She looked down to the windowsill, noticing several gold and silver coins. She was quick to cover them up with one hand, sliding them off into the other.

That should do quite nicely, she whispered, looking back into the shadows of the streets.

She turned and addressed the children one final time.

Listen here, I’ll have no more lies and stories. If you want a real family, you best learn how to make a bed and clean a house. Enough of the nonsense!

She closed the window and locked it with a small, wooden bar that ran across it.

Now get some rest, the lot of you. She left the room and looked down at the handful of coins. This is more than last year. She smiled. Good for him, and good for me. She went back to her room, placed the money in a small metal tin on her nightstand, and rolled into her bed.

The angel in the green hood was a rumor in many of the street orphanages, but most did not discuss it. The story was always the same: children were taken, beds were empty, and money was made. Tomorrow, she could tell the children that the boys were adopted, and they had a little more money to buy food, while she had much more money to buy wine. With four open beds, she would look as if she was doing her job finding parents, and she could bring in more children and money from the town. No one cared for these children, and a lie covered their losses. Annie rolled over and let out a sigh, falling into slumber with a satisfied grin.

In the mist-shrouded harbor, a wooden boat with only one small sail drifted away from the shoreline with a creak. There, inside the vessel, sat over a dozen boys with blankets wrapped tightly around them. Standing above them, a short, thin figure in brown stockings, a leather vest, and a green hood manned the rudder.

Take us home! he commanded as sparkles of light suddenly covered the small boat, and it slowly floated up from the water’s currents into the air. It rose higher as the sparks grew stronger, flying off into the night sky as trails of small lights continued to fall into the water below from its thrust.

Chapter 2

We Are Pirates!

Across the clunky wooden boardwalk, Captain Farrell tried his best to help his three men with the large, wooden chest. Two men in front and two, including the captain, behind. Captain Farrell was a tall man with a tight-fitting uniform and soft eyes; when tempered, his lips offered a smirk of arrogance. His men respected him because he was a better man than most.

They walked from the shipyard as sailors, soldiers, and merchants rummaged about the busy port. It was planned to be a quick delivery—supplies and gunpowder. In reality, it was a diversion; it was payroll for the Queen’s Navy here in the Caribbean islands. Mixing it in with furniture, crates, and barrels was a creative tactic the Navy used from time to time to make sure their men got their wages so far from home.

Captain Farrell saw a commotion on the docks as several men began to fight. A hulking, black-skinned man with a shaved head and a Spaniard with a red headband were mixing it up in the main courtyard near the docks. The problem was that this was Captain Farrell’s path. He let out a sigh.

We will take the round-about way, he ordered. Avoid any chance of thievery.

He and his soldiers walked down the dock a few yards and cut down a dirt road behind several of the massive, wooden, mud-baked brick buildings that outlined the harbor.

They followed the back alley road nearly thirty feet to a small intersection when two men stepped from a building, their pistols ready. Rags covered the lower part of their faces. Bandits. Farrell shook his head as one of the men, wearing all black with a feathered cap, stood behind him. The man in black placed his hands on his hips with confidence and shouted.

Stand and deliver, or the devil may take you!

Farrell gritted his teeth, Do as he says.

Farrell turned to face the man in black whose cocky voice gave him away.

You’re not going to get away with this, James, he said.

Just tell them James ‘The Horror’ Hook stole the payroll from you. Besides Farrell, I’m not robbing you. I’m robbing the queen.

You call yourself ‘The Horror?’ You’re a pirate; you don’t get to name yourself, Farrell added.

James stepped up to Captain Farrell, leaned in, and pulled down his mask.

Come on, not in front of my men, he said softly.

Your men? What about my men? Farrell grunted, his teeth grinding.

Fine. Whatever. Just open the trunk.

Farrell opened the trunk with a small iron key. James walked over, pulling his flintlock pistol.

See, that’s how we do it. He motioned Farrell away with his hand and looked inside. Inside were maps, a canister of gunpowder, some candles, and a small envelope.

Where’s the payroll? James asked.

Still on the damn boat. See, we knew ilk like you, or other hooligans, might try to rob us, so we were bringing it in with some other items. Only an ex-navy man like yourself would know such a tactic. We have lots to unload: chairs, tables, even a bedroom set. Really James, if you’re going to be a blood-thirsty, killer pirate, you have to do more. In fact, if you let us go and help us unload, I will pay each of you a half day’s wages and lunch.

James scratched his head, still a bit confused. That’s not what we are; we’re pirates, not movers. There has to be something.

He took the envelope from the chest and opened it. There were several gold coins and a letter. He opened it quickly and began to read.

To the commonwealth of the port authority, use this small amount of coin to hire more local security in case of pirates… Blah, blah, blah… in her service, Admiral Byrd. This proves it; we’re pirates, and they know all about James Hook!

"It doesn’t mention your name, James; it could be any pirate actually," Farrell grinned.

If this is about that night with the admiral’s wife, I thought she was his personal cabin cleaner! She looked so young. She lied to me.

From one of the alleyways, the hulking black fighter appeared rubbing his shoulder while the Spaniard followed behind holding his shoulder.

What did we get? Was the fight long enough? the Spaniard asked.

Farrell shook his head at James.

Really? That was your diversion to get us in the alley?

Well, it got you where I wanted you, didn’t it? James shot back. Okay, let’s tie them up and just go. It’s not the score we wanted, but it’s enough to have a fun week away from this place.

The other two men began to tie up Farrell and his men.

James, you’re not going to get away with this, Farrell warned. I am not getting in trouble because of some pathetic, thief-wannabe-pirate. Do you even have a ship? That last one was the size of a raft. Last chance. Help us unload, and we forget this ever happened.

"Look, Wayne, oh I’m sorry, Captain Farrell, I am doing the best with what I got. Don’t worry about me or my men or lunch; go back to kissing the queen’s royal backside."

The Spaniard put a gag over Farrell’s mouth and moved him into a corner. After the men were tied tightly to a wooden barrel, the crew of thieves began to leave the alleyway.

Just remember who robbed the queen this day: James ‘The Horror’ Hook! James said proudly.

Farrell rolled his eyes.

The men strutted proudly until out of sight of the soldiers, then they ran like hell itself was at their heels. They merged into the traffic on the port and made their way to a small rowboat tied to a walkway. They all climbed into the boat, packed in like sardines in a can, and the hulking black warrior began to row.

The Spaniard was the first to speak. So, there was no payroll?

Yes, just not with them, James said. It was still on the ship.

So … do we get paid? the hulking black man asked.

Yes, Black Jack, just not as much, James said.

Do we… the Spaniard continued.

Hey, hey, enough with the questions. We got some money; we just need a stronger plan. Plus, people will know James Hook and his men are not to be messed with.

I don’t think they will think that, the Spaniard said.

Well, they will once we do a bigger job and really make some noise.

Will that captain really hunt you down? How did you know him? asked a pirate with red hair and thick mustache.

Parry, if you must know, we were both on the same ship for years in the Navy. Let’s not talk about it. He went his way; I chose mine. It’s nothing but bad memories. We got some money, we did our pirating thing, so let’s celebrate! James said.

They continued out into the ocean up to a small boat with one large mast and enough room for a dozen men.

"Look, we’re almost home, and that, gentleman, is worth all the money in the world. There she is: our home, the proud ship, our ship, and our home, The Conqueror. She is all ours. No one can boss us around or tell us how to live. We can be free!" James exclaimed.

Free and hungry, mumbled Black Jack.

The men laughed.

But still free, James smiled. Besides, you eat for three grown men.

The big man rubbed his belly with a smile. She said she is empty.

The rowboat pulled up alongside the small ship, and ropes were lowered down to it. The men began to climb aboard.

One man, with thinning hair who was wearing a pair of glasses, paced impatiently on the deck. He wore all black, a faded, white priest collar could barely be seen. When James stepped aboard, the man walked over quickly.

How was it? Did you have to kill anyone? Did you get the money?

James handed the man several small coins before storming off. Not now, Father Bob. I will be in my captain’s chambers; do not disturb me for anything.

From below deck, two men appeared, one tall and slender as a weed and the other the complete opposite, short, thick with a shaggy face.

Did the fight work, Captain? asked the short one.

Not now, Morgan, James snapped.

The taller one asked, So we don’t eat again tonight?

No, Drake, we will eat. I have some coin, at least enough for soup and bread. Maybe an ale or two if we go for it watered down at The Crow’s Nest Tavern.

Oh, The Crow’s Nest is vile; that waitress spits in my stew every time! Morgan complained.

That’s because you never compliment her good features, Drake teased.

She doesn’t have any! Even her backside is ten miles of flat dirt road!

No, she has a quite nice, round backside if you like a little curve in the road!

Bah! Morgan argued. She’s a horrible girl.

Well, she’s sweet on me, Drake replied.

She’s not; she’s sweet on everyone! Morgan added.

Enough, you two! It’s like listening to an old married couple argue, James murmured.

James handed Father Bob a small handful of coins. The man looked at the coins and back at Captain Hook who was near the steps leading to his cabin below.

Where do we set sail, Captain? Father Bob asked.

Hell if I care, just head west back to The Cove. Maybe a good night of drinking is all we can do. He then disappeared down into the ship.

Chapter 3

Welcome to Your New Home

The cave entrance was ominous as the small pack of young boys marched onward. It looked like the mouth of a skull; large stones in the shape of jagged teeth hung near the entrance. The darkness slowed the boys, but the small man in the green hood persisted. With talk of food and fun, he pushed them deeper into the cave. He lifted a large metal birdcage, and it sparkled and gave light. Inside the