For the average young person, thinking of one’s mother while in proximity to execution dock might be considered strange. That is, unless one’s mother is a wicked and dastardly woman, bent on destruction and world dominion, much like my own.

However, Jocelyn, as you may have gathered, was not an average young person. Evie was very much on her mind as she flew toward execution dock. How the girl wished that both Evie and Roger had been flying along next to her at that very moment, but Evie was gone.

She’d left the Neverland the night before.

She’d died years ago.

As for Roger, he had wanted to come. All the crew had. But Jocelyn could not, would not, risk their lives—or her grandfather’s. Krueger had said to come alone. She did so.

Jocelyn mulled over what she knew of Krueger—aside from his lust for gold. She thought it more than likely he would have extra men hidden somewhere, just as he had on the dock outside the pirate village. She knew there was a large chance that even if she met his demands, he would refuse to turn Sir Charles back over to her, happy and whole. If there was one thing she knew about Krueger, it was that he was predictable. Jocelyn hoped she could use that knowledge against him.

Execution dock made its presence known before the girl was able to actually see it. The creaking of the iron gibbets and the scent of rot carried to her through the fog, informing Jocelyn that she was close. She was taken back to the day her grandfather had brought her there to show her the grisly remains of executed pirates, displayed as a warning to others considering the occupation. It wasn’t an outing planned for amusement (though I would have enjoyed it); rather, Sir Charles had brought her to the docks trying to impress on her mind that piracy would come to no good end, that happiness lay in the future he had planned for her.

That was the last time she had spent alone with her grandfather. The next day had begun a flurry of arrangements and the packing of trunks. By the end of the week, she had been sent away to finishing school.

That walk they had shared seemed so long ago. Jocelyn disagreed with her grandfather now as much as ever, but she felt a new pity for him. Sir Charles had lost his wife, and then a daughter. He wanted Jocelyn to have a quiet life, secure and safe—if somewhat dull. She understood a bit better now, though she still would not choose the life he envisioned for her.

At last, execution dock came into sight, the fog dampening, but not obliterating, its horrors. The girl landed, watchful for the as yet unseen Captain Krueger.

The gibbets hung from gallows, some high overhead, others dangling just above the waterline. The latter held lesser criminals, their bodies on display just long enough for the seasonal high tide of the river to cover them three times, after which they could be buried. Jocelyn couldn’t help feeling a little embarrassed for them, and I, for one, agree with the girl. If only those blighters had applied themselves, they might not have had such a short run of notoriety. Contrast those to the remains of the great Captain Kidd. He had lorded over execution dock for years.

Jocelyn looked about, hoping to catch a glimpse of someone famous, but the ravages of time had left the figures difficult to identify. Still, one hanging over the water a bit farther on looked to be fresh enough. She approached, leaning over the dock’s railing, trying to see through the fog. The man’s back was to her, but the gibbet slowly turned him about as it twisted in the breeze.

His face came into view, and Jocelyn stumbled back. “Grandfather?”

He reached for her through the bars, an innocent man in the iron shroud of a criminal. Relief flooded through her. In the mist, she had thought…At any rate, he was alive. He peered at her with confusion for a moment before recognition dawned on his face. “Jocelyn, my dear girl,” he called to her. “You are alive! You have been gone so long. I had feared…”

“Grandfather, I’m…I’m sorry,” Jocelyn cried, but the reasons why were uttered only in her mind.

I’m sorry I left without a word.

I’m sorry that you are here because of me.

I’m sorry I could not—cannot—be all you want me to be.

He seemed to know what she meant, even as the words remained unspoken. “As am I, my dear girl. But…” His eyes sharpened. “What are you doing here? This is no place for a child. You must leave. It isn’t safe!”

She reached for him, lifting off the dock so that her fingertips could touch his hands. “I came to get you,” she said.

“Such a sweet family reunion.” Krueger’s voice pierced the fog, bringing Jocelyn back down to the dock with a thump. She whirled, searching for him. A dark shape appeared in the mist, gradually developing into the form of a man. He limped slowly toward her. When he drew close enough for Jocelyn to truly see, she let out a gasp.

A startling change had come over Krueger’s already terrifying face since the last time she had seen him. He still had those hideous, pointed teeth, the terrible white scar, and the lifeless, dark eyes, but now, his appearance had taken on a new level of horror. His left ear and the tip of his nose were gone, leaving only angry-looking red and scarred skin in their place, and across his cheeks dead, black patches spread like mold.

Jocelyn shuddered with revulsion and retreated a step, feeling the railing press against her back. The fog swirled around the vile man, turning him misty again for just a moment. It brought to Jocelyn’s mind the image of her father in the Black Swamp, how insubstantial he had truly been and how her confidence had caused him to simply disappear. She squared her shoulders and put on a brave face.

“You look well,” she taunted.

“Your little trick on the mountain cost me three toes, an ear, and a good part of my nose to frostbite, but don’t worry, you’ll pay for it. I’ll buy new ones once I have my hands on your father’s gold.” He licked his lips, and his black eyes took on a fevered gleam. “You will not thwart me again.”

Jocelyn understood now why he had been able to travel to her When. It was apparent that he had forgotten his home—he was untethered, able to slip in and out of any time. She wondered if he had substituted a gold lust for what he had forgotten. The pursuit of it seemed to be the only thing that mattered to him.

Krueger drew his sword and rested it on a rope tied to the dock. She followed the line with her eye; it ran up through a post to a high beam and back down to the gibbet. If he were to cut through the rope, Sir Charles and his iron prison would plummet into the river, where he would sink to the bottom and never be heard from again. Krueger’s threat need not be spoken. Cross me and your grandfather will die.

“Give me the map.” His voice was quiet and slow, but coiled. He would strike without provocation.

Jocelyn had hoped that she would find a way, a trick of some sort, that would enable her to free her grandfather and still keep the treasure from Krueger, but standing here now, nothing seemed worth the risk. She could fly to the gibbet, but a great iron lock held it closed around her grandfather—there was no way she could force it open. She could attack Krueger, but he would surely cut the rope the instant she moved toward her sword. Besides, he had the advantage of physical strength on his side.

There was nothing she could do. She held out the map. He snatched it from her hand.

Krueger peered closely at it, attempting to verify its authenticity. He translated a few words, working them out aloud to test the key Jocelyn had written. “I see you found the way to make it readable. Very good. Your grandfather will live—”

Relief landed like a delicate butterfly on Jocelyn’s heart—then flew off, startled away by his next words.

“—but I’ll keep him as payment for my missing flesh. I’ve always wanted a nobleman to scrub my chamber pot. Adds a touch of class. And when I claim the treasure, I’ll force him to carry it out. Let him feel the burden of another man’s riches across his back.” He laughed—a wet, nasty sound emanating from his ruined nose—caught up in his cruel fantasy.

The gibbet creaked. When Krueger looked down again at the map in his hand, Jocelyn stole a glance. There, perched on the cage, was Roger! He had disobeyed her orders and had come to help. Jocelyn felt a mixture of annoyance and gratitude.

The boy lit on the other side of Sir Charles’s prison and was stealthily trying to liberate him. He ignored the lock, instead working to loosen the hinges that held the cage together.

Jocelyn edged away from the railing. “I feel sorry for you, you know,” she said loudly, pushing Krueger to keep his focus on her.

Krueger’s laugh died out, his eyes flashing in anger. He turned his back to the gibbet so he could face the girl directly. “I have your grandfather,” he spat. “I have your map. I’ll soon have what should in all fairness be your gold. I have won. What reason could you possibly have to pity me?”

Jocelyn took another step back, drawing him after her. He moved, almost unconsciously, keeping her close enough to strike. “Hook’s treasure is rumored to be the largest hoard in history. You will have more gold than anyone.”

Krueger licked his lips greedily. “You are making a poor case for yourself.”

His sword no longer rested upon the rope. Jocelyn wondered, should she strike? Or wait for Roger to open the cage? She feared what would happen to her grandfather should she make the wrong choice.

“You will be the richest pirate on earth, and it will still not be enough.” She took another small step back, trying to create a bit more distance between him and the gibbet.

Krueger followed, his eyes narrowed.

Jocelyn stole another glance at her grandfather’s prison, hoping Krueger wouldn’t notice in the fog. Roger appeared to be having difficulty removing the hinges. She spoke louder, in order to mask any noise. “You know it to be true. You can never have enough. Your hunger for gold has already eaten holes in your soul. It will consume you as completely as the crocodile did my father!”

“I will hear no more!” he barked.

“The gold will never love you back!” Jocelyn yelled.

In the ringing silence that followed, Roger finally succeeded in removing a pin. He attempted to put it in one of his pockets, but his fingers slipped and it fell to the river. Its splash hung in the air.

Krueger whirled around and locked eyes with the boy. “Kill him!” he yelled. “Him and the girl!”

Krueger’s men materialized out of the fog and advanced on Jocelyn. Even as Jocelyn drew her sword she knew she would never be able to fight them off. Instead she cast her eyes about for some way to help Roger free Sir Charles, perhaps a tool of some sort, but there was nothing. The girl shot into the air, flew over the railing, and pressed her hand through the bars, grabbing her grandfather’s arm. “Roger, hurry!”

He pulled at the pin on the second hinge. “I’m trying, but it’s rusted! I can’t get it.”

“Don’t let them get away!” Krueger commanded.

One of the men reached for the gibbet. His fingertips brushed it, but he was unable to grab on.

Another pirate began to untie the rope holding it in place. “Maybe we will just give them all a good dunking, then,” he said.

The gibbet slipped a few inches.

Her grandfather squeezed her hand. “Jocelyn, you have to go.”

The gibbet slipped again.

“Jocelyn, I can’t open it!” Roger called.

She ignored him, focusing on her grandfather. “I won’t abandon you.”

“I know. But you must leave now.”

Krueger drew his pistol.

“Go, child!” Sir Charles cried. “Take her, boy!” He pulled from her grasp and shoved her away, making the gibbet sway.

Jocelyn had spent her life carefully cultivating a habit of disobedience where her grandfather was concerned, but Roger had no such principles. He immediately stopped working with the pin and grabbed Jocelyn’s arm, tugging her away.

She fought him, desperate to stay with her grandfather. “No! I won’t leave him! I promised Evie I would save him!” She wrapped her fingers around the bar.

Roger tugged, and the gibbet spun, swinging Jocelyn close to the deck. A hand closed over her leg, but she kicked out, hitting the pirate in the teeth. His grip slacked, and she jerked away.

The gibbet slipped a few more inches.

An explosion ripped through the air. Krueger was firing upon them. Roger flinched at the sound. “We have to go! We’ll come back for him.” He wrenched Jocelyn’s hand from the bar. Krueger fired again, but they were already gone. Jocelyn looked back, watching, as the fog swallowed the only family she had left.