Page 55 of The Last Lost Girl

Only when he notices Cairo sitting in front of a closed shop across another bridge does he pull away. Cairo doesn’t see us cross the bridge to him. He mutters something to himself and rakes shaking, frustrated hands through his hair. A torch burns at an open shop across the waterway, casting warm light on a very dark moment.

“Hey, Cairo,” the captain says gently.

He doesn’t seem to recognize Hook at all.

“It’s Hudson,” Hook continues.

The young man’s dark eyes snap up to his captain’s. Tears shine in them. He braces his arms on his drawn knees as tears flood down his cheeks like water spilling over a dam. “Hudson?” his voice breaks.

My heart shifts its pace when I hear the captain’s true name.

He crouches beside his distraught friend. “You okay?” the captain calmly asks.

“No,” Cairo insists, shaking his head back and forth adamantly as he starts to rock again, banging his spine against the closed door behind him. He mutters those words over and over and over again: I’m not.

I’m not. I’m not. I’m not.

“What happened?” Hook – Hudson – asks.

“I can’t remember.” A web of saliva stretches across his mouth as he searches for more words. “I can’t remember where I am, or where I’m supposed to go, or what I’m supposed to do. I didn’t remember your name until I saw you, and I didn’t even remember mine until you spoke it!”

“Come with me, Cairo, and I’ll remind you of where you were going and show you the way.” Hudson stands and waits as Cairo calms down and pushes to his feet with the help of the door frame.

“Do you want to come along?” the captain asks.

Cairo’s humiliation gleams at me as his gaze flicks to mine and darts away. He does not want me to go with them. Doesn’t likely remember me at all.

I jerk a thumb toward the port. “I’ll meet you on the ship. It’s not far.”

“Do you remember how to get there?” He hesitates, concerned.

“I do. I’ll be fine.”

Hook nods, then leads Cairo down the walkway, talking to him and no doubt reminding him of where they’re going, how to get there, how to get back, and who he’s going to see.

I think back to the other pirates. Smee seemed to know where he was going when we parted ways, and Paris knew where to find The Ropes when he disembarked.

Has Cairo been here longer than them and has truly forgotten what and who he knew in town? Or is he having some sort of episode where his memory is blank for now but will later return?

I make it to the docks quickly but pause when I reach the gangway that stretches up to the ship’s deck. A thick ribbon of the wood is soaking wet. Water steadily drips from the sides of the ramp.

Someone must have delivered something that Hudson and Smee ordered earlier. That’s all.

I rub my arms, the salty breeze chilling me as I consider the water on the ramp, wondering why the sight makes me pause.

Belle always told me to trust my intuition. She said that terrible things can happen when you ignore your feelings for the sake of logic. Because logic is limited.

And that much is true.

Logic can’t explain her power of suggestion, the shadows or the curse that rules them, salve that knits bones and sinew in a matter of hours, or this beautiful, intricate town constructed in a sea that never tears it apart and scatters its pieces. Just like it can’t comprehend Neverland and Pan, this ship and those who command it. Logic would deny that any of it is real, but it is.

It’s as real as the trail of water and the Second Star that always shines over this place, washing the world in silver.

I slowly and very quietly creep up the ramp, watching for anything or anyone out of place and pause at the top, because Smee’s hammer – the one I lost while freeing the mermaid – lays in a puddle of seawater on the deck.

Moving toward it, I bend and pick it up, turning it over in my hand. The handle is slick with saltwater.

My heart races as I retrace the path of water down the ramp where it abruptly ends. I make my way to the dock’s end. The only one who knew I lost it and could have retrieved this hammer is the mermaid I freed.

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