Second on the Right is a fantasy novel by Elizabeth Los. She spent several years polishing the story in order to provide a high quality product to the public. This is her first professionally published novel, though she has produced
short stories, one of which will be published in an anthology. Elizabeth uses writing as therapy, her release
from everyday stress. At night, after work and once the children are finally
tucked in bed, for the fifth time, she sits at her laptop and lets her
imagination flow.
Summary: Spawned from an ancient promise,
treachery and intrigue follow the protagonists through our world and one lost
to the waves. Bound by an invisible bond, they are thrust into a fantastical
world of pirates and demons.
James Benedict is a just man haunted by
evil. Pushed to the edge, everything stripped from him, a new man arises...
a man whose name strikes fear into the hearts of all who hear it: "Captain
Hook".
Eileen Davis was a timid woman. Through a
fateful cruise she finds herself in the company of the Captain of the Mistral
Thief. With his guidance, and the meddling of the local barista, she eventually
finds her inner strength.
Will the two of them unite through time
to fulfil the promise of their ancestors or will tempers ignite leading all to
failure?
Excerpt: The night grew its darkest, just before
dawn, when every man aboard the Mistral
Thief heard a strange triumphant crow. Benedict shot up with a start. Recognizing the familiar sound, he grabbed
hold of his sword and burst out onto the deck. He could make out the figure of
the boy, Peter.
He heard the sound of his crew, spooked
by the noise of what shouldn’t be on board a ship. They scurried to light the
deck lamps. As the light grew stronger, Benedict could see more clearly a
petite figure on the mast, hands on hips, weapon at the side. Glancing back to
the deck, he saw James coming from below. Benedict decided to hold off on
approaching the figure, knowing of James' desire for revenge. He kept a
watchful eye, fully aware of James' tendency to act on impulse.
"Peter," James said in a low growl. "Show yourself!" he
shouted.
“That crow. I’ve heard that before,”
Benedict commented.
Peter alighted onto the railing with such
ease and grace it irritated James. He gave a slight bow, as if observing the
niceties. Pulling one of two bags from his belt, he held it up in his hand.
James held the sheath of his sword with his hook, struggling only momentarily
to hurriedly unsheathe it.
Peter laughed and shook his bag,
"Need a hand?" He laughed even more, causing chills to run through
James.
James advanced towards him, but stopped
short. Peter had reached into the bag he had been holding and had removed a
rotting hand, with fingers missing. It was all too familiar to James: his right
hand. James and Benedict cringed, disgusted at the sight.
Peter tossed it at James, who jumped back
in disgusted. The splat of soft, wet flesh hit the wood, matching the feeling
in the pit of their stomachs. Laughing, Peter spun up in flight, and landed
back down on the deck, retrieving the hand. Pieces had been left behind from
its initial fall.
"No? Much happier with a hook, are
we? You're welcome," he sneered.
"There’s one who would appreciate a hand, yours, in fact." He floated
to the railing to glance at the waters below. "Come, take a look. I
promise I won't bite," he grinned, taking several steps away to allow
James to draw near.
James and Benedict cautiously took a
glimpse. What they saw was the shadowy shape of an enormous crocodile.
James said to him, “Impossible. They can't grow that large, can they?”
Benedict had no response. He had never
seen one that large. In the water, the crocodile, nearly twenty meters long,
ticked and hissed. The sounds were eerily similar to a clock.
Benedict and James peered down again at
the beast. The crocodile thrashed and clawed its way partially up the side of
the Mistral Thief. Sweat dampened James’
brow. Benedict looked at Peter, who was now dangling the remaining portion of
what he assumed was James' right hand over the side of the ship. The crocodile
leapt from the water, greatly desiring either the hand of James or James
himself.
Both James and Benedict cringed, though
it was James that moved away from the railing. The scratching of the
crocodile's claws on the side of the ship seemed to make him tremble. Peter
laughed maniacally, and tossed James’ hand to the crocodile.
“You’ve been using it for bait?” James
looked at Peter, horror and disgust evident on his face. “This is all a game to
you.”
Pan. He
hasn’t aged. Should I tell James? Benedict thought. His eyes shifted in James’ direction. He needs to know.
James pointed his sword at Peter.
"What do you want?" He shouted.
Peter unsheathed his knife, circling
around the deck. James followed suit. Occasionally, Peter would tap the end of
his sword. However, Benedict knew James was a man of indomitable courage. James
held his sword steady, firmly in his left hand, his hook slightly hidden behind
him. His eyes were cold as steel. At that moment, James appeared to be in
complete control of his emotions and actions. Benedict couldn’t help but beam
proudly at what he had done for James.
"What do I want?" Peter asked
himself thoughtfully. He looked back at James, his eyes glowing faintly red.
"I want you to pay," but he stopped. "Then again, perhaps you
are suffering a bit. After all, I'm finding your son to be a delicious addition
to my lost boys." He ended this with a slight hiss.
“I’ve done nothing to you,” James
replied. “I believe you’re the one that will pay for taking my family.”
Benedict subtly moved closer to James. He
could see how the boy was manipulating James, using the loss of Eileen and
Robbie to rile him to the point of pure rage. Benedict knew all too well how
easy it was to make James angry.
"Jas," he said in quiet
warning, seeing James' shoulders rise and fall more frequently.
James voice wavered, “What are you?"
Benedict hesitated to offer his
knowledge. What would it serve but to merely fan the flame the boy had started.
Quietly he said to James, "Me thinks he's Pete, a boy I met years ago.
Feeds off humans."
"Explain, please," James
murmured to Benedict, not taking his eyes off Peter.
"Not quite o’ changeling. Thought ta
be mere legend, but I’d seen it with me own eyes. A powerful creature, though
from what world, I'm not sure. Feeds off tha young, slow and sure ta stay
alive. No doubt, yer boy be one he's feedin' on," he explained.
Peter held a penetrating gaze at
Benedict. "Oooohh. You're a rather smart one, aren't you? But I am at a
disadvantage. You seem to know me, but I do not recognize you." The boy’s
face scrunched up in contemplation until he seemed to have an epiphany, “The
one who set me free! You’re so…old!”
James looked over at the captain. “You
set him free?” he whispered angrily. “Why am I not surprised?”
Benedict did his best to avoid eye
contact. He knew he would have to explain all of this later. Perhaps he’ll forget. Not likely though.
"It's true." Peter said with a
grinned. "I did feed on her. The red hair had to go." He made a
violent motion as he spoke.
"Jas," Benedict warned, seeing
James tense, the muscles in his jaw tightened.
James waved him off, stepping forward.
Peter continued. "Her white skin, so
soft and supple. Her screams of terror and pain, delicious. Oh, she was
wonderful!" He paused for a moment, then finished, "Particularly the
chewy center within." With the last sentence, his wicked eyes fell on
James.
James screamed in anguish. He charged for
Peter. Benedict reached out to stop him, but he was too slow. Peter flew up to
the top of the mast. James, whose momentum had gotten the better of him,
teetered at the rail. The crocodile waited eagerly below. James grunted in an
effort to push himself back.
Peter howled in laughter, pointing,
mocking and pantomiming actions as if he were James falling over the railing.
James ran to the ropes, set to climb. Benedict shouted, but James didn’t hear.
Not being heeded, he and a few crewmen pounced on him, holding him down.
"Take him ta me quarters!" he
barked at the bo'sun. They held James, who thrashed violently. It took five men
to drag James into the captain's quarters and slam the doors shut. Benedict
addressed Peter, "Ye best be leavin' now, or ye be facin' my wrath."
Peter shrugged off the threat. "I
have no quarrel with you, old man." He jumped off the mast, floating high
above. "Tell him I'll be
waiting, in Neverland." And he flew off.
Benedict rubbed his sore eyes. "I'm
gettin' too old fer this."
At his quarters, Benedict’s hand stopped
at the door. James' screams of rage could be heard from within. Benedict opted
to take his time. Making a course adjustment, he continued towards El Tiburón.
Links:
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